Disclaimer : I still own nothing.

Author's note : Thanks to all the readers, favoriters and followers so far! Also, big thanks to angelscatie, Long Live BRUCAS, DS2010 and RJane's Vindication for the reviews! Great to see your thoughts on the story so far!

Update today for RJane's Vindication since she requested one!

The cases diverge a bit from here between the murder and what's going on with McGee.

Hope you like it!

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10:35am – Near the Intersection of Noble and Second Streets – Philadelphia, PA –

Pulse pounding in his ears, DiNozzo scanned the city street, still helplessly searching for any sign of his junior agent. When he saw nothing out of the ordinary, he quickly debated how to act. Using his phone to quickly snap a picture of McGee's, he pulled on a latex glove to transfer the object to an evidence bag. Retracing his steps, he jogged back to Front Street, pausing a few times to take pictures of the street and alley. When he arrived at the spot where he fell, he luckily found his former informant crouched by his cart. Noticing Tony's approach, Arnie jumped to his feet.

"Officer Tony, I'm so sorry. I had no idea that it was you," he slurred, glassy-eyed and unsteady. Able to bite his tongue, DiNozzo couldn't stop the aggravated sigh from escaping. From what he remembered, Arnie was the type of man who'd sell out his own mother for a bottle of cheap vodka and a pepperoni pizza.

"Arnie, what happened?"

The homeless man rummaged through his cart, pushing through the bottles until he found one he liked. He'd uncapped the bottle by the time Tony touched his arm. As Arnie glanced over, DiNozzo's eyes watered at the stench of cheap vodka. Damn stuff smelled like paint thinner.

"What the hell happened?"

"There were some guys," he explained, arm shaking under the agent's grasp. "I didn't know it was you, Officer Tony. I'm sorry."

"Arnie, what the hell happened?" Dropping his hold, Tony pulled out his wallet. As he slid several bills into view, Arnie's eyes fixated on the cash.

"There were some guys," he slurred again. "They said there were some other guys that owed them money. Said they needed to grab one of the other guys and get their money. Gave me ten bucks to the one of them over." Arnie grinned toothlessly as the thought of his new wealth. When he noticed DiNozzo, his 's face abruptly fell when he realized he'd knocked over Tony. "Oh, Officer Tony. I'm so sorry. Did I hurt you?"

Running his hand over his face, DiNozzo's stomach flipped. Ten bucks, that's all it took to abduct McGee. Ten dollars.

"I'm fine," he lied, needing the vagrant to focus, "but they grabbed my partner. I need you to help me find him, Arnie. What did these guys look like?"

"They got Officer Leo?" he queried, referencing Tony's former partner. When DiNozzo shook his head, Arnie sighed with relief. "One was a little bigger than you with a blue hat and the other has dark hair."

"Anything else?" Arnie's eyes glazed over, causing Tony to counted the money in his hands. At the rustling of bills, the vagrant perked back up.

"They got into a big, black car. Like that one!" Excitedly, the homeless man pointed to a parked Range Rover. When the vagrant noticed the bottle of vodka in his hand, surprise passed over his face telling DiNozzo he'd probably forgot that he held it. Tossing the cap, Arnie drank deeply. Finished, he dropped the empty container into his cart and retrieved a white men's dress shirt. As he passed it to DiNozzo, he grinned drunkenly.

So much for a reliable witness.

"Arnie? What is this?" DiNozzo barely managed to fit the garment into an evidence bag. Thankfully, the size was too small to be McGee's.

"The man with the hat stopped by right before you came back. Said six o'clock and to bring the letters. Said you'd know what it meant." When the alcohol hit him, the vagrant's eyes glazed over, slumping him to the ground by his cart.

"Don't leave this spot, Arnie," Tony ordered, thrusting the money at the vagabond. Confused, Arnie looked up at DiNozzo's hardened features. "I'll double it and we'll get you as much vodka as you can push in that cart."

As Arnie reclined on the cold cement, he exposed him gums again. "You always were my favorite, Officer Tony."

