Ducky walked into autopsy, leafing through the report he'd just printed out. He looked up and stopped in surprise.

"Timothy?"

It wasn't McGee's presence that puzzled Ducky, but what he was doing. McGee stood by the far wall, in-between two open coolers. He'd pulled out the slabs with Kesler's and Newick's bodies on them and was just standing there, his gaze shifting slowly from one lifeless face to the other.

Ducky absentmindedly placed the report on a work table as he walked up to McGee, moving carefully, as if McGee was a wild animal, easily spooked. He stopped a few paces away from him and studied his closed off face. It was impossible to read.

"What are you doing?" he asked gently.

McGee didn't look at him, didn't acknowledge his presence, but he answered the question in a sort of dreamlike voice, as if he was really talking to himself.

"Did I do this, Ducky? Am I responsible?"

"Those are some dangerous questions, Timothy," Ducky said carefully. "And I don't like it. You know just as well as I do that you have no responsibility in this. You didn't kill them."

The autopsy doors whooshed and Gibbs walked in, his steps slowing as he was immediately caught by the mood in the room. Ducky saw and acknowledged him, beckoning him to come closer, but McGee didn't seem to notice him as he walked towards them.

"I know I didn't pull the trigger." McGee said without looking up, still sounding detached. "I know I didn't kill them. But were they killed because of me? If Benny hadn't run into me that night, would he still have killed them? Did I change his plans? Did I make him late for something? He took my car. Would he have gone to the parking lot if he hadn't had it? And if he'd walked there, maybe Kesler and Newick would've been long gone before he came there. Did I change a good mood into a bad or a bad mood into a good? Did I change benevolence into violence? Rodney said that he was in a good mood because of what he did to me. Is that relevant? Am I responsible?"

"Everything Tucker did is on him, McGee," Gibbs said, pushing one of the slabs back into the cooler and closing the door. He took its place in McGee's line of vision and urged McGee's face up to meet his. "We are never responsible for other people's actions."

"But he used my gun, Boss," McGee said pleadingly, desperate for an embraceable explanation, something that would make this nightmare make sense. "That has to mean something. He had a gun of his own. He had the gun he shot me with, but he used my gun to kill them. Why? Did he think it wouldn't be traceable? Or did he want to frame me? But he would have to have known that I would go to the police and file charges after what he did to me. Or maybe he didn't... I was never any trouble to him before. Until that essay, I never told on him, I never reported anything. No one ever stood up to him…" He trailed off, his eyes shifting back to the body still on display.

"McGee!" Gibbs put his hands on the other man's shoulders and peered into his face. "Stop this. The most likely scenario is that he was just too stupid to think. Anyway, we'll get all the answers we want as soon as we have him in custody. Okay? So snap out of it."

McGee looked at him, blinking, shocked back into the present. "Right, boss," he said shakily.

"Good," Gibbs nodded to him, squeezing his shoulders encouragingly, careful not to put too much pressure on any sore spots. "Now go up to Abby and see if this clown has a cell phone we can trace."

"Right, boss," McGee said again and walked away, but turned around after a few paces. "Uh… didn't she do that yesterday?"

Gibbs pointed to the door. "Go, McGee."

"Going, Boss." McGee left the room.

Gibbs wearily rubbed a hand across his face and turned to Ducky who was pushing the other slab back into its cooler.

"Is he snapping, Duck?" he asked.

"No," the M.E. said. "At least I hope not. He's still in shock, and I don't think he's sleeping very well."

"So what do we do? Do I need to send him home?" Gibbs asked his friend.

"No, I don't think so," Ducky said, only the slightest trace of hesitation in his body language. "We have to keep an eye on him for sure, but I think keeping busy is a good thing for now, as long as he doesn't overdo it. He's still healing after all and this was more traumatic for him than he wants to admit. He just needs some time to come to terms with what happened. He'll be fine once he gets some closure."

"Then we solve the case," Gibbs said determinedly, always eager for a hands-on, practical way to help.

"That won't be a magic cure, Jethro, but yes it would be a good start," Ducky agreed and then sighed. "I just wish I could get him to rest more."

"Have you tried handcuffs?" Gibbs asked, only half kidding.

"Ah, yes…" Ducky said lofty, reeking with nostalgia. "Waking up tied to a bed, now there's something all young men should experience at least once. I still remember my first time. I was a mere lad of just 22. However, as it turned out, the girl in question was robbing me blind. She was beautiful though. You would've liked her, Jethro. She had beautiful, long, red hair…"

"Abby?" McGee called, trying to make himself heard over the music in the forensics lab.

Abby turned around from her workbench, safety goggles balancing on her nose, and waved at him with both of her gloved hands, looking overjoyed to see him. "McGee!" She bounced over to him with open arms, but he recoiled from her and took a step back, looking at her hands.

"What were you doing?"

Abby stopped and looked at her less than pristine gloves. "Don't worry, it's nothing dangerous." But she brought her arms down and peeled her gloves off. "So how are you? Did you get any sleep last night?"

"Gibbs said you needed some help with a cell phone trace," McGee said, avoiding her questions.

Abby's smile faltered, looking at his drawn-back face. She knew she'd messed up last night, but he hadn't seemed that upset about it, just in pain. And he'd asked her to stay. Did he regret that? She hoped not. It had been nice that he'd wanted her there, in a situation when he would usually just hide away to lick his own wounds.

"Abby? Did you hear me? What about the cell phone?"

"Right, come here." She led him over to one of the computers, turning down the volume on the CD-player on the way. "There's something really strange about Tucker's cell phone. It was turned on this morning, but ever since, it's been at the Monroe High School."

