Chapter 3
Arriving at work, Tim went to autopsy first, determined to get the worst out of the way. He was only a little surprised when he found Ducky was already there.
"Timothy! What can I do for you this fine morning?" The older man asked.
"Morning Ducky. I wanted to read the autopsy report. From the lack of forensic evidence at the site where the body was found, I think this may not be our killer's first time. I'm going to search old reports but I wanted the details from yours so I can narrow my parameters," Tim explained.
"Are you all right, Timothy? Your reaction yesterday made me concerned you might be taking this case...personally."
"Yeah, Ducky, it's personal. He may have been murdered because he's gay. I - I don't consider myself gay, but I am in a relationship with a man, so..."
"It is understandable, my boy. I'm afraid my findings aren't likely to make it any easier, however. Can I get you a cup of tea?"
"No thanks. Why...what, uh, did you discover? What was done to him?"
Ducky sighed. "Have a seat," he indicated the chair beside his desk and Tim sat. "Poor Captain Reynolds had lacerations on his wrists which indicate he was hung by them. Contusions, fractures, and internal bleeding are consistent with a severe and thorough beating, over the course of several hours, likely with a baseball bat."
Tim swallowed hard at the mental image. "Cause of death?"
"Exsanguination. Timothy..." Ducky paused. "He was violently castrated. The knife cut into his leg and partially severed the femoral artery."
A shudder passed through Tim. Looking at the medical examiner he knew Ducky had more information, but he wasn't sure he wanted to hear it. Biting his lip, he took a deep breath and tried to get some perspective back. He had to be able to distance himself enough to investigate this crime. He mentally shoved the all too personal thoughts of Sam away and focused himself on the gathering of facts. He filed the information into his mind clinically and gave a short nod.
"Right to left or left to right? Can you tell if he's right- or left-handed?"
"The severed artery was on the right leg, and from the placement of the cut I'd say it was made from the front so he was probably right-handed."
Tim nodded. It was just another fact. "What else?"
"Severe trauma to the rectum. I believe the object he was beaten with was used."
"Raped with a baseball bat?" Tim whispered. At Ducky's curt nod, Tim felt the blood drain from his face and he was grateful for the wastebasket the doctor put before him when his stomach heaved and Sam's lovingly prepared breakfast burrito made a reappearance. He sat shaking for several minutes. Ducky brought him a damp paper towel and some water. Wiping his mouth, and surreptitiously his eyes, he sipped the water and finally nodded to Ducky.
"Thanks. Send me the report please?" Tim rose and straightened his shoulders.
"Of course. Timothy...your reaction to this case is perfectly understandable. It is normal that you would sympathize. However, I think you know you need to be able to be objective so that you can work effectively. If you find yourself unable to do so, it would acceptable for you to remove yourself from it. I can explain the psychology of the situation to Jethro - "
"No. No, Ducky. I can be detached. I'm staying on this case. We're gonna find this bastard."
"Very well."
By mid-morning, Tim had found two other cases he thought might be the same murderer. His heart sank when he realized that if he was right, they were after a serial killer who was targeting gay men who were military officers. After he'd sent the autopsy files to Ducky so he could verify the similarities Tim had found, he brought the information with his supposition to Gibbs. The former Marine's eyes flashed in fury and ordered DiNozzo to work from another angle, expanding into missing persons rather than just murder victims. Tony gathered a list from the past five years of male officers who had gone missing in the DC area, and Gibbs assigned Ziva to help with researching their backgrounds. It was difficult to try to find out if any of the possible victims from before the repeal of DADT were gay, but phone calls and several personal interviews finally revealed three names of missing men who were identified as homosexual and thus were possible additional victims. Tim collated the data on all five men and put their pictures on the plasma. He went through the service record of each for the team. When he finished, he looked up from his computer at the unusual silence that followed. Tony was studiously studying his own shoes, Ziva staring hard at the photos on the screen and glancing back to Tim repeatedly. Gibbs stood, inscrutable as usual, but Tim thought he sensed extra tension in the hand that held his ever-present coffee. Tim frowned, then his gaze finally caught on the similarity of the five men's photos. They were all white, in their late twenties or early thirties, with light brown hair and pale skin. Baby-faced, with large, light-colored eyes, full lips... Tim swallowed hard and his face flushed. After a moment, he cleared his throat and continued.
