Wanting for Independence: Chapter 14
McGee was back at his desk, checking on the computer search for Jake Clark when Dwayne Wilson entered the bullpen. "I don't know how you deal with that traffic every day," he commented as he dropped his bag beside his desk. "Why do you live all the way out there, anyway?"
"It's a long story. I was actually thinking of getting a place in Arlington or Alexandria to be less of a commute to Pax River, but—" He cut himself off, not wanting to get into the whole should-he-move-or-should-he-not story.
"Does Harley know where she's going to be going after she's done training?" Wilson asked.
"Did you get anything from the doctors?" McGee asked, changing the subject.
"Not much," Wilson replied, removing his SIG and locking it in his drawer. "The surgeons, Drs. Scott and Gregory, seemed pretty busy. They said they didn't see anything, just the usual people around the Mall. They did go to the WWII Memorial, sat there for a while before going on to the Lincoln Memorial and back to the car and going home. Dr. Lyon, at WRAIR, was a little more informative, once I managed to track her down. I didn't realize NRMC—or WRAIR, I guess—was more than that one building. She was on the other side of the base, in one of the smaller buildings. By the time I found her, though, she had a lot to say. Just not much relevant. She repeated what her friends had said, that they parked by the Mall, walked up to Adams Morgan for dinner and drinks, and walked back down to the Mall. They were parked between the Washington and the WWII Memorial, as we knew already, so they went straight to the WWII Memorial and sat, she said for maybe half an hour, before they decided to go to the Lincoln Memorial. They walked on the opposite side of the Reflecting Pool as Carter, and with all the construction—"
"There's no way they could have seen anything," McGee finished. "Even a body."
"Timeline doesn't really fit for seeing much else," Wilson informed him, glancing at his notes. "They got to the Mall around 1800, and then it's a two and a half mile walk to Adams Morgan—let's say 45 minutes, so we're at 1845. Then they stopped at Black Squirrel for beer before going to the Ethiopian restaurant for dinner. By the time they're done eating, it's probably 2100, right in the middle of Ducky's estimate for time of death. With another 45 minutes to walk back to the Mall, we're at 2145, and then half an hour sitting brings us to 2215. After that, they walked away from the crime scene and didn't make it back to the car until midnight. Of the entire four hour window that Ducky's gave us, they were only around near the end, for the half an hour they sat at the Memorial. With the lights shining all around them, they wouldn't have been able to see anything outside the Memorial."
"Including Carter being killed."
"Right," Wilson agreed. "As witnesses go, they were fairly useless."
McGee sighed. It had been a long shot to begin with, but most of this case seemed to be made of long shots. He stood from his chair. "I'm going to go down and see Abby," he said. "Maybe she's having more luck than we are."
Abby Sciuto liked the music in her lab to be loud enough to allow her to hear everything in the music but not loud enough to drown out her thoughts as she worked. It was a fine balance, at least to her. To everyone else, it was just really loud music.
The volume came down significantly, which really only meant one thing. "Good morning, McGee," she said cheerfully as she heard her office door open, not even bothering to turn to see if that's who it was. He was pretty much the only person in the building daring enough to turn down her music without permission. Well, Gibbs would be, too, if Gibbs would bother himself to learn how to turn down the music of her new stereo.
"Any luck with the case?" he asked as he settled himself into his usual barstool. It was a pattern with senior field agents, really—they spent a lot of time in Abby's office under the auspices of catching up on the finer points of the cases, but really just escaping Gibbs and trying to get a fresh perspective on things. McGee did it, Tony had done it, even Stan was once a semi-permanent fixture in the lab.
As always, thoughts of Stan gave Abby a wave of sadness, which she allowed for a few seconds before she turned her attention back to McGee. "I have good news and bad news," she said cheerfully.
"Uh, I'll take the good news."
"I figured you would. We got DNA from our victim. From the collar of her shirt. Two samples, one was hers, and the other was most definitely not hers."
"That's great!" McGee said enthusiastically, the black cloud that had been hanging over his head taking a temporary vacation. "What's the bad news?"
"There's no match," she replied. "If you get a suspect, I can try to match it, but there's nothing in the database. No convictions or prior cases."
"Oh." His face fell back to where it had been since early the previous morning, that look of despair and exhaustion and just a hint of panic. "So we still have... Nothing."
"We have something, if you can find a suspect," she reminded him. "How's the search for the boyfriend?"
