The Metro lackeys had been sent to scour the large amount of land around the house, leaving Gibbs, Kate, Tim, Kelly, and Washburn to look through the evidence that had been accumulated so far, beginning with the tapes. Each had been marked by name and date, as well as a few more detailed notes, including her favorite parts. There was no VCR or DVD player in view, so they could only assume she watched them on the camera screen.

There was a tape for each man from Wickmar to Moore. There were also a few with Tim's name on them. It made his stomach sink.

"McGee, you don't have to watch this," Gibbs said.

Tim nodded. "I know…but I should."

"No, you shouldn't," Kate said. She was angry at Gibbs for letting Tim be there in the first place. There was no need to put him through this. "You and I can go over other things."

"Just play it," he said, ignoring her.

They started with the earliest one of Tim and worked forward chronologically. Most of the video consisted of Tim sitting at home. There was footage of him at his typewriter and him eating. There was footage of him watching television and playing games at his computer. Most unsettling, though, was the footage of him sleeping. So peaceful and unaware of what crept outside his window.

Then they came to a video shot three weeks prior to Cpl. Wickmar's murder. This time Imogene had pressed herself against the window (the open window, Tim noted with dismay and horror), the camera barely catching Tim as he paced his bedroom, phone in hand.

"Hey, Chris? You'll never guess who I ran into today. Daniel Wickmar. Yeah, he's a Cpl. in the Marine Corps now, I guess, and I saw him at Quantico. Hm? No. No, he didn't recognize me. At least, if he did, he didn't say so. I just froze like a deer in headlights. I mean, what do you say to a high school bully after all this time? 'Hey, remember me? You dunked my head in a toilet a few dozen times at Samuel Chase High.' I'll bet he and his friends don't remember us; we're probably nothing more than some blip in the back of their memories."

"Well, that explains what set her on this mission," Gibbs muttered. He noticed that Tim's face had gone pink, likely a mixture of guilt and self-directed anger.

"Of all the nights for me to leave the window open," he muttered. He could remember it well, too. The night had been hot and, with the AC so unpredictable, he'd decided to open a couple of windows to get a breeze. "Of all the nights I had to call Chris."

Gibbs and Kate exchanged glances, well aware of what Tim was thinking: he had been the one to mention Wickmar, to mention what he'd done way back when. He had, unawares, supplied the impetus for all of this. He wasn't just a connection in all of this, but a direct source of it, at least in his mind.

The video continued as he shared the phone call with Chris, reliving torment of his high school years. After an hour or so, they'd said their goodbyes and Tim had gone to bed. The camera had remained on him for a good few hours, just watching him toss and turn until finally going still and falling into a deep sleep.

"The Cpl. Wickmar one is next," Kate said. Her eyes flickered to Tim, hoping Gibbs would insist he left. But he didn't. She sighed and inserted the tape.

The screen alit and this time the camera was trained on Daniel Wickmar who was tied to a chair. His eyes were closed and his head was bobbing up and down. He was obviously unconscious. The video continued as such for a few minutes before his head lifted completely, his eyes dazed and a thin line of drool spilling over his bottom lip.

"Where…?"

A voice off-camera responded.

"Hello, sweetie. How are you feeling?"

He slurred as he came into full consciousness, trying to make sense of what was happening to him as Imogene continued speaking. He couldn't even figure out if this was all real or just a bad dream. When she sat on his lap and bit into his ear, it was obvious this was no dream.

Imogene walked off camera, though her voice was still heard.

"So you enjoy beating up geeks, do you? Showing them what a strong, tough man you are? Let's see just how tough you are, sweetie."

When she reappeared she held a nail gun in her hand which she brandished, making sure he got a good look at it. He squirmed, trying to get free, but he was bound to his place and nothing was going to change that. His pleas fell on deaf ears as she placed the gun against his upper right arm, her finger stroking the trigger.

