Though they worked in different sections of NCIS, it only took Tim a week to figure out Caroline's daily routine. She arrived each morning at 7:00 on the dot and would swing by the break room to grab a morning cup of coffee. From there she would head to work, out of sight from Tim's adoring eyes. At noon she left for lunch, either heading to the cafeteria with her bag lunch from home or heading to the café on the corner. On the one occasion that he'd followed her to the corner cafe, he'd seen her eating tomato soup and a sandwich while thumbing through that day's newspaper. In the NCIS cafeteria she seemed to opt for BLTs with no mayo and alternated between reading the paper and doing crossword puzzles. At the end of the day she would grab the bus back to her D.C. apartment, except on Friday when she joined her coworkers at the nearby bar for an end of the week drink. Tim too had been in attendance, though the Intel workers and the special agents had taken up different sections of the bar. He still noticed that she ordered a single mojito and nursed it all night.

Tim knew that what he was doing was creepy and borderline stalking (okay, so it was stalking), but he couldn't help it. Caroline had that effect on him. He couldn't recall the last time he'd been so smitten with a woman. She was sweet, funny, gorgeous…and completely out of his league, at least in his mind.

"So have you guys planned the big day yet, Elf Lord? Are we going to hear wedding bells soon? Should I check out your registries at Target and Sears?"

He scowled at Tony. "Enough, DiNozzo."

The older agent looked at him incredulously. "Come on! Don't tell me you haven't asked her out yet!"

"I don't like to act as quickly as you do, Tony. I'm waiting for the right moment."

"Have you even spoken to her, McStutter? I mean aside from the wonderful conversation the two of you had when we met her last week."

Tim's silence spoke volumes.

"That's pathetic, even for you."

"Shut up, Tony," he mumbled. "Forgive me for not being as suave and confident as you are. Did you ever think that maybe I don't want to humiliate myself in front of a co-worker, that I can't take rejection?"

"Rejection?" Tony echoed. He felt a twinge of pity for the younger agent. "McGee, I know I give you a hard time, but stop talking about yourself like you're The Elephant Man."

"I believe you compared me to him once."

"That doesn't count; you had a horrific case of poison ivy and anyone with a knowledge of classic films would have made the same comparison; well, either that or Lon Chaney's Phantom of the Opera. Now stop pouting and get your ass in gear before one of the other horny guys here snaps her up."

"Tony, can you just keep your nose out of it for once?"

"I'm just trying to help!" The other man defended. "And if you ask nicely, I'll help you snag a date with her."

Tim snorted. "I don't need your help to get a date, Tony."

"You just said yourself that you're nowhere near as suave and confident as I am, Probie, so I beg to differ," Tony replied with a smirk. "And this invaluable wisdom can be yours, if you just repeat after me: 'Anthony DiNozzo, superior man in every way, shape, and form, would you bestow upon me your vast knowledge of the fairer sex?'"

"Tony, I'm not asking you for advice," Tim insisted with annoyance. It was bad enough pining after a woman who didn't know he even existed (and if she did, she associated him with a terrible stuttering); to have Tony making it his business only made things worse. He hated to compare his love life to Tony's because he knew he'd never measure up to the older man in that area, though he'd never admit that. "Now why don't you mind your own business and I'll do the same."

The older agent held his hands up in defense. "Okay, okay, McGee! I'll just sit by and count down the minutes until you realize how much you need my advice." He took a seat at his own desk, giving his colleague a grin. "And when that time inevitably comes, I promise not to gloat too much."

"Tony, if that day ever comes, I can assure you Armageddon will be close behind."

"Hi, Tim."

He looked up and found himself face-to-face with the very object of his affection who had pushed her way into his every thought. Caroline was standing there, leaning her chin on the partition situated to the right of his desk. A few of her curls fell across her face, given her a vixen-like appearance, a look that was further intensified by the fact that her full lips were twisted into a sly smile.

"Your name is Tim, correct?" she asked when he didn't reply to her greeting.

"Um…yes…"

"Are you sure?" she asked in a teasing tone. "Because I've heard your friend refer to you by a couple of different names. McGeek? Probie? Elf Lord?" she listed. "I have to admit, I quite like that last one. It sounds like a sweet little pet name."

