DR. BRIAN MARTIN'S OFFICE, VA CLINIC
Martin came to the window right behind the desk, where he could talk to his secretary without the patients in the waiting room seeing. His receptionist smiled tensely and a bit sadly at him, and her eyes flickered to the couple in the seats as she handed him the new folder. As Carrie helped the Johanssons complete the last payment paperwork, he took the time to study the Morgans again.
He let his eyes drift over as he flipped open the folder to read the forms - two sets of handwriting. A shaky one had filled in the first few blanks, and then a clean, crisp writing the rest of the form, followed by his signatures. A signed form allowing his wife to take care of all his medical records accompanied it, the same clean crisp printing followed by what was obviously his signature.
"Well?"
"He brought in his medical records today," Carrie said quietly, referring to Paul Morgan. "Everything since he joined the Corps."
Martin nodded, skimming the folder quickly. Only about halfway through, the man suddenly went into a coughing fit, and Martin could hear the thick, wet sound of the cough. Nina patiently waited him out, giving him water.
Martin nodded and took another look at the file. Classic symptoms: the frequent, severe illnesses, headaches, distraction. He opened the door to the waiting room, where Mrs. Morgan had one hand on her husband's back as he was doubled over. He hurried over, his doctor side kicking in. "Do you need anything? Some - "
"I'm fine, I'm fine," came the half-growl as the man straightened, his eyes still watering from the coughing.
"All right, whenever you're ready," Dr. Martin replied gently. "Just come on back here."
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SAME TIME
NCIS HQ
"I looked up Martin's father, who was in the Corps," Balboa replied.
"Nice, Balboa," Tony whistled. "How'd you get access to his father's medical records?"
"Got the obit first and worked from there."
"That would explain why he decided to become a doctor," McGee murmured.
"That might also explain why he wants to work with Gulf War vets," Balboa mused. "If some of that stuff about chemicals in the war are true."
"Local insecticides to keep away disease-carrying insects...they can't have been that regulated," McGee replied. "And then there was an incident at a large chemical weapons dump at Khamisiyah in March 1991 - a large chemical blow-up that released a huge plume all over the place. At first we and the British didn't think anything was going on, but UN inspectors found Iraqi chemical weapon dumps broken by bombing, downwind of the troops."
"What do they think was in there?" Balboa asked.
"There's speculation of ispropyl - sarin gas," McGee amended when he saw the expression on Tony's face. "In the Sean Travis case, all he needed was a little in the canister to kill the whole crew. Even almost invisible traces of sarin gas and repeated exposure can be pretty harmful."
"The question here," Tony cut in, "isn't what happened in the first Gulf War," he replied. Balboa and McGee gave him shocked looks. "It's what Martin THINKS happened during the war. He's treating what he believes is the cause of the syndrome in these veterans."
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SAME TIME
DR. BRIAN MARTIN'S OFFICE, VA CLINIC
"Does my wife have to be here for my appointments?" the ex-Marine asked shortly, obviously not happy about having her here.
The doctor sighed. Marines were generally the worst. They seemed to think that they weren't allowed to show signs of weakness, although the doctor couldn't figure out why, since their wives saw them hacking up and sick all the time anyhow. "She doesn't have to be present for this session. Even so, Mr. Morgan, your treatment under me will have to be a family effort, and it begins with your wife being here. You signed the release to allow her access to your medical care, did you not?"
"Yes," she cut in before he could. "He did." Martin watched the man's eyes flicker towards her unhappily for a moment, then turn back. "I am at your disposal, doctor."
"You can go for just today." Martin smiled once the door clicked shut behind the brunette. "Your wife is a lovely woman," he began in a friendly, chatting manner. He needed to know how likely it was this Marine would fight to get better. Martin smiled smugly to himself. He was getting quite good at this, in reality - extracting the information he needed. It wasn't all that legal to accept or not to accept patients based on this criteria, but he needed to maximize his chances for success.
From what he'd seen, this pair would work, but he needed to confirm it.
The man's eyes flickered suspiciously to him for a moment, but his voice, though wary, was especially soft when referring to her. "Yes, she is." The gentleness peeping through made Martin smile to himself.
"You been married long?" Martin asked conversationally, marking off some boxes. "My wife and I, we're coming up on our 34th wedding anniversary. In a week, actually."
