With thanks to Sergeant Conley (check out his stories!) for giving permission to use his name in a fic, and also to the people who contributed to the recent "isn't it weird what we do" tangent on the General Q&A thread on NFA.

Do not expect too much in the way of a realistic plot here... ;)

The Sergeant

TIM

"Boss?"

"Yeah, McGee?"

"I got a new lead on the case. I think."

McGee frowned at his computer screen.

"You think, McGee?"

Gibbs didn't sound happy, and McGee braced himself for a possible explosion.

"Sorry, Boss. It's pretty thin."

"Don't apologise, it's a..."

McGee let the familiar rule wash over him as he continued digging into the information in front of him. There was something weird - even hinky - going on here.

"You said we were looking for an enlisted man in a position of authority, right? Well, this guy is a sergeant of some kind-"

"A Marine, then."

"I think so."

Gibbs gave him his patented 'how long is it you've worked at NCIS again?' look. "No sergeants in the Navy, Tim." The correction was softened by the forename. For whatever reason (he didn't even want to try and guess), Gibbs still almost always called him McGee, and the rare occasions the boss called him Tim were... kinda nice.

"He's using some pretty sophisticated techniques to hide his IP, it's gonna take me a while. But he's into some really esoteric stuff, Boss. Some of the searches he's entered... I mean, some of it is pretty sick. Like how much is left of a person if they caught caught between a car and a Mack truck..."

An expression of distaste passed across Gibbs' face. Given what the man had seen in the decades he'd been on active service then as an agent, it wasn't often that his surprise or disgust showed. Tim had been wondering if he was being over sensitive, and it was oddly reassuring that Gibbs the unflappable had reacted to that idea, too.

"He's in contact with some other people, too - I haven't yet been able to penetrate far enough into this to figure out how it's all linked together. He seems to have some kind of worldwide network, Belgium, Brazil, you name it. And there are references to explosives, poisons, interrogation techniques, crime scene procedure. I haven't got that far in and it's already just..."

Gibbs nodded. "Keep working it. Get Abby to help you." He started off towards the elevator, and Tim forced himself to call him back. The last piece of information was the most difficult to stomach, but maybe the most important.

"Boss?"

Gibbs paused and span around, leaning against one of the cubicle dividers. He'd obviously been halfway down to autopsy in his head, and McGee tried not to let the man's obvious impatience get to him.

"There's one more thing."

Gibbs raised his eyebrows. "Well, spit it out, McGee..."

Tim swallowed. "I think... I think somehow this man and his associates... They know us. They're... watching us."

There was a moment of silence. Gibbs might be a man of few words, but Tim had rarely seen him actually speechless.

There was a question in his boss's eyes, and much as he didn't want to confirm what he'd said, this was too important to leave out.

"They know our names... Our birthdates. Work history. Cases, too. I've hardly skimmed the information they have, and I've already found references to some of our most top secret cases. Boss, they even know the whack a terrorist computer game Tony plays, they know Jimmy's allergic to henna, they know Abby drinks Caf Pow..."

Gibbs' expression grew darker with each word, and when Tim mentioned Abby and her Caf Pow, Gibbs' anger was so palpable Tim almost felt sorry for this terrorist ring or whatever it was he'd uncovered.

"Find him, McGee. Do whatever it takes. Find him." Another sharp nod. "I'll send Abby up."

McGee watched as he strode away, every line of Gibbs' body screaming that any threat to his team would be dealt with, and dealt with harshly. Not for the first time, he thanked anyone who was listening that he and Gibbs were on the same side.

His bloody minded determination was enough to reenergise McGee, even though he'd been sifting through the scattered information for hours already. He took a long swig of his now tepid coffee and turned back to the screen. Whoever these people were, they'd reckoned without the McGeeminator.

"I'm gonna find you," he promised his shadowy adversary. "You can run, Sergeant Conley, but you cannot hide." And with that thought ringing in his ears, he dove back in.