Metro took the team's theory very seriously and sent a couple of detectives out to Fitcher's place of work, a car dealership owned by his father-in-law. That didn't mean Tim was off the hook, though. He was brought to an interrogation room while Gibbs was let into the adjacent observation room. Kelly and Washburn stayed out in the hallway to discuss who would conduct the interrogation. Kelly had seniority, but Washburn pointed out that she had already built up a rapport with Tim and he'd likely feel more comfortable talking to her than to Kelly. This wasn't the kind of suspect on whom they needed to use intimidation.

Tim had been sitting silently since he'd been brought there, head hanging low and hands clasped and resting contritely in his lap. Gibbs watched from the other side of the glass. He observed that Tim looked like a young student who was waiting for the school principal to come in and berate him for something he'd done.

They both looked up when the door opened and Washburn stepped in. She was holding a cup of water which she placed before Tim on the table. "Thank you," he whispered as he took it.

She took her seat on the other side of the table and placed a file in front of her. A quick dossier had been put together detailing Tim's life and career and even she had to admit she was impressed. A high school valedictorian at the age of sixteen and then straight off to MIT where he received a BSc in Computer Science and an MSc in Computer Forensics. From there he headed to Johns Hopkins where he earned another BSc, this time in Biomedical Engineering. From there, his career and training took a strange turn as he headed to FLETC. He didn't seem like the type to choose the law enforcement route, but then again neither did she, Washburn supposed.

"You were assigned to Agent Gibbs' team this past September?"

Tim nodded mutely. He kept his eyes trained on the table while he absentmindedly ran his index finger around the rim of his cup.

"What about before that?"

"I was stationed down at Norfolk. I worked in this tiny little office. A lot of desk work."

"You were there for less than a year."

"I guess," he said with a shrug. He hadn't really been paying attention to the amount of time spent there. It was a boring job and it hadn't been long before the days began to meld together, seeming more like one very long day than several shorter ones.

"You moved up very quickly." Again, he nodded. "You're also considerably younger than many of your co-workers."

"I skipped two grades when I was in school," he said, though he didn't know why. She obviously had his file before her and already knew that.

"That didn't make you very popular with your classmates, I'm sure. What about at NCIS?"

He looked up, obviously surprised by the question. He'd received his fair share of teasing and hazing from a few colleagues—most noticeably Tony—but he'd never thought of it as being on the same level as the horror he'd experienced in high school. After all, even beneath the veneer of torment, they meant well, right? And it wasn't about his age; it was about giving the new guy a hard time, right?

Catching him in his moment of doubt, Washburn continued. "How many people there have accomplished all that you have in such a short amount of time? I don't just mean getting through college before you were old enough to drink and earning three degrees by the time some people are just getting their first, but working for a federal agency on one of the most prominent teams while you're still so young. Do you think any of them feel you should have paid your dues before you were given that promotion, that other, more veteran employees were passed over in favor of you?"

"No," he disagreed as he shook his head. "No I earned my position on Gibbs' team!"

"I'm sure you did, but don't you think that some colleagues may feel threatened by it?"

"Maybe," he conceded, "but I can't help that."

She paused and observed him. His cheeks had a pinkish tint and his eyes revealed that something was on his mind. Perhaps these were thoughts that Tim himself had hidden away at some point. "How has it been, working under Agent Gibbs?"

"It's been good, fine. I mean, he can be a bit…uh…gruff, I guess you'd say, but he's the best and it's an honor to work under him."

"And your teammates? Agents DiNozzo and Todd? How are they?"

He knew she wanted to know how Tim felt they treated him, but that wasn't something he wanted to get into just yet, so he deflected the question. "They're very good at their jobs, though they do fight a lot. Ducky, our M.E., thinks it's some form of sibling rivalry."

"Well, that makes sense," Washburn said with a nod. "A team can be a lot like a family. I can see Agent Gibbs as a father figure with the two of them acting as the feuding brother and sister." She stopped and looked him directly in the eye before continuing. "So that would make you the younger brother of the family?"

He sighed, not seeing where she was going with this. "Sure."

"You don't have any older siblings, though. At least not in your biological family. Just one younger sister. Must have been hard for you to assume the role of a younger brother. I know how older siblings can be: teasing you, mocking you when you make a mistake, harping on every little thing you do until you think you might just snap." Tim didn't nod, but he also made no attempt to stop or correct her. "And going to the parent doesn't always help. They're so absorbed in their own problems that they brush you off, telling you to handle it yourself."