"Five years."
Martin nodded, and flipped open to the next sheet. He would have gotten up and danced if he could have; this conversation with the unusually taciturn Marine had just gotten easier. "Your file says that you spent time at Bethesda?"
"I was getting physical therapy for a leg injury when I got hit badly by the flu," Morgan replied.
"How bad?"
"I ended up with a fever of 103, couldn't keep stuff down, etc. Nina had round the clock watch on me." It was obviously a slip of the tongue, and the man looked up quickly.
Martin pretended surprise at that but was secretly hopping up and down at the slip. He looked up. "Your wife?"
The former Marine sighed, having lost the battle. "That's how I met Nina. She was the nurse in charge at Bethesda when I was hospitalized for the flu."
"Hospitalized."
"For about a week."
"Must have been a bad flu."
The head bobbed a 'yes.' "A couple of us had it very bad that year. We were all stuck together under Nina's team."
"But she took a shine to you." Martin smiled.
The eyes narrowed for a moment, and the Marine said defensively, "Actually, no. I was less than cooperative - I didn't want to be there and made sure she knew it. Her? She did her job...with gritted teeth. The rest of her team...I think they didn't want to deal with me. As the head nurse, she got stuck with my care. There was no preference on her part towards anyone during the time I was under her watch."
Martin held up his hands in surrender. Touchy. "I didn't mean it that way, sir. I didn't mean to imply that she didn't do her job or that she played favorites."
"Why do you want to know so much about her, anyhow?"
Martin sighed. How had his little plan gone so badly? The truth would work better. "Mr. Morgan," he said quietly, leaning forward and hoping silently that the Marine wouldn't go and tell other people what he was being told now. "It's nothing. It's just that I need to get a good feel for my patients, in terms of what kind of support they have at home. Support is almost essential to your getting better."
"You want to know about my family?" Martin sighed and nodded. "You could just ask."
"Most patients take offense."
"I can see why," he muttered belligerently.
What a typical Marine.
Martin waited and watched the former staff sergeant holding an internal debate with himself, most likely about how much to tell him. The desperation the doctor had been seeing for the last twenty minutes won out, and he started talking. "Nina and I have known each other about seven years, married for five. No children, and neither of us have our parents anymore."
Martin nodded, trying to keep it at an encouraging, chatting level.
"She's got only one sister who...well, didn't approve of Nina's marriage to me." The doctor watched the man's eyes drop to the floor a moment before flickering back up.
"That must have been hard," Martin replied gently.
Paul Morgan shrugged. "I wasn't what she wanted for her little sister. I'm older than Nina, I'm sick a lot of the time, and I was married to the Marines, really, before all this. Didn't help that I pissed her off when I was under her care. I wouldn't let my sister marry someone like that."
"So why are you here?" Martin asked gently.
The Marine looked intently at him. "I need to get better."
"'Need'?" Bingo. Martin tried not to smile smugly, but it was hard.
"I can't keep a good enough paying job because I'm constantly sick, and the stress is no good for Nina."
"That's it?" Martin asked doubtfully, some of his prior enthusiasm fading.
The former staff sergeant shifted a moment in his seat, as if contemplating whether or not he wanted to say anything, and then murmured, "Nina and I want a family - children. She won't say it because she thinks it'll put pressure on me, but I know what she wants, and I want it, too. I can't have a family like this. I need to be functional. I need to be able to work, to take my share of the responsibility."
Martin nodded nonchalantly, but inside he was jumping up and down in excitement. Prime candidate.
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NCIS HQ, LAB
The doors to Abby's lab shooshed open, and there stood McGee with an annoyed look on his face, Paulie held out at arm's length. The others turned; Abby squeaked, "Aah."
Both the child and the agent were orange and mushy yellow, but the former had a happy, content expression while the latter looked supremely annoyed. The tot had food smashed all over her, from an orange spot of baby food on her hair down to a glob which dropped off her knee and onto the floor.
Kate successfully choked back her laughter. Abby just looked on, amused but sympathetic.
"McGee," Gibbs said calmly - McGee cringed, the calm before the storm. "You were supposed to feed the baby. How difficult could that be."
"She...she's not very good and quiet when she's eating, boss."
