Despite all scientific calculation and defying all logic, the last day of school before summer vacation was, without a doubt, the longest day of the year. It affected everyone; from the popular prom queen, who looked forward to spending the summer hanging with friends at the beach or at the mall, to the shy guy in the back of the class who had a summer’s worth of paintings to paint or a shelf full of books to read. The last period of the day was the worst torture of all. Seconds ticked mercilessly by as if they were minutes, and minutes like hours. 

Time dragged not just for the students, but for their gym teacher as well, though it was for an entirely different reason. Tony hadn’t managed to procure a summer job with the school district. Nor had he gotten any response back from the resume he’d sent out to numerous companies--there just weren’t any jobs hiring for just the summer. At least not outside of the fast food industry, and there were some lines that Tony just wouldn’t cross.

It wasn’t like Ellen didn’t make enough money to support them both comfortably for the summer months. She’d assured him of that fact time and again when he’d toyed with the idea of applying for a security position, or possibly even seeking a part time job with the police department since he did have the academy training requirement fulfilled. Of course she’d shot down that idea quickly. She didn’t want to have to worry about him all day.

That was also what she said when he’d proposed a few home improvement project ideas that he wanted to tackle. Okay, so he hadn’t ever worked with power tools. Or even hand tools much. But how hard could it be? And it would be really awesome to have a nice deck off the back of the house.

“If you want a deck, we can hire it done, honey,” Ellen had assured him patronizingly. “I just don’t think it’s a good idea for you to mess with that stuff.”

No summer job, no prospects for one and no projects to work on left him with two and a half months to plan for Training Camp at the end of August (a task that would take him a few hours at most), and pretty much nothing else to look forward to. He loved watching television as much as the next guy, but two and a half months of it sounded like ‘too much of a good thing’. He’d go crazy before the end of June and still have almost two months to fill.

So he found himself watching the clock almost as much as his students were doing, but while they were excited about what awaited them when the final bell rang for the day, he felt nothing but dread.

“You could let us leave early, Coach,” Jayson Browning suggested, hopeful.  They’d already cleared out lockers and the equipment had all been locked away for the summer, so there was little to do but sit and wait.

“And have you guys get into trouble on my watch?” Tony replied breezily.  “Not a chance, Browning. I need you on the team next year.”

“Come on, Mr. D,” pled another of his students.

“Sorry, no can do…” At least not this early. He wasn’t really worried about them getting into trouble; they were good kids for the most part. Still, they were his responsibility until the final bell. A couple minutes early he could do, but not the full twenty that loomed before them. Out of the corner of his eye he spotted a familiar figure just outside the gymnasium door. “Afraid our evil administration would frown on--well good afternoon, Ms. Duncan!” he greeted the school’s assistant principal in an exaggeratedly cheery voice and a grin.

“Good afternoon, Mr. DiNozzo,” Greta Duncan replied with a mock weariness that amused most of the students. “Sorry to interrupt your clearly fascinating class, but I wanted to make sure you got this before you left today.” She waved an envelope at him as she approached.

For a moment he was filled with dread. He’d already picked up and filled out all the administrative papers he was supposed to fill out at the end of the school year. He’d checked his intra-office mail earlier. There was only one possible thing they’d hold until the end of the day. He swallowed nervously as the prospect of being without a job for not just the summer but at all hit him.

Except that Greta had been at least a work-place friend since he’d started at McGinley High a few years back and she genuinely seemed to be excited about whatever she was handing him. That meant it couldn’t be a pink slip. Right?

He reached out and snatched the envelope from her, curiously turning it over in his hand. His brow furrowed as he saw the DC postmark. Then his eyes widened as he noted the label on the return address.

Gemcity, Inc.

He blinked as he stared at the envelope in his hands. No way.

He shouldn’t get ahead of himself, he realized. Maybe they sent promotional stuff to all of the contest entrants or something.

“Go ahead, open it!” Greta encouraged, hoping that the envelope contained what she suspected.

He nodded slowly, almost unaware of all the curious eyes upon him.  Tony’s love of Gemcity’s LJ Tibbs series was almost legendary around the school. Most of the staff had been concerned when he’d fallen uncharacteristic ally silent in the lounge a while back. Concerned, that was, until they’d discovered that he was quiet only because he was completely absorbed in reading the latest book in the series.

In recent months, his friends on the staff had become concerned again as the normally vivacious young teacher had quieted and started to seem a little bit withdrawn. In an effort to cheer him, they decorated his office with Deep Six posters and other Gemcity paraphernalia. They’d even managed to find him a belt just like Agent Tommy DeLuca’s, with a small knife hidden in the buckle. Their efforts had definitely lifted his spirits, though he still seemed to be a shadow of his former self.

Whenever he seemed particularly, down, though, Greta and some of the others had figured out that whenever they brought up the series and he’d brighten, regaling them with another tidbit gleaned from the continuing adventures of LJ Tibbs and his team. When he talked of the books, he became the animated young man he’d been when he’d first come to the school.  When Tony was excited about something his mood always seemed to spread to those around him, and it soon became a game among the faculty and students alike to try and stump him with trivia about the books.

When the Gemcity Contest had been announced, almost every other teacher--and several of his students--had encouraged him to enter it since he seemed to know the characters backward and forward.

Tony felt a little bit like Charlie Bucket seeking a Wonka-bar’s Golden Ticket as he slowly eased the envelope open and carefully pulled out the enclosed letter and attached packet of information.

“Congratulations…” he read the first word of the letter aloud in the moment before the shock struck. Congratulations? He’d…won?

He looked up in wonder as he heard several of the students starting to chatter excitedly. He looked back down at the page to read it again and make sure that he wasn’t imaging or misinterpreting.

“I won,” he repeated his findings aloud. He couldn’t stop the wide grin that spread across his face as his students cheered him on.

“Sure we can’t go early? You know. So you can go home and pack?” Jayson suggested again.

“Nice try.”

“Oh, come on! Ms. Duncan’s okay with it, aren’t you, Ms. Duncan?”

“I tell you what,” Greta replied craftily. “You guys manage to stump Coach DiNozzo and you can leave a few minutes early.” A couple of the students groaned, giving up already, but the rest began to gather, chattering as they tried to come up with some good questions.

“That would be Pimmy Jalmer.  Come on,” Tony scoffed lightly at the first one his students presented. “You guys can come up with something more challenging than that!” He couldn’t help but grin as he watched them huddle up again. He watched them fondly as they tossed ideas back and forth.

The idea of letting the kids leave early didn’t seem quite so unpalatable. Packing for a trip that wouldn’t occur until July would, of course, be ridiculous, but he couldn’t wait to get home and tell Ellen about it. Sure, she hadn’t been all that thrilled with his entering the contest, but surely now that he’d won it, she’d change her mind! An all-expense-paid trip to DC might be just the thing they needed to revive their marriage. Tonight, he’d go home, fix a special dinner, present her with a bottle of wine, and give her the fantastic news over dessert.

“Okay, Coach; here’s one. What does Amy Sutton do on Thursday nights?” Stephanie Miller threw out the next question.

“She goes bowling at Star Lanes,” he replied without hesitation, exaggeratedly rolling his eyes at her. “With nuns,” he added, his eyes lighting with amusement. “Come on. Ask me something hard!” he challenged them.

“I’ve got it!” Jayson declared, a victorious grin spreading across his face.

“Hit me.”

“How does Tibbs get the boat out of his basement?”

Tony pretended to consider, though he knew that it was a trick question. It had never been answered; he doubted Gemcity even knew the answer.

Tony glanced at the clock. There were less than five minutes left until the final bell, so he saw no harm in letting them win. “All right, Mr. Browning,” he drawled out slowly, as though reluctant to admit defeat. “Looks like you’ve won you and your classmates an early summer vacation.”

He hid his grin as he watched the kids congratulating each other on getting one up on their gym teacher.

“Have a great vacation, Mr. D!” he heard a couple of them calling out to him as the stampede to the door began.

“You, too,” he called after them.

“Congratulations, Tony,” Greta praised him again. “You’ll have to send us all postcards.”

“Oh, I will,” he promised. “Maybe even make you come over and suffer through my vacation slides when I get back,” he added.

“I look forward to it,” she replied genuinely. “Have a fantastic summer!” she called after him as she watched him head toward his office to lock up for the summer. She couldn’t help but smile as she witnessed lightness in his gait that she hadn’t seen in months.

Tony’s spirits were still high as he set the dinner table a couple hours later in anticipation of Ellen’s arrival. He’d made her favorite lasagna, prepared a salad, even made a special cake that he’d just finished decorating.

When he heard Ellen’s car pull into the driveway Tony quickly lit the candles he’d set out on the table, turned off the overhead lights, turned on the soft music, and nervously rearranged the red white and blue roses he’d bought to adorn the table.

“Smells wonderful!” Ellen called out as she hung her purse on the hall tree. “Have a nice last day?” she asked as she made her way into the dining room and took in the elegantly decorated table.

“The best,” Tony agreed exuberantly as he moved to greet her with a big hug and a fiery kiss.

“Whoa! A really good day?” she laughed, slightly taken aback by his passion. “Did you find a summer job? I know you were a little worried about not having enough to keep you busy…"

“Nope. Not a job,” he replied, giving her an excited but cryptic smile. “Come on. Sit down. I’ll tell you all about it.”

She looked suspicious and her smile turned slightly guarded but he didn’t let it ruin his mood. He just went on with his plan of pampering her a little bit before presenting her with the vacation opportunity. He wasn’t sure why he suddenly felt so nervous about telling her. It was a good thing; surely she’d think so, too. He had nothing to worry about. Did he?

“You remember that contest?” he segued into the subject as they were just finishing up their meals.

“Hmmm? What contest?”

“That Thom Gemcity story thing I showed you a while back.”

Ellen smiled knowingly. “That little story thing?”

“Yeah.  Well…I kind of sent it in. And I won. That is we won,” the words tumbled awkwardly from his lips. “A trip to DC. This July!”

“Wait…you sent it in? I thought we discussed this.”

Tony shrank back slightly at the annoyance in her tone. “Well…I just figured it wouldn’t hurt to try. I knew the odds weren’t all that great, but there wasn’t any fee or anything, so…”

“So you thought you’d go behind my back?”

“I thought it’d be fun, if I actually did win,” he replied defensively. “That the trip would be something we could do together.”

“Like I’d have fun traipsing around some Army barracks?”

“The Navy shipyards,” he corrected, trying not to let his anger rise. “And you wouldn’t have to go to that. But we could go to the museums and--"

“And I told you that I can’t take the time off!”

Tony clenched his jaw shut, doing his best to remain calm. This wasn’t supposed to be yet another fight. This was supposed to be a happy occasion! Why couldn’t they just enjoy this? He felt a wave of guilt as he tried to look at it from her perspective. She had told him that she couldn’t go. He just thought that maybe…maybe she’d change her mind. His winning just seemed like it was some sort of sign that they were supposed to do this.

Or maybe just he was supposed to, he considered. “Maybe I could go,” he spoke the words before even thinking them through.

“You’d go without me?” Ellen asked, a hurt tone in her voice.

Tony’s guilt intensified. “I’d rather go with you,” he assured her. “Are you sure you couldn’t just ask--"

“I can’t,” she replied firmly.

Tony sighed as he absently pushed the last bite of his lasagna back and forth across his plate.

“I’m sorry, sweetie. It’s just that we talked about this. We can always save up and go next year.”

“Yeah,” he answered despondently before jabbing the final bite with his fork and popping it into his mouth. He couldn’t leave the table fast enough. He hurriedly gathered the dishes and withdrew into the kitchen.

Damn it, he cursed himself as he loaded the dishwasher. He was just so…frustrated! He was trying to make things work with Ellen, but he was getting tired of being the one who always had to give things up. He gave up…hell, he gave up everything for her. And it wasn’t that he hated his life. He enjoyed being a teacher for the most part; he loved the kids, he loved sports…but truth be told, his heart had always yearned for adventure. This trip was his chance to have at least a small taste of it. Why couldn’t she just be happy for him? He could understand her not being able to take the time to go, but it just didn’t seem right for her to ask him not to go, either. He’d earned the trip! And it wasn’t like he’d be taking off work or anything. She was always so busy that she’d hardly even notice that he’d be gone.  Well, except for fixing her own dinner, but he’d even be willing to make up some meals before he left. Or he could use part of the prize money to hire someone in for the week or…

“I am sorry, sweetie,” Ellen repeated her apology as she wrapped her arms around his waist and leaned against his back. He’d been so engrossed in his thoughts he hadn’t even heard her approach. “We’ll go next summer. I promise.” She kissed the back of his neck.

“Yeah,” he numbly agreed.

“You make any dessert?” she asked brightly, as if they hadn’t just fought.

He smiled bitterly as he motioned toward it. Her breath sucked in and he had to admit he felt a small twinge of satisfaction as she gaped at the cake he’d decorated to resemble a small replica of the White House.  The feeling evaporated just as quickly as she fled the kitchen, effectively ending the conversation.

In the following weeks, Tony tried to adjust to the reality that he was going to forfeit the trip, but it just kept niggling at him. There really wasn’t any reason he couldn’t go alone. Ellen was barely even home long enough to do anything but sleep. So why not?

The night before his scheduled flight he tried to broach the subject one final time.

“Damn it, Tony! I don’t want you to go!” Ellen reiterated.

“But why? You’re hardly even here! I’ve made up casseroles and a--"

“It’s not about that!”

“Then what is it about?” he asked. “I love you, Ellen. I just…I’m going crazy sitting here at home,” he tried to reason with her. “Please, just let me do this. I need to do this.”

“You need to get away from me?” she asked in a tiny voice that almost broke his heart.

“Of course not. I just need…something different. I wish you’d go with me. Maybe you still can! I could take a later flight or you could join me or--"

“Jesus, Tony! Just stop! We’re not going to DC and that’s final!”

“I’m going,” he made his final stand.

“You want to go? Fine. But don’t bother coming back.”

Tony felt as though he’d been slapped. She was completely serious. He could hear it in her tone, see it in her eyes.  They stared at each other in silence as he grappled with the ultimatum. For what seemed like hours they simply stood and stared mutely at each other until exhaustion won out and they retreated to their separate corners of the house.

Tony slept on the couch that night. Rather he tossed and turned on the couch that night. 

He honestly wasn’t sure what his decision was until he calmly packed his bag the next morning. He felt surprisingly numb during the cab ride to the airport. He didn’t even really start to feel again until the plane was landing in DC when his nerves began to unravel. Had he really done it? Had he really left Ellen?

Tony wasn’t sure what to expect when he reached the airport; he’d simply been told that a car would be waiting for him. He scanned the small crowd at the gate until he spotted a man holding a sign with his name on it.

“I’m Anthony DiNozzo,” he introduced himself.

For the first few minutes of the trip, Tony found himself lost in thoughts of Ellen again. Was it really the end of their marriage? They hadn’t been happy for a long time, but he still loved her, didn’t he? So why didn’t this feel like the end of the world? Why did he have a strange feeling of…relief?

Tony couldn’t contain his grin as he opened the sunroof and rose to let the cool breeze hit his face. For the first time in…years he felt free. This was the beginning of the adventure he’d been craving, he was certain. He couldn’t wait to experience…everything! He didn’t know where he wanted to go first! He just knew he didn’t want to spend the afternoon cooped up in a hotel room. He couldn’t wait to go exploring.

He could barely contain his pent up energy as Joshua escorted him to his hotel.

“You’ll find your welcome package on the desk,” Joshua informed him as they reached his suite. “Your itinerary, your visitor’s pass, your Visa…”

“My Visa?” Tony asked.

“The prize money,” the chauffer clarified, his eyes crinkling with amusement at the awed look that spread across Tony’s face. “Here is my card. You might want to program my number into your phone. That way if you find yourself lost, or want me to drive you anywhere, you can just give me a call,” he explained.

“Right, of course,” Tony agreed as he pulled his cell phone from his pocket and powered it up. He winced at the number of missed calls on the display.  Ignoring them for the moment, he followed Joshua’s advice and programmed in the contact.

“Is there anything else I can do for you right now?” Joshua asked. “Anywhere you want me to take you?”

“No. Thanks. I think I’m just going to hang out around here. Explore the neighborhood a little,” Tony replied as he pulled his wallet from his pocket, intending to tip the driver.

“No need for that, Sir,” Joshua assured him. He held up his hand to stifle Tony’s protest. “I assure you that Mr. Gemcity already has it covered.”

“Oh…um. Well…thanks, then, Joshua.”

“My pleasure, Sir. Enjoy your stay.”

As soon as he was alone, Tony quickly changed into a t-shirt, sweats, and his running shoes. He’d spotted a park just a few blocks back and was certain that there had to be a fantastic running trail. Not wanting to take anything unnecessary with him, he tucked his wallet, the visitor’s pass, and the prize Visa into the hidden compartment of his suitcase, pocketing only his hotel key.