"The dates of when each went missing show a progression. If they're all victims, the killer is attacking more often. Two years ago, one year ago, six months ago, six weeks, three weeks ago, and Captain Reynolds went missing last week," Tim concluded by putting the photo of the man whose body they'd found the day before with the others onscreen. He had the same look, and Tim clenched his jaw. "As you can see, there are distinct physical similarities among our suspected victims."
"So find other similarities that'll help us get this son of a bitch," Gibbs snapped. He stalked to the stairs and mounted them to go tell Vance. They all knew what a publicity nightmare it would be if the press got wind of a serial killer targeting gay military men. The other three agents rushed to divide research and began working.
Tim started running financials and phone records on all six men with a program he'd written set to flag matching numbers, trends, or transactions. That many checks at once would use all the processing power of his desktop, so he set it to send all matching findings to his phone and stood, announcing he was going to the lab to enlist Abby's help. Tony followed him to the relative privacy of the stairwell which had become Tim's preferred way of getting around as he attempted to keep himself in good shape.
"This is a little close to home. You okay, McGay?" DiNozzo's voice was low, his genuine concern evident. Tim stopped on the landing between floors and gave him a hard look with one eyebrow cocked. Tony spread his hands. "Ya had to know that one was coming," he protested.
"Those men were systematically beaten, raped, and castrated. We're hunting a monster," Tim clarified. "Just help me find him, okay, Tony?" He started down the stairs. "And drop the gay shit, man. I have one exception. One," he said over his shoulder, not realizing his phrasing mimicked Sam's. Tony tilted his head, having noticed just that. He shook his head as he went back to the squad room.
~~~SPNCIS~~~
For Sam the opportunity to establish a routine including cleaning house was a novel one and a good distraction from his concern for Tim. He gathered laundry and put in two loads, taking Jethro for a short run while they cycled. He seemed to enjoy the exercise, though Sam watched him closely to make sure the old dog didn't show any discomfort during or after. Switching the clothes, sheets, and towels to the dryer, Sam returned upstairs and showered. He thought about menus, looked up recipes, and made a list for the grocery store. He brought the warm laundry up and put it all away, having learned when he'd stayed with Tim and done laundry previously that Tim's shirts got hopelessly wrinkled if they weren't hung up immediately. While he heated up the leftover soup for lunch, he decided to text Tim.
S-domestic day. Going to grocery this afternoon. Need anything? Hope case is going well.-
He didn't expect a timely response and was surprised when his phone rang with a call from Tim as he finished eating.
"Hi, baby. How's it going?" Sam greeted.
"Hi, Sam. I got your text. I can't tell you how much I love knowing you're there, at our place," Tim said. His voice sounded strained and Sam frowned.
"Yep. Jethro and I are having a good day," Sam replied. He wanted to ask what was wrong, to help, to make whatever was stressing Tim better, but he knew he was going to have to get used to not being able to know details or do anything but be supportive.
Tim smiled faintly, thinking of Sam sitting in their apartment with Jethro sprawled at his feet. "I'm glad." He swallowed hard. "This case is... Bigger than we thought. And really, really bad," Tim whispered, his voice breaking. Murder as a crime of passion could be brutal and was always disturbing, but predatory premeditation for torture, mutilation and then murder was incomprehensibly horrible. He could also see where the investigation was probably headed, and he was scared.
Sam closed his eyes. "I get it. Just... Tell me what you need, Tim. Anything."
"If there's anything, I will tell you," Tim said, sighing. "Just, uh, be patient, please. It's gonna be some long hours. Not how I had hoped your first week here would - " A search result alert sounded. "I've gotta go."
"Love you."
"Me too."
As he hung up, Sam recalled the only time he'd gotten himself involved in Tim's job.
~flashback~
"You cannot do this. I am not Dean. You are not dealing with crazy paranormal crap. You have to let me do my job, Sam!"
"I was trying to back you up - "
"No! You are not my backup. My team is my backup. I am not Dean! Don't make those choices, Sam! You have to break that pattern. Don't do that to me ever again," Tim glared, an expression Sam had never had directed at him.