He blushed. "Tim is just fine, Caroline."

"So you do know my name." She walked to the other side of the partition and perched herself on the edge of his desk. Her legs were pressed against his and he resisted the urge to touch them. Her perfume—a sweet, honey-like scent—wafted toward him, further intoxicating the already love-struck man. "I was beginning to wonder…Tim."

This couldn't really be happening…could it? Tim's heart rate was increasing with every breath he took and he could feel himself beginning to sweat in parts of his body he didn't even know existed. His stomach did flip-flops and he was almost certain his body was visibly trembling. He looked around and saw that no one else was there; they were all alone.

"I've seen you looking at me…watching me…"

"W-what?" he asked, trying, and failing, to feign ignorance. "What are you talking about?"

"You follow me to lunch," she told him matter-of-factly. "You followed me out to the bar last week."

"I only went because everyone was going…"

She didn't acknowledge his comment as she continued on. "Why, just yesterday you followed my bus in your car just to see where my home was."

"It was taking the same route I usually take." That was true to an extent; the bus took mostly the same route, but he continued to follow it a good mile out of his way.

"And what about when you hacked into my file to find out more about me? What little excuse do you have for that?"

He was silent, eyes cast downward in shame. "I'm sorry…I know I shouldn't have. It's just that…well…you're really beautiful and I wanted to find out more about you."

She leaned forward. "So why didn't you just ask me?"

"I was intimidated," he confessed. "I thought you'd just laugh at me."

"Oh, Timmy," she whispered with a pout, "how could you possibly think that?"

He closed his eyes, using his other senses to drink her in. Her scent…her sound…her touch…her touch? His eyes opened and sure enough her slender fingers were caressing his cheek. "Do you enjoy that, my little Elf Lord?"

Tim couldn't find the words to respond so he simply leaned into her touch instead. Her skin was so soft and he felt a purr building up in the back of his throat. Now he understood why kittens and puppies enjoyed being petted.

Caroline leaned in, placing her lips beside his ear. Her breath was warm and it made him shiver. "Is this what you wanted, Timmy? Am I what you wanted?"

"Yes." His reply came out in a whisper.

"I'll give you everything you want," she told him. Her lips brushed against his earlobe. "I'll give it all to you. Just say the word…"

"Please," he begged. "Please…I need you…" He opened his eyes and found her blue eyes looking at him with adoration. "I think I love you."

Her smirk morphed into a sweet smile, the kind he'd grown accustomed to seeing from her. Those luscious lips parted as she began to respond.

The response came out in the form of a loud, annoying beeping that gave him a startled jolt. Her sweet face shot backwards into a gaping darkness that Tim was sure hadn't been there moments earlier. Suddenly, though, the darkness had surrounded him in a vast abyss and there was nothing but that maddening wail…

Tim shot up, breathing heavily. The alarm clock beside him continued to blare until he reached out a hand and slapped it off. He plopped his body back down onto the bed, bringing his hands up to his face and rubbing his eyes. One may have thought that the dream he'd just had was a pleasurable one, but they'd be wrong. The dream only served to remind him that Caroline was completely oblivious to him, and what was worse was the fact that it was the same dream he'd been having for the few past nights. Per usual, his alarm clock went off right when it started to get good, so he'd wake up feeling unsatisfied and restless.

He kicked off the covers and sat on the side of his bed, feet flat on the floor. The bed was soaked with what he hoped was sweat. It most likely was considering that the perspiration was oozing from his pores at an alarming rate. He ran an arm across his forehead, removing the sheen of sweat that had been resting there.

"I can't keep doing this," he muttered as he shuffled off to the bathroom. He'd had crushes before, but this was just getting ridiculous and it was interfering with his sleep. In his state of yearning, Caroline always seemed to be on his mind. She wasn't even escapable in sleep. It was time to do something; something…drastic.

"So this is what Armageddon looks like, Probie?"

Tim glared ruefully at Tony as the older agent walked through his apartment door. "I thought you said you weren't going to gloat," he mumbled.