He should probably check his messages, he reminded himself as he picked up his cell phone. He just didn’t really want to deal with them at the moment. He should take the phone with him, he decided; in case he got lost.

He regretted the decision as he heard Ellen’s ringtone sounding as he was just completing the second mile of his jog. He slowed to a stop and pulled the phone from his pocket.

“Hello?” he answered, slightly out of breath.

“Tony?” Ellen asked sharply.

“Yeah, you called my phone,” he reminded her.

“Where are you?”

He let out a humorless chuckle. “I’m in DC, Ellen.” He started to feel guilty again as a silence greeted him. And guiltier the longer it lasted. Damn it, he didn’t want to feel guilty! This was his—

“HEY!” he heard a woman cry out from a short distance away.

Startled, he turned to see what was happening and saw a man running toward him--with the woman’s purse clutched in the apparent thief’s grasp.

“Hey!” Tony yelled, letting his phone drop from his hands as he prepared to give chase. The man, seeing him, veered in a new direction.

“Tony?” he heard Ellen’s voice faintly before he took off after the purse-snatcher.

Though Tony was in excellent shape he had trouble catching up to the thief. He tuned out all distractions and focused his complete attention the man as he gave chase. If he couldn’t catch the guy he sure as hell wanted to get a good description of him.

He was just within tackling range when he realized that he should have been paying at least a little more attention to his surroundings. He didn’t feel the impact, really; just heard the blaring horn and the squeal of tires and saw the sky seem to come rushing toward him…and then away from him.

He didn’t really feel anything after that.

A man’s face appeared above him, looking down at him with a horrified expression. He was aware that the man was speaking, but couldn’t understand a word the man was saying. At first he thought maybe it was just gibberish, but then he thought maybe he recognized a couple words of…Hebrew?

And then he didn’t really care at all.

He just let himself float away as the world went dark.

It’s nice, honey. How did you get into NCIS? I smiled. I’ve never experienced Tibbs without his morning coffee. We’re in uncharted waters here, Kristin. Pupils are equal and reactive. Listen, kid. I don’t want to hurt your feelings, but you’re not exactly Amy’s type. About that. It’s taken care of--I went with Mom. On your six, Boss. I just don’t understand why you’d waste your time with this stuff. I guess that tatt on your caboose did the trick. Blood pressure slightly elevated. I need all the evidence I signed in this morning, Cathy. What? The evidence I signed in. Now! Patient is stable, beginning transport. So I’m one of you guys now? No more hazing? Sure, Probie. This guy graduated from MIT and Johns Hopkins. You’re nowhere near his league. You know, maybe you should expand the list, just to include people that just hate you. Hate me? Nobody hates me. People like me, I’m a nice guy. What about the woman who posted your picture on the herpes alert website? On it, Boss. We’re about six minutes out. First Amy’s lab geek frames Tommy for murder, now McGregor shoots a cop…did someone break a mirror? Hang in there, Buddy. I’m in the middle of a very serious negotiation. On McGregor’s computer? I know where you’re going with this, and the answer is yes. What was the question? Have I no shame? She goes bowling at Star Lanes. With nuns. For the record, Tommy, women don’t appreciate being called baggie buddies. You will not die. You hear me? You. Will not. Die. On it, Boss. On it, Boss. On it… 

Timothy McGee wanted nothing more than to crawl into bed and sleep off what had been one of the most insanely disastrous days of his life. He knew it was a bit hyperbolic to think such, but it seemed as though if something could possibly go wrong, it had. He’d dropped his toothbrush into the toilet this morning, for Pete’s sake. That should have been a sign that he should just go back to bed.

But, of course, he hadn’t. He’d had far too much to do despite the fact that he was on vacation--from his day job, anyway. He wondered, though, if he would have had a much more relaxing day if he’d just gone in to work.

The CyberCrimes Unit had been fairly quiet recently, and that made him miss his days on Gibbs’ team in Major Crimes all the more. He didn’t expect to miss the action, but he did--in more ways than simply gaining ideas for his novels. He used to think he’d be happy working on a computer all day, but…he missed being in the field. Maybe when his vacation was up, he’d check and see if there was a chance he could move back up to Major Crimes.

Vacation just didn’t seem like the right way to describe his week. Vacation implies rest and relaxation, but instead he’d sat in on yet another grueling day of auditions. While he had very little official say in the casting for Deep Six, the director actually seemed interested in his thoughts on the matter. So far, they’d found the perfect Lisa and a…reasonably good Tibbs. But it seemed that nobody really understood any of the other characters.

The McGregors had been…kind of insulting if he really thought about it. Most of them were out of shape, some of them downright sloppy.  One of them actually came in wearing a Star Trek uniform. Okay, so he was techno-savvy, and yes, probably fit the definition of a geek, but he did care about his appearance! He had meticulous hygiene, thanks! 

The Amy Suttons were all just way too wild. Many had gotten the look right, but none had attitude even close. He wanted a sweet ‘girl next door’ in a dog collar, did none of the actresses actually read up on the part or did they just read her physical description and decide to go with the media stereotype? Ugh.

The worst, though, were the Tommys. If he had to see one more Tommy he was probably going to go crazy. They had the obnoxious down; he’d give them that. And the self-centered act (though he suspected few of them were acting). The way they had all strutted around he figured that every single  one of them thought they had the role in their pocket. None of them got the point that although Tommy may have those traits he also had to be charming. The character often walked a fine line, but in the end, his likable side had to win out. The audience had to like him or the movie would more than likely flop…and possibly take out the books’ audience with it.

So auditions had been horrible. He wasn’t sure he could take another day of them, so he was somewhat relieved that Open Call was completed. They’d found a few possibilities for Amy and McGregor and were going to invite a few to come back in for screen tests and further interviewing. Unfortunately, absolutely none of the Tommys were even worth consideration. McGee was really starting to regret his decision to allow a movie adaptation of his series. Part of him wanted to just wash his hands of the whole thing, but every time he seriously considered it he began to feel guilty about abandoning the project…and more than a little nervous about what they would do to the material if he wasn’t there to stop them from messing with it too much.

If auditions had been the end of his day, it would’ve been bad, but of course, it wasn’t over yet.

He’d rushed home, changed, and rushed to pick up his assistant-turned girlfriend, Mollie, for the contest winner’s reception dinner. No sooner had he gotten outside but he’d tripped and scraped his knee, tearing a hole in his pants. So of course, he had to go back up and change. See? He cared about his appearance!

Unfortunately the change made him late to pick up Mollie, who decided that even though he was almost always quite punctual he needed to be thoroughly scolded for his transgression. It might not have been so bad except that it set him even further behind schedule. When she’d caught him checking his watch it had only intensified her anger. She ended up being so upset that she decided not to attend the banquet at all. By that time, he hadn’t been all that upset with her decision. He wasn’t entirely sure if she was still his girlfriend when he left her apartment. He also wasn’t entirely sure that he cared, except that it might mean he’d need to hire a new assistant. The fact that that was what was more worrisome made him suspect that it might be for the best for both of them if they did break up.

All in all, he was only about twenty minutes late getting to dinner. As it turned out, though, the guest of honor hadn’t shown up, either. McGee didn’t even want to think about the subsequent events where they discovered the contest winner, Anthony DiNozzo’s suite had been broken into and the man himself seemed to be missing. The grizzly discovery of the man’s bloodied clothes in the dumpster…McGee really didn’t want to think about that.  He felt guilty enough as it was. He’d wanted to assist in the investigation, it was out of NCIS jurisdiction--and not even remotely cyber-crimes related, so he’d just gone on home. He’d check with Gibbs in the morning and see if the man could maybe pull a few strings or call in a few favors or something so he could follow up on the case.

Once home, he’d immediately changed into his PJs, but he couldn’t sleep. He felt awful. Maybe it was all just some bizarre misunderstanding and DiNozzo was fine but had been waylaid somewhere. Gotten lost in the city or something. McGee hoped so. He’d brought the man out to DC, after all, so he felt a bit responsible for him. He didn’t even want to think about the PR disaster this was going to cause. Although it might make for an interesting case for Tibbs and…

McGee groaned and his guilt deepened. What was he thinking? A man he was somewhat responsible for was missing and foul play was suspected. Now was not the time to think about his next novel.

Exhausted, but still too upset to sleep, McGee decided to distract himself by checking his email and possibly seeing if anyone from his gaming community was online.

Still no word from Ziva, he noted as he skimmed through his messages. It had been a couple weeks since he’d heard from the Mossad Officer. They’d kept regularly in touch after she’d gone home to Israel a few months back, but he supposed it was natural that the contact would lessen until eventually they’d probably  just stop completely. Still, it had been a couple weeks since he’d heard from her; she hadn’t replied to his last two messages. Yet another thing to worry about! He frowned as he closed down his email.

What he needed now was to…blow stuff up. He pulled out the game disks and was just about to immerse himself in the game world when someone started pounding on his door. He wasn’t expecting anyone, so who…?

Abby maybe? Except her knock was a lot different than that…

“Open up, Probie!” an unfamiliar voice called from the other side of the door.

What the hell? McGee peered through the eyehole and saw a man starting to lean closer to the door, apparently about to try looking into it from the other side.

He jerked back. “I think you’ve got the wrong apartment,” he called through the door.

“McGee?” the man queried.

McGee hesitated. “Uh…yeah?”

“Don’t sound so sure of yourself there, Probie. Should we try that again?”

“Yes,” McGee replied. He blinked realizing that his answer implied that they should try again rather than affirming that he was, indeed, McGee. “I mean, yes. I’m McGee.”

“Now that we have that established, are you going to leave me hanging out here all night?”

McGee blinked again. “Uh…”

“Want me to serenade you?”

“What!?”

“Just a suggestion. You know. Guy stands outside singing until girl…well in your case…nah we’ll stick with girl lets him in.”

McGee scowled at the dig. His mind raced, trying to come up with a fitting response to the situation. Should he call the police? Yes. Crazy person in his hallway, that seemed like a good idea. “I think you better go,” he called out, giving the guy a chance to leave on his own.

“This is the song that never ever ends. Yes it goes--" the man began to sing in a boisterous but not altogether unpleasant voice.

Not wanting his neighbors to be disturbed and not thinking his actions through, McGee quickly unlocked the door. He realized that he should have set the chain in place first when the door burst open, knocking him over as the man let himself in. “Thanks, Probie!”

Crap! McGee scrambled to his feet, cursing himself for being so careless. Now the stranger was in his  apartment and…and...he frowned as he saw the guy motioned for someone to follow him inside. Jesus! He needed to get to his bedroom where he’d secured his Sig and--

He froze as a second man made his way into the apartment carrying several packages. What the…?

“Just put them in there,” the first man directed, pointing toward McGee’s bedroom.

McGee relaxed slightly, but remained apprehensive as the second man disappeared into the bedroom for just a moment before returning to the living room empty-handed. The first man, meanwhile, started to reach inside his jacket and McGee prepared to tackle him, but stopped as he the man withdrew a small roll of cash, pulling a couple bills from it and handing it to the other man, who accepted them with a grin.

The man’s eyes widened and he seemed almost speechless for a moment before recovering and acknowledging what McGee could only surmise must have been a very generous tip. “Thank you, Sir. If you need any further assistance, please don’t hesitate to ask for me again!” He was dismissed with a nod.

“Um…uh…” McGee stammered, still not sure how he should handle the situation. On one hand, a total stranger had just burst into his apartment. On the other, the man didn’t seem to be wishing him any harm. He just seemed to be…

Examining all of McGee’s stuff. McGee knew he probably looked like an idiot standing there and watching as the guy ran his finger along each of the titles on his bookshelf. He didn’t think to stop the guy until the stranger had picked up one of his knickknacks and casually tossed it in the air. He caught it, but the action reminded McGee that he really did need to do something. He leapt forward and caught the knickknack as it was tossed up in the air again. As he set it back down on the shelf the man cheerily moved on to examine another area.

“Um…uh--"

“Think we covered that already, McGreg…McGee,” the guy cut him off.

McGee’s head tilted as he caught the slip with his name. McGregor.  He almost laughed as he realized what was going on.  “Okay, very funny. Which agency gave you my address?” He had to admit that the guy looked the part. And it was certainly an interesting way to present an audition. The song in the hallway was totally a Tommy sort of thing to do; he’d have to remember that one. Charming in a really annoying sort of way.

Ignoring the question, the guy turned to pick up another object. McGee’s oversized coffee mug. McGee quickly snatched it from him, this time holding it protectively in his grip as the guy moved on again. Just as he imagined Agent Tommy would have. The guy showed no signs of breaking character.

“So, uh…Tommy.” McGee frowned as he recalled that the actor had decided to go with using McGee’s real name. “Um…what should I call you?”

The guy turned and looked at him and for just a split second McGee thought he saw a touch of confusion, but then a grin spread across the man’s handsome features. McGee could see how this man’s smile could easily be infectious. That was a definite step up from most of the guys who’d read at Open Call. “I’m thinking ‘Boss’ has a nice ring,” the actor answered, not ready to break character. McGee nodded good-naturedly. “Or ‘Sir’ works.” The man’s head cocked slightly back as he pretended to consider. “Buuuut, since you’re being kind enough to put me up for the night, I guess you can just call me Tommy.”

“All right Tomm…wait. What?”

“You don’t mind if I take the bedroom do you, Probie?”

“What--?”

McGee’s eyes widened as Tommy abruptly turned and headed into the bedroom. “Nice PJs, by the way. Silk, right? You know, I always pictured you as a footie-pajamas kind of guy.”

“No I…” McGee started to trail after Tommy but stopped short as the bedroom door shut in his face. “Ha ha…cute,” he muttered. His hand hovered over the doorknob for a few moments as he tried to decide whether or not he was supposed to follow the guy or not. After a few moments of hesitation, though, he realized of course he should follow. Did he really want Tommy rooting through his things? The actor, committed as he was to the role, would most definitely be doing that.

McGee’s eyes bugged out and his jaw dropped as he pushed the door open to reveal that Tommy wasn’t going through his things, but was instead…disrobing.  For a few moments McGee was completely flabbergasted as he watched Tommy’s dress shirt being tossed to join the suit jacket across the back of the settee.

“A little privacy here, McGee?” Tommy suggested, though he continued to undress, unbuckling his belt and pulling it through the loops.

“What? Uh…sorry,” McGee stammered, turning around. He honestly could not figure out what he should say or do. Was this part of the audition? McGee flinched as he heard Tommy’s pants drop to the floor. Did he think…good God, did he think there was some sort of “Casting Couch” situation here? “Y-you don’t need to uh…undress,” he sputtered, feeling his face heating up. He was certain he was probably turning beat red.

“I hate sleeping in my suit,” Tommy replied breezily. And good lord, did McGee just hear another garment hitting the floor? Even though his back was turned, McGee squeezed his eyes shut, just in case. His mouth dropped open as he heard the sound of his blanket being turned back.

“No! “ he blurted out. “I mean you don’t have to do this. I’m not…”

“Do what?” Tommy sounded genuinely confused for a moment. But then suddenly he laughed. “Oh…OH! Jeez, Probie! What kind of man do you think I am?” he asked, his tone a mixture of amusement and minor indignation. McGee was startled as he felt his blanket being flung over his shoulder. A moment later one of his pillows sailed past his head, landing on the living room floor just a few inches away from his couch. “I didn’t even realize you swung that way…”

“What? No! I’m not--I'm not gay!”

“Whoa, it’s okay, Probie. I don’t judge.”

“But I’m not--"

“G’night, McGee,” Tommy spoke through a yawn, cutting off McGee’s protest. McGee could hear the mattress springs as the other man climbed into his bed.

“Goodnight…Tommy,” he murmured, still at a loss for how he was supposed to respond.  Was Tommy really intending to spend the night? He dared to peek over his shoulder and saw the actor seemingly intent on doing just that. He had McGee’s sheets pulled up to his chin and was lying on his side, his back to McGee.

For a few moments McGee simply stood in the doorway, and then he resigned himself to sleeping on the couch. He had to commend the actor for being ballsy. And he definitely had the right look to play Agent Tommy. And though he was definitely playing the obnoxious role to the hilt, there was still something likable about him. All in all…he was definitely the best audition. In the morning he’d get the actor’s representation information--and a signed contract that IF he got cast he would never again show up at McGee’s apartment uninvited.

He gathered up his pillow and blanket and stretched out on the couch for the night.

“Hey, McGee?” he heard Tommy call in a soft voice.

“Yeah?”

“I won’t tell anyone. Your secret’s safe with me,” the sleepy voice assured him, sounding completely sincere.

McGee let out a small huff and shook his head.

But that didn’t stop the small smile that adorned his face as he drifted off to sleep, content in the knowledge that he’d found his Tommy. Today hadn’t been a complete waste, and tomorrow was sure to be better.