"A high school?" McGee sounded both surprised and skeptical.

"Yeah, weird right? At first I thought he might be there dealing drugs or something, but Gibbs said that he would have other people doing that for him. So I did a little detective work," she grinned proudly at herself, "and found out that he has a niece in that school. So I was thinking, maybe he gave her his phone to hide it? Send everyone on a wild goose chase?"

"Could be," McGee nodded approvingly. "But wouldn't the FBI have figured that out?"

"Depends on when he gave it away. Gibbs said he hadn't been under surveillance in awhile."

"True."

"The question is: how do we track him now?" Abby said, biting her lip thoughtfully. "He's probably got a disposable cell phone now, or one under a false name or something. I mean, we have a BOLO out on his car and the FBI's doing surveillance, but it doesn't seem to be paying off. I really thought the cell phone trace would work." Disappointment was clear in her voice. She wanted to solve this case… for McGee's sake.

McGee looked at the computer screen, and the small, blinking dot on the map marking Monroe High School.

"What about her cell phone?" he said, pointing to the screen.

"What?" Abby looked at him.

"His niece's phone. What happened to that one? I mean, how many sixteen-year-olds do you know who doesn't have their own cell phone these days? So did it break? Did her parents take it away, or…?"

"Or did Tucker just switch them…" Abby finished his thought for him, grinning at him. "I'll start looking for it."

"And look at the outgoing calls she's making. A lot of people probably still think that that's Benny's phone. I wouldn't be surprised if Benny pays her a little extra to forward messages and such."

Abby's facial expression turned sad. "What kind of person lets his sixteen-year-old niece get involved in this kind of business?"

"Probably the same kind of person that that beats up another person over a stupid essay more than a decade later," McGee said bitterly. "And who has no qualms about killing people without provocation."

"Oh Tim…" Abby took a step towards him, but he turned away.

"If there's nothing else, I'll go see if there's anything I can do in the squad room."

Abby watched his back as he walked away and her heart ached to see him so brought down.

McGee stood staring at the floor as the elevator moved up, his mind far far away. As the doors slid open, he took a step forward and looked up only to come face to face with Tony, who was blocking the way out.

"Where the hell did you go?" Tony was fuming.

"What?" McGee looked perplexed.

"You just disappeared, without a word. What were you thinking?" The elevator doors started to slide shut, bumped into Tony's shoulder and opened again.

"What's it to you?" McGee said defensively. "I just left the room. Since when do I have to report my every move to you?"

"Since Gibbs reamed me out for letting you go." Once again the elevator doors bumped into Tony and he took a step into the elevator, letting the doors close behind him.

McGee took a step back to accommodate his presence. He frowned. "But why? Since when do I answer to you?"

"Since you were put in protective custody, that's when," Tony said frostily.

"But I didn't even leave the building," McGee said, still not understanding why Tony was so upset.

"You still have to tell us where you're going!" Tony yelled. "If we can't even trust you to…"

McGee interrupted him, his anger with the situation suddenly bursting out of him. "Not trust me? What, Tony? What have I done that would make me untrustworthy? I didn't choose for any of this to happen. I didn't want any of this to happen!"

"I know," Tony said, calmer now. "You're the victim here."

"Oh, please don't call me that," McGee said bitterly. "Don't think of me as a victim. I'm still one of you guys."

Tony frowned. "We know that. That's not in question. But you are the victim here and that makes a world of difference. And if you can't deal with that…" he stopped himself

"Deal with this and deal with that," McGee talked back, unable to stop himself from picking a fight he didn't want to have. "When have you ever dealt with anything that's happened to you? If you can strut around like some kind of superman, then why can't I?"

"Do you really think you know everything about me?" Tony said hotly. "You know, sometimes you're so…" Once again he stopped himself mid-sentence.

"I'm so what?"

"So… nothing," Tony said, turning around and stabbing at the button that opened the door, but McGee reached out and took a hold of his arm, stopping him from leaving.

"No, not nothing. Do you have something to say to me?"

"No," Tony said, not looking at him.

McGee reached around him and pushed the button that closed the doors again.

"Tony, what have I done?" he asked, talking to the other man's back. "Why are you treating me like this? Normally you bitch about me always being in the way and now you're freaking out because I left a room without telling you first. What's going on?"

"I just think you should've known better, that's all," Tony said through clenched teeth, cursing himself for having started this when it was so obvious that both of them were too hot-headed to have a rational discussion. He'd been too impatient.

"You know what, Tony?" McGee said angrily. "I have enough problems right now without you getting on my case. I don't need you guys dodging my every step."

Tony spun around to look at him, not believing what he'd heard. "I told you that as long as you're in protective custody you do."

"Then you can take me out of protective custody," McGee said stubbornly. "I don't need it. I can take care of myself."

"Oh, come on Probie. You couldn't take care of a goldfish and you know it." Tony hadn't meant to sound so spiteful.

McGee gasped, going pale.

Tony immediately became apologetic, regretting his lack of self-control. "McGee, I'm sorry. I didn't mean it like that."

"No, I think you did," McGee said quietly. "And that's okay. That's your opinion. But I hope you'll forgive me if I don't share it." He pressed the button to open the doors and exited the elevator. "And don't worry," he called over his shoulder. "I'm not leaving the building."

"McGee!" Tony called after him as the doors slid shut again. Not quite knowing what he should do next he pressed the down button. Things needed to cool down before he and McGee could both pretend this had never happened and he decided that that was exactly what they were going to do. He'd find some other way to make nice with him again. Besides, he didn't want to have to face Gibbs while the fact that he'd screwed up was still so clearly written on his face. He decided to go hide with Abby for awhile.

TBC…