A/N: This is a story that I wrote after coming up with the title. I loved the idea of having a story named after an optical illusion. It stars Tim and my favorite guest character ever Stan Burley. Stan does have some prominence after the first few chapters, but I like him almost as much as I like Tim; so I don't mind. :) The rest of the team is present as well. This is a definite case file with a bit of character study thrown in.

Disclaimer: I do not own NCIS, the show or the federal agency, and I'm not making money off this story. I do lay claim to my OCs...but I'm not making money off them either. :)

Fata Morgana
by Enthusiastic Fish

Fa·ta Mor·ga·na: noun
Meteorology . a mirage consisting of multiple images, as of cliffs and buildings, that are distorted and magnified to resemble elaborate castles, often seen near the Straits of Messina. Origin: 1810–20; Italian, translation of Morgan le Fay, associated in literature with magical castles

Chapter 1

Zoom in. Zoom. Zoom. Zoom. Good.

A man was lying on his stomach on the deck. He'd been there for hours. He rolled over with a groan and opened his eyes. He stared up at the sky. There were clouds, but not too many. Not bright blue, not black. Sort of in between. Early evening, maybe? That much decided, he started to sit up and then groaned and fell back...back to the hard metal decking.

He stayed where he was with his eyes closed and listened. He could hear water. He was on the ocean. On deck. But there was no other sound. No engine. No people talking. Just the faint sound of the ocean, maybe a little wind. He lay in a kind of fog for a while and eventually, he opened his eyes again. The sky was darker. It was a little colder.

He took a breath and sat up. His head was spinning unpleasantly. It took a few minutes before he felt stable enough to take note of his surroundings. He saw most of what he'd expected to see. Open ocean, the metal of the ship, but this wasn't the ship he'd half-expected. This wasn't his ship. He didn't know what ship this was. It definitely wasn't what he had been expecting.

Then, he looked around a little more and saw something else he hadn't expected.

A body.

He got to his feet, nearly collapsed from dizziness, righted himself and hurried over. It was a man, and yes, he was dead. The worst of it was that he recognized the man...and he felt a slight stirring of dread. Why here? Why now?

He looked around the deck and saw another figure. He ran over to it.

Another body. Another dead body...and another person he recognized. This was getting worse. He was genuinely worried...more than worried.

"I can't be the only living person on this ship," he said aloud...more to try and make himself feel better than anything else.

It wasn't working.

He sure felt alone...and that wasn't what he was hoping for. He was a good swimmer but he couldn't see any land in the distance...or nearby for that matter.

"Hello!" he shouted.

Nothing.

He looked at the ship. What he could see of it, it looked like a Kilauea-class ammunition ship. They were being phased out, but he supposed that some were still in operation. ...but why would he be on an ammunition ship? An empty ammunition ship? No...it wasn't empty. There were the corpses. As he walked around, he noticed there were no lifeboats. That wasn't good, either. How had he been brought here?

He was feeling a bit better, although it was like his mind was a bit blunted. He didn't have time to focus on that at the moment though. He needed to figure out what was happening. Mostly out of a lack of any better plan, he headed for the bridge, hoping to get some idea of where he was, maybe find a clue of why he was there.

He felt light-headed still, and there was the remnant of a headache, but the more he walked around, the better he felt. Onto the bridge.

Switch. Zoom. Good.

It was empty. No bodies there. Quickly, he walked to the radio console and tried contacting someone.

"Hello? Hello? Mayday, mayday, mayday."

Nothing. He was no engineer or navigator, but he moved around to the other consoles to see if he could get the ship moving. No luck. The entire bridge seemed nonfunctional.

"No power. No engines." He sighed. He wiped at his head. He was feeling sweaty and nervous.

He decided to go below deck to see if he could figure anything out. Right now, he was feeling more than a little worried. It was looking bad. As he headed below decks, he saw ten more bodies. Every one was dead, and every one was a person he knew, however distantly, some just from photos. This was more and more worrying. ...and there was a feeling of being watched, even though, for all he could tell, there was no reason for it. There was no power that he could discern, except for the flashlight he'd found and was using in his explorations. Coming upon dead bodies in the dark was unpleasant at best, but he had to keep moving.

After an hour of wandering around the ship, he thought he heard something.

Someone. Alive.

"Hello?" he called out again. The sound echoed through the empty passageways.

A faint groan was all he heard, but that was enough. Quickly, he passed through several hatchways and then looked up. There was a man above, just beside the ladder and he was moving slightly. He climbed up the ladder and knelt beside the only living person he'd found aboard.

"Hey, you all right?" he asked.

In answer, the man opened his eyes, winced and groaned...and closed his eyes again.

"I feel sick," he mumbled and rolled over. Then, he threw up, the vomit landing with an unpleasant splat two levels down. He groaned again after he finished.

"All done?"

"No..." That led to another bout. When he finished, the man rolled onto his back again and looked at him. "We're on a boat, aren't we."

He laughed.

"Don't tell me you get seasick."

The man nodded and closed his eyes.

"You think you can move at all?"

"Maybe...but not yet..."

He rolled over and threw up again. He didn't roll back that time. Instead, he just lay on his stomach, facing the darkness below. He didn't seem inclined to move.

"Would it help to tell you that it's a nice day with calm seas?"

"No..."

"I ran into the medical department while I was looking around. They might have something that can help you around here. It's got to be more comfortable than where you are right now."

"Maybe..." The man pushed himself upright, grabbed his head and groaned...and then rubbed his stomach again.

"Again?"

He spat on the floor and winced. "I don't think so...not yet. Doesn't really feel like there's anything else in there anyway."

"Okay. Let's go."

He helped the man stand up. He reeled and might have toppled down the ladder if he'd been alone. He steadied the man a bit and then they stumbled to the small quarters housing the medical department of the ship. There was a bed there and, thankfully, no bodies.

"Have a lie down and maybe you'll feel better later on."

The man lay down willingly enough and closed his eyes. His face was pinched.

"Hey, before you doze off. What's your name?"

"Tim."

"I'm Stan."

"Great."

Stan smiled. He supposed that he couldn't fault this man for being less than enthusiastic. He was just happy that there was someone else alive on the ship. Before he could say anything more, Tim seemed to be out again. Eyes closed, breathing more even, face pale.

So...two of them alive. More than ten dead.

"Why us?"

Then, the name hit him.

"Tim...McGee?" Stan looked at the unconscious man lying on the bed. He didn't stir.

If he was right, then they might know why this had happened...

...and it wasn't going to be good.