He crawled through the rubble, ignoring the searing pain filling his lungs. He could no longer stand and knew he had to get out before he succumbed to the smoke, but he couldn’t leave. She was still in here somewhere. There was no way she was dead; he’d know it if she was, and his gut told him she was still very much alive…for now. “Lisa,” he strained to call out, his voice raspy from smoke inhalation. Before he’d collapsed, he’d done a quick search of the remaining rooms; the only place she could be was under the collapsed wall or…or in the raging inferno where her bedroom used to be. He refused to believe that, but tried to make his way toward the flames, anyway. “Got someone in here!” he heard someone yelling and felt hands grabbing at him, trying to pull him back the other direction. No. He had to get to her! But the smoke had gotten to him and he was too weak to effectively free himself from the grasp of the firefighter who was attempting to rescue him.  “Lisa…” he tried again, struggling to free himself from the other man’s hold. “We’ll get her, Buddy, you just let us take care of you now.” No! Tommy tried again to wrest himself free but instead found himself lifted from the ground and carried toward the hallway. He tried to fight but his body was giving out; his lungs felt ready to explode— 

Tony woke, bolting upright as he struggled to breathe. He looked around wildly and slowly relaxed as he realized that he was okay; there was no fire. He was alive and…sore, but otherwise well, it seemed. Damn nightmares. He didn’t remember having them before, really, but after his run in with the Israeli…

He pondered for a moment. He still figured that it must have been a rogue Mossad agent that had taken Lisa. And whoever had taken Lisa had tried to kill him earlier by bombing his apartment. So it made sense that they’d tried to kill him again. He shouldn’t stay here; he was putting McGee in danger.

He’d already gone into hiding once, though, and clearly they’d tracked him down. He didn’t want to hide again. He’d needed time to recover before, but now he was stronger…or at least he had been before the attack yesterday. There really wasn’t time for him to waste recuperating this time. The longer he put it off, the more likely it was that someone else would get hurt, whether it be Probie, or Abby, or…Tibbs.

Gibbs.

Whatever.

Besides, if he could find the guy who’d tried to kill him, he’d be able to find Lisa. He knew they’d tried. They’d probably exhausted every available resource to try to find her. But now, maybe, he had a chance. He just had to find the guy who attacked him.

According to the clock it was only 4:48am, but he was fairly certain that he would not be going back to sleep any time soon. He silently slipped from the bed and peeked out into the living room where McGee was sprawled haphazardly on the couch, sleeping soundly. He considered waking his partner but decided against it. He’d be less conspicuous if he travelled alone.

Besides, Probie would probably try to talk him out of doing what he was going to do. For good reason, he had to agree. If he was spotted by the wrong person and recognized, his efforts in burning the DiNozzo alias would be in vain.

As quietly as he could, Tony sifted through the packages he’d bought the night before. Selecting the darkest shirt, a pair of jeans, his lucky belt, some clean socks and boxers, he dressed. Still something was missing.

He felt naked without his Sig. Besides, he really should be carrying in case he did happen to spot the Israeli.

Tony glanced again at McGee and reconsidered wakening him. It would be good to have the man’s firepower.

Then again he could have the firepower without the man, he realized, glancing at Probie’s lock box. Tony wasn’t intending to be gone long; maybe he’d even be back before Probie woke up.  He snagged McGee’s shoulder holster from the bed post and then silently slipped into the living room. He wasn’t sure how he knew exactly where he was going to find the key, but sure enough when he lifted the computer keyboard, there it was. He was going to have to talk to Probie about not being so obvious next time.

As he set the keyboard back in place, he knocked the mouse a little bit and the computer screen lit, revealing a desktop wallpaper showing McGee, with a stern looking older man--Gibbs, perhaps?—on one side and…wow. That had to be Lisa on the other. How Tony could possibly have forgotten what the Mossad Officer looked like was beyond him. She was…stunning. That was the only word he could think of to describe her. 

After a few moments he forced himself to look away. It wasn’t right that she was out there somewhere, fighting for her life while he was hiding out in hotels or in McGee’s cushy apartment. It was way past time for him to do something.

His resolve firmly in place, Tony returned to McGee’s room with the lock box key and retrieved Probie’s weapon, slipping it into the holster. He didn’t really have a good jacket to wear over it, so he turned to McGee’s closet, selecting a dark jacket. It was a little bit loose, but not too bad a fit.

On his way out of the apartment, Tony realized a rather major flaw in his plan. He had no transportation.

He needed a rental. There was no way that they’d let him without ID and a credit card, though. So he’d need to borrow McGee’s. He glanced at his still sleeping partner. Then at the hook near the door where his keys resided.

“You snooze, you lose, Probie,” he quietly teased. He’d better leave a note.

Not seeing any paper, Tony returned to the computer. He should put the lock box key away, anyway, he realized as he returned the key to its spot under the keyboard.

Sitting in McGee’s really nice office chair, Tony turned his attention back to the computer. First thing, he’d need to disable the screen saver and sleep mode so that McGee would be sure to notice the message. He quickly did so, and then pulled up McGee’s email.

He grinned as he glanced through the messages in the inbox. Seemed that Probie had an awful lot of offers about increasing his size. Tony’d have to remember to tease him about that later. He pulled up a “New Message” and typed:  “Learn to hide it better, Probie.”

Maybe he should leave a little bit more than that?

“Got your keys and borrowed your car, too. Back in few hours to pick you up. Do me a favor--get me a rental and I’ll pay you back. – Tommy.”

There. That should do it.

With that, he stole silently out of the apartment, taking McGee’s keys with him.

It took him only a couple minutes to find the right car, and an embarrassing few minutes for him to figure out how to find the area where he’d been attacked. He had the GPS thingie, but he didn’t know the address of the park…or even its name. It was downtown, and he knew he should know how to get there, but his brain still wasn’t working. He really needed to go see Doc Malloy today. Maybe he’d swing by NCIS and visit him this morning after staking out the park. Or maybe he should stake out the hotel instead? He shouldn’t have burned the DiNozzo cover. Then the Israeli would have come to him instead of him hoping to find them again. Still, he doubted that the guy actually believed he was dead.  He hoped that his assailant had the same idea he did and would head back to the hotel to try and pick up his trail again.

Wait. The hotel! That was it! He could have slapped himself on the back of the head for not thinking of it sooner. He called up the listing of hotels in the DC area on the GPS and selected The Grand.

He really shouldn’t let himself get seen at the hotel itself, he decided. The hotel management would likely not be all that happy with him for leaving his room open and for causing them a bit of bad publicity. So…he’d still stake out the park. It was a longshot, he realized, but at least there was a possibility the Israeli would go back there looking for him.

It was almost 6 by the time Tony found his destination and parked McGee’s car. He picked up a newspaper and selected a bench where he’d spend the next couple hours observing, hoping that his attacker would happen by.

Ellen DiNozzo was awakened from a sound sleep by the phone ringing. She thought about not answering it; it was probably Tony. He’s the only one who would call her so early in the morning. He probably wanted to come crawling back. She should just let the call roll to voice mail and let him worry all day. Except that he’d probably just keep calling until she answered.

She rolled over and picked up the phone. “Tony?” she asked sleepily.

“Are you a relative of Anthony DiNozzo?” an unfamiliar voice asked.

She sat up in bed, tensing nervously as a feeling of foreboding washed over her. “This is his wife, Ellen DiNozzo,” she informed the caller. “Did something happen? Is Tony okay?”

“When is the last time you spoke with your husband, Mrs. DiNozzo?”

Ellen swallowed hard, tears welling at the corners of her eyes as she thought about the way their last conversation had ended so abruptly. She’d been mad at the time, but…what if he hadn’t just dropped the call to piss her off? “Y-yesterday afternoon. Did something happen to my husband?” she asked again.

“This is Agent Ron Sacks with the DC field office of the FBI,” the caller identified himself and her heart sank. She listened as Agent Sacks explained the situation and asked her a series of questions. Did she know where he might be? Did she know of any enemies? Had they fought recently?

“Should I be coming there, Agent Sacks?” she finally cut off his questions. “Is my husband de…alive?”

“We can have one of the local field office agents pick you up,” Sacks replied, not answering her second question. The truth was the FBI investigation had so-far turned up more questions than answers. It was officially being considered a Missing and Endangered Persons case due to the bloodied clothes found in the hotel’s dumpster. Sacks, however, suspected something far different. He didn’t think DiNozzo had been taken. No, he suspected something far different. The blood on DiNozzo’s clothing hadn’t yet been identified. He couldn’t help but think that DiNozzo’s disappearance just might be because DiNozzo didn’t want to be found.

“I’ll pick you up at the airport in a few hours,” Sacks informed her

Things rarely go exactly how one wants them to, Tony mused as he made his way back to McGee’s car after only half an hour of waiting. Of course he hadn’t lucked out and stumbled on the Israeli. He was probably stupid for having even thought that returning to the park would yield such a perfect resolution.

Things rarely go exactly how one wants them to, but somehow things usually seem to find a way to work out, anyway. He glanced at the newspaper in his hand and grinned. Hell, he could have done all the legwork today without even leaving McGee’s apartment if he’d thought to read the paper online.

He didn’t believe in coincidences, and the attack yesterday could not possibly have been a coincidence. The Israeli wasn’t just some rogue Mossad agent. He was the Big Kahuna, himself. Director of the Mossad, Eli David. And now he knew exactly how he was going to get a little bit of face time and get some answers.   As it so happened, Director David was in town to attend a big Embassy party. So he had to find a way to get into that party. With his ties at NCIS, it shouldn’t be all that difficult. Director Nance was probably going. Hell, it wouldn’t surprise him at all if some of the NCIS agents would be along as protection. All he had to do was make sure he was one of those NCIS Agents.

It was not even 7am, so it was unlikely that the Director would be in yet, but Tony wanted to make sure that he was there to talk to him first thing. Besides, showing up early would allow him a little bit of time to brush up on some of the things he was certain he was supposed to know. Like what the director looked like. And where his office was located. And…well…just about everything else.

Now all he had to do was find how to get to Headquarters. Somehow he doubted that NCIS was considered a “Point of Interest” to the company who set up the GPS destinations. “Come on, McGee, tell me you were anal enough to set up your ‘work’ destination…”

Jackpot.

Tony grinned as the GPS gave him the first instruction.

Once he reached NCIS, however, Tony encountered another problem. He may have a visitor’s pass, but he didn’t have a gate pass for the parking garage. He also didn’t have any ID on him. He hoped that the man at the gate would recognize him.

“Good morning!” he called cheerfully as he rolled the car to a stop at the security gate. “I seem to have forgotten my gate pass,” he informed the man.

“That’s fine, sir. May I see your ID badge?”

“Actually I just have this today,” Tony answered, waving the visitor’s pass.

“That’ll be fine. I’ll call upstairs for an escort, sir.”

“Oh, I don’t need an escort. Unless she’s gorgeous and you’re paying, of course.”

The man faltered for a moment before recovering. “Sorry, sir, but all visitors require an escort at all times.”

“Not actually a visitor,” Tony’s eyes flicked to the man’s name badge—“Wallace Jones”--and continued, “Wally. I’m Tommy DeLuca. I work up in Major Crimes, just haven’t replaced my badge and gate pass since my apartment blew up.”

The guy’s eyes widened. “Your apartment blew up?”

Didn’t the guy watch the news? Surely that would have made the news…

“Yeeeah. And my car…twice.” Okay, so one of the cars hadn’t actually been his, but close enough…

“Oh…um. Sorry. Well, I’m afraid since you don’t have your badge though I’m going to have to--"
 

“I don’t have time for this. Look. Wally. I’m guessing that you’re new here?”

“Last week,” the security officer acknowledged, flushing slightly.

“Then why don’t you pick up that phone?” he suggested in an overly calm voice as he motioned to the one hanging on the man’s wall. “Call your supervisor and ask him if I work here.”

Wallace picked up the phone as instructed. “W-what was your name again, sir?”

“DeLuca. Big D, little e, big L, little uca. Tommy.” He sincerely hoped that he was remembering his last name correctly. Seemed he was screwing up everyone else’s.

Wallace nodded and turned to make the call. “Hey, uh…Mike. Does Tommy DeLuca work here in Major Crimes?”

Mike Watkins, the security supervisor, rolled his eyes as he glanced at his book shelf, which was stocked with books from the Deep Six series. “Of course he does. Everybody knows that.”

“Oh. Uh. Thanks…” Wallace hung up the phone, feeling foolish as he reached over to raise the gate. “Sorry about that, Agent DeLuca.”

Yes! He’d gotten his name right!

“You really should stop at the office and pick up a new badge,” Wallace called after him as he pulled into the ramp.

Tony nodded as he drove into the lot. Since he couldn’t remember his space number, he parked in one of the visitor spots. Not wanting to carry the newspaper with him, he tore out the picture of Eli David and tucked it into his pocket.

Certain that his visitor’s pass wouldn’t open any doors, he carefully timed his entrance into the building to coincide with a few other agents. Hoping that they’d get him to the right floor, he followed them onto the elevator as well.

Taking a gamble he got out on the floor where he noticed another man, obviously carrying a ‘concealed’ weapon, get out. Now he just had to find his desk without anyone realizing that he was having trouble with that task. If anyone figured out his brain was a mass of Swiss cheese, he’d be on desk duty--or worse, forced vacation--for God only knew how long. He glanced at each desk as he made his way through the room. Looking for name plates, pictures, anything that he could use to identify not just his own desk but also figure out the identities of people he was certain he was supposed to know.

Using his new information he casually greeted one of the women as she strolled toward him, watching him with suspicion. “Hey, Gina.” She frowned as she hesitated a few feet away from him. Perhaps he was being too friendly. Maybe it wasn’t suspicion but scorn. He’d probably gone out with her or something. Damn. Oh well, no time like the present to extend an olive branch. “Lost the baby weight,” he commented, thinking back to the photos he’d spotted on her desk. “Looking good!”

She looked startled for a moment, and blushed slightly, but then smiled back at him. “Thank you…” She hesitated for a moment, looking as though she felt awkward before she gave him a little nod and continued on her way.

Once around the bullpen and he hadn’t found his desk. Crap. He couldn’t well make a second round without anyone noticing. Hell, he hadn’t even spotted McGee’s desk. Or Lisa’s. He had seen Gibbs’, which was odd since he’d have thought that the team leader’s desk should have been in the same area as his own, but instead was surrounded by Agents Lee, Keating, and Langer.

Great. So now what?

Abby. Abby was known for being in her lab early in the morning. He’d go see her. Maybe get her to fill him in on the Embassy Party stuff. He’d see if he could use her computer to look up information about Eli David while he was at it.

So…he needed to find the lab.

He casually waited until he saw someone else heading to the elevator and joined her, letting her use her badge to activate the lift. It seemed she was returning to the garage level. “Could you hit the lab level for me,” he asked, flashing a flirtatious grin at her. “Thanks.”

Once again he lucked out and a few moments later he was on the right floor.

“Hey! It’s you!” he heard Abby calling out to him from down the hall. She seemed to make it the entire length of the hall in only a few bounding steps. “How’d it go last night? Did McGee just love you? Oh he must have if you’re here. Is he here? I didn’t think he was coming in today. Why’d he come in?”

“Whoa. Abby. Slow down a second. Let’s just start with ‘Hi’,” he greeted the enthusiastic forensic scientist, not even trying to make sense of her excited chatter.

“Hi,” she greeted back. “So…you’re Tommy, right?”

Oookay. “I’m Tommy,” he agreed with a grin.

“So did you come to see my lab?” she asked brightly.

“Sure. And pick up a new badge.”

She looked confused, so he waved his visitor’s pass at her.

“Oh! Yes! It’ll be a lot better with an authentic one! Come on!” she grabbed his arm and tugged. He allowed himself to be lead through the building to the security office.

“Morning, Abby,” the Security Officer greeted, smiling fondly at her. “What can I do for you?”

“Morning, Jay. We need a badge for Special Agent Tommy DeLuca,” she informed him excitedly. The man looked up, surprised. “It’s for Deep Six. Come on, please?”

Deep Six? Was that some sort of Code Name? It seemed really familiar. Tony was certain that it was supposed to mean something to him. Something really important. He just couldn’t figure out what.

“Yeah. Okay,” Jay agreed, sounding a little bit reluctant, but giving in easily.  “Just stand in front of that screen.” Abby really must have pretty much everyone in the building wrapped around her little finger, Tony surmised as he followed the Security Officer’s instruction. “Okay, smile!”

Tony flashed a wide grin and held it until the camera flashed.

“Should be ready in just a few minutes if you want to stop back,” Jay informed them.

“Thanks, Jay!” Abby called over her shoulder even as she tugged Tony’s arm, leading him back toward her lab.

As they entered the lab, Tony couldn’t help but notice the evening gown hanging on the coat hook just inside the door. “That’s a pretty fancy lab coat,” he teased, hoping that it would segue into a conversation about the Embassy Party. It’d solve a lot of problems if he could just score an invitation from her rather than bothering the director.

“Well, I do like to look good,” Abby replied. “But that’s for this party thing I have to go to tonight.”