"You might want to hold your breath. I'm sure this is going to hurt like hell."

Tim bolted out when the first nail hit. He slapped a hand over his mouth and ran out the front door to vomit in the bushes so as not to destroy any fingerprints or other bits of evidence that may have been in the house. Not that it mattered, of course; they had all the evidence they needed to prosecute her in those tapes. Those horrible, horrible tapes.

He thought he'd be able to take it, be able to stomach it. But his insides had been churning since the first video of him. The start of Wickmar's torture had been the final atrocity that had sent him over the edge. He couldn't watch this; he couldn't even think about it. It was too much.

A hand fell onto his back as he hunched over, breathing raggedly as his body shook. "Sorry, boss."

"Nothing to be sorry about, McGee."

"That was embarrassing. I should have been able to take it."

"Kate was right; you shouldn't have been watching that in the first place."

"I'm not weak."

"Never said you were."

"How many other guys have thrown up as much as I have during this investigation?"

"When a case is this close to you, McGee, you react differently than you would otherwise. It doesn't make you weak; it makes you human." Gibbs knew he should have pulled the plug on this long before. Tim's relationship with the victims and his connection to the case should have had him benched from the case for begin with, but Gibbs had let him tag along, knowing how much Tim still wanted to prove himself to the team.

They had their killer now and Tim had more than proven his worth. Time to put an end to all of this.

"I'm taking you home," he said.

Tim was quick to protest. "No, boss! I'll be fine, I promise."

"Don't argue with me, McGee."

"But who'll stay here and look through everything?"

"That's why I called Metro in. Let them do all the grunt work. As far as I'm concerned, our part in the investigation is over. Now get in the car. I'll gather everything else and get Kate. I'll drop you at your apartment and you will stay there, got it? No trying to catch this woman by yourself or trying to investigate further."

Tim nodded and followed his orders. Gibbs re-entered the house and was met by Kate.

"The tape shows that Wickmar gave her the names of the others," she said. "After a few nails she got him talking. He listed Ashcroft, Fitcher, Blanchard, and Moore."

"No one else?"

Kate shook her head. "Only them. Do you think she'll stop now?"

Gibbs wanted to believe she would, but his gut told him otherwise. "Leave that to Metro for tonight. We're leaving. We'll drop McGee off at his place and then I'll bring you back to NCIS."

"But you won't be leaving tonight," Kate said.

"You can stay if you want. I need to talk to Abby, see what she knows about where DiNozzo went."

"Well, he's certainly not here, but I don't know if that's a good thing or a bad thing."

"Unless they went to his place," Gibbs muttered. "Get our things and meet me in the car. I'm going to send some agents to Tony's apartment."

"What if he's with a woman of his own free will?"

"Then it serves him damn right for turning off his phone."

But they both knew that wasn't the case.

His body is covered with cuts. None are deep enough to cause a fatality, but they're shallow enough to cause pain. The cuts are well calculated on her part; she doesn't want him dead yet.

"You know," she says as she brings the blade down along his arm, "I think my favorite part is going to be the sex. I think we'll barely have time to push you off the bed before I pull him into me."

He grimaces, both from the pain and the mental image that brings. He doesn't like thinking about Tim having sex, especially not with a psycho woman like this.

She looks at the clock and frowns. He should be home by now. He doesn't usually stay out this late, especially on a Friday night. What could be keeping him? If Tony had been allowed to leave Tim obviously had been allowed to as well, right? Unless that slave-driving boss of his has him chained to his desk doing paperwork or fixing his computer. She doubts anyone respects him or sees his talents.

Another thought occurs. Could he have gone out on a date? Maybe with that dark-haired woman who wears the black lipstick and the short skirts? Her lips curl; what a slut that woman is. So obviously looking for attention.

Or maybe he's with another woman. Maybe he's enjoying a drink and dinner with some other beauty, or sitting in a dark theatre with his arms around someone else.