Rolling his eyes, DiNozzo reached for his cell phone.

It was time to call Gibbs.

-oooooooo-ooooooooo-ooooooooo-

10:35am – Interrogation – NCIS Headquarters, Washington, DC – Concurrent with DiNozzo's Interview –

Back pressed against the interrogation chair, Gibbs crossed his arms, staring down the young man across the table. Once furious, Charlie Boden's features were now contorted with an undeniable torment. As he wrung his hands under the table, the man tried not to look at the picture of Braun's broken body laid on the table. Right now, he inspected an interesting spot on the ceiling. Stretching for his coffee, Gibbs' eyes met Boden's for a split second before they turned skyward again.

It was only a matter of time before he cracked. They always cracked.

"So what happened, Boden?" Gibbs asked, keeping his tone light. Sipping of his coffee, the team leader watched Charlie look helplessly towards the door. The former Marine tapped his fist on the table. "You asked to come down here. What'd you want to talk about? You kill Braun?"

"My sister deserved better," he said, flatly, pausing until the team leader shot him a questioning look. "He only visited her every other weekend and a few weeks a year? What the hell kind of an arrangement is that for a married couple anyway?" Jaw muscles tense, Charlie pushed the pictures away without looking at them. "I killed him, okay?"

Studying the obviously troubled man, Gibbs felt his gut clench with uncertainty. The righteous anger in Boden's eyes seemed to justify his words, but something wasn't quite right. Taking another swig of his coffee, Gibbs decided to see where the interrogation led.

"So, how'd you kill him?"

"You already know that. I shot him," Boden growled, narrowing his eyes. Gibbs' phone rang, breaking the tense silence, and he sent it to voicemail.

"Where'd you kill him?" Boden's gaze darted to the crime scene photos. When he flipped the photos over, the team leader wasn't surprised at the doubt in Charlie's light eyes.

"In the woods. But you already knew that," he challenged, screwing his face in disgust.

"When'd you kill him?" The young man's eyes dropped, flicking to the left as he tried to fabricate a response. Shaking his head, Gibbs sipped his coffee.

Charlie Boden was lying.

"Monday night. But you already know that too." Boden leveled a glare at Gibbs, apparently not expecting the team leader to return it.

"You didn't kill him," Gibbs stated flatly, barely quashing a laugh at the abject horror on Boden's face. "Who are you protecting?"

"No one. I killed him. Me. I did it," Charlie lied unconvincingly, pounding emphatically to his chest.

Unable to stop himself, Gibbs raised his eyebrows in moderate amusement. Once in his interrogation room, most people would weave creative tales to escape the consequences of their crime. Very few innocent people ever confessed without good reason.

Before he could repeat the question, Gibbs' phone rang loudly again, causing the upset suspect to jump. With a growl, he checked it and noticed DiNozzo's name on the caller ID. Kicking back his chair, the team leader headed towards the door. Gibbs angrily shook his head when Boden began to follow, the phone still playing that damned song Abby set up when he'd first gotten it. When he hit the hallway, he slammed the door.

"DiNozzo," he answered, "you'd better have a damned good - ."

"Boss, it's McGee's, he's gone," Tony interrupted, voice tense and breathless.

"Well, then go get him," he snarled, shaking his head. Only after he'd barked out the command on reflex did he truly understand.

First, his team found all sorts of weird clues. Then an innocent suspect was falling over himself to confess to a crime he didn't commit. Now this?

What the hell was going on?

"No, boss, he's gone," the senior agent explained hurriedly over city traffic. "We went to the meet and pursued a suspect. We got separated and I think the guy we were tailing grabbed him. They called another meet for me at six, white shirt. Is that meant to be a location?" There was a lengthy pause, followed by a frustrated exhale. "They want the letters."

The silence over the line was disconcerting as Tony awaited Gibbs' instructions. Leaning his arm against the wall, Gibbs rested his head on it.