“At the Embassy?”

She cocked her head slightly. “Yes. How’d you know abou…McGee told you about it, didn’t he? Is he taking you?”

“I was kind of hoping that I could do you the honor of letting you take me,” he flirted.

“Oh really,” she responded coyly. “You think that I don’t have a date?”

“Not one like me,” he cockily returned.

“Well it so happens that I…don’t. Well, I’m going with Ducky and Jimmy Palmer, but it’s not like a date or anything. Although, ooh, that’d be a really weird threesome wouldn’t it?”

Indeed. Tony smiled at her indulgently. Jimmy Palmer. Now that was a much better name than Pimmy Jalmer. How the hell had he come up with a name like Pimmy? Ducky…Tony couldn’t remember a Ducky at all. He suddenly imagined Abby showing up at the Embassy party with a giant rubber duck. For some reason he doubted anyone who knew her would actually be surprised if that’s what she brought as a date…

“Okay, so, should I meet you here?” he suggested.

“Sure. And bring McGee. I’ll have my very own harem,” she added, looking slightly dreamy for a moment.

“Yeah. I should actually probably go get him…wait. Before I go…” he pulled the newspaper clipping from his pocket. “What can you tell me about Eli David?” he asked, showing her the picture.

Tony regretted asking as soon as the question was out of his mouth. It was as if all the life suddenly drained out of the vivacious goth. “Abby?”

“Sorry. It’s just that…that’s Ziva’s father.”

Ziva? Eli David was her father, that made her Ziva David. Which sounded a lot like Navid…Lisa. He’d done it again! “Oh…I didn’t even think…”

“No. It’s okay. It’s just that I miss her.”

Tony nodded and made the decision that he wasn’t going to question Abby any further about Eli. He also didn’t want to give her hope that perhaps he had a lead on how they might find out Ziva’s whereabouts. He felt sick, though, as he considered that her own father may well have been behind her disappearance. Not to mention the attempt on Tony’s life.

“We’ll see her again,” he comforted Abby awkwardly, hoping he wasn’t lying to her. He was only slightly startled as she suddenly leaned against him, wrapping her arms around him in a hug. He wasn’t much of a huggy person, but he instinctively returned it. She was just about the only person who ever brought that sort of physical affection out of him.

“Yeah,” Abby sighed. “Thanks, Tommy…” After a few moments she released him again and stepped back. He pretended not to notice as she swiftly reached up and wiped her eyes. “Be back here at 6pm, okay? Wouldn’t want the harem to leave without you.”

“As if it would,” he replied in a smoldering tone and giving her a cocky grin before taking his leave. Now he just had to stop by the security office, pick up his badge and get back to McGee's apartment before the Probie reported his car stolen...

McGee woke with a startled yelp as his phone woke him from deep sleep. After taking only a moment to gain his bearings, he rolled not from his comfortable bed but from his not-quite-so comfy couch and scrambled to get to his phone. His back was stiff, but he supposed it was worth the trade-off considering that he wouldn’t have to suffer through any further Agent Tommy auditions. He snatched his phone from the counter, hoping that it hadn’t wakened his unexpected houseguest.

“Special Agent McGee,” he announced as he answered the call.

“McGee, this is Agent Sacks.”

Of the FBI, Mc Gee recognized the name immediately. But why would Sacks be…? “Oh! You must be working the Anthony DiNozzo case?”

“Yes. What can you tell me?”

“I’m not sure what help I can be. I haven’t actually met him. He won a writing contest my marketing agent put together and I was supposed to meet him for dinner but he never showed. All I can tell you is that I had a driver pick him up at the airport and get him checked into the hotel. Have you found anything?”

“So you never actually saw him?”

McGee frowned at the suspicion in Sacks’ tone. “Didn’t even talk to him. My agent set everything up,” he answered carefully. Something felt really off. He bit his lip nervously as he considered a moment. What if they’d found DiNozzo? What if he was…dead?  “Did you find him? Is he okay?”

“No,” Sacks answered curtly, though McGee wasn’t sure which question he was answering. No they hadn’t found him or no he wasn’t okay? McGee was afraid to ask, so he simply continued answering whatever questions Sacks had for him.

Though Sacks wouldn’t reveal anything about his leads or theories outright, McGee got the distinct feeling that Sacks suspected that McGee was involved somehow.

“Like I said, I don’t have much that would help. But maybe you could send me a copy of the files and I can--"

“I don’t think that’d be a good idea, Agent McGee,” Sacks denied sharply, solidifying McGee’s theory that Sacks didn’t trust him. “I’ll be in touch if I have any further questions,” the FBI agent ended the call abruptly.

McGee sighed as he hung up his phone. Sacks always seemed like the suspicious sort, and he generally seemed to assume the worst in people. McGee had even based a character on the man in one of his books when he needed a “friendly-foe” in the FBI to challenge Agent Tommy’s innocence when he was framed for murder.

What if that’s what Sacks’ reluctance to talk to him was about? McGee had barely even disguised the man’s name in that novel. He hoped Sacks wasn’t upset at the role he’d played in the book. It hadn’t been McGee’s intention to make him look any less than a devoted and perseverant Agent, determined to get to the truth, even if the truth turned out to be that Agent Tommy was guilty. Of course now that McGee thought about it, the fact that Slacks might not have come across so well when he was in such dogged pursuit of a ‘beloved’ character that the readers of course had all known would turn out to be innocent…

Yeah, McGee should probably just back away and let Sacks handle the case.

Except that he really did want to know what was going on. Was DiNozzo alive, or had he been murdered? And what if he had been murdered? Was McGee a suspect? After all he’d brought the man out to DC and…and would have no motive, really, that he could think of…but would that stop him from being under suspicion?

McGee needed to find out what was going on. Talking to Sacks would obviously not get him anywhere. He didn’t really have the pull to find out anything himself, but…he pursed his lips as he debated with himself on whether or not to make the call.

It couldn’t hurt anything, it wasn’t like the man was his boss anymore…but they were friends. Well. Not in the ‘go out to dinner’ sort of way. Or the ‘call each other on weekends’ way. Or…okay they hadn’t really even talked since McGee had been reassigned, but they did ask Abby about each other every few days. Or at least he asked, and Abby told him every once in a while that his name had come up in her conversations…

It was a worth a shot. He picked up his cell and hit the speed dial for his former boss.

“Gibbs,” the terse answer came a few moments later.

“Er…Hi, Boss…I mean Gibbs.” McGee winced at his greeting. “I mean, um…This is Agent McGee…well of course you know who I am, but well…"

“McGee!”

“Yes, Boss?”

“I’m a little busy here. Why are you calling?” the man asked dryly and McGee wasn’t sure but it sounded like the man sounded slightly amused.

McGee hurriedly explained the situation being as to-the-point as he could possibly be.

“I’m a bit tied up today,” Gibbs informed him when he was through. McGee winced. Of course Gibbs wouldn’t be able to help. There were several major events scheduled that day, culminating with the Embassy Ball that night. Security for those events certainly had to take precedence over the disappearance of a small town gym teacher. He was about to apologize for bothering Gibbs when the man continued. “Fornell’s around. I’ll see if I can get him to reach out to Sacks, find out what’s on his mind.”

“Thanks, Boss,” McGee replied to the dial tone as Gibbs abruptly hung up. It was reassuring that even while Gibbs had far more important things going on at the Embassy, he would still watch McGee’s six.

McGee had planned to spend the day touring the city with the winner of the Gemcity contest and now found himself with nothing on his docket until the party that night. Except, he reminded himself, for getting his houseguest’s agency information and getting that all taken care of.

He knocked on the bedroom door, hoping to wake “Tommy” and get his contact information. When there was no answer, he hesitated for a few moments and then knocked again. He frowned when there was still no response. “Tommy?” he called, wishing he knew the guys’ real name. When there was still no reply, he pushed the door open--to reveal an empty bed.

His heart sank as he considered having to go through another day of casting calls for the character. Probably the actor had woken during the night, realized what a nervy stunt he’d pulled, and disappeared in hopes that McGee wouldn’t be able to track him down and get him blackballed or something. If only he’d left his contact information or some way to…McGee’s attention was drawn to the packages and clothing that Tommy had left behind.  His brow furrowed as he tried to reconcile their presence with Tommy’s absence.

Maybe he’d just stepped out for a few minutes, McGee considered as he padded to the front door, opened it and peeked out into the hallway to verify that the man hadn’t locked himself out somehow…which come to think of it, he shouldn’t have been able to do, and McGee should not have just had to unlock the door. Suddenly tense he glanced toward the hook where he generally left his keys.

Sure enough, it was empty.

McGee’s eyes widened as he quickly turned to scan his countertop, desk, and coffee table in case he’d inadvertently left his keys out. They were nowhere to be seen. His anxiety began to increase. Surely Tommy wouldn’t have just taken them. Right?

Then again, he began to reason, it was the sort of thing the character Tommy would do. Was Tommy-the-actor still playing the part and messing with him? McGee didn’t even know how to track the man down. He didn’t have a full name or an agency to work with. He should never have allowed the man to stay in his apartment, what was he *thinking*? He’d been way too trusting, that was for sure. Tommy could’ve been some crazy…actually come to think of it, he probably *was* completely crazy. What kind of guy would just barge into a stranger’s apartment and proceed to make himself at home like Tommy had done? And McGee had just let him go ahead and do it! He should have...he didn’t know what; kicked the man out, called the police…anything. And now the guy had the keys to his apartment! He was going to have to have his locks changed and…his car! He raced to the window and felt completely ill as he saw the empty parking space where his car was supposed to be.

McGee dropped heavily into his office chair, totally astounded by the way he’d been so…trusting and complacent that he had absolutely no idea what he should do. God, if he called the police how was he supposed to admit that he’d let this total stranger into his apartment and let him spend the night in his bed and never once thought…never once even *considered* that the guy would possibly have nefarious motives. It could have been so much worse than having his car stolen, he realized, feeling the blood draining from his face. The guy could’ve been an axe murderer and McGee had just let him move right in! Normally McGee considered himself to be quite intelligent, but he’d been so incredibly stupid and now he was going to have to admit it to the cops…and worse--sooner or later Gibbs was bound to catch wind of it!

He shoved against the desk in frustration before reaching again for his phone. The jarring movement caused his mouse to move, clearing his screensaver and…he blinked as he saw the words appearing on his screen.

Hide what? His eyes widened as he read the rest of the message. On one hand, he felt slightly better because it seemed that Tommy did intend to bring his car back. On the other, though, now he was fairly certain that the man was completely insane. Rent him a car? Yeah, that wasn’t happening. He cringed at the idea that somewhere out on the roads this guy was out there driving around in his car. Would insurance even cover it if there was an accident? This was a nightmare…

And it was about to get worse, he thought inanely as he heard the sound of metal scraping against metal as someone struggled to insert a key into the lock on his door.

If Tommy was as crazy as McGee now suspected he was, McGee feared that getting him to leave peacefully might not be as easy as he’d like. While they were roughly the same height, Tommy was a lot more muscular, and Tim…well, he’d never been much of a fighter. Maybe he should grab his sig…just in case.

Before he could get to the key under his keyboard, however, the door swung open and Tommy burst into the apartment.

“Good morning, Starshine,” Tommy sang in a boisterous, slightly off-key voice as he tossed something straight at McGee, whose reflexes sent him scrambling to avoid getting hit. He felt slightly foolish as he heard the paper sack hitting the ground where he’d stood. “Picked you up a breakfast burrito, McSleepyhead. But if you don’t want it…” the man had the gumption to sound slightly offended.

“Um…thanks,” Tim gulped, glancing at the sack for a few moments before reaching down to pick it up and peeking inside to verify the contents. “Um…look, Tommy…?”

Tommy ignored McGee’s stammering as he plunked down on the sofa and dug into a sack of his own.  “You plan to get dressed today, Probie?” Tommy asked around the mouthful of burrito.

McGee glanced down at his attire in confusion. Oh yeah. He was still in his pjs.

“I’ve been thinking,” Tommy announced. “I thought David attacked me yesterday.”

Tim blinked. “What? Why would Ziva…?”

“Director David. I figured he was involved in her disappearance.” Before McGee could make sense of that, Tommy continued. “But I don’t think so. He didn’t look angry when he was standing over me,” Tommy recalled.

“Look, um, Tommy. Don’t you think maybe it’s time to stop this? I mean…tell me what agency you’re with and I can--"

Tommy cocked an eyebrow as he answered, “NCIS. You feeling okay, McGoo? I remember he didn’t look angry, he looked worried. So I’m thinking that he wasn’t the one who attacked me.”

“Someone attacked you?”

Tommy pulled a crumpled wad of newspaper from his pocket and tossed it at Tim. “It most likely has to be one of these guys,” he figured.

McGee frowned as he began uncrumpling the page and revealed a picture of Eli David and his entourage of Mossad Officers, likely his protection detail. Rivkin, Hadar, and Viktir, according to the caption.

“But why--"

“That’s what we have to find out,” Tommy cut him off. “So get dressed if you’re coming with me.”

“Tommy, don’t you think it’s time to stop playing this game? As far as I’m concerned, you’ve got the job. I’ll draw up a--"

Tommy looked momentarily confused but then held up his hand to cut McGee off. “It’s okay. I don’t think I need backup. I’m not going to confront anyone, just want to do a little recon. Maybe see if I can get close to David without his goon patrol. Did you rent me a car?”

“Uh. No,” Tim replied firmly.

Tommy looked momentarily annoyed but then nodded. As he rose to his feet, he crumpled up the now emptied burrito wrapper and tossed it toward the wastebasket, falling a couple inches short.  “Okay. I’ll be back to pick you up in a few hours then.”

“You really don’t have to. Seriously, just give me your--" before McGee could finish, Tommy was out the door again. Great. Tommy was certainly crazy, but at least he did seem harmless. Still, McGee wasn’t reveling the idea that he’d be back…

Wait…

“My car!” McGee realized aloud as he quickly scrambled to grab his shoes and follow after Tommy. He didn’t have time to grab his Sig. Without keys to lock the deadbolt, he could only secure his apartment using the pathetic doorknob lock, but it was better than nothing. The odds of someone picking today to break in was slim…unless of course this was all some elaborate setup that Tommy had plotted.

Taking the stairs three at a time, McGee bounded down to the lobby, hoping to cut Tommy off. Unfortunately, he was too late. He burst outside just in time to see his car racing out of the lot. And now he didn’t even have a key to get back in…and he’d left his cellphone inside! Damn it! He’d have to contact the building Super and get him to--

Even better, he decided as he saw an alternate choice appear before him. He stood at the curb and waved down an approaching taxicab.

“I can’t believe I’m saying this, but…follow that car!” he directed the driver as he clambered into the back seat. As the cab driver complied, he sank back in the seat, finally taking the time to put on his shoes.

Though the driver put up a good chase, Tommy was too far ahead and after a few turns he was no longer in sight. After driving a little further in hopes of spotting him again, the cabbie pulled over to await new instructions.

McGee cringed as he realized that he’d not only left his cellphone, but he’d also left his wallet behind. Which meant he had no way to pay his fare. He closed his eyes and leaned back in the seat for a few moments as he tried to figure out what to do next. Should he go home and hope that his supervisor was there and could let him into his apartment? Or maybe go to NCIS. Abby or Ducky would probably spot him the money for fare. Or he could go to the Embassy and see if Gibbs was…the Embassy!

Tommy was looking for Director David, and odds were pretty good that if Director David was in town, sooner or later, he’d end up on Embassy Row. If not before, at least he’d be there for the Ball, anyway. Either way, it was a pretty good bet that Tommy would try to pick him up there.  They were a couple minutes behind, but Tommy would have to deal with finding parking, so with any luck the cab would catch up to him and he could make Tommy pay the cab fare. If he couldn’t find Tommy, though…well, he’d cross that bridge when he came to it.

McGee’s instincts proved correct and he spotted Tommy just as he was getting out of McGee’s car. “Stop here!” McGee directed as he rolled down his window to yell out. “Tommy!”

Either the man didn’t hear him, or his yell was completely ignored.

“He has my wallet,” Tim hastily explained. “Wait here, I’ve got to get money from--"

The cab driver glared at him and he heard the car door lock. What the--? “You took a cab without having money to pay?” the driver accused angrily.

“Seriously, he’s right there,” McGee pointed toward where he could see Tommy jogging across the square, heading toward the Israeli Embassy. “I’m good for it. I just need to get money from him,” he tried to assure.

But the cab driver shook his head. “I’ve been ripped off enough, kid. Now are you going to pay or do I need to call the police?”

“No! No need to call the police, I just have to…” he could already see the fury building in the cabbie’s eyes and his mind raced trying to come up with a viable resolution. “These are $120 shoes,” he announced as he started taking them back off. “You hold these and I’ll go get the money.”

The cabbie’s lips pursed and for a moment Tim was certain that he wasn’t going to accept it.