She feels a snarl resonate in her throat. How dare he do that to her! After everything she's done for him! After the wrongs she's righted! How can he ignore her like this? How can he see any other woman? How can he break her heart?

A muffled scream pulls her from the haze of angry thoughts. The knife has slipped, slicing along his shoulder. It's a deep cut, one that she hasn't meant to make. She utters a curse and grabs the nearby pillow, pressing it against him to stop the blood flow. He's not supposed to die for a while.

Stop being silly, she thinks to herself. He's not seeing anyone. If he was you'd know about it. No, he's just making it a late night. He must have a lot to think about this week. He'll be back soon.

The bleeding ebbs slightly. She takes the pillowcase off and tapes it around his shoulder to serve a tourniquet. "There," she sneers. "Consider that my good deed of the day."

Maybe she should call him, see where he is. Unfortunately, his number is the one thing she wasn't able to track down on him. Unlisted and well-hidden. But someone had to have the number. Someone he works with.

"Where's your phone?" she asks. She grabs his jeans and rifles through the pockets, but to no avail. "Where's your phone?" she repeats, this time even angrier than before. Tony can barely shrug. He can't remember what he did with it. He just remembers her taking it.

"Damn it!" she hisses as she tosses the jeans down. "Stupid, stupid, stupid!" She punctuates the last one with a hard slap to his face. "I can't believe you were stupid enough to leave your phone behind!"

Tony wants to point out that she was in charge of his phone and, therefore, she has only herself to blame for the phone being gone, but given the circumstances he's unable to. Even if he wasn't gagged, he wouldn't want to piss this woman off further.

She falls into the recliner near the window and folds her arms like a petulant child. She'll just have to be patient for now. He'll get there when he gets there.

And she'll be waiting.

"Yeah…yeah, I got it." Gibbs was on his phone as they drove to Silver Spring. The agents had gotten to Tony's apartment, but hadn't found anyone there. No sign of forced entry, no sigh of a struggle, no blood or other bodily fluids. It looked like a lived-in bachelor pad. "Thanks. Yeah, I'll just keep trying."

"No one there?" Kate asked.

"Tony's still MIA." In the rearview window he saw Tim—who was seated in the back—wince. "Abby should be getting back to me soon on what she found."

"Boss, I could help," Tim piped up. "I could go over the security footage with Abby."

"She can handle it, McGee. You just get some rest."

"I don't really want to rest."

"Whether you want it or not, you need it. Now are you going to stay in your apartment tonight or do I need to escort you up there personally and tie you to the bed?"

Tim didn't respond. Gibbs took it as a sign that he would comply and that the discussion was over.

As he pulled off the interstate his phone rang again. It was Abby. "What've you got for me?"

"A lot," she said. "I just finished talking to that Sammy guy. You know, he's like a dead ringer for Sammy Davis Jr. Anyway, I got a comprehensive sketch of the woman Tony was with and I'm pretty sure it's Imogene Schultz."

"How could you know? You've never seen her."

"Au contraire, Gibbs. I managed to track down a picture of her. It's from her senior year of high school, but it's a picture nonetheless. She's slimed down a bit and her face cleared up, but otherwise she's a perfect match."

Gibbs bit back the expletive that was dancing on his tongue to escape. "Is that all you have?"

"Of course not! I also looked at the security footage and saw when she arrived and when she left. Tony was definitely with her and probably not in the most aware state of mind. He's obviously leaning on her as they leave."

"Did they take his car or hers?"

"His, but I was able to get a good look of her vehicle. When I ran the license plate I found out that she was pulled over earlier today for an expired brake tag. The weird thing is that the car was originally registered to Pvt. Troy Austin, Schultz's ex-boyfriend. It still is, in fact, but since it wasn't reported stolen and she told the officer she was his half-sister, he didn't look into the discrepancy."

"He must have left it behind when he split," Gibbs guessed. "Anything else, Abbs?"

