oOoOoOo
Elevator
McGee paced in the elevator trying to calm himself following Tony's well-intentioned but ill-timed warnings. Sure, Tony had a point. He and Abby had only begun dating a few months earlier and living with her a few weeks prior. There was a lot of uncertainty in their past. At times, they seemed more like two bratty kids on the playground who liked each other and demonstrated it by not playing nice with each other.
But that was then. Things were different. They had discussions about a future—talks involving long range plans and binding decisions. While those normally gave Abby jitters, she didn't run from them this time. In the past, just talking about dating seriously made her bolt. This time, she was the one who initiated the relationship. She was the one who asked him to live with her.
The next step, he figured, was his to take.
Of course, that didn't stop his stomach from flipping, his hands from trembling, and his knees from feeling weak. He took a deep breath as the elevator doors slid open to find her standing there with an expectant look on her face.
"It's about time," she said as she walked into the elevator. "You sent me a message 10 minutes ago and said you'd be right down. I was starting to wonder if you left without me."
"What?" McGee blinked as he felt his heart start to race and his throat grow dry. "No. I was…"
He paused. He was what? Getting a lecture from Tony on the futility of what he was about to do? Being advised he was making the biggest mistake of his life? Cautioned not to ruin the best thing that ever happened to him?
He realized in that panic-stricken moment that there was no way he could go through with his plans for the evening of going to the gallery, taking her to dinner and then proposing at the end of the evening. He put his hand his jacket pocket and felt the box.
Tony offered to hold it for him until later, until more time passed, until the right moment presented itself.
McGee looked at Abby as she hit the button to send the car back upstairs so they could take the front elevator in order to leave through the main lobby. She was adjusting her scarf, the black one with the many skulls adorned with pink bows, as she wrestled agitatedly with the collar of her leather coat. She looked like it had been an annoying afternoon in the lab, and her last round of email to him venting her frustration regarding a software upgrade on her tire pattern recognition program seemed to confirm that.
If there was one thing McGee had learned in the last year it was the power of timing. Two additional seconds of hesitation in pulling his Sig in the Comm Center in Afghanistan would have resulted in his death. Five minutes in delaying his entry into tent would have saved him from getting shot all together. It was all so random. No amount of planning could save you from disaster somedays. It all boiled down to this he realized: All you could do was keep your wits about you and make the best choice possible in any moment. Sometimes it was best to charge; sometimes it was best to run and hide.
He sighed as a feeling of calm settled into his bones as the best choice, the only choice, for that moment came to him as the elevator continued to rise.
"Are you okay?" Abby asked as she turned her sights on him as she heard his sigh.
Rather than answer, he flipped the emergency stop switch on the elevator.
oOoOoOo
Gibbs focused his attention to the report McGee left on his desk. The trail for Lt. Cmdr Scott was understandably still cold. He disappeared more than 90 days prior to NCIS receiving the report. The details in his commanding officer's report were sketchy and unhelpful. The team actually looking for him—one based out of Coronado from the San Diego Field Office—were stumped and not placing a high priority on following up on details since Scott was not flagged as someone of great interest. Sailors went missing from time to time. He was considered one of the roaming band that would eventually turn up so little effort was being placed on finding him.
The agent out of the Navy Yard had a different take on it.
McGee, it appeared, determined that it was likely Scott left of his own volition. From the lengthy explanation struggling to lay out that theory with every ounce of logic spoke of more than a thorough investigator behind the words. It also wreaked of a friend desperate not to accept something more sinister in the disappearance.
As for his vanishing act, McGee concluded his friend's reasons did not appear to be financially motivated. His bank accounts were roughly what one would expect from someone at his pay grade. His spending habits were predictable. There was no steady girlfriend in the picture and no hints at other social associations that might prompt him to stray from his chosen career. His latest health and fitness reports were clean and, until he dropped out of sight, there were no disciplinary issues on his record. From what Gibbs could determine, McGee was attempting to reconstruct the week prior to the disappearance using bank card purchases, entry and exits on the base at Coronado, and keystroke logs (still compiling with his various programs) of all of his online activity. Gibbs shook his head, amazed yet again at the things his studious agent could pull together without leaving his desk.