“You have five minutes,” the driver relented, unlocking the door. “Otherwise I call the cops.” He pointed to the security camera in the front seat to be sure that McGee knew of its presence.

“Thanks! I swear, five minutes,” McGee assured him again as he waited for the door to be unlocked again. As soon as he was out he began chasing after Tommy, who had already reached the Israeli Embassy and disappeared into a small crowd that was gathered in the gated courtyard, listening to some sort of speech.

As McGee approached the gates, however, the guards moved to block his path.

“What is your business?” one of them questioned him, eyeing his silk pajamas and bare feet with clear suspicion.

“I…just need…to…get…um. A…friend of…mine…is…” Tim panted as he tried to peer past the guards to see if he could spot Tommy.

“Do you have any ID, sir?”

“No…I…”

“Perhaps you should wait outside for your friend.” The guard’s tone of voice made it clear that it was not a suggestion.

“No! You don’t…understand!” McGee cringed as he realized how this must look to them. He rose to his tiptoes and searched over the guards’ shoulders. “Tommy!” he called out as he spotted the man just a few yards away.

Tommy glared at him over his shoulder, but then turned his attention back to the crowd.

“TOMMY!” he hissed again as the guard roughly tried to pull him away. He could feel himself blushing a little bit as several people turned to see who was causing the commotion.

Tommy glared at him again, motioning for McGee to get back and to stop drawing attention.

“Come here!” Tim tried again.

Again his only response was for Tommy to wave him away, this time pausing to pointedly nod toward something on the other side of the courtyard crowd and then glaring back at McGee. McGee followed the gaze and spotted…none other than Director David. Who was looking back at him. Tim bit his lip and looked momentarily back at Tommy before realizing his mistake. He quickly looked back to the Director and winced as he saw that the man had followed his gaze and was now looking directly at Tommy and pointing him out to the men at his side. Tim gulped as he saw two of the men, Rivkin and Victir, rising to their feet and starting to circle toward where Tommy was standing.

Seeing the same thing, Tommy quickly turned and headed toward him. “Damn it, Probie!” he cursed as he reached the gate, David’s guards only a few yards behind him. “Could you be a little more obvious next time?” he growled as he grabbed McGee’s wrist and tugged him as he broke into a jog once he was past the embassy guards.

McGee ventured a glance behind as they ran, hoping that once they were away from the Embassy they’d be deemed innocuous, but it seemed that David’s guards were still in pursuit--and they were gaining!

Tommy swore under his breath before suddenly he changed direction; no longer running toward the car, but instead toward the large decorative fountain in the middle of the square.

“Tommy!” McGee cried out in alarm as he was reluctantly dragged along until they reached the fountain and Tommy jumped up onto the short ledge and abruptly stopped, nearly sending McGee sprawling into the water.

Bewildered at why they were stopping, McGee turned to see where David’s men had gone. To his horror, they were still closing in. So why had Tommy stopped?

“Oh what a beautiful morning! Oh what a beautiful day!” Tommy began singing and McGee was quite certain that the man was stark raving mad. Except…he watched incredulously as people throughout the square began turning their attention to the actor as he continued the song. That was it! He was trying to draw attention to them so that David’s guards couldn’t…he actually caught himself starting to grin as he saw their pursuers slow to a halt. With all attention being focused on Tommy and McGee, they couldn’t really do anything without tons of witnesses. McGee had to admit that as ridiculous as the move seemed, it was pretty much the best solution.

Except for one small problem.

“That’s the guy, there!” McGee heard a voice accusing and looked over to see the cab driver. Pointing at him. With two police officers standing by his side.

McGee paled as the police officers approached him. He looked past them at the cab driver, who was angrily glaring at him. “I-I really was coming back,” he tried to assure the man as he jumped down from the fountain’s ledge.

“He says he does not have money!” the driver accused.

“It’s alright, Mr. Lightaller,” one of the officers assured him.

“He claimed that this man has his wallet!” Lightaller added, swinging his pointing finger toward Tommy, who continued to rowdily sing his song.

Tim nodded and turned his hopeful eyes on his companion, only to have his jaw drop incredulously as Tommy only shook his head and gave an innocent shrug as he continued his performance.

Tim let out a small nervous chuckle as the police officers stepped closer. It was true, Tommy probably hadn’t taken his wallet--though he hadn’t actually *checked* now that he thought about it. Still, he’d expected his “partner” to back him up! Even if he was just acting the part!

“B-but you can pay for the cab, right?” Tim prompted as one of the officers--Officer Clark according to his name badge--clamped a hand on his shoulder. His eyes widened as Tommy only silently stared back at him, a small smirk adorning his lips. Sensing there was no help to be found from the actor, McGee tried to turn his attention back to the cab driver to offer to drive home and get the money.

“Could you come down off there, please,” the second officer, Jamison, began addressing Tommy, trying to put an end to the spectacle he was creating.

“Do you have any ID, sir?” Clark asked and McGee felt the blood draining from his face as he shook his head slowly.  “Do you want to press charges?”the officer asked Lightaller, who nodded. Clark pulled out his pair of handcuffs.  

“I can explain,” McGee tried to assure, but didn’t resist as the officer placed him in the cuffs, informing him of his rights. “You don’t understand, I left my wallet at home, but I was in a hurry because he had my car and--"

“We’ll straighten it all out back at the precinct,” Clark sardonically assured him. “You got time to come down and file a report?” he queried the cab driver, who nodded. “It’s right across from the Federal Building,” he informed the driver as he started prodding McGee to move toward the waiting police car.

“Wait!” Tommy finally protested, and Tim relaxed. His partner had probably just been trying to make him sweat. It was such a “Tommy” thing to do. Why had he made that character so obnoxious? Still, in true Tommy fashion, he was about to come through.

Except that he didn’t. Instead he walked up and sharply poked Officer Clark. “You can’t take him.”

“And why is that, Sir?” the officer asked testily, glaring down at Tommy’s hand, which was still pressing against his shoulder.

“Because you’ll miss my rrrousing rendition of ‘Officer Krupke’!”

McGee groaned as once again his partner broke into song. The officers were also completely unamused. “Sir, I need you to stop singing,” Jamison addressed Tommy, his voice a forced calm.

“Oh. I’m sorry, would you prefer ‘A policeman's lot is not a happy one’?” Tommy sneered as glanced at McGee and gave him a conspiratorial wink.

“Sir if you don’t stop this, I will arrest you for being a public nuisance.”

The threat only served as a dare, and the wide grin that spread across Tommy’s face made that abundantly obvious.  “Oh, please,” Tommy scoffed. “It’d never stick. My singing is hardly causing substantial harm to anyone. Am I right?” he called out to one of the nearby gawkers. “Now if you were going for Public Disturbance, you might actually have a case.” He pretended to consider, his hands mimicking a scale as he weighed his options for a moment before commenting, “And that’s only a misdemeanor…” He sucked in his breath, but no sooner had he bleated out his first note, Jamison spun him around and slapped cuffs onto his wrists.

McGee paled as he saw the officer remove a gun from a holster under Tommy’s--his--suit jacket. His sig, he realized with horror. “Officer--"

“You keep quiet,” Jamison hissed in his ear.

“B-but, you don’t understand. The gun is--"

“Quiet!”

McGee scowled as he and Tommy were escorted to the waiting police car. He was seriously going to throttle Tommy for this the first chance he got. He knew he shouldn’t be angry, that the man clearly had mental problems, but still! Now he was going to have to call someone to come bail him out, and it would probably have to be Gibbs. Gibbs was the only man he knew who could probably come down to the precinct and not only get him released, but probably keep the charges from actually being processed. Otherwise he’d have a record! Him! A RECORD! And it was totally obvious that Tommy was enjoying the whole thing!

Once they were secured in the back of the car, however, Tommy’s mood abruptly changed and he sobered. “Thank you officers. I couldn’t say anything back there because we needed your escort to get out of there,” he began to explain the situation to the men in the front, who warily exchanged glances. “I’m Special Agent Tommy DeLuca of NCIS--"

Tim’s eyes bulged as he gaped at Tommy. “You can’t lie to the police!” he hissed.

“Oh-ho!” Clark crowed. “You impersonating a Fed, Elvis?” he asked, looking over his shoulder at Tommy.

“Of course not, but thank you. Thank you very much, for thinking I could pull that off,” Tommy replied, impersonating The King. “I don’t think I could, though. I mean…my hair is all wrong. And I’d need to add a little padding…well, maybe if I went with a younger Elvis. And oooh! The sequined capes would really--"

“Shut up!” Jamison barked, glaring daggers into the back seat.

“Seriously, though, I’m Special Agen--" Tommy grunted as McGee elbowed him hard in the gut. His brow furrowed as he glanced questioningly at McGee. “What?”

McGee only closed his eyes as he slouched down in the seat a little bit. This was a nightmare…

“Mr. Lightaller,” Tommy called out as he spotted the man waiting for them at the precinct. “Thank you for your patience. As soon as these fine officers release my hands I’d be happy to pay for Agent McGee’s cab fare.”

McGee scowled slightly. “You couldn’t have just done that earlier?” he grumbled.

“Well if you hadn’t called attention to me and gotten those goons on our tail…”

“They probably thought you were stalking Director David. You were stalking Director David!”

Tommy let out a small chuckle as he glanced pointedly at their arresting officers. McGee blanched slightly. “I assure you, I am not a stalker. I’m Special Agent Tommy DeLuca,” he repeated his introduction. “If you want to check, my security badge is in my pocket here. As is my wallet if you would like to give Mr. Lightaller…” he looked to the cabbie. “How much does my partner owe you?”

“$37.80. And that is not charging for all the time I have wasted,” Lightaller grumpily informed him.

“We’ll make it $150 for fare and time lost. That’d save you the additional time filing a complaint, too. Fair?” Tommy reasoned with him and glancing to the officers to see if they were open to the arrangement. Lightaller’s eyes lit as he nodded.

Mc Gee winced as Jamison moved in to retrieve the wallet and badge. How the hell was he going to explain this? He couldn’t believe that Tommy was giving them a false name. A name of one of McGee’s characters; this was all going to come back on him. Again.

“Officer!” he called out. “C-can I talk to you just a moment. In private?”

Jamison scowled slightly but after exchanging glances with Clark, he nodded and led Tim into an interview room. “What?”

“You can’t listen to him,” McGee quietly tried to get the officer’s attention. “He’s…well…he’s a little crazy.” Tim flushed as the officer looked at him pointedly, eyes flicking down once again to his bare feet and silk pajamas. “I-I know this looks bad, but you have to believe me. Agent Tommy DeLuca doesn’t exist.”

Jamison let out an annoyed huff. “Your friend doesn’t exist?”

Tim shook his head. “No, he doesn’t.” At Jamison’s look, he realized how that sounded. “I mean, of course he exists. He just isn’t Agent Tommy DeLuca.”

“Then who is he?”

Tim chewed his lip for a moment, knowing the answer wasn’t going to make the officer happy. “I don’t know--"

“But you know he isn’t Tommy DeLuca.”

“Right.”

“Because…”

“Tommy DeLuca doesn’t exist! I mean he exists, but he’s a fictional character. I created him!”

The officer gaped at him for a moment before getting back up and storming back into the bullpen to check on McGee’s story. Tim brow furrowed as he caught sight of the badge that the officer pulled from Tommy’s pocket. It looked surprisingly authentic.

“You don’t have a drivers’ license?” Jamison asked as he flipped open Tommy’s wallet.

Tommy rolled his eyes good-naturedly. “Was undercover, got burned, had to ditch it,” he explained.

Jamison nodded, taking him seriously. Tim’s jaw dropped slightly as he started to protest, but he snapped his mouth shut as Tommy continued. Maybe he should just give the other man enough rope to actually hang himself. Then he’d be their problem.

“Picture’s on the badge there. You can call the security office and verify if you’d like. Wally will vouch for me.”

Tim cocked his head to the side. Wally?  Who the hell was Wally?

“We’ll do that,” Jamison assured him as he plunked down into his chair to look the number up on his computer. “Why don’t you take a seat while you wait for us to confirm.”

“Sure, but why don’t you give Mr. Lightaller his fare so he can be on his way. Oh wait…you can’t touch the money in case some of it should go missing and you get accused of a 2921…bribery,” he clarified at the confused looks he received.

Tim wondered inanely if that was actually the correct code, but Jamison nodded seriously, anyway. He hoped that the officers didn’t think that this was Tommy’s way of offering a bribe. Then again maybe that’s exactly what Tommy was doing, he realized with horror.

His fears were calmed a moment later when Tommy glanced pointedly over at him and made a suggestion. “So, since Mr. Lightaller has kindly decided not to press charges against my partner here, perhaps you could release his cuffs and let him pay the man.”

Clark nodded amiably, and a few moments later Tim felt the cuffs being removed from his wrists. He rubbed them absently, wincing at the slight chafing. He took Tommy’s wallet from the officer to retrieve the money to pay off Lightaller. His eyes widened as he noticed how much cash Tommy was carrying around with him. He quickly counted out the offered amount and handed it to the waiting cabbie, who snatched it glaring at him for a few moments before turning and smiling at Tommy.

McGee rolled his eyes but knew that he probably should say something. “I am sorry about that. I was going to come back as soon as…”

“Not another word out of you!” Jamison barked at him. “I don’t know what your game is--"

“It’s all good now,” Tommy assured, smoothing over the situation as he nodded to Lightaller, who nodded his agreement.

“Thank you, Agent DeLuca.”

McGee’s jaw clenched as the cabbie gave him one last glare before turning to leave the precinct.

“Looks like you’re off the hook, kid,” Clark informed McGee before turning back to Tommy. “There’s still the matter of your Public Disturbance” Clark sounded far more amused than angry this time. Teasing, Tim recognized incredulously. They were actually buying Tommy’s bull! But still, sooner or later they were going to figure out that they’d been had, and they’d be able to trace everything back to him and he’d probably end up getting--

“Yes, this is Officer Shawn Jamison from the 129th Precinct, could you connect me with Wally in Security, please,” he heard Jamison introducing himself to someone on the phone. And now was when it was all going to fall apart, McGee predicted. He knew he should be upset about that, but he actually felt a little bit relieved. After all, the police would have Tommy in custody and really, McGee hadn’t lied to them at all. He’d even tried to warn them! ”Hello, this is Officer Jamison from the 129th Precinct. I’ve got a guy here claiming to be Special Agent DeLuca…” McGee caught himself actually starting to smugly grin until he saw Jamison nod.

What?

“Yeah, Tommy; that’s right…So he does work there? He said you’d be able to vouch for him.” Jamison chuckled a little at the response. “Just to be sure think you could describe him for me?”

Tim gaped incredulously as the officer nodded, apparently agreeing with whatever description he was being given. What the hell was going on? Was he going crazy? Or was it everyone else that was insane?

“All right. Thanks for your help, Wallace…yeah…be sure to give him hell when he gets back to the office. He put on a hell of a show out there. Had me convinced he was a nut job.”

“Looks like you’re free to go, too, DeLuca,” Clark good-naturedly offered as he unlocked Tommy’s cuffs, chuckling and shaking his head. “Had me fooled, too.”

Tim’s blood began to boil just a little bit. This was…so wrong! He felt his jaw throbbing slightly as he tried to stop himself from blurting it all out, that Tommy DeLuca was a fictional character and most definitely was not, no matter how well the man was portraying him, the same Tommy they were all…fawning over!

“Sorry, but you understand--since you don’t have your license or registration with you, I’m not able to release your weapon. We’ll lock it down here, until you bring that down to reclaim it.”

“Not a problem. Hey, think you could get Wally to ask Abby to come pick us up?” Tommy asked Jamison, who nodded and relayed the request to ‘Wally’.

Abby? How the hell did this guy know Abby?!?

And then it hit him.

It was Abby who was behind this whole thing. He’d been totally played! He began to laugh. At first just a stifled little chuckle, but soon it grew into actual giggling, and finally doubled over in a fit of hysterics. Oh, Abby. She was *so* going to pay for this. She must have known Tommy and thought he’d be great for the role in the movie and then set this whole ridiculous “audition” into motion. She’d obviously gotten him the NCIS badge, and probably set up the whole thing with whoever Wally from security was and…Oh, he was going to kill her when she got here to pick them up. At least now he knew Tommy wasn’t really crazy. He was just one of Abby’s weird friends who was willing to go the extra mile to play this prank off for her.

“What’s wrong with your partner?” he heard Clark asking Tommy. He could actually feel tears of laughter forming in his eyes as he saw Tommy making a ‘crazy’ motion with his hand. But the officers both nodded their agreement with the assessment. And how exactly was Tim supposed to convince them otherwise as he stood before them laughing hysterically, almost crying, wearing silk pajamas in public, and claiming that the man they had conclusively identified didn’t exist?

“He’s been under a lot of stress lately,” Tommy explained on his behalf. “You okay there, McGee?”

