Day 4 (Thursday)

T-4 Days

McGee was exhausted. He had spent another long night looking for a date when he should have been working on his book. He didn't know which was worse; his complete inability to talk to an attractive woman without making himself look like an idiot or his writer's block.

He staggered into Autopsy to find Ducky. Gibbs wanted to know whether any progress with identifying the body from their latest case had been made. "Ducky? Are you here?"

McGee stood in the middle of the room and looked around. Everything was perfectly in its place. The room was clean and shiny, all white tiles and lights and stainless steel. The overall bright effect made him feel drowsy.

"Yes, yes, Timothy, I'm here." Came Ducky's voice. "Just hold on a minute, would you?"

McGee nodded to himself and tried to keep his eyes open.

Ducky walked into the room from one of the storage closets. "Good afternoon, Timothy."

"Hmm?" McGee mumbled. He glanced down at his watch. "I guess it is afternoon. I didn't notice. I'm just so tired."

"Yes, you do seem to be a little off from your normal self. I thought that it was just the sight of Corporal Wayne, here."

McGee looked down. He was so tired that he hadn't even noticed the body lying on the autopsy table. Or, rather, what was left of the body. He wrinkled his nose in disgust. How had he not noticed that before?

Ducky gazed down at the body. "He is a bit gruesome, isn't he?"

"Yes, he definitely is." McGee agreed, trying to look anywhere but the unfortunate Corporal and the object protruding from his chest. He could feel the drinks from last night and his breakfast from this morning swimming around in his stomach, threatening to come back up. "Have you determined cause of death yet?"

"Not yet." Ducky answered as he walked to the other side of the table. "Mr. Palmer has been helping Abigail, so I'm afraid that this is going to take a bit longer than usual."

"I'll tell Gibbs. He's not going to be happy, though."

"Jethro rarely is. Especially when it comes to a difficult case." Ducky acknowledged while reaching for what looked like a very large pair of pliers. "Is that all, Timothy?"

"Well, no." McGee said slowly. After coming home dateless for the third night in a row, he realized that he was completely desperate. He had promised himself that he would abandon all of his pride and ask everyone who could possibly help for dating advice. Even if all he came up with was 'give up', like what Gibbs had said, it would still be worth it. After all, he couldn't be any worse off than he was already.

"I need help. Advice, actually."

"Oh? What for?"

"This is going to sound stupid, but I may have made a bet with Tony…about Valentine's Day."

"What exactly are the terms of this bet?" Ducky asked as he handed a pair of gloves to McGee. "Here, put these on."

"Well," McGee continued, "I bet him that I would have a date who would impress him so much that he would stop bragging about his to me. And that he would do my paperwork for a month."

"That's quite a tall order. There's quite a chance that it may be nearly impossible." Ducky replied thoughtfully, positioning the pliers above the body. He looked up and saw the disappointment on McGee's face. "No, no not you, Timothy. I have complete confidence that it's possible for you to get a date that will make Anthony turn green with envy. It's just that you're a bit shy."

"Is that bad?" McGee questioned.

"Not necessarily. Hold the pliers like this, there's a good lad."

Ducky sighed an tilted his head back. "So you want my advice of getting a beautiful young woman to accompany you on a Valentine's Day date?"

McGee nodded at Ducky, ready for the advice that was to follow.

"I need a minute to think about it." Ducky continued. "Alright, here we go. Ready."

"Ready for what?" McGee asked in bewilderment.

"To remove what is most likely the murder weapon from our unlucky Corporal. Pull on my mark. One, tw-"

"Ducky, wait!"

"Three!"

Five minutes later, McGee returned from the bathroom, wiping his mouth on a piece of paper towel. Removing the object-which proved to be an arrow with a razor sharp, heart shaped tip- from the marine had been one of the most disgusting things that he had ever done. No wonder Ducky hadn't given him any warning.

Ducky rose from a different table with a mug in his hand."Sit down and drink this."

McGee obediently sat down and drank. The warm liquid immediately began to help with the residual nausea.

Ducky sat down next to him and crossed his arms in his lap. "As I was saying earlier, being shy isn't necessarily a bad thing. It's much better than being presumptuous and overbearing. I've found that woman tend to respect a shy, bashful man much more. "

McGee started to nod but then thought better of it. He was still feeling a little nauseous and didn't want to see his breakfast for a third time that day.

"However," Ducky continued, "the problem with being so bashful is that you tend to have trouble meeting women in the first place. They don't get the chance to make any judgments about you if you never talk to them in the first place. I suggest that you try putting yourself out a little more. Talk, socialize, make merry."

McGee's face fell. This conversation was not going the way that he had hoped. "I've tried to do all those things, Ducky. But whenever I'm about to talk to woman I just freeze up and stand there."

Ducky peered up at McGee. "Maybe you can't. Perhaps you would feel more comfortable if you weren't really yourself… if you were Thom E. Gemcity instead."

McGee had to admit that that wasn't a bad idea. The only problem was that he would still actually have to talk women.

"I'll try that tonight. But I don't think that it'll help much."

"Don't look so glum, Timothy." Ducky said in a comforting tone. "If all else fails, all that will happen is you losing the bet. It's just a bit more paperwork and Anthony talking, well, as much as he does know. At least you won't end up like this fellow." The medical examiner nodded to Corporal Wayne, then to the arrow on the table. "It looks like someone may have used Cupid's bow on him, the poor chap."

McGee, suddenly feeling nauseous again, stood up quickly. "I guess you're right Ducky," he said, trying to hold back the vomit, "there are a lot worse things than losing this bet."

He turned to go and tripped over his own feet, landing face-first onto the autopsy table. The deceased marine was staring at him. McGee groaned and quickly pushed himself away from the table. He was going to puke again.

"Thanks for the advice, Ducky." McGee said as he jogged to the nearest restroom. "I'll definitely try it out."

"You're very welcome, Timothy," Ducky called to the young agent as he sprinted away. Then, turning back to the corpse, finished softly, "but I doubt it will do much good."