He sighed, wondering when he was going to get the chance to start refreshing McGee's abilities in the real world of investigation. He did not have time to dwell on that long when Abby's voice called to him from far down the back hallway, growing stronger and louder with each second. Gibbs rose from his desk at her approach.
"Gibbs, Gibbs, Gibbs!" she shouted as she ran into the room, dragging McGee by the hand.
As she drew closer to Gibbs, she let go of McGee's hand and threw her arms around the veteran agent's neck to hug him.
"You'll never guess what just happened," she yelped.
"McGee proposed to you," Gibbs said returning the embrace.
"Yes!" she replied. "In the elevator! Isn't that exciting and surprising?"
Gibbs gave her a soft peck on the cheek while congratulating her as she continued to bounce cheerfully while hugging him. McGee smirked, looking more relaxed and less nauseous than when he left several minute earlier.
"Yeah, it's unexpected," Tony grimaced and swatted McGee's arm. "The elevator? What's the matter with you? That was your big surprise? Okay, McBoring. That lacks all sense of romance. You should have asked me for a better set up than that."
McGee gritted his teeth and glared at his partner.
"It wasn't my plan, but since we were going to walk through this room and you just gave me the world's worst pep talk, I doubted you could shut your mouth long enough for us to get out of here without you tipping her off," McGee asserted.
"So you did that on the fly?" Tony remarked as he shook his head pityingly. "Oh, McPanic. You obviously are not ready for this."
While Tony sighed his condolences, Gibbs held out his hand and shook McGee's.
"Elevators," Gibbs nodded. "Never underestimate their power."
McGee grinned in a tired but giddy way as he finally felt like his heart was calming down and he could take a normal breath.
"I didn't see a point in waiting to find a perfect time or an ideal place," he shrugged. "What mattered was asking. So, I improvised. It worked."
"You at least turned the elevator off and got down on one knee, right?" Tony ventured quietly to the side.
"Of course," McGee nodded.
"Okay," Tony nodded while offering a fist bump of pride. "That's… actually not so bad. Spur of the moment. Captive audience. Non-distracting setting with traditional genuflecting pose. Okay. I see how that could work in a geeky and uncreative way. I'm guessing since she's hugging Gibbs that she said yes."
"Of course, I did!" Abby cheered and flashed her ring toward him then muckled onto Tony to give a crushing hug. "I was so surprised. I mean, I knew he was going to ask at some point. We've talked about it, but I never thought he would ask tonight."
"I'm happy for you, Abs," Tony said with a pained grin due to her tight grip. "I'm worried about your sanity, but I'm happy that you're happy. Ow."
His head snapped forward as McGee instinctively snapped him in the back of the head. Both men stared at each other with wide, surprised eyes. Whether McGee was more surprised that he slapped Tony or Tony was more surprised that McGee did it, was not clear. They merely stared at each other looking for the elusive answer until Abby broke between them.
"I am happy," she squealed then latched onto McGee's arm again and kissed his cheek. "I need like a whole new word to describe how this feels… but I can't think of one other than wow."
Tony was ready to offer up another tart and (in his mind) humorous observation but stopped as he looked at the couple. There was a split second when they looked at each other that made his heart sink. It wasn't worry for them or any hint of trouble. It was sadness for himself because he did not know what it was like to feel precisely that way, although he wanted to. For that moment, in a single glance that seemed both precious yet normal for them, it was as if the rest of the world did not exist. There was such contentment, peace even, and giddy passion in their eyes for each other. Tony actually felt like he was intruding as he saw it. He also felt a bit jealous. They had found comfort and security with each other and were about to make it permanent.
"Congrats, Abby," Tony said and received another quick brusque hug from her. He gave McGee an apologetic glance then held out his hand. McGee raised his to shake but was denied as Tony pulled him into a rough hug and received a thump on the back.
"My little probie's all grown up," he said as though he was choked up then roughly ruffled McGee's hair. "So, I'm your best man, right?"
"I just got engaged two minutes ago," McGee said.
"Hey, that part is done so stop living in the past," Tony said throwing his arm over McGee's shoulders. "Now, name me best man, and you can start thinking about the fun part."
"The wedding?" Abby ventured. Tony shook his head and grinned at McGee.
"The honeymoon?" McGee guess and earned a large smile from Abby. However, Tony groaned and hung his head.