“I’m…fine. Just great,” Tim managed to choke out as he started getting himself back under control. He knew he should probably explain what was really going on to the officers, but then that might delay them getting out of there. It was best at this point to just play along until Abby came to pick them off.

And then he’d kill her.

Or…perhaps it was his turn to mess with her a little bit. He grinned as he began formulating his revenge.

Ellen DiNozzo was annoyed. Truth be told, she was beyond annoyed. She’d flown out here. Some sort of screw-up had left her stranded at the airport when the agent that was supposed to meet her got somehow otherwise detained. Sacks made arrangements to have a rental waiting for her, but it would have been so much easier if she’d had someone with her to navigate. When she’d finally found her way to the Federal Building, she’d had to answer question after question about Tony that she could easily have just answered over the phone. She could also have faxed a recent picture of her husband to them instead of bringing it all the way out here. Well, she could have if she’d actually had a recent photo of him. She’d actually had to bring one of his school yearbooks. The picture in it was almost a year old, and not really all that great a picture but it was the most recent she could find. She probably should have brought the previous year’s since at least he hadn’t had that hideous beard in that one. Thank God he’d shaved since then…

But she was here. She wouldn’t resent it so much if it at least seemed like she was serving some sort of purpose being here other than to lock heads with the so-called Agent-in-Charge Sacks.

“My husband isn’t a criminal mastermind,” she insisted for the umpteenth time, speaking through grit teeth. “He isn’t the type who would go off and do something like what you seem to think. He’s…Tony. He’s boring. He’s…Mr. Honest-and-Honorable. Did you know he actually wanted to be a cop? He went through the…” she flapped her hand dismissively, “school thing and everything.”

“But he didn’t become an officer?” Sacks prodded.

“No. Could you imagine? Being married to a…” she trailed off as she remembered who she was speaking with. She smiled weakly. “Anyway. He’s not the mastermind sort. He’s a gym teacher,” she added mockingly, proving her point. “Not exactly ‘mastermind’ material, you know?”

Sacks raised an eyebrow at her demeanor. She didn’t really seem all that concerned considering that she disagreed with his personal assessment that Tony DiNozzo had disappeared on his own. She certainly didn’t seem to be grieving at the thought that he had fallen victim to some sort of foul play. In fact she seemed far more irritated than worried.

“Shouldn’t we be out there looking for him or something?”

“And where should we look, Mrs. DiNozzo?”

Ellen glared at Sacks. “If I knew that I would have just told you that and gone to work today. I’m missing an important meeting,” she lamented. It wasn’t until she saw the disapproving look on Sacks’ face that she realized just how callous she sounded. How indifferent she hadn’t even realized she’d felt. Suddenly she wished she could take those last few words back. She wasn’t unfeeling, she really wasn’t. She loved Tony…or at least she used to.

She looked away from Sacks, feeling guilty under the weight of his stare.

It wasn’t that she didn’t love Tony, she began to rationalize her feelings. She did. She adored him. Or…at least she used to, she amended as she really considered it. They hadn’t been happy for a long time, true, but all marriages went through patches like that. Didn’t they? Where things got stale and unexciting. And Tony used to be so exciting. Back before he blew his chance at a football career with that injury. Before he made the stupid decision to waste time with that Police school thing when he could have been getting his masters or maybe pursued a different--more useful--degree of some sort.

“Sorry…I just…I can’t believe this is happening. I didn’t even want him to come to this stupid book thing. And then the way he hung up on me yesterday…”

“You were fighting?”

Ellen nodded reluctantly. “I didn’t want him coming here without me, but I couldn’t take time off from work,” she explained feeling even more guilt-ridden as she considered how hard Tony had tried to convince her to come with him. And Lymon probably would have let her take a few days before they really had to buckle down on the Dempsey account.

When Sacks’ phone began to ring, he gave her an apologetic smile. “If you could excuse me for just a moment…? There’s a lounge just down the hall on your right.”

Relieved to have an excuse to be alone for a few minutes, Ellen nodded and rose from her chair, following his directions to the lounge.

What if Tony really didn’t ever come home? she wondered bleakly.

And why should he? She hardly gave him reason. She couldn’t remember the last time they’d talked without fighting about something or other. Usually about how hard she was working while all he did was get to play games all day with the kids at school and then come home and do pointless things like writing stories and reading those stupid books of his. Over the last couple years she’d really seen the light go out of him… he’d become more withdrawn from her.  The smile that had been meant only for her had disappeared. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d seem him so full of life, of absolute joy. And he’d wanted to share it with her.

But what was she supposed to do in DC while he hung out with that writer guy…the one who had seemingly brought Tony far more joy than she had these last couple years? That stupid contest…winning had made him so happy. She could barely remember the last time he’d been so animated and excited about anything.

She was a little surprised as she felt her eyes starting to tear up when she recalled how Sacks told her they’d found Tony’s bloodied clothing. She hadn’t really thought about the implication before. What if Tony was dead? The last time she’d really talked to him she’d selfishly given him an ultimate and told him not to come back.  What if that was the last real conversation they ever had?

If she was honest about it, Ellen had to admit she probably had drawn away first. At least she did it because of work, she justified. They could hardly live off a teacher’s salary. Sure he’d been upset and wanted to spend more time with her, but hadn’t she done it all for him?

Or had she just used work as an excuse to drive him away?

Once again she felt tears welling up in her eyes. She hadn’t meant to drive him away, but it was obvious that she had. He’d tried, she recognized miserably. Once upon a time he’d always greeted her with a bright smile and looked at her with...total devotion. He always used to look at her with the same look he’d had the night he’d tried to convince her to join him. But somewhere along the way she’d blown it. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d…god, she couldn’t remember the last time she’d said anything positive to him. Or about him. No wonder he so rarely even bothered to try anymore.

He really had been a good husband. He would have done anything for her. He’d given up his childish dreams of being some sort of super-cop for her. He’d always taken care of her, even when she sometimes forgot to appreciate it. She worked long hours so it was usually up to him to keep the house clean and make dinner and…and she’d never even thanked him.  And now he was probably gone.

“Tony, I’m sorry,” she whispered, willing to give anything to just be able to say it to his face…

She sighed heavily as she wiped the few stray tears from her eyes as she moved to look out the window. She almost laughed when she looked down to the street and saw the hearse. Could there be any more obvious an omen? Tony was really gone.

Swallowing a sob, Ellen rested her head against the window pane watching as a young woman dressed got out of the hearse and went bounding up to two men who awaited her just outside the police precinct. Ellen watched as the young woman hugged first one, who looked like he was wearing pajamas…and then the other…the other who looked just like…her eyes widened. “Tony.” That couldn’t be. He was missing. Missing people didn’t just hang around right outside police stations! She stared a few moments longer, trying to decide if he was real or if she was just hallucinating him. It was real. That was unmistakably her husband. “Tony!” she cried out and began knocking on the glass. “TONY!”

It was him! He was right there! But he clearly didn’t hear her. How could he? She was across the street, up a floor, and behind a thick window. She turned and raced for the stairwell.

She reached the street just in time to see the hearse pulling away from the curb, her husband--alive and seemingly well--inside.

“Tony!” she tried in vain to get his attention as she chased after the hearse. By the time she’d gone only half a block, she knew it was futile. There was no way she would catch up, and if Tony could actually hear her, he certainly didn’t seem to be acknowledging it.

How inept were the police here, anyway? And the FBI? The man they were looking for was right across the damn street and they couldn’t find him? She let out a hysterical laugh as she slowed to a stop, watching helplessly as the hearse turned the corner almost two blocks ahead.

She looked back at the Federal Building bitterly. For a moment she considered going back to tell Sacks, but then thought better of it. He was useless. If he’d wanted to find Tony, he would’ve been out looking and he would have found him right there, across the street! Besides, once she told him what she now knew--that her Tony was alive, well, and had willingly gone off with another woman--a woman who drove a hearse and dressed like a…a…dead hooker! And Tony had hugged her! Was that what he wanted now? A fricking dead hooker chick?

Once Sacks found out that Tony had gone willingly, it would no longer be his case. It was just another case of a man leaving his wife for…Ugh!

She turned furiously toward the police precinct.

“I need to report a crime,” she informed the officer at the receiving desk.

“Yes, Ma’am. How can I help you?”

For a few moments Ellen couldn’t even speak. She was so upset she was actually shaking.

“Are you okay?”

Ellen nodded, though she truly wasn’t. But she knew exactly how she was going to make it all better. Hell hath no fury and all. She took a deep calming breath and took a moment to collect herself. It shouldn’t be too hard to track down a woman driving a hearse.

“There was a woman outside just now…” she began telling her ‘harrowing’ story.

People say that revenge is a dish best served cold, but in McGee’s opinion, it’s even better if revenge is served before its target even has any inkling that they’re being targeted.

If “Agent Tommy” had any clue that he’d given away the ruse, he certainly wasn’t showing it. Even if Tommy hadn’t given the game away, Abby had when she didn’t even hide the fact that she recognized him when she gave them each a hug outside the police station when she’d come to pick them up.

Still, neither Tommy nor Abby seemed to recognize that Tim was onto them. And for now, he was quite happy to play along. He couldn’t appear too willing, of course, or they’d know the jig was up, but he could play the patsy for a little while longer. He wanted to see just how far they were willing to go.

“Okay, so spill. All the juicy little details,” Abby pried as she pulled away from the curb.

Tommy rolled his eyes. “Seems Probie over here doesn’t understand the concept of ‘covert ops’.”

Abby grinned. “Do tell.”

“It was nothing, Abby,” Tim tried to deflect. “And, for the record, there was nothing covert about the way you were carrying on in the fountain,” he reminded Tommy.

“In case you hadn’t noticed, my carrying on saved our asses,” Tommy shot back.

“You wouldn’t have had to do that if you hadn’t stolen my car.”

“He stole your car?” Abby asked, sounding surprised.

“And he’s stalking Director David,” Tim added, hiding his smile at Abby’s ‘surprised’ expression.

“I’m not stalking David,” Tommy protested. He sighed. “I think he’s in trouble.”

Tim couldn’t quite stifle his laugh. “Wait. So first you think that Director David was behind Ziva’s disappearance,” he started to clarify. “And then you thought David attacked you. Then you thought it wasn’t David who attacked you but one of his agents. And now you think that he’s actually the one in trouble?”

“I already told you, he looked worried, not angry, McGoo. He wasn’t the one who attacked me. So it had to be one of them.”

“Someone attacked you?” Abby asked, and McGee was impressed with how worried she appeared. Maybe she should play herself in Deep Six, he considered briefly.

“I’m fine,” Tommy assured her. “But my gut is telling me that Ziva’s in trouble.”

“Ziva? Don’t you mean Director David?” Tim asked, honestly confused by the giant holes in Tommy’s story.

“Stay with me, McGee. They’re both in trouble. I think someone’s got her and they’re using her against the Director somehow. That must be why they attacked me, I was getting too close.”

“Must be,” Tim agreed sardonically. The idea that anyone could possibly have kidnapped Ziva--and managed to keep her captive--was laughable. The Mossad agent could take care of herself. And anyone under her protection, he figured. She was a highly trained assassin. Given, he was getting a little worried that he hadn’t heard back from her. But…she was probably just off on a mission. No, not probably, definitely. She just hadn’t had a chance to check in for a few days, that was all.

“I need to get close to him without his goons being right there,” Tommy seemed to be thinking aloud. “I might’ve been able to do it earlier if you hadn’t followed me, Probie,” he accused, though there was more amusement than malice behind the words. “Now it’s going to have to be at The Ball.”

“The Ball?” McGee repeated back warily, hoping that didn’t mean what he thought it did.

Unfortunately, it meant exactly what he thought it did, and he quickly discovered that not only had Tommy convinced Abby to invite him, but she also expected Tim to go along, too. And she had just the puppy-dog look necessary to convince him.

McGee had to admit he was rather impressed with the extent that both Abby and Tommy played their parts all afternoon as they strong-armed him into getting fitted with a new tux. It seemed that Abby was just as intent as Tommy on acting like he really was part of their team or at least that it was completely normal that he was hanging out with them.

Tommy was…pretty much exactly as Tim had imagined he’d be as he tried to set McGee up to look rather outlandish at the Embassy Ball. Tim had to put his foot down at Tommy’s ‘suggestion’ that he go with a powder blue tux (it did not match his eyes, thank you--and no, he didn’t want a green one that would) but agreed to a classic white as not to match his “partner”.  He also declined the offered matching top-hat, even when Tommy offered to pay for it himself. McGee had to admit that after the initial ridiculing, though, Tommy had settled down and seriously helped him find a decent style much like the ‘big brother’ character McGee had envisioned.

By the time both Tim and Tommy were outfitted it was time to pick up Jimmy and Ducky. McGee found himself growing inexplicably nervous as they arrived at the front gate. He knew it was only a matter of time before the jig was up, but he was almost sorry that it was going to end, more than likely as soon as they met up with the others.  He almost hoped that they wouldn’t call the bluff right away. Almost. He couldn’t help it. He was immensely curious whether Tommy and Abby would actually go so far as to try and keep up the ruse at such a prestigious event. And if they did…he was morbidly curious how Gibbs would react. Abby, he was certain, would get a free pass. But if Tommy showed up as…well…Tommy? It was sort of like waiting for an inevitable train wreck. Except that he could put a stop to it. All he had to do was let on that he knew.

Or he could let Ducky or Jimmy do it for him.

Except that they didn’t!

“Hey, Jimmy,” Tommy greeted the younger man as he climbed into the back seat of the hearse, sliding into the middle seat beside Tim. After a slight hesitation, Tommy extended his greeting, “Ducky.”

“Oh! Hello,” Ducky greeted breezily as Jimmy looked to Tim questioningly.

“It’s Agent Tommy,” McGee informed them both.

Tommy gave him a strange look in the rearview mirror.

“Ah! So it is!” Ducky affirmed, appearing quite fascinated as he looked the actor over and gave Tim an approving nod.

The ride to the Embassy was rather surreal to Tim as he listened to the others discussing the latest case they’d been working on. Tommy somehow managed not only to keep up with Abby, Ducky, and Jimmy’s discussion, but he offered his own perspective and drew his own conclusions. And most of them actually made sense.  And the others just kept going right along with him and building on his theories!

By the time they reached the Embassy, Tim was feeling rather exasperated. Were they all in on the joke? It wasn’t outside the realm of possibility; Abby had just about everyone wrapped around her little finger and could probably convince them to do just about anything.

McGee needed a few moments to ground himself before he started really doubting his own sanity again. It was a joke, he was sure of it, and yet the way that everyone seemed to be playing along kept him slightly off-balance. On the upside, it was highly unlikely that Gibbs would be in on the hoax. Although his former boss wasn’t totally above pulling a prank now and then, his M.O. was far more subtle. And sometimes it seemed that Gibbs took somewhat of a perverse pleasure in exposing other people’s stunts. Not that he was likely to do that to Abby…

“So, who’s our designated driver tonight?” Abby asked as she held up her keys and looked expectantly at Ducky.

“Not my turn, dear girl,” Ducky declined, much to her amusement. “The best way to get through these events is to partake in the open bar,” he added with a sly wink.

“I guess that means me,” Jimmy offered as he took the offered keys.

McGee was relieved to have justification to slip away from the group for a few minutes to go check and see whether Gibbs had been able to learn anything about the DiNozzo disappearance.

“Hey, Boss…I mean Gibbs,” he greeted as he joined Gibbs on the mezzanine level, where the agent stood watch.

“McGee,” Gibbs replied with a nod.

Knowing the man’s dislike of small talk, he got right to the point. “I don’t suppose you had a chance to talk to Fornell,” he queried.

“You don’t?”

“I mean…”

Gibbs cut him off with a small glare before turning his attention back to the room below. “Sacks thinks it would best to keep you out of the investigation,” he informed McGee. “Something you want to tell me about?”

“I think he might not be happy with the role he had in Frame-Up,” Tim sheepishly explained. “Were you able to find out anything? Have they found…” his body “…him?”

Gibbs shook his head. “Nope. Sacks has the wife in for questioning. Seems they had a fight before he disappeared.” McGee considered that for a few moments before Gibbs continued. “Has an alibi, though.”

“Do they…think he was murdered?” McGee hesitantly forced himself to ask, dreading the answer.

Gibbs looked at him appraisingly. Though he didn’t ask, Tim was certain that the man was calculating whether or not McGee would be able to handle the answer. “Sacks is pursuing other leads,” he answered after a moment.

“Leads?” Tim prompted.

“His phone is off the grid. Either turned off or that locater dohicky is broken. There’s been some credit card activity.”

Tim perked up. “Really? So he’s alive?”

Gibbs pursed his lips for a few moments as he once again scanned the room below for any signs of trouble. “Store clerks haven’t been able to confirm the identity. The purchases have all been small so nobody checked ID, and no one has recognized his picture.”

Tim sighed, acknowledging the likelihood that the credit cards had been stolen. “They putting a stop on the cards?”