"Stay put, DiNozzo. Ziva and I are on our way." Hanging up the phone, he put his boot through the orange wall.

-oooooooo-ooooooooo-ooooooooo-

11:02am – Corner of Front and Market Streets, Philadelphia, PA –

"Really, boss? Like I'm going to stay put," Tony grumbled at his phone, eliciting a terrified look from a passing woman. As he stalked towards Front Street, he didn't see her break into a slow run across the street. While he moved, his stomach churned and he tried to figure out his next move. Surveying pedestrians, he felt frustrated that nothing seemed out of the ordinary. He knew the odds were good whoever grabbed McGee had moved on by now. But he still wanted, - needed - , an opportunity to recover the junior agent before the situation got out of hand. Well, maybe it was already there.

Grinding his teeth, he stopped at a red light and waited for the signal to change. Headed back to the historical district, he didn't know if he needed to be there but it just felt right. Not knowing where to go, he'd figure it out when he got closer. Snapping his fingers when he remembered the person who could help him, he opened his phone again and called Abby.

"Gibbs, I don't have anything yet. I'll call you when I do," declared her husky voice, over the thumping goth rock.

"Not Gibbs, Abs," DiNozzo stated, jogging across the street when the light finally changed.

"Hey, hey, Big D," she crooned, voice thick with a bad, fake South Philly accent. "How's the city of Brotherly Love?"

Cringing at the use of his old precinct nickname, he regretted ever telling her that dirty secret. That was the last time he let her buy shots after a case. Shaking his head, he glanced over the colonial architecture.

"Not good so far. I - ."

"Well, Tony, it's not going so great here either. We've hit - ."

"Abs - ."

"Some sort of wall," she continued, ignoring him. "The finger print isn't in the system. Gibbs is having Laura's brother's car towed in as we - ."

"Abs - ."

"Speak. He thinks there might be evidence in it. I haven't been in the evidence garage for - ."

"Abs! Focus!" Next to Tony, a man ducked into a coffee shop. "I need you to look up something in that book of Ducky's for me."

"Tony? Is everything okay?" Her voice suddenly tense, DiNozzo could hear something scraping on her lab bench. Running his hand over his face, he braced himself for her eventual reaction. Though while he actually had her attention, he'd need her to complete his research first.

"I need to know what a white shirt meant to the Culper spies and where you think they might meet in Philly." As she turned off the music, the silence was unsettling. When he started to move again, he could hear her flipping pages. Scrutinizing people as they passed, Tony suddenly became uneasy.

Could someone be following him?

"White shirt is a man at the regular meeting spot. The regular meeting spot could have been a popular local tavern called 'The Man Full of Troubles.' At least, I think. Their existence in Philadelphia was never confirmed so I don't know if that's the right." Recognizing the name from his old beat, he nodded and listened to her type madly. "It's at 166 Spruce Street. Now what's going on?" Altering his course, DiNozzo didn't get a chance to explain. "It's McGee, isn't it? Is he okay?"

"Yeah, it's McGee," he started, jaywalking across the street. A sedan narrowly missed him and he swore, shaking his fist at the driver. "Somebody grabbed him at Braun's meet, so we're meeting in a few hours to exchange. Gibbs should be down soon to get the letters."

"Oh my G-d, Tony! Not Timmy! Did you call the local police yet?"

"Not yet, Abs. I called Gibbs."

"Thought I told you to stay put, DiNozzo." Abby's melodic husky voice was replaced by Gibbs' gruff, pissed one. Unconsciously, Tony rubbed the back of his head, knowing full well the team leader couldn't head slap him from 150 miles away.

"I am staying put, boss."

"Bullshit. We're on our way, just stay out of trouble." The line went dead.

As DiNozzo turned onto Spruce Street, he reopened his phone. Maybe Abby was right about calling the police. Without knowing what they were dealing with, Tony didn't want the entire force scouring the city. Still, he knew exactly who to call. Scrolling through his contacts, he reached the one whom he hadn't spoken with in years but still kept, just in case. As he dialed, he crossed his fingers that the number was still valid. It rang a few times before going to voice mail.