"The bachelor party," he crowed. "I happen to give the best bachelor parties."
"No," McGee shook his head as he wormed out of Tony's clutch and put his hand on the small of Abby's back and started to usher her out of the room.
"Oh yeah," Tony trailed after them, pleading his case for appointment to the wedding party. "I'm thinking a weekend in Vegas. I know a guy at Caesar's who can get it set up for us. I'll call him and put him on notice since he owes me a favor. Hey, you got any objections to my Dad joining us? He likes to tell me somedays that you're his favorite son. I mean, he only says it when I start questioning him about his credit card bills, but the point is he's got connections in Vegas, too."
McGee merely pushed Tony gently from the elevator as he attempted to follow them further.
"Good night, Tony," McGee said flatly as the door began to close.
"Okay, good talk, think about some dates," he said then leered. "Hey, no celebrating in the elevator. The boss still uses it for serious business."
oOoOoOo
Abby and McGee's House
Abby stretched beneath the sheets as a pale shaft of moonlight trickled into their bedroom through a sliver gap in the curtains. The wind still rattled at the windows as leaves whipped about the yard on the gusty night. She sighed contentedly as she lay comfortably in McGee's arms as she lifted her hand to stare at the ring adorning her left hand.
"I feel over dressed," she chuckled.
"You're not wearing anything other than your ring," he noted. "How is that overdressed?"
She twisted under the sheets so that she was facing him and smirked at his dumbfounded expression.
"You sound very casual and confident," she remarked narrowing her eyes curiously. "How many women have you had in your bed wearing just diamonds?"
"Uh, let me think," he replied.
"You need to think?" she questioned.
"Well, yeah," McGee replied. "Do earrings count?"
Abby smiled then ruffled her fingers through his hair before planting a deep kiss squarely on his lips.
"I love how detail oriented you can be," she replied. "Well, earrings or toe rings or nose rings or any form of jewelry aside, this diamond-wearing woman is the last one who will ever share bed space, or couch space, or cot space, or any sleeping space with you."
"That was very precise," McGee grinned. "You really think there was a chance that I would want anyone else to do that?"
"I just wanted you to understand how adamant I am that you are mine," she said. "So, when are you going to tell your mom and your sister? Or do they already know you were going to propose tonight?"
"Only Gibbs and Tony knew, and that was unintentional," McGee said as he craned his neck to look at the alarm clock. "I'll call my mother and Penny tomorrow… or I guess today once the sun is up. I thought you could join me when I have lunch with Sarah on Sunday and we could tell her together. I know you usually go to help out Sister Rosita, but maybe just this once…"
"Do you think Sarah will be my maid of honor?" Abby asked. "I want her to know that I'm not taking you away from your family and that she's welcome here anytime. I think making her part of the wedding will reassure her."
McGee sighed and brushed her hair from her face as he smiled contentedly.
"Abby, she likes you more than me lately," he remarked. "Whatever was going on between the two of you a while ago is over. She's not worrying that you'll kick her out of my world or hold me hostage."
She grinned happily then snapped her fingers.
"Hostage, eh?" she smirked and began looking toward the nightstand. "I never thought of locking you up to have you to myself. Where are your cuffs?"
"They're where they belong: at the office, far from you and your… ideas," he replied although there was a glint in his eye that hinted at some disappointment.
"This time," Abby giggled. "So, I know we were in a rush to get out of the office, but you really shouldn't leave Tony hanging thinking he's not your best man. I know you and he have this while juvenile thing you like to do and squabble like bratty little schoolkids, but I think it would be best if he knew you had picked him as your best man so we can start planning. After all, we have a schedule to keep. Well, first to make, then to keep."
"There's plenty of time for that," McGee remarked.
Abby stroked her finger through his hair then placed her hand over the mighty scar on his chest.
"The last year taught me that putting things off and hoping for a perfect moment is too risky," she said thoughtfully. "Remember what happened with Jimmy's wedding? I've been thinking about this since you put this ring on my finger. Timmy, I can't think of a single reason for us to wait, can you?"
"Well, no," he agreed. "But it's not like we're getting married next weekend."
"Why not?" she asked. "I was just saying to Tony today how everything is so slow lately. This is a good time. It's before the holidays when everyone is so busy. There's no chance of snow grounding planes so your mother can make it. I say we do this. No waiting."
