— Boss ? Tim asked when he went out of Ducky's working area, facing Gibbs behind both automatic doors. Did you need me for something…?

— No, Jethro simply said before leaving, although Tim discreetly grinned near the elevator, knowing he wasn't here for nothing. Take it slow, McGee, he finally added, his agent then feeling boringness take a sweet control of him again, silver rectangles closing in front of him, as if to save him from retorting…

Gibbs briefly watched him vanish in the bullpen's direction and entered the place where his ME was now sitting, the old man probably taking some notes about a file.

— Duck ? he interrupted him. How is he ?

Ducky pushed his chair a bit away from him as he heard the voice, and slowly stood up again, now facing Jethro.

— He is fine, he smiled. But it has been quite a shock for his head that other night, and sometimes it can lead to migraines, brief losses of memory, or even faintness… I am pretty sure I am not teaching you anything that you already know, but well…it had to be expected, right ?

— What do you mean ? You think he came back too soon ?

— Well, it is certainly more than an evidence, but on the other hand, I have to say that I do feel a little better, knowing that someone can be around if Timothy feels a little weaker than usual. An elevator is not the best place on earth for this kind of events to happen, he chuckled, but it is, at least, the nearest possible to where I usually am.

Gibbs simply nodded and took a look at the empty table, knowing all these dead had been there…knowing Tim had been there too, only a minute ago. He perfectly knew it wasn't for the same reason at all, but he still felt, somehow, a bit sick at the idea…yes, only three days ago, Tim could have been lying on there too…dead.

— Uh, Jethro…are you alright ?

Gibbs simply gazed into him for a brief moment and finally headed to the elevator without a word, mind behind that blurry veil of thoughts, as usual...

— And here he goes again…Ducky lowly pronounced, walking back, in the end, to his desk...
— — — — — — — —

..When Tim entered the bullpen, there was no one he could really talk to. He had no idea about the previous and current interrogation of Ed Linkers, and therefore no idea neither where Tony and Ziva could be at the very moment. He sighed and finally decided going back behind his desk, knowing there would still be something to do about the case, something to find about that murderer.
Or these murderers…yes, after all, how to be sure if Prescott had been the one trying to kill him ?
Tim rubbed his neck with desperation and typed his password on his keypad, his computer welcoming him with its usual screensaver...he clicked on a document before stopping.
What if no one had ever tried to kill him ? Yeah, maybe someone knew he would end his work late, and that Patrick would be here…what if…what if someone knew as well that Patrick would try opening the wrong car, and…
Tim's eyes heavily closed for a dozen of seconds, giving him plenty of time to realize how pathetic and stupid he was with his suppositions.

Right, Tim, this case isn't complicated enough, now you're making up a completely new, unbelievable version of it…he sighed and talked to himself, his reflection briefly looking at him on his computer's screen.

This wasn't making any sense…
He tried focusing again on his current document, getting rid, as he could, of the thoughts intruding in his brain… It wasn't the first time they'd discovered a dead body for the stupidest reasons…right ? Well, not always stupid, but maybe not justified enough…adultery, jealousy, wrong target, drunkness, hit-and-run…working for the Navy didn't mean that all crimes were always premeditated...
He sighed again and pushed both his palms against his temples, exasperated by so many questions, but exhausted as well, if he had to be honest…who could tell how tired a single body could be after only one hit, and this, days ago ? The burns all along his body parts weren't making him feel extremely comfortable, but still, they weren't that bad. Only his head was really messing him up with him, not getting rid of his numerous, unbelievable questions, but pushing him to the limits of a tiring nervousness... Yes, so many questions, and not a single answer at the very moment…that was probably the worst, for a Special Agent : not knowing, only guessing with no promise, in return, of any kind of confirmation…
Gibbs worriedly watched him from his spot, the sound of the elevator not seeming to have been loud enough for Tim to notice it.
He sighed and finally begun walking again in another direction, knowing he had work to do for now, but that it wouldn't be over.
At least Tim was only sitting behind his desk, nothing very exhausting, if only, maybe, for his brain…

— ...I do not know what is worst, Ziva exclaimed later, entering the bullpen after some time, the fact that he is a complete asshole or that he looks so good at hacking that he could actually be working for us !

Yeah, Tony groaned, joining her, and now he wants a lawyer…I'm sure he knows who he is !

Tim raised a very curious head in their direction, glad, in a way, that he could now stop thinking all by himself, and waited for them to come closer before speaking.

— Who are you talking about ? he asked.

— No one, McGee…Ziva sighed, just a stupid man, named Ed Linkers.

— And who's that ?

— A guy who's creating fake IDs with dead Marines' names. One of the names was someone Prescott had killed.

Tim felt his cheeks turn a bit redder than usual, not knowing if he was happy to be kept informed now, or frustrated not to have known all of this before. He stared at his watch for a second, giving them the benefit of the doubt, finally noticing the very long time he had visibly spent alone in the bullpen. Well, maybe they had...

— That coffee was horrible, by the way, Tony, Ziva instantly ruined their last chance to convince him, we definitely need to do something to ch…

— Wait a minute, Tim finally said, checking one last thing. Did Gibbs know about it ?

Uh, of course...! Tony grinned. Wake up, McSleep, the boss always knows everything.

— So what are you saying, Tim suddenly turned madder, that Gibbs knew you'd been running an interrogation and that he didn't even told me, and you guys were just having a coffee break after that, instead of telling me right away what had just happened !

Hey, wow...calm down, McGee, Tony stood up from the desk he'd been comfortably sitting on top of, these days are really hard for everyone, okay, there's nothing wrong having a cup of c…

Tony immediately clenched his fist. Bad thing to say.

— Really hard for who, Tony ! I am the one who almost exploded in that parking lot, remember ?

I perfectly know that, McGee, and you know we were all extremely worried, but we have all these Marines dying too, and...

Tony clearly noticed Tim's justified feeling of unfairness, and he couldn't be less sorry for him, knowing he would have never forgiven himself if Tim had been found dead, that very night, but thruth was that these whole last weeks had been extremely demanding at NCIS, and everyone was definitely on the verge of a breakdown, whether or not his teammate was agreeing with that fact.

— Yeah, right, Tim angrily continued, maybe I should have just been a dead Marine, then I would have gotten a bit more of your attention, Tony !

That is not what you think !

— Gibbs told us to give you some space, McGee ! Ziva finally interrupted the dialogue, sighing. We all knew that you needed to rest after you passed out, he told us about it, that's why we…

That was enough. Tim brusquely pushed his seat away and stood up with a violent energy, something he wasn't even sure, himself, to be fully controlling, nor expecting. He hit his desk with both tense hands and stared at Tony and Ziva, a few other colleagues now completely turning their heads in his direction.

— I do not need to be taken care of ! he almost shouted. I'm fine, and from now, and this, until the end of that case, he pointed a finger at his desk, I want to know everything ! I am clear ! he added before stopping.

Tony and Ziva, including a few other people Tim was definitely not willing to take a look at, stared at him with wide open eyes, not knowing what to say, not even daring to move...and the current situation would have certainly been continuing that way for a very long time, if another voice had not finally interrupted the heavy atmosphere…

— Agent McGee, the voice ordered somewhere from upstairs. In my office, now.