Title: Pale Reflection

Story: NCIS/ slight crossover with Supernatural, in which none of the major characters appear or are mentioned by name.

Rating: T/PG – Gen

Genre: Supernatural/Angst

Warnings: General weirdness.

Set in Season 7 after Endgame

Summary: One of the team disappears and shows up in a very unlikely place.

Disclaimer: Don't own, just playing, yadda yadda.

My muse threw this plot bunny at me and it would not leave. She has apparently been lacing her espresso with crack now…or maybe mescaline.

Part 1

Tim McGee slowly made his way through the streets of Silver Spring, concentrating on nothing more than putting one foot in front of the other and keeping his mind of the events of the past few days.

Easier said than done.

He had declined Tony's invitation for a drink after work, opting instead for an evening of solitude. The truth was, right now he couldn't really stand to be around anyone. Especially his team, those who had seen what he had experienced: one more bad relationship in an unfortunately long line of them. He thought it was bad when the women he had been dating were just a little nutty or had commitment issues, and when he had managed to find one who took joy in stealing from him, he didn't think it could get much worse. It seemed, however, that Murphy's Law ruled his love life. He just couldn't understand how he had so completely misjudged Amanda…Juliet, whatever the hell her name had actually been; the seemly sweet girl who had only set sights on him to get what she wanted, who had actually been ready to kill him.

Maybe the monastery option wasn't such a bad idea after all.

McGee turned and headed down an unfamiliar side street, passing several small businesses. The pedestrian traffic had grown significantly lighter as the evening wore on, and he reflected that up until a few months ago, his walks would have taken him through more the more populated areas on his way to the dog park, where he would enjoy watching Jethro romp with the other dogs, eliciting smiles from fellow canine aficionados. Unfortunately, after much soul searching, he had decided that the rarity of such outings was not fair to his furry friend, and he had sent Jethro to live with his parents. Now the former drug dog was enjoying his retirement in the country and was getting the constant attention he had so obviously craved. Tim missed his old companion more than he had expected, but he knew the dog deserved better than what a special agent's hectic schedule allowed.

McGee sighed. He couldn't even hold on to a relationship with Man's Best Friend.

Concerned with his own problems, he hadn't noticed that the weather had changed for the worse. He did notice that he was hungry and when he spotted a Chinese restaurant, Lee Ho Fook's, he considered stopping for dinner. Just as he was about to cross the street, the heavens opened and it started to pour down rain, forcing him back under an awning on his side of the street. He waited for it to let up, but Mother Nature was apparently in a mood and the heavy rain kept him in place. He didn't notice the door behind him had slowly opened until the shop owner spoke.

"May I help you?"

McGee turned to see an elderly man standing in the doorway, a man who strongly reminded him of Jackson Gibbs. McGee stared in surprise for a moment before he recovered and was able to respond.

"Uh, no, sorry. I just caught in the rain without an umbrella. I'm waiting for it to let up, but-."

"It doesn't look like it will any time soon. You might as well come in, then. Drier in here, at least, and I don't close up for another half-hour or so."

"Thanks." McGee stepped into the shop and the owner closed the door behind him. He was surprised to see that he was in an antique shop with a rather impressive inventory crammed into the small space.

"Go ahead and have a look around. You might see something you like."

McGee nodded and made his way towards the back of the shop. He didn't want to tell the man that he didn't have any money with him; he had left his wallet at home, along with his ID and gun. When he had left for his walk he hadn't even wanted any reminders of his work or his current lot in life.

So much for that idea.

As he walked through the shop, he noticed an inordinate number of mirrors lining the walls and taking up space on the shelves. He made an effort to be more careful and to avoid snagging any of them as he passed. He certainly didn't need any more bad luck.

McGee shook his head. This train of thought was really not helping, but he couldn't seem to shake it. He was tired of things turning bad on him. He was tired of being the brunt of fate's sick sense of humor. And, more than anything else, he was tired of going home to an empty apartment with the knowledge that it would stay that way for the foreseeable future.

When he reached the back of the shop, he stopped in front of a full length mirror with an ornately carved dark wood frame. He took a long look at himself, wondering just what it was about him that led to his solitary existence. He was getting into shape, which, if you believed the popular press, should make him more desirable. He didn't think he was bad looking, and after several successes on the job, his confidence was improving. So why, on a Friday night, was he standing in front of a rather hideous mirror in an old antique shop rather than enjoying the company of others?

He reached out and pressed his palms against the glass, leaned close and looked directly into his reflection.

"Maybe I'm just meant to be alone."

Suddenly, he felt a strange sensation, as if the mirror had suddenly become electrified. He tried to pull away but he was held in place and before he could call out for help, he felt himself falling forward as darkness overwhelmed him with sickening swiftness.

Sunlight danced across his face as McGee opened his eyes and he immediately sat up and glanced around his bedroom in surprise. He checked his watch and groaned. He had to leave almost immediately or he would be late, and he really wasn't in the frame of mind to deal with any remarks that would accompany such tardiness, especially in the wake of such a weird dream. He got up and was surprised to find he was still fully dressed, and his clothes were startlingly unwrinkled. He made a quick trip to the bathroom to brush his teeth and hair and when he glanced in the mirror, he paused. His reflection was a little fuzzy, as if there was a film over the glass. He made a mental note to clean the mirror, when had time, of course, and returned the bedroom. He hurried to pull on his shoes, gathered up his gun and ID, and headed for the front door.

He stepped into the hall outside his apartment before turning to lock the door. When he turned to head down the hall, he stopped, frozen in shock. He was no longer standing in the hallway of his apartment building.

He was standing in the bullpen of NCIS.

His eyes swept the area, looking for a familiar face, someone to tell him that maybe he was still dreaming, but the area was completely empty and deathly silent. No clacking of keyboards, no hum of equipment, no low rumble of conversation: all the background noise he had taken for granted for so many years was gone.

He reached up and pinched himself, expecting to feel nothing, to show that this was not real, but he felt the pain he had inflicted and winced. With growing fear, he decided to try something else.

"Hello?" he called out, expecting to be unable to hear his own voice, but it reverberated in his ears as it would if he was standing in an empty room. Desperate to wake up, he reached up and smacked himself on the back of the head, but the scene did not change.

Finally, he began to accept, with a bitter, sinking feeling: something was very, very wrong.

A/N: So, what do you think so far? Reviews, as always, are always appreciated.

Just to let you know, this story will only be about 4 or 5 chapters long, plus an epilogue.

BTW, did anyone recognize the name of the restaurant? ;)