"Slow," he said with a sigh. "Do you know how many Jake Clarks there are in the healthcare field in the greater DC area?"
"I'm guessing more than a few."
"Quite a few more than a few," he confirmed.
"And still no witnesses." It was more of a statement than a question; if he had witnesses, he'd be interviewing them, not moping in here lab.
"Nope," he confirmed with a sigh. "Tomblin and Tony are looking into the terrorism angle, which may be looking more promising, but it still isn't giving us a suspect. And is it just me, or is Gibbs more... Gibbs, than usual?"
Abby looked around her lab as if to confirm that it was empty, wondering as soon as she did it why she bothered; of course it was empty. It was her lab and she knew when people came in, and nobody had since McGee. And nobody before that. "Now, you didn't hear this from me," she ordered, getting two raised eyebrows from McGee in response. "Gracy might be getting transferred to Germany."
"What?" McGee asked, his eyes now wide and focused on Abby. "Are you sure? Who told you?"
"Nobody's sure," she said impatiently. "I bet the Army isn't even sure, but that's what Jimmy said. She's been working with him on applications to go back to medical school and said it came up. She is getting promoted to lieutenant colonel in December. She can't stay at her current job forever." Major Sonja Gracy, MD, was an Army pathologist and deputy director of the Armed Forces Medical Examiner's System, a position she had held since returning from Hawaii a few years before. She was also sleeping with Gibbs, another position she had held since returning from Hawaii.
"Wait, Jimmy's going back to medical school?" McGee asked.
"Focus, McGoo," Abby ordered. "We'll discuss the autopsy gremlin in a minute. We're discussing Gracy, remember? And Gibbs. Speaking of Gibbs, he had a big birthday coming up." McGee looked at her blankly. "Fifty-five, Tim! And you know what happens when field agents turn fifty-five."
"They're pulled from the field," McGee replied. "But... Vance wouldn't..."
"He's not going to change the rules just for Gibbs, McGee."
"Oh." McGee had that look in his eye, the 'the wheel is spinning too quickly for the hamster to keep up' look, and Abby knew she had to wait to let him work things out in his head. "So you really think he'll be pulled from the field."
"Mm-hmm."
"Oh."
"McGee." He looked over at her. "You look... Puzzled. Bewildered. Mystified."
"It's just..." Now it was his turn to look around to make sure nobody was listening, and he sighed deeply. "Harley's probably going to be going to Yuma in January," he said, the words coming out in a rush."
"Oh, Timmy!" Abby exclaimed in sympathy, wrapping her arms around his neck. "I'm sorry, I know you really like her..."
"She asked me to go with her." The words startled Abby to the point that she released her arms and stepped back in surprise, almost as if they had physically shocked her. While whatever ship that was between them had sailed years ago, Abby never considered an NCIS that didn't have Special Agent Timothy McGee. She hadn't thought she could imagine an NCIS that didn't have Tony DiNozzo, either, but this was somehow different. This was McGee; quiet, unsure McGee who was picked on by his coworkers and made money writing books about it.
No, that wasn't who he was, not anymore. She knew she wouldn't be able to pinpoint when the change happened, when he went from timid Tim to the man who was currently sitting in front of her, who stood up for himself and dealt with the full brunt of Gibbs' unrealistic expectations, but somewhere along the way, that transformation took place. It was before Tony and Ziva left, really, but that move nine months before solidified the changes that were already in the process of happening. He still had the books, sure, but the taunting was definitely a thing of the past. As was the inability to get a date with a woman who wasn't full-on crazy, although being a USMC fighter pilot sure put Captain Harlan McNamee close to that category. "What are you going to do?" Abby finally asked, her voice quiet, actually afraid of what his answer was going to be.
"I'm still thinking about it," McGee replied. "There's still a lot of time before she graduates from the course. I just don't know what to do."
Abby wanted to tell him what to do, tell him that the office just wouldn't be the same without him, remind him of how good he was at his job, but that wasn't really fair, and if there was one thing McGee deserved, it was fairness. "We could make a list of pros and cons—"
"That's all I've been doing since Harley told me she was probably moving," McGee interrupted with a sigh. He gave her a half smile. "I guess it's not supposed to be easy, is it?"
"Sure it is," Abby replied. "You just need to figure out if it'll be easier to find another job or another girlfriend." She gave him a sad smile. "And no offense, Tim, but I've met some of the girls you've dated. You might want to consider holding on to the one you've got."