“Hadn’t last I heard. Sacks wants to keep tracking them for now.”

Tim noticed Gibbs suddenly honing his attention on something down below. He followed Gibbs’ line of sight and almost laughed as he focused on Tommy, who seemed to be paying an inordinate amount of attention to Director David.

“Do we know who that is?” Gibbs asked curtly, noticing Mcgee’s smirk.

“Yeah. That’s…Agent Tommy.” At Gibbs’ raised brow he felt his face turning red. “A friend of Abby’s. He’s auditioning for the role of Agent Tommy for Deep Six.” Gibbs only relaxed a fraction but kept his attention focused on the actor. “He’s harmless…I think.”

“You think, McGee?”

“I’m sure he is. He’s just…refusing to break character.”

McGee wasn’t sure, but he thought he saw a ghost of a smile grace Gibbs’ lips. “Long day, McGee?”

“You have no idea. Were you able to find out anything else? A-about the case?”

“Been a bit busy to pursue it, McGee,” Gibbs reminded him.

“Right. Sorry, Bos--Gibbs. I should probably…”

“I should be getting a full copy of the file by morning,” Gibbs assured him.  “Subtlety.”

“What?” McGee asked, not following.

“Tommy. Needs to work on subtlety.”

McGee choked back a laugh. Tommy was, indeed anything but subtle.  “He’s investigating Director David.”

“I can see that,” Gibbs commented dryly. “Why?”

“Oh. Um…I don’t know. He’s come up with some background story about being attacked and David being involved somehow.” Gibbs glanced sidelong at him. “He says that someone is holding Ziva captive and…” he gulped as Gibbs’ attention once again became directed at him. “It’s just a silly backstory he came up with for his audition,” he assured. “I mean…he says that someone’s holding Ziva and is using her to get to the Director or something,” he quickly clarified.

Gibbs frowned as he looked back down at the actor again. “Well, guess they better hurry.”

“Oh, yeah? Why’s that?”

“Rumor has it Director David is announcing his retirement tomorrow.”

“Really?”

Gibbs nodded, though his attention remained on the young man below.

“I’m pretty sure he really is harmless. He’s a friend of Abby’s,” Tim tried to assure him once again, but it was obvious that Gibbs was in full-on alert mode. He didn’t relax at all, even when Tommy finally turned his attention away from David. In fact, McGee noted, Gibbs seemed to tense all the more as he watched Tommy tap Abby on the shoulder and, after exchanging a few words, lead her out onto the dance floor.

Though he knew that he had to find a way to get close enough to talk with Director David, Tony had no idea how he was going to do it. There was little chance that he’d get within even a few feet of the man before his goons swarmed. They hadn’t left his side for even a moment. It was what they were paid to do, he reasoned. And one of them had further reason not to let the Director out of his sight.

So how was Tony supposed to have a little chat with him? He could wait and follow the man into the men’s room and come across as a complete stalker. Or…he smiled as an idea formulated. It was going to take a little bit of finagling, but if he could get Abby and McGee to go along with it--and he was certain that they would, even if a bit reluctantly--it would likely buy him at least a minute or two of private conversation.

Setting his plan into motion, he approached the table where Abby, Ducky, and Jimmy were seated. “Would you care to dance?” he invited Abby as he tapped her on the shoulder.

Abby’s lips quirked into a coy smile as she looked up from her seat. “I’m not sure. Are you a good dancer?”

Tony didn’t reply except to flash a dazzling grin and extend his hand to her.

Truth was that he was more than good, if he could say so himself.  He wasn’t even remotely embarrassed to admit that he had taken several dance classes throughout the years, and not just the ones necessary to fulfill the requirements for his Phys Ed major. When he was a child, he’d been forced to take classes before cotillion, and there’d been refresher courses each year. He’d been every bit as uncomfortable and reluctant as any other awkward teenage boy, but he quickly learned the merits of learning this particular skill when it came to impressing and charming many of his female classmates. Dancing, as it turned out, was the perfect excuse to really get close to girls, and his skill gave him the confidence to put that excuse to use.

A few years later, when he played for the Buckeyes, Coach Dowling had insisted that the guys take classes to improve their agility. And then he’d taken a few more classes the month before his wedding…

He froze for just a moment. His wedding? He wasn’t married. Was he? No. He was a confirmed irrepressible and proud bachelor. So why was he wearing a wedding ring? It must’ve been for his undercover assignment and he’d just forgotten to take it off, he justified as he started moving again, hoping that Abby hadn’t noticed his hesitation. If she had, she didn’t acknowledge it. She simply followed him onto the dance floor and moved swiftly into position as they joined the waltz already in progress. He expertly took a commanding lead and guided her smoothly through the steps in nearly flawless form.

Though the steps still came naturally, Tony was fairly certain that it had been a long time since last he’d done them.  For a few minutes Tony let himself forget about everything else and just enjoyed the heady experience of dancing with his surprisingly graceful partner. He’d had her pegged as a club dancer, but hadn’t expected her to be quite so fluid when it came to formal dance. Then again, he realized; she was from the south; odds were she’d been expected to attend cotillion, too.  He found himself quite enthralled with the way she easily gave him complete control, trusting him implicitly. But then, that’s what he always loved about Abby. She was just that trusting and open with everyone. And God help anyone who ever tried to take advantage of her for it.

It wasn’t until he spotted McGee making his way down the staircase that Tony remembered what it was that he was supposed to be doing.  Lives could very well count on him, and much as he was enjoying the moment, it was time to get back to work.  “Abby?” he softly murmured into her ear as they continued to dance.

“Mmmhmm?” she replied, matching his quietness.

“Can you do me a bit of a favor?”

“Depends on just what kind of favor we’re talking,” she teased, flashing him a devilish grin.

He chuckled lowly, exaggeratedly leering at her for a few moments before sobering and getting to the point, quickly outlining his plan.

As she listened, Abby began chewing her lip and glancing nervously up toward the Mezzanine.  Following her gaze, he was startled to notice a grey-haired man watching them from the balcony. It had to be Gibbs, he recognized. He knew he should probably go and check in with his boss before he made any moves, but he also knew that if he did, odds were that Gibbs would veto his plan. Clearly Abby knew it, too, and Tony was certain that she was going to bail on him. After a few moments of hesitation, though, he saw an amused spark light in her eyes as a grin stretched across her face. “The look on his face will be so worth it,” she made her ruling before breaking away from him.

As Abby set off on her assigned task, Tony made his way over to McGee. This was going to be the much tougher sell, he acknowledged as his mind sought to find the best way to approach the Probie with his plan. Where Abby was the type up for any adventure, Tim far preferred staying safe and keeping a low profile. So perhaps the best way to approach him would be to just not give him a choice in the matter.

“Probie!” he greeted with an exaggerated cheerfulness. He feigned hurt at the immediately suspicious look on his partner’s face. Tim didn’t look impressed.

“What?” McGee asked guardedly.

“You like Abby, right?”

Tim blinked, unsure where that question had come from. “Of course…”

“You’d do anything for her, right?”

“…Yeah.”

“Good.”

Tim’s brow furrowed, unsure what that little exchange had to do with anything. “Um…Of course it’s good, but…why?”

“Why what?”

McGee’s jaw tightened slightly with exasperation. “Why would you ask that?”

“Because she needs our help.”

Tim’s eyes widened and he immediately began scanning the crowd for Abby.

Using the McGee’s distraction, Tony sprang into action, gripping McGee’s wrist and pulling him out onto the dance floor.

“Hey!” McGee yelped as he was spun around.

“Shh. Work with me here, we’ve got to blend.” When McGee only gaped at him, Tony gave him a patient smile and grasped his hand. “Your other one goes at my waist…and don’t you go getting all handsy on me, Probie.”

For a moment Tim was speechless, then he sputtered, “Y-you want me to dance with you?”

“How many times do I have to tell you. I don’t swing that way. Now come on. You do know how to dance, don’t you?”

Tim started to protest only to find himself being bodily jerked around as his partner tried to force him into cooperating. He tried to pull away only to have Agent Tommy pull him flush against his chest.

“Focus, Probie. Abby needs you,” the man murmured into his ear before backing away just slightly, his expression completely serious as he locked eyes with McGee.

At those words the fight went out of Tim and he fell into step, ignoring the blush he could feel creeping up his neck and into his face. He stumbled slightly as he adjusted to his unfamiliar role and allowed Tommy to take the lead. Within just a couple minutes he became increasingly confident in his step while paradoxically becoming more flustered by the attention they were receiving.

“Um…Tommy…” he began to protest once he had been able to stop concentrating so hard on the steps and got a chance to start reasoning out just why they were doing this. Supposedly Abby was in trouble, but considering that they were mere yards away from the massively overprotective Gibbs…who…oh, God, who was probably watching him dance with Tommy. He began trying to pull away again, only to have Tommy spin him again. As he struggled to maintain his balance, he found himself being dipped backward.

“Relax, Probie,” Tony soothed even as he held McGee precariously off-balance. “You doing okay there? You’re look a little peaked,” he teased.

“Nothing you do could further embarrass me. Is that what you wanted to hear?” Tim hissed. “Game over yet?”

“Game’s just getting started, McClunky.”

Tim groaned as he found himself once again being whisked around the floor. “Not that this isn’t an enlightening experience and all,” he grit sarcastically, “but what are we doing?”

“We’re rescuing Abby.”

“And we’re accomplishing that how?” McGee persisted.

“By doing this…” Tony suddenly released his hand and tapped on Eli David’s shoulder. “Excuse me, but my partner here has been dying to dance with your partner all night. Mind if we cut in?” he asked in a mockery of politeness.

McGee’s eyes widened as he turned to find out who he was being handed off to and was surprised to come face to face with Abby.

“Hi, McGee,” she greeted exuberantly as she traded partners, handing Eli David off to Tony and quickly pulling Tim away from the pair.

“Abby! What are you--?”

“Tommy needed to talk to Eli without his goons. The dance floor’s the only place they’re not *right there*,” she explained. “I just made sure David got to dance a little,” she added with a grin.

Tim could feel the blood draining from his face as he turned to find Tommy. If he did *anything* to the director, Gibbs would have his hide.

Gibbs!

He turned to look up at the mezzanine and winced as he saw Gibbs making a rapid descent down the stairs, making a bee-line straight for them.

He quickly pulled away from Abby and rushed to meet his ex-boss at the edge of the dance floor.

“What do you think you are doing?” Eli David growled as Tony gripped one of his hands and his other shoulder, as though they were dancing. “What do you want? I am sorry about what happened yester--"

“Shh.  I know. It wasn’t your fault. I know. Promise I’m not here to hurt you. Please. Hear me out,” Tony quickly silenced the director. The director glanced around for a moment, and then gave a barely perceptible nod. “Sorry for interrupting you, but this was the only place we could talk.”

“What is it that you want?” Eli asked testily, his eyes locking with Tony’s.

“I know.” Tony repeated his previous words.

“What is it that you know?” Director David

Tony looked up to make sure the mossad officers were still a distance away. “I know. About your daughter. About Ziva.”

At those words Eli jerked his arm quickly from Tony’s grasp and began quickly moving away from him, as though panicked.

“Not the reaction I was expecting,” Tony admitted out loud.

“What did you say to him?” Abby asked as she approached him again.

Before Tony could answer, he noticed that while two of the officers from David’s protection detail were trailing after the Mossad Director, the other was rapidly approaching. “Whoa!” He grabbed Abby’s wrist and began pulling her with him as they dodged through the crowd heading in the opposite direction.

Tony wasn’t sure why Eli David had reacted like a scared rabbit at his words. He thought the director might welcome his help, but it seemed that he’d made the situation worse somehow. And now it seemed that he’d also inadvertently place Abby in the line of fire. Time for a little diversion. If all eyes were upon them, the Mossad Officer would have to back off.

Looking for anything he could use to draw attention, he quickly spotted his target. A grin adorned his face as he pulled Abby directly to a table where some of the younger emissaries had gathered and were gleefully partaking in the open bar. This should be fun. He deftly procured a full tray of cocktails from a passing waiter.

“No, no, I swear. I am the reigning beer pong champ,” he loudly informed Abby, sounding as though they’d been arguing about it.

Abby didn’t even hesitate before she began playing along with him. “Yeah, right,” she called out skeptically.

“Seriously. I don’t have a ball, but…we’ll play quarters. For every one I make, you drink. For everyone I miss, I drink,” he announced. His challenge quickly drew the attention he was seeking. If there was one thing he could always count on, it was that there was rarely a shortage of people excited to watch someone else make a drunken fool out of himself. Gotta love Schadenfreude …

“What the hell did he say to David?” Gibbs demanded as he reached McGee. Whatever the Tommy fellow had said had sent David scrambling for the exit.

“I have absolutely no idea,” McGee admitted as he felt all the blood draining from his face.

“Find out, McGee!” Gibbs barked as he turned to follow after the wayward director.

“Y-yes, Boss!” McGee called after him. He should never have let this stupid hoax get this far. Now Gibbs was probably going to have his head. And for good reason. “Agent Tommy” may very well have just set off an “International Incident” if Gibbs couldn’t get to The Director and calm him down quickly.

He began scanning the floor, searching for the actor. It only took a few moments before he became aware of a commotion building on the other side of the room.  “Oh, God…” he moaned as he realized just who was at the center of it.

Tim made his way to them as quickly as he could, but it was clear by the time he managed to muscle his way through the crowd that it was too late. If Tommy hadn’t set off an international incident already, he was certainly in the process of doing so now. And worse, it appeared that he was taking Abby down with him. He had to get them out of there. Now. Before Gibbs saw them.  While Gibbs would forgive Abby just about anything, he wasn’t certain that getting completely drunk as a representative of NCIS while attending a major International event was included in that ‘anything’. And if word got back to Vance…it could cost her job!

“Abby!” he admonished as he approached her.

“Don’t worry, he hasn’t hit one yet,” she cheerfully replied as she watched him down another cocktail. She’d lost count of just how many he’d downed while they waited for rescue.

“We have to get your friend of here,” Tim crossly insisted.

“Our friend,” Abby corrected. “You like him, too, don’t you?”

While the actor had his moments, at the moment Tim would have to say ‘not so much’. But McGee didn’t have the heart to correct her. “Abby, listen to me. We have to get him out of here before Gibbs sees him like this.”

At that, Abby had the grace to pale slightly. She nodded quickly and grabbed the quarter from the table before Tommy could pick it up for another round. She looked around for the Mossad Officers that Tommy had been dodging while McGee gripped Tommy’s arm and began tugging him toward the exit. “Come on, we have to get out of here.”

“Lead on, McGee-mo-sabe!” Tommy slurred slightly, laughing as he stumbled.

“What I said about further embarrassment earlier?” Tim informed Tommy as swiftly wrapped his arm around Tommy to steady him. “I stand corrected.”

Tim wasn’t sure if it was simple luck or some sort of divine intervention that got them out of the building without Tommy passing out and without running into Gibbs. He became convinced it was the latter when he realized that although Jimmy had the keys to Abby’s hearse, Tommy still had the keys to his car, which miraculously had not been towed from the spot where Tommy had parked earlier. The actor was going to be paying for the multitude of parking tickets that adorned its windshield.

Tim didn’t relax until they were safely away from Embassy row and back on the freeway heading home. Inversely, that was precisely when Tommy began to get more anxious.

“Slow down a minute, Probie,” he demanded.

Tim immediately swerved, trying to get to the side of the road so he could stop. “Don’t get sick until you’re out of the car,” he pleaded.

“Not that,” Tommy had the gall to sound annoyed. “I’m fine. But I think we’re being followed.”

McGee’s eyes darted from the side mirror to the rear view and back again. “I don’t see anything.”

“Blue sedan. Two back and one to the right.”

Abby turned in her seat to peer back, trying to spot the car.

“We’re not being followed,” Tim assured her.

“They slowed when we did,” Tommy reasoned.

“So did everyone else. They thought we were going to cause an accident.”

Tommy sighed exaggeratedly but fell silent for the next couple minutes. Just when McGee thought perhaps the other man had fallen asleep, though, he piped up again. “I’m telling you, we’re being followed.”

“We are not being followed.”

“Are, too.”

“Are not.”

“Are, too.”

“Are NOT,” Tim growled. He couldn’t believe that even completely drunk, Tommy was still not letting go of the charade. He would have to remember that childish banter that the Deep Six agents frequently found themselves getting into.

“Fine. We’re not being followed,” Tommy conceded. “Just don’t blame me when your apartment blows up.”

“What?! No. You know, I don’t want to know. Just…shut up. We’re almost home.”

McGee was tempted to drop Abby and her friend off at her place and just wash his hands of them for the night, but he wasn’t sure it was a good idea to leave Abby alone with Tommy. Act or not, the man was still a raving lunatic. He sure as hell wasn’t going to stay up babysitting him alone, though; Abby was just going to have to spend the night at his place.