He hung his head. He'd known he was being dangerously obsessive when he'd convinced Tim to download the 'Find my Friends' app and watched the gps location of his lover's movements on his iphone. Coupling that with listening to police dispatch was a recipe for disaster. When Tim's location matched with a 'shots fired' call, Sam had rushed there only to get in the middle of a chase and takedown. He was lucky to have been slammed in the face by a door opening in an alley as a perp fled the scene. The bloody nose from the door and mild concussion from the subsequent pratfall that had been the result of his attempted intervention hurt so much less than the disappointment in Tim's eyes that he had instantly regretted his actions.
Tim had come sprinting around the corner with Ziva, who had vaulted over Sam's prone body and continued pursuit even as Tim had skidded to a horrified stop.
"Sam?! Oh god!" Falling to his knees beside him, Tim grabbed his face with both hands and held him. "Sam? Oh Sam..."
When he admitted how he'd ended up there, Tim had ordered him to stay put and gone to help the team. They had finished the takedown without him and he'd confessed, shamefaced, to Gibbs why he'd been distracted.
"Never again, McGee! You make sure," Gibbs had given him the look and put his finger right in Tim's face. "Get outta here. Take him home."
Just inside his apartment, Tim had slammed the door and turned on Sam.
"I am accountable to my agency, and to Gibbs! I let Gibbs down, Sam. You know what that means to me," Tim almost moaned at the thought.
"Tim, I just - I thought - Baby, if anything ever happened - "
"It has happened, Sam! I got shot, remember? I was attacked by a dog, dislocated my shoulder, had an eight inch piece of glass sticking outta my side! I'm still here! I'm here because I can count on my team. They need to be able to count on me, too. Damnit, Sam." Tim shook his head and tried to calm himself. "We aren't hunters together. Don't act like we are. Do not treat me like Dean, Sam. I mean it."
The repeated references to his brother made Sam bristle at Tim's continuing judgment that the relationship was unhealthy.
"Stop talking about my brother like that!"
"Fine!" Tim snapped. "Then don't treat me like you are the only person in the world who can back me up. Don't act like you think I need you only because I'm an immature alcoholic who loves you but treats you like you're the screw up!"
"Don't talk to me like I'm an idiot, Tim!" Sam roared. He stepped close, breathing hard, and looked straight into Tim's eyes. "Talk to me like an equal. Talk to me like you fucking care that I would do anything for you, that I'd rather die than see you get a damn scratch." His voice dropped. "Talk to me like you understand why I did it, like you'd do the same, like you respect and love me even though I screwed up..." His words ended choking on a sob. The agony and fear in his eyes was heart-wrenching.
Tim grabbed him hard on the back of the neck and kissed him. Sam returned the kiss with ferocity, and in moments they were tearing each other's clothes off.
When they lay tangled together, panting, Tim slowly raised his head. "I love you, Sam. But you just can't do that. You can't."
Sam shook the sweat damp hair out of his eyes and watched Tim smile faintly. "I know. I get it. I'm sorry, baby. I know."
~end flashback~
The fight had precipitated fantastic make-up sex, and Sam had vowed to let Tim's work be out of his sphere of control unless Tim specifically asked for his help. He hadn't, so Sam went back to focusing on his own actions, trying not to see every possible horrible thing that might happen to Tim in his imagination.
~~~SPNCIS~~~
The investigation progressed. The only solid commonality of the victims was shown to be a few gay bars in an area of DC known for tolerance. Gibbs sent Tony and Ziva to interview and collect surveillance recordings if there were any. A look shared between Gibbs and Tim acknowledged what Tim suspected would happen. He was being kept in reserve, unseen, so that if they had to send someone in undercover, it would be him. He looked remarkably similar to the victims, and would be the obvious choice, perceived sexual orientation aside. He sensed that Gibbs wasn't happy with the prospect but he mentally began to prepare himself for the eventuality. The need to find this murderer felt like a clawing heat in his belly: Tim resolved that he'd do whatever it took to get him.
That night when they made love, there was a desperate edge, and Tim clung to Sam afterward. Although he chose not to reveal any details of the case, Sam knew that was what was bothering him and tried determinedly to be calm for Tim's sake. His own fear opened up like a yawning bottomless pit when he allowed himself to consider the horrors Tim was hiding, so he doggedly avoided those thoughts. Tim slept restlessly, and woke thankful he couldn't recall his dreams. Their eyes and the tight hug they shared before Tim left for work conceded each to the other that he understood how much they were both leaving unsaid and why.
