A/N: This is my entry for the NFA Suspicious Minds challenge. We had to have three players: the accuser, the defender and the accused. I played around with the requirements a little bit, and the result was this rather disturbing story. It has five chapters and an epilogue.

Disclaimer: I don't own NCIS. Too bad. I'm not making money off it. That's even sadder.

Worth Dying For
by Enthusiastic Fish

Tim opened his eyes, feeling sick to his stomach, dizzy. He wondered why, but as he rolled over in bed, he promptly felt sick in quite another way. He quickly rolled back, over the edge of his bed and began to throw up all over the floor. He slumped back down in the sheets and tried to think...but he couldn't...and he rolled back over and looked again. He looked at himself, at the...the...body...laying on the bed beside him. He looked at the blood-soaked sheets, at his own blood-soaked clothes...and then, he looked at his hand and realized that he was holding a knife in it...a bloody knife.

Fractured memories from the night before flashed through his head, leaving him feeling even more dizzy than he had been before. A bar...a girl...the same girl who was... He began to feel the bile rise once more. He forced it down for the moment and tried to even out his breathing.

Think. Think!

He couldn't seem to let go of the knife.

More flashes of memory. Talking with the girl...arguing with her...yelling...the knife...

Why am I holding the knife?

He could see it now, a short burst of clear memory. He was grabbing the knife and waving it around. He was...holding it...like he was now...he was... Now, the bile rose again, more insistently, and he rolled to the side of the bed again and threw up once more.

Taking weak, trembling breaths, he began to cry, still holding the knife in hands.

I killed her.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

It was a bright and sunny Sunday morning, but Gibbs wasn't out enjoying it. He was where he usually was on Sunday mornings: in his basement. He might go out later on, but right now, he was intent on finishing one side of his boat. Thus, he was rather annoyed when his phone rang. Still, he was always on call and so he picked it up.

"Gibbs."

"B-Boss..."

The voice was so soft, so shaky that he wasn't sure, at first, who it was.

"Yes?"

"Boss, I killed someone."

"McGee?"

"I killed someone."

"McGee, what are you talking about?"

"I killed someone, Boss."

The board in his hand fell to the floor with an unnoticed clatter.

"Where are you, McGee?"

"She's...she's right there. I-I killed her."

Tim's voice was only slightly above a whisper, and he sounded out of his mind.

"Tim...where are you?"

"In bed...she's...I yelled...I had the knife...I killed her."

"You're at home?"

"It's...I...Boss...I..."

There was a rather disgusting sound and Gibbs winced at the feedback as Tim dropped the phone.

"Tim, stay where you are. I'll be right there. You hear me?"

Harsh breathing took the place of the previous noise. "I killed her, Boss."

"McGee. Stay. There. Got it?"

There was no verbal response. Instead, there was the sound of Tim starting to sob. Gibbs was in his car and starting to drive over. He tried to get Tim to talk, but mostly, he just said that he'd killed someone. Thankfully, he didn't vomit into the phone again.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

"McGee?" Gibbs called as he came into the apartment, his gun drawn. The door was unlocked. The floor in the main room was strewn with clothing and rose petals. Feeling his heart clench with worry, Gibbs walked back to the bedroom.

Tim was sitting on the bed, half-naked, staring at the equally-unclothed body of a woman who had mostly likely been beautiful at one time. Now, she was...not. Tim was clenching a knife tightly in his right hand, his phone in his left...which was the opposite of what Gibbs might have expected.

"McGee," he repeated, gently.

Tim was staring in horror at the body.

"I killed her," he said softly.

"Why?"

"I was angry. I remember being angry...and hurt. That must be why."

"Must be? Don't you know?"

"I can't really remember. It's...fuzzy. I drank too much, I think. That must be it. I was mad."

"McGee...do you remember killing her?"

Tim was obviously disoriented and a sour smell in the air told Gibbs that Tim was probably not feeling his best.

He held out the knife. "I can't put it down. Boss, I was holding it when I woke up. I can't put it down. It's bloody...it must be what I used to kill her."

"Why?"

"She was nice...laughing...Tony was..."

"Tony was there?"

"Yeah...somewhere. I don't really remember. I was...I thought...she wasn't...and I killed her."

