Chapter 10

Tim closed the door to his apartment and let out the sigh of relief he'd been holding in all day. He loosened his tie and pulled it off. It was his lucky tie. He'd worn it the during much of his first year on Gibbs' team. A small superstition that he hadn't had the heart to dislodge. Maybe it would be lucky enough to get him back to NCIS. He rolled his eyes. Yeah, right.

He thought of his new boss and shuddered. Aisha Raphals had made his skin crawl every time she'd looked at him. It was nerve-wracking to see her watching him with those cold eyes. Even when she smiled, she put him more in mind of a cold-blooded predator than a fellow human being. If Gibbs hadn't made him do this, he would never have taken the job. She was scary, and knowing that she was also probably a murderer didn't help matters.

He had just sat down at his computer when there was a knock at the door. He stood and approached it warily. Before he could open it, he heard the lock being picked. It was too late to turn his other locks. He just sighed in resignation and backed up a couple of steps. He was just in time because Tony flung the door open and it would have caught Tim in the face had he been any closer.

"Hi, Tony. Come on in," Tim said.

"What's going on with you, McGee?" Tony asked as he got a look at the three extra locks. "You worried about someone breaking in?"

"Only you, Tony."

"Ha. Very funny. I'm hurt, Probie."

"You know, Tony, since I don't work at NCIS anymore," Tim ignored the way his heart lurched at the words he'd spoken, "I'm really not a probie anymore."

Tony walked over to Tim, put his arm across Tim's shoulders and said facetiously, "You'll always be the probie to me, McGee."

Tim shook off Tony's arm. "Thanks."

"So, you get a job yet?"

"Yes."

"Doing what?"

Tim looked away. Gibbs hadn't said whether or not he could tell Tony and Ziva about his pseudo-undercover assignment. He had said not to tell anyone, but Tony had been there before. However, Tim wasn't even sure exactly what his status was. "Nothing you'd understand, Tony."

"Try me."

"I'd rather not talk about it," he said. It was true. He didn't want to talk about the scary lady who had probably killed Mark Hanson. Upon further reflection, kill was sorely inadequate to describe what had been done to his erstwhile archenemy.

"Fast food, huh?"

Tim rolled his eyes. "No, Tony. Even you would understand fast food."

"Ooh, you've cut me to the quick, Probie. Being fired certainly has improved your snark."

Tim walked over to his computer and turned off the printer. "Great. Something good came out of this whole thing then."

When he turned back, Tony was looking at him seriously. "What?"

"McGee, I don't understand how you could have screwed up so badly that Gibbs hasn't been able to get you back on the team."

Tim tried to smile, but it was fake and they both knew it. "That's because it was computer-related. Computers aren't your thing, Tony."

Tony didn't laugh. "I mean it, McGee. You should throw yourself at the Director's feet, something, anything. Whatever it takes to get your job back."

"Sometimes, you just have to accept things and move on." Tim hesitated and then asked, "So, um, wh-who's my replacement?"

"There isn't one."

"What? You need someone else."

Tony shrugged. "We're managing right now. Gibbs hasn't said a word about anyone taking your spot."

"But, I-I know that Director Shephard was looking for my replacement."

"I guess Gibbs has vetoed whoever she chose."

"Oh." He fished around for something to say, but he found that seeing Tony just made him remember that he wasn't working for NCIS anymore. He was working for a sadistic murderer. "I have to get up early tomorrow. I need to get to bed." It was a blatant lie. He could sleep a whole extra hour if he wanted to.

Tony sensed that he was being dismissed. He shrugged. "Fine, Probie. I'm disappointed. I didn't think you'd take it lying down like this."

Stung, Tim replied, "I didn't, Tony. I got fired. I was kicked out of the building. You don't have a clue what happened or why I'm doing these things; so just butt out." He walked to the door and opened it.

Tony walked to the door, as he started down the steps, he stopped and turned back. "I'm just surprised that you're giving up. I've never seen you give up." He went down the stairs.

Tim stared after him for about two seconds and then all the humiliation and anger at the unfairness of the universe boiled up inside him and he shouted at Tony's back, "I didn't give up, DiNozzo! I made a mistake, and I actually have to pay for my mistakes! Every minute of every day!" He slammed his door and turned all the locks. Then, he almost ran to his typewriter, pausing only to turn on Abby's CD... at full blast. He sat down and started typing furiously. It was supposed to be a chapter done from the killer's point of view. He'd been having trouble getting the tone right; he just wasn't a naturally-vindictive person. Now, however, with the admittedly-unjust anger he'd vented at Tony, he felt as though he could get into the killer's head, into the anger he'd ascribed to him. He started from some of the complete sentences he'd been typing before. After a while he managed to settle into the mind of his character and wrote some coherent lines.

They'd all pay. Every last one of them. No one insulted him and got away with it. He could see them all standing out in the rain, laughing it up. They had dismissed him as a harmless crazy man. Harmless? He'd show them harmless. He could see each one as they fought over the umbrella: Tommy, Lisa, Amy. McGregor was the only one missing from the bunch. He had to be there to see it. He took out his gun and attached the silencer. Patience, patience. Red hot rage rushed through his veins. He wouldn't wait! Let McGregor find their bloody bodies lying on the street, their lives slowly ebbing away and mingling with the rainwater as it flowed into the gutters.

He took aim. Who would be first? Who would get the first shot? He moved the gun around, enjoying the power that it gave him to hold their lives in his hands, and they were completely unaware. Ha! They'd pay. Above all, McGregor would pay for taking away his life. A life for a life. An eye for an eye. Tommy loomed in the scope, then Lisa, then Amy. Suddenly, a fourth person came out of the building. It was Tibbs himself! The savior of the downtrodden. Where was McGregor? Then, as if in answer to his demand, the doors opened again. McGregor! He aimed again. The shot rang out and one of the happy smiling people dropped to the pavement, spraying McGregor with blood. He laughed, an expression of sadistic glee marring his handsome face, but not reaching his cold, lifeless eyes. That was only the beginning. He pulled up the gun again and...