In reply, she beamed and scrunched up, bringing her knees to her chest as she looked brightly at them.
"We can see that, McGee," Gibbs replied in a tone that clearly said he didn't see it at all.
Kate took the tot from McGee, and Abby pointed to a large sink nearby. She set Paulie on the counter as Abby brought over some soap and began to scrub down the sink.
"Go get...cleaned up or something," Gibbs dismissed McGee. "And then get on that search to find the child's mother!" As the water began to run, Gibbs barked, "Abs!"
"Sorry, Gibbs," she chirped as she dried her hands and headed back to her computer. "Okay. I checked the med samples you brought back for me from - "
There was a happy shout and a splash. Everyone turned to see the tot sitting in the sink, cheerfully spraying water out the side as Kate rolled up her sleeves. Gibbs just smiled a little as he turned back to the plasma screen.
NCIS HQ
Tony and Balboa were still working on the chart when they came into the bullpen. "What've we got on the chart?"
"Everything, boss," Tony replied. "But we can't figure out how he decided to put patients on the medicine."
"Put the chart up on the plasma, take another look at it," Gibbs barked as he tossed his things onto his chair and started out again. "McGee, Kate, help them."
"Where are you going?" Kate asked.
"To the head."
McGee got up, chastened, and went over to where the two of them were sitting before the TV, working on the chart. He was about comment when he heard it again: Kate murmuring to the child how to say "Gibbs," or at least a butchered version of it. It sounded as though she was succeeding. "Is Kate trying to teach Paulie how to say Gibbs' name?" he whispered to Tony.
"Yeah," Tony replied, looking back with a small wince on his face.
"That's kind of cute," McGee commented, nodding thoughtfully. "My parents tell me that my mom taught me how to say 'Da' first."
Tony turned to him with an unreadable expression on his face. "McGee, you apparently know nothing about women."
"What?"
"You think that your mom did - and Kate is now doing - this simply out of 'cuteness'?" Tony shook his head as he sneaked a look back at Kate. "No way."
"So what do you think it is?" McGee retorted in a whisper.
Balboa just chuckled. "The mind of woman is an intriguing place."
"Scary place," Tony corrected.
"For a scary place, you sure like to go there a lot," Balboa pointed out, and Tony glared.
"I AM right here," Kate pointed out sharply. The three agents looked down at where she was sitting in Gibbs' chair with the child, near the plasma. Paulie looked up at them innocently. Kate's look was not so innocent or benign.
"C'mon, Kate, you actually have a benign purpose in teaching that kid how to say Gibbs' name?" Tony said doubtfully.
"And if I did?"
"Why not mine, then?"
"Why would I? She cries when she sees you."
"This yap-fest better be something productive," came the growl. Seeing Kate in his chair, Gibbs pulled hers up.
"I think I know how he picked who got what," Kate replied, turning around to face Gibbs. At that, the three agents standing in front of the large TV turned to look at her in astonishment.
"Glad someone was working," Gibbs said pointedly, looking at the three sharply.
"Myick and Bartlett are single; Mathis, widower. MacClellan, Earle, Kim, Walker, Ruiz, and Gilstrap are all married with children who are fairly young."
"So?"
"But Myick and Kim's symptoms are nearly identical - Myick's even worse, slightly, by Ducky's estimation - based on, of course, his own description, and his old military record, and the most recent records at Dr. Martin's. But here, Myick got the smaller dosage than Kim, although Kim is a woman and smaller in size. Take a look at Mathis and MacClellan. Same thing."
After more examination, McGee straightened, shaking his head as he realized what Kate was pointing out. "In the cases where the symptoms and the body size of the vets are most similar, it appears that the married vets - the ones recently married, with small children, or - well, the ones that are about to have families - are the ones getting higher dosages."
"Exactly," Kate nodded.
"But why?" Gibbs asked.
DiNozzo shook his head. "Maybe he's bitter. Had a bad family life."
"I don't think he's vindictive." Balboa shook his head. "From all of our talks with him - all of us - I think this guy thinks he's helping."
The others turned to him doubtfully. "Helping?" Tony asked.
"We know his father was a Vietnam vet who suffered the consequences of Agent Orange and couldn't be helped. Look at all the people we've interviewed, they all said he was very warm, very caring. He'd take calls in the middle of the night."