Gibbs sighed and pulled out his phone again.

"This had better be really important," Tony said groggily into the phone.

"Tony, get your lazy butt out of bed and get over to McGee's place. Grab an evidence kit on your way."

"Evidence kit? Why? That crazy chick clean him out? I told him she was bad–"

"She's dead, DiNozzo. In McGee's bed...and he's claiming that he killed her."

"What?" Tony didn't sound groggy now. "No way, Boss. He couldn't have."

"Just get over here. We need to process the scene and I'd like to get it done myself, rather than call in the local LEOs."

"Time me. I'll be there."

"I'll do that." He hung up and turned his attention back to Tim. He was still sitting there, looking rather out of it. If it had been anyone else in this situation, Gibbs knew he would have assumed heavy drinking followed by a crime of passion. ...but this wasn't anyone else. This was Tim...who, at most, drank a couple of glasses of wine. Offhand, Gibbs couldn't think of a single time when Tony had teased Tim for drinking too much...and Tony would have done that had it happened.

"Tim, tell me what happened."

Vaguely, Tim waved the bloody knife in the air. "I killed her...I remember...I was mad...about something...and I...had the knife, but I don't know why."

"Do you remember actually stabbing her?"

Tim didn't answer. As soon as he could, Gibbs wanted to get him to a hospital, to get a blood and urine test, but he didn't dare do that just yet.

"Who is she, Tim?"

"Girl at a bar...she was...nice...but Tony said she wasn't." Tim began to cry again, hiding his face in his arms. "I killed her, Boss! I killed someone! I don't even know why!"

Mindful of not disturbing the scene...or stepping in Tim's vomit, Gibbs sat down beside Tim and put an arm around him, not sure if he was more bothered by the dead woman or by Tim's insistence that he'd killed her himself.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

"Hello?"

"Back here, DiNozzo," came a swift reply.

Tony walked back, past the rose petals and clothes, thinking that it was a strange little scene there...and then, stopped dead in his tracks at the sight of Tim crying his eyes out, wearing only boxers...and covered in blood, most likely belonging to the blonde who was sprawled out on the other half of the bed.

"I knew she was bad news," he whispered.

Gibbs didn't reply, nor did Tim. Instead, Gibbs stood up and got out a pair of gloves. Tony swallowed and followed suit.

In an effort to stay relatively objective, Tony brought Gibbs up to speed as they walked back into the main room.

"I called Ziva; she should be here any second. Ducky's on his way, and I put Abby on standby."

Gibbs' voice was low. "Let's get this done as fast as we can. I think McGee's been drugged."

"Drugged?" Tony asked incredulously. "I knew it was a bad idea. She had bad vibes. I told him."

"Told him, how, DiNozzo?" Gibbs asked, shrewdly.

Tony shifted back and forth awkwardly. "Well...I might have said something along the lines of sane women avoiding him at all costs...but I meant it when I said there was something off about her."

"And I wonder why he didn't listen to you, DiNozzo," Gibbs grumbled as he walked back to Tim. "Can I take the knife now, McGee?"

Tim was staring blankly at the wall.

"McGee?"

"Boss?"

"I need the knife. Okay?"

"I can't let go."

"Just open your hand," he said patiently.

Tim looked at him fearfully. "I can't let go!" He shook his right hand and either he was more out of it than Gibbs thought he was or else the knife really was stuck to him. "I can't let it go!" he said more frantically.

"Okay, okay, McGee. Stay calm."

"And...the knife...I saw it...I was holding it. I saw it go...down and up and down and...and I couldn't let it go!"

"It's all right, McGee."

"No, it's not!" Tim said, his eyes bright. "No...it's not all right. I killed her. I was holding the knife...and I...I did it!"

Tim was now waving his arm around, trying to drop the knife that appeared to be permanently attached to his hand.

"Stop it, McGee!"

"I can't let it go!" he said.

Gibbs caught Tim's arm and held it still.

"Let me look!"

Tim stopped flailing and allowed Gibbs to examine his hand. He sighed.

"Tony?"

Tony stuck his head in. "Yeah, Boss?"

"We're going to need some acetone."

"Acetone? Why?"

"Someone superglued the knife to McGee's hand."