A/N: This is the second story I've written that's inspired by Edgar Allen Poe. I'm studying him in English right now, and I've decided to write five stories inspired by a poem or story of his, preferably a poem. The first was called Usher and was inspired by The Fall of the House of Usher, one of his short stories. This will be a multichapter story and will not take place in 1993; this is just the prologue, and is intended to show... well, you'll understand later. ;) I'm not promising or estimating when this will be updated, because right now I have seven WIPS, not counting this one, which may not seem like much, but also consider that my sister just moved to another continent, and I'm juggling writer's block, high school and random bouts of semi-depression. So. This is what you get. Take it or leave it. And please review on your way out. :)

Disclaimer: I don't own anything concerning or involving NCIS or the poems/written works of Edgar Allen Poe. I created this story, not the people in it and not the inspiration.

May 14th, 1993
Alameda, California
McGee residence

"But I'm not tired!"

"I'm sorry, Sarah. Mom told me to make sure you were in bed by ten."

The small seven-year-old crossed her arms and stuck her tongue out at her older brother.

"I really am sorry, but do you know what Dad would do to me if he found out I disobeyed?"

"He doesn't have to know."

"He'd know. He always knows."

"That's because you can't lie worth a crap."

He sighed. "Sarah…"

"Fine." Her face changed. "But will you read me a story?"

"I thought you said you were too old for stories."

"The ones Mom reads me, yes."

"Okay, I guess so. What do you want?"

"How about more from that creepy guy you read me last week?"

"What creepy- You mean Poe?"

"Yeah, him!"

"You liked that?"

"Yeah! It was cool."

"I don't know…"

"Come on. Please, Tim?"

"Alright, fine."

He left the room and came back a moment later with a large book reading English Literature on the side. Sitting down by her bed, he shuffled through the index and turned to the according page.

"Alright… The City In The Sea, Eldorado or Annabel Lee?"

"There's a girl in my class named Annabel."

"Annabel Lee it is."

Sarah sat up eagerly in bed, propping her pillow against the headboard. She loved it when Tim read her stories.

Clearing his throat, he began to read, for once his stutter gone.

"It was many and many a year ago,
In a kingdom by the sea,
That a maiden there lived whom you may know
By the name of ANNABEL LEE;
And this maiden she lived with no other thought
Than to love and be loved by me.

"I was a child and she was a child,
In this kingdom by the sea;
But we loved with a love that was more than love-
I and my Annabel Lee;
With a love that the winged seraphs of heaven
Coveted her and me.

"And this was the reason that, long ago,
In this kingdom by the sea,
A wind blew out of a cloud, chilling
My beautiful Annabel Lee;
So that her highborn kinsman came
And bore her away from me,
To shut her up in a sepulchre
In this kingdom by the sea.

"The angels, not half so happy in heaven,
Went envying her and me-
Yes!- that was the reason (as all men know,
In this kingdom by the sea)
That the wind came out of the cloud by night,
Chilling and killing my Annabel Lee.

"But our love it was stronger by far than the love
Of those who were older than we-
Of many far wiser than we-
And neither the angels in heaven above,
Nor the demons down under the sea,
Can ever dissever my soul from the soul
Of the beautiful Annabel Lee.

"For the moon never beams without bringing me dreams
Of the beautiful Annabel Lee;
And the stars never rise but I feel the bright eyes
Of the beautiful Annabel Lee;
And so, all the night-tide, I lie down by the side
Of my darling- my darling- my life and my bride,
In the sepulchre there by the sea,
In her tomb by the sounding sea."

Looking up from the book, Tim noticed Sarah was asleep. Her head had fallen down onto her chest, and she was balancing perilously on the side of her bed. He set the book down and gently lifted her further onto the mattress, pulling the comforter over her small body. After shifting her head onto her pillow, he left the book on her bedside table for her to read later and quietly made for the door.

"Tim?"

He turned back, and her eyes were open, if not drooping. He reached her bed in a few steps and knelt.

"What is it?"

"Is it true?"

"Is what true?"

"Can somebody really love someone else that much? You know, enough that angels are jealous?"

He hesitated. A skinny, fifteen-year-old nerd like him didn't have much experience in that department, but he answered as best as he could.

"…I don't know. It's nice to believe it, though, isn't it?"

The blank look he got told him that she was expecting more.

"…I think everyone has someone that's right for them. The hard part is finding them."

She seemed satisfied with that answer. She closed her eyes again. He smiled, brushing the hair from her face.

"Love you, Tim," she mumbled. "Thanks for the story."

He kissed her lightly on the forehead. "I love you too, Sarah."

He silently left the room, turning the light off and closing the door behind him. Hours later, he laid in bed, wondering how such a little girl could be so perceptive as to know exactly what he had been wondering himself.

And how she had gotten him to answer his own question.