Besides, he needed her help to get Tommy upstairs.

“You’re taking the couch,” he insisted when they got into his apartment.

“That the way you treat your guests, Probie?” Tommy asked with a yawn as he shuffled toward the bedroom.

“Couch!” Tim tried again, but it was no use. He watched with a scowl as Tommy flopped face down on his bed. He sighed with defeat as a moment later Abby joined him.

“Come on Timmy, there’s room for one more,” she playfully called to him.

He rolled his eyes and was about to settle himself on the sofa for the night when he realized that it might not be such a great idea to leave Abby in there alone with the drunken actor. Abby grinned at him as he made his way into the room. She scooted over to make room.

“This really would be a lot more comfortable if you’d stay out on the couch,” Tim tried one last time to guilt Tommy into moving. When the man didn’t respond, McGee realized that he’d actually passed out either from the drink or from exhaustion. He smiled faintly as he saw how innocent the man somehow managed to look when he was sleeping. “Help me with his shoes?” he quietly asked of Abby.

“We can tuck him in,” Abby agreed as she began gently working the man’s tux coat off. Together they eased the sleeping man under the covers.

“Don’t be mad, El,” he murmured softly in his sleep. “I just wanted to have a little fun…”

McGee could not believe how much had changed in just a matter of a few short hours.

His apartment had blown up. According to the morning newscast they’d seen from the hospital waiting room investigators had already determined the source of the carbon monoxide gas leak to be a faulty water heater in his apartment. They’d concluded that it was from natural wear and tear, had found no evidence of tampering. It was only an unfortunate coincidence that the propane heater that warmed the hallways similarly had chosen that morning to leak gas. They’d found no evidence of his door being rigged, but figured that turning the lock had caused a tiny spark that had ignited the gas.

The man that had been the bane of his existence during the past 48 hours had turned out not to be a friend of Abby’s or an actor, but the missing winner of his Gemcity contest. While he, Abby, Gibbs, and Ducky had waited at the hospital with DiNozzo’s wife, Ellen, they’d begun to piece together the events of the past couple days.

It had started, Gibbs informed them, when Director David had accidentally struck Anthony DiNozzo with his car when the man had inadvertently run out into the street, directly in front of it. Each of the times Tony had tried to confront him, David had been afraid that the man was seeking retribution or revenge of some sort.

Ducky medically hypothesized that Anthony must have struck his head during the accident and likely had suffered a form of retrograde amnesia. That, combined with a psychological need to ‘escape’ from the problems of his ‘real life’ and what his wife described as an obsession with the Gemcity novels, had led the man to believe that he was in fact, Agent Tommy DeLuca.

From the notes that FBI Agent Sacks had made of his investigation, they gleaned that DiNozzo, in the midst of his delusion, had honestly believed that he was in danger and that he’d needed to “burn” the DiNozzo identity--and had even gone to great lengths to try and set up false trails in case someone did try to track him down. He’d even left his credit cards to be “stolen” and subsequently used, creating false leads.

It had only been pure luck that DiNozzo’s delusion had stuck as long as it had. If the casting for the Deep Six movie hadn’t been going on, neither Abby nor Tim would have mistaken him for an actor. Abby would never have sent him to McGee’s, or helped him to acquire an NCIS ID once she thought he’d landed the role. If they’d sat down and compared notes at any time, Tim would have realized that “Tommy” wasn’t actually a friend of Abby’s. If Gibbs had been in the office instead of stuck at the Embassy, he would have received Sacks’ fax earlier and would have recognized DiNozzo from his picture. If Wallace Jones, the new parking lot security officer had been familiar with the Gemcity novels, or Mike in the main office hadn’t been…but all of these things along with Tony’s intimate knowledge of the characters and his natural charm and keen observation skills had all worked together to keep the fantasy alive.

Unfortunately it seemed that when the delusion was broken it was a little too overwhelming for DiNozzo to handle and he’d passed out. To make matters worse, he’d struck his head again when he’d fallen. Which led them to where they now waited for word of his condition.

“So what’s he really like?” Abby asked Ellen, needing to break the uncomfortable silence. Without waiting for an answer, she continued babbling. “It must be absolutely crazy living with him. Is he always like that? I mean does he always act so fearless and forward like that? It must be really fun trying to figure out what he’s going to do next--“

“He’s…he’s Tony,” Ellen meekly answered, unsure of what else to say. “I mean, he’s…a gym teacher.”

Abby cocked her head as she looked at Tony’s wife, trying to decipher her answer. “Yeah, I can see it, he’s all athletic and everything. You know he actually dragged both me and McGee away from a fire? At the same time? That’s pretty strong, right?”

Ellen shifted uncomfortably. “Yeah, I guess…”

“And he’s a really good dancer…OH! But he didn’t know he was married, I’m sure, and it wasn’t like we did anything more than dancing. It didn’t mean anything or anything I mean he even danced with McGee! And Director David a little bit--"

“Family of Anthony DiNozzo?” a voice called and Ellen sprang to her feet, eager to distance herself from the odd Goth woman that her husband had inexplicably aligned himself with during his escapades.

“I’m his wife,” she announced as she approached the doctor.

“Everything seems to have checked out okay,” the doctor announced. “And he’s asking to see…you,” his gaze moved from Ellen to Abby. Ellen’s mouth dropped open slightly and McGee gulped as he saw the fury in her eyes. It seemed that DiNozzo was going to be in for it when his wife did get a hold of him. “And…are you Special Agent McGee?” the doctor asked, looking to him.

“Um. Yeah. I’m McGee.”

“He’s asked for you as well.”

McGee glanced guiltily at Ellen before quickly moving past her to follow Abby into Tony’s hospital room.

Tim was startled by how different the man looked. Gone was the confident, animated “Tommy” he’d come to know; he’d been replaced by Tony, who appeared nervous and if it was at all possible…shy? The man barely looked up as he and Abby came into the room before his eyes fell to the bed sheet.

“Thanks for um…staying,” Tony awkwardly expressed his gratitude. His cheeks began to pink with embarrassment as he added, “And well…everything.”

“Hey, it’s okay!” Abby eagerly assured him. “It was fun! Well…except for the whole gas leak and explosion thing…”

Tony chuckled slightly and smiled bashfully. “Yeah. I’m just sorry…God, I can’t believe all the things I did to you…” he glanced up at McGee, a look of agony flickering across his features. “I’m just so sorry for everything. You must hate me…”

McGee felt all remains of the residual anger fade and he smiled. “It wasn’t so bad,” he told a white lie. He could tell that Tomm--Tony knew better, but he smiled faintly anyway. “And hey. You totally saved my life. Abby’s, too,” he reminded, feeling better as the smile on Tony’s face turned more genuine.

“I’m just so sorry that my...” Tony motioned to his now-bandaged head, “got mixed up in your reality. Gibbs mad?”

McGee grinned. “He’s always mad. But I’ll give him some coffee and he’ll perk up. As much as he perks anyway.”

“Yeah, I figured that…from the books.” Tony’s smile faded and he looked back down at the bed sheet and began absently picking at a loose thread.  “Anyway, sounds like they’re going to release me in a little while here and Ellen…well she’s already got us booked on a flight this afternoon. I…” he trailed off, his eyes growing distant again.

“ Sorry we didn’t get a chance to do any of that contest stuff.” He couldn’t believe he was about to suggest it, but, “We could reschedule. You should come back when you’re feeling better.” Abby lit up and nodded enthusiastically.

Only a ghost of a smile graced Tony’s lips as he nodded, knowing that in all likelihood it would never happen. He’d nearly destroyed his marriage by coming the first time. Plus…he was fairly certain that McGee was only offering out of some sort of misplaced guilt. He remembered it all. How he’d come in and totally put the agent through hell. He remembered the way McGee had finally blown his temper, and he couldn’t say he blamed him. Tim had been more than patient with him. “For what it’s worth…I really do want to thank you.  I know I wasn’t exactly the best houseguest,” he couldn’t help but grin self-depreciatingly, “but…I haven’t had so much fun in a long time.”

“Fun?!” McGee protested, though his teasing was quite evident.

Tony chuckled. “For me anyway,” he relented, stifling a yawn.

“Well, we better let you get a little rest before they throw you out in the street--like I should have done…”

Abby scowled exaggeratedly and reached over to punch him in the arm, but Tony only laughed. She grinned back at him. “You take care of yourself.  And you better come back and see us, Mister,” she added, poking him a couple times for emphasis before she leaned forward and gave him a tight hug. For a few moments, she ignored the sound of someone--Ellen--clearing her throat from the doorway, signaling that it was time for them to leave. “Here’s my number,” she added as she snatched a pen from the bedside and quickly scrawled it on the back of his hand.

“For the record,” McGee stated as he pulled Abby away, “you are far and above the best Agent Tommy I met this week. I don’t suppose you do any acting…?” At Tony’s sheepish denial, he let out a sigh that was only partially faked. That meant he was back to the drawing board and would have to sit through meeting at least a few more insufferable Tommy-wannabes. “If you change your mind, please let me know. I could probably get you a screen test…” Tim trailed off as he glanced at Ellen and saw the unhappy look she was giving him. “Um. Yeah. Anyway, I’ll contact you. We’ll reschedule, fly you and Ellen out some time this fall?” He winced as he saw the overly fake smile Ellen gave him as a response.

“Definitely,” Tony answered, though the tone of his voice suggested otherwise.

“Later,” McGee called as he prodded Abby past him and out of the room, feeling more than a little unnerved by the clear distaste Ellen had for them both.

“Yeah. Later,” Tony called softly after them.  He was relieved as a few moments later his doctor returned to the exam room with his discharge papers. He knew he was going to have to face Ellen sooner or later, but at the moment he was thankful it would have to be ‘later’.

It turned out to be much later. By the time the doctor had given him his discharge instructions and completed all necessary paperwork, FBI Agent Sacks had arrived and was requesting a statement from him. As he recounted his tale, he could tell that Sacks wasn’t completely buying it, but he stuck to his story and repeated it as many times as the agent insisted on hearing it. For a short time he was convinced that he would have to postpone his flight home, was actually hoping for the excuse, but in the end Sacks finally dismissed him. With a promise to contact him should they require further discussion.

“I told you this was a bad idea,” Ellen reminded him as she pushed the hospital-mandated wheel chair out to her waiting car.

“I know,” he replied with a small sigh.

“You should have waited until we could save up and go in a couple years,” she rebuked him as she eased into traffic.

“Mmm.”

“I knew you’d only get into trouble going by yourself,” she proclaimed as they returned her rental car.

He stayed silent as he carried her bags to the baggage counter.

“We can make this work,” Ellen reasoned as they sat in the pre-boarding area. “I mean, it’s not like you actually cheated. I can’t imagine that you were actually interested in a girl like that. I mean…can you imagine?”

Actually, he could. He really, really could. He smiled faintly as he found himself seriously considering it. Abby was fun and she’d let him be himself…well…she’d let him be Tommy. She hadn’t nagged him to behave or put him down for not being smart. She’d quite willingly played along with his admittedly over-the-top stunts. Truth be told, Abby had been more of a friend to him after knowing him mere minutes than his own wife had been in the past couple years. And while she didn’t exactly look like a woman he’d ever have foreseen himself being with, he couldn’t deny that she was unexpectedly very appealing.

“Well,” Ellen sighed as their flight boarding was announced. “At least you’ve got this silly secret agent stuff out of your system now.” She handed her boarding pass to the attendant. After it was checked off and handed back to her, she stepped past the desk and turned to wait for him. He started to hold his own out when she concluded, “We can go home and forget this ever happened.”

He pulled his boarding pass back. “No.”

Ellen gaped at him. “No? What do you mean no?”

“I mean no. I don’t want to forget it, El,” he said softly, his eyes rising to meet hers. “And no…I’m not going back with you.”

“You’re not coming home,” she repeated back to him in disbelief.

He shook his head. “It’s not home, Ellen. It hasn’t been for a long time.”

“But--"

“Are you happy, Ellen?” he asked. When she didn’t immediately respond, he continued. “Do you love me?”

“Of course I--" she began to protest indignantly.

“No,” he gently cut her off. “Not the idea of a doting loving husband. Not the man who cleans your house and fixes you dinner…but me. I love the ‘silly’ special agent stuff. I love adventure. And excitement. That’s who I am, Ellen. This week…this week I remembered what it was like to have fun. Are you having fun?”

“Life isn’t just about fun, Tony,” Ellen reprimanded him sharply. “Some of us have to work--"

“Do you really think I don’t work? I am responsible, El. I know you don’t approve of my job, but it is work. And I’m good at it. I would never be happy sitting at a desk.

“So what…you’re just going to end our marriage here? At an airport?”

He felt his spirits rising at the prospect and knew without a doubt that he was making the right decision. He couldn’t stop the grin that spread across his face as he replied, “Yeah. I think I am.”

He could feel the weight of her stare as he turned and walked away, never once looking back.

He didn’t know where he was going, and although it was a little bit scary, the possibilities also excited him. He could go back to Ohio, back to being a coach and a teacher, but he didn’t have to. He could see if there were any openings on the Peoria police force. Or he could check out Boston or perhaps Baltimore…or maybe stay here in DC; look up Abby and McGee.

He didn’t know where he was going, but for the moment he didn’t care.

His future was wide open.

The air seemed somehow fresher as Tony stepped back out into the bright sunlight.

First things first, he had to find a place to stay for the night. The only hotel he was familiar with was The Grand downtown, but…he wasn’t so sure he’d be welcome there considering how he’d left the last room he’d occupied.  Perhaps another hotel would be a better idea.

Of course then there was the problem that he didn’t actually have credit cards anymore. He still had what was left of his gift visa, but those generally couldn’t be used for things like renting a car or a hotel room. He was going to need a little help.

At least that meant he had a pretty good excuse to call the number that was still scrawled on the back of his hand. He headed over to one of the payphones.

“Too soon to play the ‘you’re a great friend who would pick me up at the airport’ card?” he asked as soon as Abby answered. He grinned as he held the phone away from his ear as she squealed with excitement.

He wasn’t even aware that he was being watched until it was too late; he felt the gun poking into his side. He froze as his assailant pulled the phone from his hand.

“Shalom,” Tony greeted the man he recognized as one of David’s henchmen, hoping that Abby would pick up on the clue.

“Do not make a scene, Agent DeLuca, or I will aim for that little girl over there first,” the man quietly informed him as he hung up the phone. “Or another child just like her.”

Tony nodded his understanding. His heart raced and his mind scrambled seeking escape, but he knew he couldn’t risk the lives of innocent bystanders. “I’m not who you think I am,” he quietly tried to explain the man as he allowed himself to be led away from the airport entrance, toward the parking ramp.

“I do not know how it is that you found out, Agent DeLuca,” the man ignored his claim.

“No, you see, I don’t know what you’re talking about, and I’m not Agent DeLuca. That was all just one big misunderstanding,” Tony rapidly tried to explain as he was swiftly guided toward the far end of the lot. As they progressed and the bystanders became sparser, Tony knew he was going to have to make his move. “You see, Agent DeLuca doesn’t exist, he’s a fictional--" All the breath was forced from his lungs as the man suddenly whirled and punched him hard in the gut, sending him to the ground. A moment later, the man had hold of him by the scruff of his neck. Before he even had a chance to struggle, he felt the small prick of a needle as it breached his skin. He swore could actually feel the drug rapidly spreading through his body, as though ice was rushing through his veins, numbing his limbs and making his vision swim in and out of focus. He couldn’t fight as the man hauled him to his feet.

“Wait,” he weakly protested as the man popped open the trunk of a car, but he was helpless to stop himself from being manhandled into it. “No…”

He fought against the drug as long as he could, but in the end, the attempt was futile.

As he fumbled toward consciousness, his first observation was that he was no longer in the trunk of a car…unless that car had been partially submerged in a lake, perhaps. For a while, judging from the sliminess of the surface where he was sprawled. Plus it smelled of…rotting fish. And other disgusting things.

Tony groaned as he rolled to his side, raising his hand to cover his nose in hopes of staving off the stench before his already queasy stomach decided to show off and add yet another foul odor to the mix.

Unfortunately, his hand couldn’t quite reach, and he became aware of an odd pressure that encircled his wrist. He forced his eyes open and though it took a few moments for his eyes to adjust to the dark, he already knew what he would see--a metal cuff affixing his hand to a chain that was secured to a metal pipe.

What he didn’t expect to see, however, was that there was a second chain attached to the same pipe.

Groggily his gaze followed the chain until it came to rest upon her.

It took a few moments for him to reconcile the picture he’d seen of Ziva David to the woman that now sat before him. Though her hair was muddied and tangled, her face streaked with grime, and her eyes dull from the effects of exhaustion and possibly hopelessness, she was still one of the most beautiful women he’d ever seen.

Her eyes met his, her expression one of wariness and mistrust. She neither confirmed nor denied her identity as she studied him for a few moments before greeting him with an ominous salutation.

“Welcome to hell.”