"It could be an act," Tony replied.
"No, I think Balboa's on to something," Kate replied. "I think that his guy is convinced that he's helping the vets. That right now he's testing this drug on a few vets, but that in the long run, the benefits will far outweigh a few possible messups."
McGee nodded. "The FDA wouldn't approve the drug or allow it to go for more testing," he said slowly, picking up on Kate's train of thought. "The government won't help him, so he's striking out on his own."
"And the ones who die are unfortunate casualties of war," Gibbs concluded. Balboa nodded at his assessment.
"He's a megalomaniac," Tony muttered.
"Uh, boss." McGee suddenly looked up. "The widower, Mr. Kim, whose wife died - he said when she stroked in his clinic, Dr. Martin had applied an epi-pen or something, like one sees for allergies."
"An epi-pen for allergies?" Gibbs repeated, more concerned now. "He's not treating allergies."
Kate's eyes darted between McGee and Gibbs. "We figured his meds must be really experimental," she murmured. "If he's using epi-pens to control reactions."
"We'll strip search his place to the roaches, boss," Tony assured.
"And talk to the kids," Gibbs added as he started heading out.
"What kids?" McGee asked.
"When we were at the clinic to talk to the doctor, there are a few kids there, and I talked to them," Gibbs replied. "They've been there a few years, volunteering with the landscaping and the garbage, that sort of stuff. They might know something."
"They're a bunch of high school students," Balboa replied doubtfully. "How much help could they be in a sit - "
"They empty trash," Tony suddenly said in understanding, turning to Gibbs for confirmation. The older man just chuckled and headed out. "Between our search warrant and his trash, we'll be good."
DR. BRIAN MARTIN'S OFFICE, VA CLINIC
"Good night, Dr. Martin."
"Night, Carrie." Martin sat back in his darkened office, only the desk lamp still on as he looked at his new patient file.
Paul Morgan was almost too good to be true, and a boon when NCIS had begun to investigate him again. Martin was sure it wouldn't be a problem, but it was a lot to take on at once: a new patient and an investigation.
He turned back to Morgan's file. Decorated staff sergeant, who went into the Reserves not long after the Gulf War. He was likely about up for a promotion when he retired.
The symptoms began fairly early, and he seemed to have a bad habit of doctor-shopping - going from one to another. About the time he met his wife - seven years ago, Martin remembered - he seemed to have settled into a better pattern of going to one doctor consistently: a Dr. Eric Westin, who unfortunately retired half a year ago.
No wonder Morgan sounded so desperate for help. Nina Morgan - Martin had yet to have had a patient who had medical experience as a Navy corpsman or who had a spouse who had medical experience. He wasn't sure whether Mrs. Morgan's nursing experience was going to help or hinder him. Thankfully, she didn't seem suspicious of him, and it would help to have another person in the medical field supporting him, besides his own wife.
Martin sighed as he sat back to think about her. He wondered if Andrea would stay with him if he had gotten as sick as Paul Morgan - theirs was far more a business partnership than the Morgans' marriage, at least from what he could see. Oh, he LIKED Andrea well enough, and the two of them got along wonderfully. But she was deeply invested in her career, and they had begun to want different things. He didn't want to begrudge her that career advancement. He liked seeing her happy, and besides, her advancement meant only good things for him and the patients he was helping.
Still, he had seen the way Morgan looked at his wife, and it was something he would have liked to be able to do. It was rare for Marines to display emotion, and Morgan was no different, but the way he looked at her, even when he was rebuffing her attempts to help, was rather intense.
Martin would never say it to the former Marine - or to anybody else, as he had no desire to have Morgan come kill him - but it was obvious the man adored his wife. It was generally reserved, kept back, but it was obvious every time he touched her. Martin was sure that the former Staff Sgt. Morgan wasn't just looking at her pretty face, although she was a stunner; he was genuinely in love with his wife.
On her part, she was an enduring and hardy woman. She didn't hold it against her husband that - Martin could tell - they didn't have all that much money for designer clothes or new ones, period. The slightly faded but clean clothes fit with what he had seen of the pair - not well off, but not dirt poor and certainly not ones to wallow in self-pity. She had a sharp mind and a quick wit, according to his receptionist who had chatted with Mrs. Morgan; and he himself had seen in her a strong will, no doubt a match to her husband's.
