Disclaimer: I only use the characters as building blocks so I don't own them. 'kay

A/N: Okay so this is my brain trying to figure out what I'm going to write next and this happens to be what it came up with. So basically…What would McGee do if he found out all that we write about?!

Two moments ago, I was minding my own. Casually flicking through my e-mails, rummaging around for some form of enjoyment and then black. Just black, no form of any other colour anywhere. Okay so I'm smart I should be able to figure out where I am….

'Hey there.'

What the hell. Who was that? If this is Tony I swear to god.

'It's not Tony.'

Okay now, this is hinky. Whoever the disembodied voice is, knows what I'm thinking. And there's colour. That's a plus. I'm sitting on a bed, in a small room. Posters of the latest movies and rock bands are plastered on the wall. A lap-top sits open on the desk. A blank word document on the screen. Beside me a girl is spinning around on a desk chair.

'Hey McGee.' Her blue eyes bore into mine. How the hell does she know my name.

'Erm. How do you know my name?' Her brown hair swings….

'Oh come on, I know what I look like.' She shouts too herself.

'Hey, hey. Mind telling where I am, what I'm doing here?' This is more than worrying. It's hinky.

'You always seem to be slightly podgy on telly. But your actually not bad.' She stood up and walked over too me. I shifted uneasily on my seat. Telly. This girl was insane.

'Writers block, young Timothy. I'm stuck on what I'm going to write next. And once I stop writing. Well there's no-where really for you to go. So you must have come here instead.'

My mouth dropped open.

'You could say I am your supreme leader. Or supernatural being if you must. I don't know think of something from one of you MMORPG games you play.'

As far as I know, no lord of mine has ever been a tall English girl with a rather crazy obsession with….

'I don't need you to think of how I look. Or I'll set Tony on you.'

'Wh-Wh-what?'

'Ah. Now that's an idea.' She slides back onto the chair and starts clacking away on her laptop. Having written a 'disclaimer' and a rather extended authors note. The bed I'm sitting on dissolves. And reforms back to my comfy leather desk chair in the bullpen.

The steady echoing of the daily sounds pounded my ear drums, phones ringing, people talking, shouting almost. It was a normal day. Yet something inside him left a feeling of regret. Last night had bought about a turn of events not even he could predict. Yet when Kate entered the bull pen a wave of relief spread over him, the depressed look on her face however bought fear into his heart.

'Tim. Sara's Dead.'

'What?'

'I'm sorry McGee. But there really seems too be a growing number of fiction out there where you loose someone close to you, or turn out to be a murderer or victim yourself.' She smiled sympathetically at me. I thought back to what had just happened. Kate? Why was Kate there.

'Oh I added her in because she was so much better than Ziva. And we can have a bit of Tate action later on.'

'Tate, what? And why Sara. Why me for that matter?'

'I'm sorry McGee but your such a loveable character, it's rather fun too read about actually. But you should feel sorry for poor Tony. He has so many lovers in our world.'

'He does in mine.' I mumbled.

'I'm talking about Kate, everybody loves her a Tony. There's so many fanclubs there impossible to count, and that new girlfriend, can't remember her name – something French. Oh and Ziva. Mustn't forget her. Too many sexual partners too much time.' She sighed.

'And I suppose you should feel rather honoured, you seem to be in a rather fixated in a rather angsty stage. But at least your always paired with Abby.'

'I'm sorry. But are you mentally unstable? I mean who thinks of this!' I spoke, feeling rather overloaded with information.

'Not insane, dear McGee. Just creative. You see writing all this exposes your potential. Depth, that is rarely seen in such a show. Let me show you.' Another dissolving effect and this time I was sitting on a couch. What I assumed to be my living room. But looked nothing like it.

The bottle hung loosely from his hand. The whisky burning his throat…

'I can't drink whisky!' I moaned the very thought making me gag.

'It's necessary McGee. ' She sighed.

The day replaying over and over in his mind. How had it all gone wrong. Why had it happened. He should've stopped it.

'Probie.' The door bell rang above his voice. Drowning it out. He couldn't answer it tonight. Tonight he needed to be alone. Another swig bought the burning sensation back as his vision blurred.

'McGee. If you're in there just listen. Abby's alright. She'll get over loosing her dog. But she just wants to know if you're alright.'

How could he have ran over Abby's dog. She'd never talk to him again.

'That's such a stupid story.' I whined.

'Okay then what do you suggest.'

'I heroically rescue Abby from the depths of hell itself. We fall in love and get married.' I smiled.

'But that's not interesting.'

'Why?'

'Because its not angsty. There's a happy ending. No-one wants too read that!'

'Fine.' I huffed.

'Don't be such a bore McGee.'

'But I want to be recognised.'

'Oh you do, do you.' She grinned. Oh god. What had I done.

'Bye McGee.'

The room dissolved for the final time. I was at a crime scene. Kate was taking photos and Tony was gazing at her backside his eyes glazed over. A man burst in through the back door.

'PUT YOUR ARMS IN THE AIR AND STEP BACK!.' I sighed. She was a bitch. Royally and truly.

A/N: Okay sorry if that was rather boring. But it got me out of my writers block…mostly. Anyhow. I apologise if it was OOC, but review all the same.