Most of the people who knew about the nearly catastrophic event would have claimed it began and ended with finding the secret passage. Only a select number of people had any idea that, for Tim, the ordeal had begun almost a week earlier. It was a week in mid-December when the temperature was reaching the low 30s and the clouds seemed to be filling up with snow; that's when the face appeared for the first time…

"Hey, Jethro," Tim said in a weary greeting to his eager dog. Jethro was jumping with excitement at the sight of his master, running rings around Tim's feet as he walked, trying desperately not to step on the poor pup's tail. "One quick trip outside, okay? Then we both need to get some sleep."

It wasn't that the work day had been particularly heavy for Tim and the rest of the team or that he'd been having any trouble sleeping that made Tim yearn for his warm, comfortable bed. But it was the holiday season and despite bringing a sense of cheer each year, it also had a habit of weighing heavily on his shoulders. Gifts had to be bought and wrapped. Holiday plans needed to be made and tickets purchased. Arrangements had to be made for Jethro to stay at the kennel. And this year Abby had volunteered him to help set up for the NCIS Christmas party which meant buying decorations, helping put up the tree, and taking care of other odds and ends so that the NCIS employees and their families could enjoy a night of festivities for the holiday season. This on top of his normal work load had him practically sleepwalking through the days.

After letting Jethro relieve himself, Tim brought him back inside and gave him a bone to occupy his attention. He was grateful that his neighbor had volunteered to feed Jethro during the week because Tim barely had enough energy to reheat the meatloaf he had in the fridge, let alone worry about Jethro's dinner.

The clock on his nightstand stated that it was only 9:30, but it felt so much later than that as he pulled on a T-shirt and slipped under the covers. He clicked on the TV, hoping to catch a weather report before falling asleep. They were predicting a big snow sometime this week and he wanted to be ready for it.

"Christmas time really shouldn't be this difficult, huh, boy?" he asked as Jethro padded up to the bed, bone in mouth. He looked up at Tim innocently, hoping his master would grab the bone and play with him a little. Instead, Tim gently pet Jethro's head, scratching him behind his ears as he waited for the weather man to appear on screen. "Hopefully once the new year comes I can rest a little more."

He stifled a yawn and let his eyes droop slightly. His head tilted to the side, shifting his focus to the bedroom window.

That's when he saw it.

At first he wasn't sure he was seeing anything at all. It looked more like a blur against the window pane than anything else. The glass was frosted from the cold, so it was difficult to tell just what it was that had cast the dark shadow against it. But then the eyes—and at this point he was sure they were eyes—flickered over to him and he saw a mouth twist upward into a smile.

Tim shot up in his bed, surprising Jethro who retreated back a few steps. The adrenaline rushed through Tim, giving him newfound energy as he grabbed his coat, shoes, and gun and rushed out. He sped through the front door of his building and bound around the side. Pressing himself against the wall, he crept toward the corner as quietly as he could, trying to keep his heavy breathing at bay. Once he reached the corner, he readied his weapon and then spun around it, poised and ready to shoot.

But there was no one there. The patch of grass in front of his window was completely empty. He looked around, keeping his weapon ready should there be an ambush. No sign of anyone else there, though. No sounds of footsteps or breathing or…well, anything. All he heard was the faint sound of his television, which he had left on, coming from inside the apartment.

He approached the window and looked down into the mud. No footprints. The ground was still even and undisturbed. How could anyone have been standing there at all?

I must be more sleepy than I thought, was the only explanation that came to mind. Feeling quite silly, Tim holstered his weapon escaped the chilly air. Jethro was looking at him in confusion as he returned to his apartment. Tim could only respond with a shrug. "Just a figment of my imagination, I guess." That seemed good enough for Jethro, who returned to gnawing at his bone.

But it wasn't quite good enough for Tim. "You know," he muttered, "the weird thing is it kind of looked like Kate." The eyes, the smile, the hair, the bone structure. It had all reminded him of his former teammate. "Maybe it's just my mind playing tricks."

Soon, he was in a deep sleep, no longer thinking about the mysterious face at his window.

Now, if Tim had taken just a little more time to look at the window when he'd been outside, he may have noticed that along the bottom left of the window was a small word etched into the blanket of frost, as if with a finger. Danger.