Martin chuckled as he closed Morgan's file. Matches and dynamite. Oh, to have been a fly on the hospital room wall when Morgan had gone in with influenza. It must've been more entertaining than TV.
NCIS HQ
"Hey guys," Abby greeted as she came up, and held out the bottle to Gibbs. "Milk's just right. Make sure you check it, though."
Gibbs nodded, then gestured to Kate. "Hey." She blinked puzzledly at him. "C'mon." He motioned her out of his chair and handed her the bottle.
"Why do I have to do this?" Kate balked.
"Because she cries when she sees DiNozzo and McGee can't keep himself or her clean when he feeds her," Gibbs replied shortly.
"What about you?" Kate rebelled. When he turned around to look at her, she frowned. "C'mon, Paulie. Let me tell you why this is still called a man's world."
"Twenty says that she gets Gibbs back," Tony whispered to McGee.
"She's not going to try anything on Gibbs."
"Are we on for a bet?"
"You're on."
"Pull up your chairs," Gibbs replied as he headed off with his ringing cell phone. "Ducky'll be up here in a second to talk to us." He stopped to let Paulie grab at his finger for a second.
The three male agents and Abby grinned at each other as their boss disappeared around the corner. Abby's eyes danced."Gibbs seems to have taken to the tot pretty quickly."
Tony grinned back in amusement. "You have no idea. Who knew he had a soft side."
"Most of the bullpen would laugh, except that they're still afraid of him," Balboa grinned. "Although, when I was in the breakroom the other day, Agents Miller and Bonicello were sighing over it."
"Really," Tony said, his ears perking up at the names of the two female agents. "I gotta get Paulie to like me. Who knew girls dug that stuff so much...and about Gibbs."
Kate shifted as she continued to look at the file on her desk and juggle the child comfortably in her arms, and said absently, "It's cute, that's all. If I had kids, Gibbs would be a good father."
She continued studying the file as she held the bottle gently in Paulie's mouth. Abby looked over at Tony and McGee, a huge smile of amusement splitting her face.
"Reaaaally," McGee found his voice first, giving the word a deadpan spin.
Kate turned around to see four amused grins at her. Abby nodded at her, rolling softly on the balls of her feet, as Tony bounced his eyebrows at her. Kate blinked a moment, and suddenly it occurred. "That came out entirely wrong," she replied quickly. "I didn't mean it like that."
"Sure you didn't, Kate," Tony offered cheerfully, still grinning.
"It was NOT a Freudian slip."
"I wasn't thinking Freudian slip," Tony offered in that same tone that promised long torture later. "Were you, probie? Balboa?"
"No, not me," McGee nodded, playing along. "Not...until Kate said it."
"Yeah, me neither," Tony agreed. "Freudian slip...." He gestured quickly, "Does this have to do with you - "
"No, it doesn't, and say any more, Tony, and I will kill you. Slowly. And then dismember your body and dump it in a barrel of alcohol for Bal to find."
"Thanks, but no thanks, Kate," Balboa replied, looking a little green. "One meat puzzle was enough."
"I certainly agree, Agent Balboa," Ducky replied, and they turned quickly to see Gibbs and Ducky standing behind them. "That was certainly a case I do not much wish to remember."
Gibbs brushed past them and dropped into his chair. "Whenever you want to start, Duck. Gulf War Syndrome 101."
"It's a variety of somatic symptoms," the medical examiner began as the others took seats around. "Fatigue, gastrointestinal problems, cognitive problems - difficulty concentrating and sleep disturbances, joint and muscle pain, skin rashes, respiratory problems." He continued to walk about slowly, gesturing a little, like a professor giving a lecture. "I believe some have said that it appears the veterans' immune systems have been affected in some manner."
"What are the causes?" Kate asked.
"Many causes have been considered: oil well fires, vaccines, infections, chemicals, pesticides, depleted uranium, pyridostigmine bromide, and, of course, chemical and biological agents."
"What about something natural? Exotic disease?"
"A virus? Perhaps. Some have suspected mycoplasma or some sort of microsporidia, but research has not confirmed any of these."
"Treatment, Duck. What treatments are typical."
"Generally exercise and cognitive behavior therapy. CBT is meant to help patients deal actively with severe symptoms."