Sam let himself work out hard that day. He considered trying to find a gym or training center nearby to get even more of his emotional turmoil out, but he realized he could end up hurting someone if he really cut loose, so he kept to his normal routine, doubling his reps, and left Jethro at the apartment while he went for a punishing, marathon-length run. He returned and showered then took Jethro for a walk. The few brief texts he got from Tim didn't stem his worry at all, but his responses remained confident and encouraging even while his chest constricted with his worry.
~~~SPNCIS~~~
The two tentative leads the team had from a day and a half of work dropped into dead ends. Tim steeled himself and approached Gibbs' desk. The team leader looked up and his jaw clenched as he nodded curtly, once. Tim closed his eyes briefly.
"I'm gonna need to know more about the vics. Tops or bottoms, if they were drunk, did they regularly go home with strangers..."
"We'll get everything we can. You won't go in blind," Gibbs replied.
"How do we do this?" Tim asked.
"Do what?" DiNozzo piped up. He came over to stand beside Tim.
"We need bait to draw him out," Tim said quietly. He felt like the air conditioning was blowing full blast down his shoulders and back with his nervousness.
"You? Undercover? Come on, you can't lie about a surprise party, how are you gonna lie about your whole life?" DiNozzo's words sounded critical but his tone held concern.
"I don't have to lie much for this, Tony."
A heavy silence fell among the three men. Tim felt a hot blush in his face compete with the chill across his back. His eyes were downcast, but when they flickered up and met the bright blue of his boss' stare, he was shocked at the concern and compassion he read there. He glanced at Tony just as the senior-most agent turned away at Ziva's return.
"Have we had a breakthrough?" She asked. She set the tray of coffee she'd brought for everyone down on her desk and turned to face them.
"They wanna send McGee undercover as a gay officer to bait this psycho!" DiNozzo said loudly. Tim sighed. The entire floor stilled for a moment at the exclamation.
"Gee, thanks, Tony," Tim muttered.
"I just mean that's crazy, right? We have no idea how this wacko finds his vics, so it'll be totally immersive deep cover. How in the hell can you expect to pull that off?" DiNozzo demanded.
Tim paused, sensing Gibbs was letting him answer, possibly even testing him.
"If I just transferred in, a computer specialist, with a new apartment, looking for new...friends in bars when I'm not at work..." he supplied. "I don't have to be anyone but myself, more or less."
"But this crazy, right?" Tony looked to Ziva for support.
"McGee is an experienced and skilled agent. We will have your back, McGee," Ziva said, directing her words at Tim.
"Thanks, Ziva. I know you will."
Gibbs nodded again and picked up the phone to arrange for the job position and apartment the op would need. Half an hour later, Gibbs caught Tim's eye and jerked his head toward the elevator. They entered it together silently, and Gibbs stopped it between floors. They looked at each other in the pale emergency lighting. Tim again saw a surprising amount of concern in Gibbs' hard stare. He began to wonder if his boss doubted his ability to accomplish a successful cover.
"I can call Agent Callen in LA." He shrugged. "He looks close enough, and he's experienced undercover. He can do it," he offered.
Tim shook his head. As frightened as he was, he was unwilling to pass on the chance to catch this monster quickly or risk him taking another victim while Callen was brought up to speed. "No. I got this, Boss," he replied. The worry he sensed in the normally unflappable Gibbs made his gut clench. "You believe in me, don't you? I can pull this off...right?"
The hardness left Gibbs' face. "I know you can do it. Just...be careful," he said softly. Tim nodded, reassured. He was beginning to truly understand how much Gibbs cared for the people on his team, for Tim.
Gibbs held his gaze for another long moment, then turned and hit the switch. He sent Tim home early with instructions on how to prepare for the assignment.
Tim worried on his way home how to tell Sam.
"You're not gonna like it," Tim said after he'd sat them down on the couch. Sam's jaw clenched, his lips compressed, and he took a deep breath. Tim had arrived back at the apartment unexpectedly early, looking pale and tense.
"Tell me."
"I'm going undercover as a gay Navy officer."
Sam's head was shaking negative. "Why you? Because of me?" Guilt and self-recrimination rolled off Sam in almost palpable waves.