That, Tim had to admit, was certainly the case at times. It wasn't that Gibbs didn't care, he knew, but that he wasn't used to dealing with squabbling siblings. He was a former Marine and if the Navy was anything like that, you didn't tell on other people when they were harassing you. Luckily, Tim hadn't just grown up with a Navy Dad, but with a non-Navy Mom as well, and she was the type who would come to your aid when a sibling was being a pest. Granted, he was usually the one getting in trouble when Sarah tattled on him, but knowing he had a parent who was there for him like that was a comfort.

He shook his head, trying to expel the thoughts from his mind. Gibbs wasn't his father and it was unfair to expect him to act like one.

Washburn knew she was onto something and she wasn't about to quit now. "Of course, the only thing worse than being the youngest is being the middle child. The older siblings rag on you, but you can't rag on the youngest one. They're the ones who can get away with murder and no one says anything."

That was Abby, alright. She was the baby of their NCIS family and she wasn't afraid to exploit that role. Gibbs would never dream slapping her on the back of the head the way he did Tony and Tim, and she could say whatever she wanted, crack as many jokes as she'd like about Gibbs, and he'd only smile and shake his head as though she were a precocious four-year-old saying a new curse word she'd just heard. He couldn't remember her ever being reprimanded, even if she had disobeyed Gibbs.

"Yeah," he said after a long bout of silence, "I'm sure being a middle child really sucks."

On the other side of the glass, Gibbs was watching, a mixture of anger, annoyance, and a bit of guilt bubbling up inside. He wasn't sure what Washburn's angle was, but he could see that it was working. Tim was beginning to crack little by little. Not that it mattered, of course; Tim had nothing to hide and he knew that. But it angered him to see his youngest agent thrown into a whirlpool of self-doubt. He hoped Tim knew that he had earned his place on that team, that Gibbs wouldn't have even considered him if he didn't know that Tim was the best person for the team.

What really made Gibbs uneasy, though, was Washburn's comparison of their team (including Ducky and Abby) to a family. He'd never considered himself a father figure to his team, but now that it had been mentioned, he could see it, though it wasn't something he was too comfortable with admitting. He knew that Tony and, to a lesser degree, Kate often made Tim a target for their teasing barbs. Sometimes he intervened (usually when he thought it would interfere with their work), but many times he just ignored it, figuring the problem would sort itself out, that Tony would eventually let up. It wasn't like the teasing ever crossed the line into outright bullying-at least it usually didn't. He also knew that he had a habit of showing favoritism toward Abby, very often letting her get away with doing and saying things he wouldn't let the others get away with.

It was evident to anyone who had witnessed the team in action for even a minute that Tim's place was located firmly on the bottom, and no one was going to let him forget that. But Gibbs hadn't thought it and the subsequent hazing had taken any kind of toll on the young man.

"Now, Agent McGee," Washburn continued, "you knew both of our victims and, well, let's just say your relationship with them was far from pleasant. Did you ever think about them after you'd graduated?"

"Sometimes…when I'd see other students getting bullied, I'd remember them. Sometimes I'd remember them even when I didn't see someone getting bullied. But I started to just leave that behind. It happened and I didn't want to live the rest of my life by that."

"Did anything that happened while you were on Gibbs' team make you remember it?"

He winced, giving Washburn her answer. "A few things…but it was nowhere as horrid as high school was. Just stupid teasing, name-calling…like a family."

"Mm-hm," she hummed, obviously not convinced. "You had a high school reunion recently, didn't you?"

Tim nodded.

"Did you attend?"

"No."

"No? Why not? It wasn't out-of-state."

He shrugged. "I just didn't feel like going."

"You didn't want to rehash bad memories?"

"I didn't have many good ones."

"So you hadn't seen Daniel Wickmar or Steven Ashcroft since graduation day?"

Tim fidgeted uneasily on his seat. He knew if he lied she'd be able to tell; lying had never been his forte. "Not exactly."

"Oh?"

"I ran into Cpl. Wickmar three weeks ago at Quantico while we were investigating an embezzlement case."

"Was he a suspect?"

"No, just someone we interviewed."

"Did he look the same?"

"Older, but mostly the same."

"And you recognized him?"

"Immediately."

"And he recognized you?"

Tim cast his eyes downward. "No, he didn't recognize me. If he did, he didn't say anything."

"That must have upset you."

"Of course it did!" he snapped, though he instantly regretted it. No need to make them think he had such a short temper. He softened his tone, though there was still a strained quality resonating in it. "I wasn't expecting a lavish apology or for him to grovel at my feet, begging my forgiveness, but for him to not even remember who I was when I'd spent months remembering every torturous moment he and his stupid friends put me through...I just wanted to scream or something."

"And I'm sure all of your memories of high school hit you again with full force. You had some negative thoughts about him."