"That explains the diet and exercise Dr. Martin has them on," Balboa said thoughtfully.
"No medicine, though," Tony said, frowning.
Ducky shook his head. "It is extremely difficult to say what is happening here. Researchers do not seem to find any connection to Gulf War Syndrome, but by the same token, we have some very sick veterans. I hardly think so many are hypochondriacs, and the severity of some of the symptoms - well, it would need to be a desperate hypochondriac to dream up such symptoms. It is a terrible matter." The ME turned to Gibbs helplessly. "Jethro, I am hardly an expert on Gulf War Syndrome. I'm afraid I cannot be of that much help."
"Couldn't post-traumatic stress disorder cause this? Excessive stress?" Tony asked doubtfully.
"Could it affect someone to that extent?" Balboa countered with his own question. "Just stress?"
"Well, I must say that stress is actually quite an influence on health, more than perhaps we would anticipate. Yes, I once knew a young student who had unusual levels of hormones, fluctuating at such strange levels it had the doctors puzzled for several months until - "
"Duck!"
"Jethro, what do you want me to do? This is a syndrome not officially recognized and surrounded by so much debate. There are veterans who are suffering severely and who are quite sick and need good care, but at the same time the reports are so conflicting about things and in the media reports, they - "
" - I know, Duck," Gibbs cut off. "What about the meds Martin has been giving out?"
Ducky shook his head. "I don't know. I've never heard of any medicine on the market that claims to treat the aftereffects of Gulf War Syndrome - that is, the syndrome directly. There are many of the usual antiobiotics treating symptoms. For example, should someone get some sort of infection, an antibiotic, and so on."
He held up the bottle. "It must be a very, very new drug - there is almost no information at all."
"Those who were using it seemed to be pretty happy about it," Gibbs replied. "They said they were feeling stronger, more energetic, got sick less."
"Quite possibly. How many people have you interviewed?"
"Between all of us, on the phone and interviews? Twenty. Myick has been on the medicine only a few months, MacClellan was too. Walker, the one who died with Kate there, has been on it for almost a year. Lt. Kim, just two months."
"Maybe it was an accident," Balboa murmured. "Maybe a mix of drugs?"
"Whatever it is," Gibbs replied, frowning, "there's nothing official on it. That's good enough for me. DiNozzo, drag a judge out of bed and get a search warrant. You hit that clinic first thing tomorrow."
CARRIE BARRETT'S APARTMENT
Carrie Barrett groaned as the phone rang again. It always seemed that people managed to call right when she was finally about to relax. Even so, she jumped up from the couch and ran to pick it up. "Hello." She straightened when she heard the voice on the other end. "Sure. Dr. Eric Westin. ... Okay. ... Yeah, I'll see what I can find."
She sighed as she hung up. Another assignment...maybe she would have enough time to do this tomorrow morning.
It was sort of strange, really - she'd never heard of Westin, and most often, the patients who came to Brian Martin had doctors she knew or one of the other receptionists knew. The circle of VA doctors in the area and the doctors at Bethesda were at least slightly familiar.
She didn't think much of it. It wasn't possible to know every doctor, and maybe Westin was just one that had slipped through the cracks.
NCIS HQ
There was a small whimper, and Kate's head shot up from the desk, where she had fallen asleep over her files. She turned to look over at the baby carrier between her and Gibbs' desk, and it wasn't hard to make out two big eyes looking at her. She looked at her computer briefly, at the clock. "It's 2 am, Paulie," she groaned softly. "Please. SLEEP."
"Go home, Kate," Gibbs replied. "You too, Tony."
"Aren't you going home?" Kate frowned.
"I want to finish this."
"Okay," Kate replied, putting on her coat and shutting down her computer. "Let's go, Paulie. This is going to be fun night."
"You always said you wanted kids," Tony teased.
"Leave her here with me," Gibbs replied. Kate and Tony turned to look at him incredulously. "What? You don't think I can handle a kid?"
"Didn't think you'd want to, boss."
"Gibbs," Kate replied doubtfully.
Gibbs waved them off. "Kate, you've been with her all day. And she cries when she looks at Tony."
Tony made a face.
Chapter End Notes:
Casefile. Posted to ff.net 7-31-05 to 8-5-05.