Chapter 11

The pounding startled him out of his angry typing. Tim looked around wildly. He had been lost in the manic rage of his killer. The pounding began again. The music still roared on his sound system. He stopped and turned it down before continuing to the door. He opened it carefully, without taking off the chain, just in case Tony was back.

"Abby!" he exclaimed. "What are you doing here?"

Abby pressed her face against the crack in the door and laughed. "Standing on your stoop at the moment, McGee. Are you going to let me in?"

"Yes! Yes, of course. Just a minute." Tim closed the door so that he could undo the chain.

Abby shouted through the door. "I'm glad you're finally enjoying the CD I gave you! How is it working for you?"

Tim opened the door. "It's different from the jazz. Let's just leave it at that."

Abby waltzed in, looking around. "I haven't been here since Michael was stalking me. It looks exactly the same." She looked around some more. "Except for the dartboard. It keeps moving. Can't you pick a place?"

Relieved at the innocuous topic, Tim answered, "I keep thinking that a change in location will help my aim."

"Does it work?"

"Nope."

"Still no couch, I see."

"I don't need one." Even though it had no obvious innuendo, Tim found himself blushing. "And there's not really room for one. ...not with all the, uh, bookshelves."

"Right, Tim." Abby grinned with delight at his discomfiture. "Well, Timothy McGee, let's get down to the important matters. How's your book?"

"My book?" That was important? He tried not to draw her attention to his typewriter. What he had written there was not something he wanted her to see. "Slow going right now. I've, I've lost my muse."

"Come on, Tim. I know you can write. Why do you need NCIS to do it? I know Tony and Ziva give you grief about it, but the plots are yours, as are most of the characters."

"I know. I'm just not feeling particularly inspired at the moment. It will pass."

"Were you writing before I came?"

No, no! He screamed the words in his head, but he couldn't lie to Abby. "Yes, I was." As she started toward the typewriter, he moved in front of her. "But it's no good. I-It needs more work. I-I don't w-want you to read it... yet. Ever."

"Tim," Abby protested. "When have you ever needed to hide something from me?"

"Um, since now."

"Well, if you say so," Abby said and acted as if she would give in, but as soon as she saw Tim relax, she dodged around him adding, "you've gone crazy. I want to see it!"

Before Tim could stop her, she had pulled the paper out of the typewriter and skimmed through it. After a couple of minutes, she looked up at Tim. "I don't know if you should use my CD as inspiration, Tim. That's pretty intense stuff for you."

"It's only fiction," Tim said, a bit too vehemently.

"Fiction in which the four characters you based on your teammates are in danger of dying and having their," she looked down and read, "'their lives slowly ebbing away' while you watch. What's up?"

"Nothing, Abbs. I'm just trying to get into the killer's head. My publisher says my villain is too tame so far." That much was true, even if the rest was a lie.

"When are you coming back, Tim?" Abby finally asked, cutting to the chase as she replaced the page.

"I don't think I am, Abby." Where Tony had made him angry, Abby's question just made him sad.

"McGee, you can't just give in like that. You need a job!"

"I have one, Abby."

"What?! Just like that?!" She looked incredulous.

"Yeah, I'm working at a company setting up networks and maintaining their hardware. You know, computer stuff."

"Tim, you're worth a lot more than that."

He shook his head. "Abby, getting fired is not the best way to move up in the world. I have to start somewhere."

"But networking? That's, that's beneath you, Mr. MIT."

"I worked a lot of places while I was going to school, most of them were not computer-related. I've moved on." Liar, he thought.

"No, you haven't, Tim. I can see it in your face, and I can tell by what you wrote here. You're miserable."

"No, I'm not."

"Really? Then, try smiling."

Tim smiled, but it was completely fake and he knew Abby could tell.

"Ha! You are miserable, McGee."

"No, I'm not miserable. Yeah, it's a bit of a comedown, but I'm used to working my way up. Can't we talk about something else?"

"Sure, did you know that Mark Hanson is dead?"

"Yeah. Gibbs told me," Tim said without thinking. Then, he realized that he shouldn't have said anything about that.

"When did you see Gibbs?"

"He came over here to chew me out for getting fired a couple of days ago."

"Really? Why?"

"I guess he's really mad at me. He asked me about Mark."

"I'm sure that was a pleasant conversation," Abby said. She knew all about Tim's interactions with Hanson because he often had come down to her lab after reading the emails, either strangely angry or completely dejected. For just a moment she toyed with the idea that maybe Tim had killed Hanson. Then, she thought of Tim's reaction to dead bodies. He didn't throw up anymore, but he'd never be really comfortable and Mark's body had definitely revealed someone who had enjoyed the killing.

"Yeah. I had to read the last email Mark sent me."

"How was it?"

"About the same as usual, only Mark had decided I belonged in twelfth place instead of second place."

"Well, at least, he's dead now. You won't have to hear from him anymore."

"Abby!" Tim chided.

"What? Aren't you relieved?"

"No! I'm horrified. Mark was a jerk and an annoying know-it-all. He loved making my life miserable, but that's no reason for wishing him dead!"

"It's not? I seem to remember you expressing that very wish on occasion."

"You know what I mean, Abby. Saying that I wish he'd drop dead is a far cry from actually wanting him dead."

"Whatever you say, Tim."

Tim's phone rang. He looked at it and saw that it was Aisha Raphals. He gulped. Abby couldn't know for whom he was working now. Gibbs had said that he couldn't tell anyone. He couldn't think of any polite way to get Abby out and answer the phone.

"Abby, you need to go."

"What?" Abby was completely surprised. "I was just joking around, Tim."

"I'm not mad. Please, Abbs. Just go. I'll... I'll see you tomorrow, okay?" Tim was all but pushing her to the door.

Finally, she shrugged. "Okay, Tim. Bye." She looked a little hurt, but Tim couldn't wait and closed the door; then, he answered his phone.

"Hello, McGee speaking."

"Good evening, Tim. Were you in the shower?"

"Um, n-no. I wasn't. I was... well..." he trailed off. "Did you need something?"

"Yes. I wanted to thank you for how thorough you were in your assessment. It will be a big help."

"That's what you hired me for."

"Of course, but there are levels of competency and skill. I'm glad that you are on a high level."

"You're welcome?" Tim said, for lack of any other comment coming to mind.

Aisha laughed. "Tomorrow, I want you to back up our system; so that we don't lose anything from the transfer. I've put in orders for the equipment you suggested. You'll get all the specifications tomorrow."

"Great. I'll be there." Tim hung up and sighed with relief. Abby was going to kill him for kicking her out tonight. I guess she'll have to wait in line. Everyone will be hating me if I live through this.