"It's not just us. The victims... They look like me. I need to do this. I need to catch this guy. He's...he's one of those humans who's worse than a monster. The things he's done...and just because they love other men and serve their country... Sam, it's so wrong, for so many reasons. I can stop it. I have to."
Sam stopped shaking his head 'no' and started nodding. Tim warmed with relief at the subconscious gesture.
"Just promise you'll be careful," Sam whispered. Tim nodded, then leaned in for a kiss. They made love passionately, wrapped close and with intimate eye contact through it all.
~~~SPNCIS~~~
Tim was asleep when Sam left the apartment and headed to another suburb. He went silently through the unlocked front door and down the basement steps. Gibbs looked up, unsurprised.
"Sam," he greeted. He dumped hardware from a jar and offered his bottle. "Drink?"
"Sure."
Sam sipped the bourbon and nodded appreciation. Gibbs waited. Sam let his eyes wander around the room, taking in the project Gibbs was working on, the hand tools, the peaceful atmosphere.
"How do you know this isn't my kind of case?" Sam finally asked. If there was any evidence of blood magic or demons, Gibbs would have seen it and Sam would be able to help.
"I don't. If it is, I'll call you in."
Sam nodded again. He was still frowning, thoughtful. He was disappointed but unsurprised. Tim was knowledgeable about supernatural things, too, and he hadn't mentioned anything.
"Is Tim ready for this, Jethro?"
"Would I send him in if he wasn't?"
"I know what Tim would say, but there are only two people I trust implicitly."
Gibbs cocked his head and gave Sam a hard look. Sam waited.
"Then you just answered your own question. Trust Tim."
Sam considered and realized he was right and that the problem he had was with himself.
"I can risk my life, my brother's, but knowing Tim is at risk..." He shook his head.
Gibbs contemplated that.
"Why are you a hunter?"
"To help people. To let them keep on living their sheltered, normal lives."
Gibbs tilted his head and his mouth quirked. Sam was beginning to understand what Tim meant about Gibbs' communicating via kinesthetics. The look told him Gibbs did what he did for the same reasons, and so did Tim.
Sam finished his drink. "Thanks, Jethro," he said. Gibbs nodded. Sam glanced around the room. "This is a great project. I'd love to help you work on it sometime."
~~~SPNCIS~~~
The next morning, Sam made breakfast. He helped Tim shave his hair into a regulation cut, barely more than a high and tight. Gibbs was picking Tim up at 11:00 to get his clothes and alias in order. At 10:30, they sat together on the sofa, and Sam pulled Tim close, leaning back. Tim settled comfortably, listening to Sam's steady, slow heartbeat; he was glad their positions weren't reversed since Sam would've heard how hard Tim's heart was pounding.
"There's a lot we don't say to each other, because we know one another so well," Sam began. Tim nodded. "I want to state some things aloud that you already know."
"Okay." Tim's voice was soft and he was trying to hold as still as possible; if he didn't, he was afraid he'd start trembling.
"You are one of only two people in the world that I trust completely, Tim. I have absolute faith in you," Sam ran his hands up and down Tim's back. "Anything you have to do on this job, baby, just do it, don't worry at all about what I'll think. Afterward, you can tell me - or not - both are totally fine. I know this would be easier if you were actually gay, but... Use what you know however you need to. I don't care what you have to do on this in order to catch the son of a bitch, I just want you to come back. Preferably in one piece, but I will take you any way I can have you." Sam hugged him tightly, then relaxed. "The other thing is this: I believe in you. You can do this. You are smart and capable and well trained. You will be fine."
Tim held tight, blinking tears away.
"A final thing for you to remember: You need me? I will be there. I don't give a fuck about legality. Call me, and I'm there, no matter what."
Tim gave a shaky laugh. "I know. I believe you." He raised his head to look at Sam. "I believe all of it. I love you, Sam."
"I love you, Tim. Always."
~~~SPNCIS~~~
A/N I'm much more confident writing the interpersonal stuff than cases, so I'd love to hear what you think. I realized that I needed a scene of Sam getting involved in Tim's work and getting in the way before the undercover bit, but I'd have had to extend an already published, long chapter 2 to get it placed right. How was the flashback? I've never written one before. Thanks for all the views... Drop me a PM or a review if you like what you're reading.