"I said I wasn't going to gloat too much. You can't expect me to respond to your groveling without a little gloating on my part."

"Can we just get this over with?"

Tony gave the apartment a look over. He'd been here a few times and each time it seemed to get geekier. New books, new electronics, new antiques; nothing that could possibly be considered hip or cool. There wasn't even a couch, which made seating arrangements for guests very tricky. Granted, that was a good way to get your date to the bed more quickly. Hm…maybe he should use that in his own place.

"Okay, Probie-san, so let's review the facts. You have the hots for one Caroline Hart, the pretty little Intel Analyst who recently joined out motley crew at NCIS. Thus far your only interaction with her has been a nonsensical stuttered greeting you exchanged with her upon meeting her. Suffice it to say, you haven't made the best impression."

"Yeah, we've established that," Tim said with a glower. "Now get to the advice."

"Well, I've written up a handy little pamphlet I like to call 'The Steps to Landing a Date' or 'Dating for Dummies.'" He handed Tim a spiral notepad and went down the line of steps listed. "The first step, of course, is letting the woman know that you exist. This does mean you will have to speak to her, preferably with as little stuttering as possible. Our next step is to find out her hobbies and interests so you can pick out gifts and plans dates that she will enjoy. If she's a movie buff, bring her down to the Old Town cinema—cheap tickets, great classic flicks, but crappy popcorn; if she's a heavy metal fan, take her to a Nine Inch Nails concert."

"I think I get the picture, Tony. What else?"

Tony referred back to his list. "Okay, the third step is to flaunt yourself like there is no tomorrow. Now, this will mean you'll have to take an honest look at yourself and figure out your strengths and weaknesses."

Tim considered this. "My brain is probably my greatest asset…"

"No, no, no, McGee," Tony said with exasperation. "A girl doesn't care about the brains so much. You need to look at your other strengths. You're a successful author who's got a hefty little nest egg and who drives a Porsche."

"Your point?"

"Dazzle her with that, McRomeo! Offer her a ride! Wine and dine her! Take her to the top of the Eiffel Tower!"

"I don't have that much money," Tim commented with a frown. The younger agent was a bit wary of the suggestion. He didn't like the idea of using money to attract someone. "You really think that's a good idea?" he asked. "I'd feel kind of fake doing that."

"Trust me, McGee."

"Famous last words," Tim muttered beneath his breath.

"What was that, Probie?"

"Nothing," he responded with a sigh. "So make existence known, learn about hobbies and interests, and flaunt money. What other pearls of wisdom have you got?"

"Ah, well we've come to my final and most important step. Actually, it's not really a step; more of an attitude."

"And what attitude would that be?"

Tony placed his hands firmly on Tim's shoulders and looked the younger man directly in the eye. "Confidence, Probie. You have got to believe that you are the studliest of all studs and that she would be crazy not to want you. Without confidence you don't stand a chance."

"Confidence," Tim repeated.

"You've gotta walk the walk as well as you can talk the talk. You've gotta keep your eye on the prize."

"Is that all, or do you have some more clichés to throw out at me?" He winced as Tony's hand made contact with his head. "Sorry. Is this all?"

"This is it, my McAmigo. Follow these steps and I can guarantee that by the time our office Christmas party rolls around she will be eating out of the palm of your hand."

"And if she isn't do I get my money back?"

"If she isn't it means you're doing it wrong, Probie. That, or you're a hopeless case."

Tim ignored a barb as he looked down at the list of steps. It was simple…deceptively simple. It wasn't so simple when you couldn't get your mouth to work when the woman in question was around. Her presence gave him an emotional overload and Tim wasn't the best when it came to emotions; they confused and sometimes frightened him. But with a list…well, a list was less emotional and more analytical. Analysis was much more Tim's style; take a problem, assess it, and figure out the best course of action. It left less up to chance and made plans based on facts rather than feelings. He was still nervous about going after Caroline, but this made it easier for him; it gave him hope that maybe, just maybe, this would all work out after all.

"Thanks, Tony," he said sincerely. "I owe you one."

"Actually, McGee, I'd say you owe me more than one, but I won't make you pay up just yet."