Chapter 2
It's late for a jog, or maybe early—especially without Jethro there to back him up. Even with Sarah staying the night at Tim's apartment, the German Sheppard wasn't happy to see Tim leaving the house by himself this morning with his running shoes on, but Tim can't take the chance that the dog might give him away. In general, animals tend to complicate attempts to go incognito. Tim purses his lips, remembering anew that he'll have to see about finding Jethro a new home today, but later. For now, Tim's only task is to drop off a single letter.
He wishes he had time to go through the post office. He could go to some nice, anonymous drop box in the middle of a residential area with few to no security cameras. Instead, his only option is to personally leave the letter off at Fornell's house.
Tim winces internally at the choice of Fornell. He hesitates not only because of Fornell's connection to Gibbs and therefore, loosely, to Tim as well, but also because of the man's daughter. She can't be more than ten years old, and Tim hates the thought that his actions might be putting her in danger, but there's only a short list of agents that Tim would trust to bring this information to light in the small window of time that they have. In fact, as far as he's concerned, Fornell is the only agent in the FBI that can be trusted with this data, and the potential to save lives outweighs the risks—at least for now.
Tim pulls the hoodie down around his face a little more securely. The mask underneath it might be considered overkill to anyone else, same with the leather gloves and the padding underneath his clothes that hide his shape, but Tim won't take any chances. Not with Sarah's life. Except… He grips the letter in the sealed plastic baggie a little more tightly—this is Sarah's life he has in his hand. This is a risk he decided was worth taking to save the lives of the task force, and he really hopes he hasn't screwed up with his draft of the note because if he has, then at the very least, it will mean Sarah has to start over. At worst… Tim shudders and feels his face pinch up as his mind shies away from that worst case scenario. He'll think about it later, at home, where it'll be safe to feel that terrified for a couple minutes.
His eyes bounce every which way as he turns onto Fornell's street, though his face remains forward. He tries for nonchalant in his body posture, though he knows he's failing massively. He's way too tense. He only hopes there's no one awake yet at 0230 to see.
He keeps his head down the whole way, but runs as confidently as he knows how right up to Fornell's car. He lifts the wiper on the driver's side and carefully places the letter—baggie and all—beneath the blade. He'd debated the wisdom of keeping the letter in plastic, but figured exposure to the morning dew would be more likely to corrupt the evidence he'd left in it than keeping the sample in plastic—even in a high heat like this of a DC summer. Tim hopes.
He backs away from the car, tries to look around the neighborhood while keeping his head down. He's back on the sidewalk in two strides. The entirety of the dropoff likely took less than 3 seconds. It took him two hours to get here. It'll likely take at least that long to get home with the backtracking and the changing of outfits in the park—again. By the time he gets home, he'll have to start getting ready for work. While he's not usually the type to be able to push through a twenty-four hour plus day, Tim knows he won't have a bit of trouble staying awake in the day ahead.
The more average and normal Tim McGee acts, the more time he and Sarah get to have in this life. No, Tim won't have any trouble staying awake at all.