"Hey, you've reached Leo Carlin. I'm not around. Leave me a message and I'll get back to you soon."

Swallowing hard, DiNozzo realized he didn't know what he was doing. The voice mail beeped its indication to leave a message and he closed his eyes, feeling suddenly embarrassed.

"Hey Leo," he lauged, trying to keep his voice friendly for his former partner. "Been a while, huh? Hope you're good, yeah...look, Leo, I'm back in Philly for an investigation. Things went south and I think I might need your help. Off the books, of course. Call me back." After leaving his new number and Gibbs' number, he started down the sidewalk again.

-oooooooo-ooooooooo-ooooooooo-

12:18pm – Unknown location –

With a quiet moan, McGee slowly regained consciousness. A pounding headache welcomed him back to the waking world. Trying to touch his aching head, he couldn't move his hands from their position above his head.

What the hell?

Still discombobulated, McGee yanked on his hands, hard. When he heard a chain clanking against metal, he realized something was very wrong. Quickly sitting up, he only managed to get up about halfway before his arms restricted him. Finally, he grasped they were attached to something that was above his head. When his head pounded harder, he bit back a hiss and twisted his body under his arms, struggling into a seated position. Confusion coursed through him when he saw his hands cuffed to the brass headboard of a bed. Pulling his legs beneath him, he surveyed the small, stark room that contained him.

Barely large enough to constitute a bedroom, the space was bare. On the wall to McGee's left, there was a white door with no knob. Directly across from the door sat a window. Both structures were slightly off shape, indicating to the junior agent that the house was likely old. Craning his neck to peek out the window, McGee frowned at large, barren fields that seemingly stretched to the horizon.

"Great," he sighed, realizing he was in the middle of nowhere. The only good positive, he figured, was that the room was on the first floor, meaning eventual escape could likely be easier. Just had to figure out how first.

Shifting to rest his back against the wall, the junior agent contemplated his current predicament. This was so not good.

When he remembered the meeting, he rubbed his forehead. The excitement of a real pursuit had spurred him forward, closer to the suspect and away from Tony. When he'd cornered the exhausted suspect behind a dumpster, he'd felt triumphant. He'd never even realized that it was a trap until another man dug a gun into his back, relieving him of his Sig. Together, the two had pulled him into awaiting SUV, threatening to kill anyone that he tried to alert. If he hadn't seen a toddler and her mother, he would have fought back on the sidewalk.

Well, he had tried to fight. Only in the close quarters of the SUV's back seat, his attempts had been futile. Trapped between the two men, he'd been quickly overpowered. He hadn't stopped fighting until one of them pressed a cloth over his face. Realizing the abduction was planned, he felt bile burn the back of his throat.

Knowing he desperately needed to escape, McGee sighed and pulled at the handcuffs. Since his abductors had already removed his coats, tie, belt and shoes, he didn't hold much hope that anything remained in his pockets.

"Damn."

They'd even found the tiny knife he usually tucked in right side his waistband. As he shifted back to lean against the wall, he felt something dig into his side on his hip. Running his fingers over the fabric of his waistband, he felt a large staple that his dry cleaner had recently started using to affix tickets to his clothing. Grinning, he wrapped his fingers around his new savior and figured Miss Susie deserved a gift for his threat to take his business elsewhere.

It took a few minutes, but McGee managed to extricate the staple without completely destroying his pants. As he awkwardly started to pick the lock on his cuffs, he tried not to wonder who abducted him. Or if it was even related to Braun's murder. Instead, he contemplated what type of gift to buy Ziva as a thanks for teaching him lock picking.

Outside the door, McGee heard a set of heavy footsteps approach. Relaxing against the bed, the agent hid the staple under his thigh. After the person passed, Tim started to pick the lock again with renewed vigor.

Hopefully, he'd get himself out of the situation before any of his questions were answered.