"So what if I did?" he asked with a sigh. He was growing tired of this game. "You said yourself that wishing something bad on a former bully didn't make me guilty, just human. All I did was make a dumb wish, and I felt guilty about it as soon as I did. Now do I need to get a lawyer or something?"

Gibbs grinned at that, proud of Tim for handling this the way he was. Sure, he was growing emotional about the entire thing, even snapping at the detective once or twice, but under the circumstances most people would have done the same thing, guilty or innocent.

Washburn excused herself and exited the interrogation room. Gibbs and Kelly met her in the hall. "I don't know what you're aiming at," Gibbs growled. "Yeah, maybe Tony pokes some fun at him here and there, but that's the way it goes with every Probie. Hell, even I took it when I first joined."

"Maybe so, Agent Gibbs, but I'm guessing you didn't suffer the kind of bullying that Agent McGee did in high school."

"Oh, so what? I'm not cheapening what he went through, but not every bullied kid shows up to school with a bomb strapped to his chest! He left high school ten years ago. Why suddenly decide now to act on the anger he felt back then?"

"Repressed anger," she suggested. "It's possible that the way he's treated by his teammates—no matter how mild by comparison—brought back memories of high school that he had hidden away. Seeing Cpl. Wickmar three weeks ago on that ship could have exacerbated it and then, seeing that his tormentor didn't even remember him, it set off the bomb inside of him. The fuse itself could have been burning for a while now, maybe even since he'd started high school."

"He's not some kind of booby trap," Gibbs snarled. "He's a highly trained special agent who may suffer from self-doubt now and then, and who gets annoyed and angry the same way any person would. But the kid would never hurt a person unless it was in self-defense, and even then I'm not so sure."

"That's been said about many people who have gone on to commit heinous crimes. Sometimes those people don't even realize what they've done. They remember something in their subconscious but brush it off as having been a dream."

"Oh, so now you're a psychiatrist, Detective? I'd love to see the degree that qualifies you to diagnose my man."

"Don't get so hot under the collar," Washburn said with a roll of her eyes. "I'm not making a diagnosis; I'm just offering up theories and counter arguing your comments."

"Well, here's another little comment for you to dissect and analyze: how do you explain Wickmar's friends mistaking McGee for a young woman? I know he has some soft features, but I can't imagine anyone mistaking him for a woman."

"Those men were intoxicated at the time, were they not?"

"They may have had a drink or two, but they would have had to consume an entire bottle of vodka to make that kind of mistake."

"Fine, fine!" Washburn conceded. She was tired of arguing with this man who was more unmoving than a brick wall. "But that doesn't mean he still isn't involved."

Gibbs was on his last nerve. He stepped up to her and she took a step back for comfort's sake. Gibbs took another step and another until her back was against the wall and he was towering over her. "If you're not going to arrest my man, we'll just leave now."

Washburn frowned. They really didn't have much to go on at the moment, certainly not enough to make an official arrest. All they had was a thin connection and a flimsy theory. "Let the Metro psychiatrist talk to Agent McGee," she requested. "If he thinks we're looking in the wrong direction, I'll cross your agent off our suspect list." Sensing his hesitancy, she quickly added, "What have you got to lose?"

"Fair enough," he said, "but I'll have to okay it with him."

When he entered the interrogation room, Tim was still sitting in his chair. His elbows were resting on the table and his hands wrapped around his head, holding it up as it sagged down. He barely glanced up when the door opened.

"Boss, I swear I didn't do any of this."

Gibbs had to grin. "You think I don't know that, McGee? You're not a killer."

"So what happens now?"

He fell into the chair on the other side of the table, crossing his arms in front of him. "They want you to be evaluated by their psych guy."

Tim snorted. "Great…now I'm a mental patient."

"It's just them grasping at straws, McGee. The guy will see that you're perfectly sane and that you're not hiding anything; then they'll drop the whole thing and we can get back to finding the real killer."

He looked up, his big green eyes catching Gibbs' icy blue ones. "Do I have to see this guy?" Tim asked, sounding not unlike a child asking if he has to get a booster shot or has to eat all of his vegetables.

"No, but if you don't I can tell you it won't help your cause."

"Then I guess I don't have much of a choice," he said with a sad smile.

Gibbs pushed his chair back and stood. "I'll let them know. The sooner we get this over with, the sooner we can get out of here."

"Boss?" he called out hesitantly.

"Yeah, McGee?"

"Have they found Fitcher?"

"Not that I know. Metro sent some people to meet him at his work place. Besides, it may be nothing."

Tim nodded though he didn't believe that. This was something; what that particular something was he didn't know. "Well, even so, I hope they find him. I'll sleep better tonight if they do."

"I hope so too, McGee."


AN: Happy Halloween, guys!