"Are you going to tell me what you found at her house?"

"Not DiNozzo. Anyway, Metro is handling all of that right now. I'm dropping McGee off at his place. Kate and I will be in after that to go over things."

"Oh, come on, Gibbs! Not even a hint of what you found?"

"Trust me, Abby, you'd rather not know."

There was a short silence on the other end. "That bad?"

"Worse. Put out a BOLO on his car and check to see if Schultz has any other properties around here. I'll see you soon."

Kate and Tim were watching him expectantly as he hung up the phone. "What did she have to say?" Kate asked.

"Tony left with Schultz. They took his car."

"That's it?"

"Not much else to go on, Kate. All we know is she's with him right now. If they're not at her place and they're not at his…well, it sure as hell beats me where they are."

He pulled into the parking lot for Tim's building and came to a stop in front of the door. "Go up," he said. "Get in bed. I'll call you tomorrow around 0700 and let you know if there have been any developments."

"Thanks, boss," he mumbled as he got out of the car. Gibbs stayed put, watching and making sure Tim went into the building, that he didn't try to make a break for his car. Once Tim had disappeared into the building, he swung the car around and brought it into a nearby parking spot.

"What are you doing?" Kate asked.

"I just want to make sure he doesn't try to leave once we're gone. Give him about ten minutes."

She sighed and leaned back in her seat, her mouth set in a deep frown. "He shouldn't have been allowed to see that footage, Gibbs."

"Yeah, I know."

"He shouldn't have even been allowed to be a part of this case. I know that pissing off Metro is like a hobby for you, but it wouldn't have killed you to let them take this one."

"If I'd let them do that we may never have caught her. I appreciate them for some things, like doing the dirty work for us back there, but I wasn't going to trust them with this. And whether or not McGee should have been part of this doesn't matter; he was already part of it because it was about him. It was about him from the beginning. And he knows that."

"How do you think he's going to get over all of this?"

"Don't know. Maybe he won't."

"Well, at the risk of sounding insensitive, he's going to have to. At the very least he's going to have to push it aside long enough to do his job."

"He will," Gibbs said firmly. "That much I know. He may be young and he may still have a weak stomach around these things, but he's got what it takes. I wouldn't have brought him onto the team if he didn't."

Kate was silent as she absorbed his words. She knew it wasn't just talk; there was no reason Gibbs would have requested Tim's transfer onto the team if he didn't see potential in him. But he hadn't had the chance to gain much experience before being thrust into this setting. The rest of them—Gibbs, Tony, and Kate—had been all but hardened by their real-life experiences working for other teams. Not to the point of apathy, but enough to be able to disconnect when necessary. That was something no amount of schooling and reading could prepare you for, something that Tim had now been forced to face head-on with such little to go on.

"What do you think is going to happen when they meet each other?"

"Who?"

"McGee and his stalker. How do you think she's going to react?"

Gibbs was quiet. In his mind, dozens of possibilities flew by. "I can't even begin to imagine, Kate."

Tim pushes the door open. It seems to take more strength than usual, something he attributes to the long work week he's had. In fact, he is so tired he's almost grateful that Gibbs has insisted he go home. Loathe as he is to admit it, he can use the rest.

He drops his bag by the door, not able to carry it another step, and shuts the door behind him with his foot. He wonders if he even has the energy to get undressed. He may just fall to the bed, fully clothed, and pass out.

His stomach rumbles. He hasn't eaten anything since lunch (they'd sent out for Chinese) and even then he barely touched the food. He hadn't the appetite. He wonders if he should satisfy the growing hunger or put it off until the next morning.

In the end, weariness wins out over hunger. He can wait a measly few hours. It's not like he has much to cook here.

With his eyelids heavy, Tim turns toward his closed bedroom door. He's already pulling off his tie and kicking off his shoes. He leans against the door, fumbling for the knob. He turns it and topples in…and freezes in his place.

"Hello, Timothy."