"What?" McGee blinked.
"You don't think so?" she asked. "I don't need a big gala wedding that takes a year to plan and save money to pay for. Do you?"
"Uh, no," he shook his head.
"So just family and close friends—nearly everyone is right here right now," Abby encouraged.
"Okay, but I want my mother and Penny there," McGee insisted. "My mom can probably get here without much notice, but Penny's still traveling."
Abby sighed contentedly as she traced her finger along his jawline.
"Okay, well it doesn't have to be next weekend, but we should find out when people are available and just do it soon," Abby said. "Agreed?"
"It's a lot to plan and not much time to do it," he replied surprised and on the verge of worry. "We just got engaged a few hours ago. I hadn't thought much beyond what I would say to give you the ring."
She nodded confidently as she fixed him with a wide and eager grin.
"I am freaky good at wedding planning," she said. "There's nothing to it when you boil it down to a science. Scope, venue, invitations. That's all there is to it. Leave it to me. Besides, you're working on your super-secret squirrel project for Gibbs."
McGee scoffed and shook his head as he, regretfully, needed to once again deny her any information about his assignment from Gibbs. He did not like withholding information, but Gibbs said no one else was to know. There was no exception carved out for teammates, roommates, colleagues or fiancées.
"I can't talk about that, Abby," he reminded her, wishing deeply he could.
Thus far, he found a lot of false trails (and needed to create a few of his own to hide his searches), but nothing seemed to lead anywhere to Carter Scott. The information surrounding his disappearance was sketchy and had McGee worried. For no apparent reason, a dedicated and decorated veteran just walked out of his barracks one night and seemed to disappear into thin air. If not for the stray clues he did unearth, McGee would have feared his friend was dead. What made him bolt and where he might be going were just as troubling as there seemed no answer to those yet.
"I know," Abby reassured him. "I'm saying you don't need to pull yourself away from whatever it is Gibbs has you researching. I'm saying I've got this. Let me see what I can pull together and you can tell me if you're game for it."
"Game?" McGee wondered with a raised eyebrow. "It's not going to involve either helmets or the zoo is it?"
When she grinned wickedly for a second, he blanched with a touch of fear but then blushed at his gullibility the next second as she laughed and made a comment about him getting cold feet.
"We've had enough excitement for one year so I'm thinking something simple, quiet, and low key," she promised. "Nothing to cause pointless delays. Tim, I know we're a you and me already, but now that we've decided to do this, I don't want to wait another year to start our lives as a legal we. I don't need some expensive fairy tale venue. I'll marry you in the copier room on the second floor if that's the only place available. Honey, we've already lost enough time trying to figure out we want to be together."
McGee pressed his forehead to hers and smiled. He could not have agreed more. He planned on showing her that when she derailed his intentions.
"Now, let Tony know he's your best man," she insisted.
"Now?" McGee whined.
She yawned strategically and grinned widely at him, prompting a sigh before he reluctantly reached for his cellphone. It was resting, facedown, on the nightstand and set to silent mode. He did not normally do that, but he was determined that there would be no interruptions for them that evening. As he swiped the screen, he saw that it was a wise tactic as a series of text notifications filled the screen, all from one person.
"Unbelievable," McGee scoffed as he began clearing the messages, which drew Abby's attention. "These are all from Tony. He appears to be text-singing. I think it's the theme to Scooby-Do with a few words changed."
"Let me see," Abby said, worming under his arm and resting her head on his chest to take a look at the string. "McGoo, McGoo, McGoo, where you? I need a text from you now. Uh, yeah. He's lonely and needs to hear from you—he comes right out and says it. You should call him."
"At 2 a.m.?" McGee yawned. "He sent these at 11:30. He was probably just getting in from a movie and was bored before going to bed and thought he'd intrude on our evening at both the beginning and the end. I'm not calling him while I'm in bed with you."
"I could go downstairs if you need some alone time with him," she challenged with a smirk. "Tim, just send him a text let him know you got those and that he's your best man. Come on. He's your friend."
"He's my friendly torturer," McGee scoffed.
"He's your best friend," she said forcefully.
"I thought that was you," he remarked and smiled as she scowled in his victory but eased up a bit. "Fine, he's one of my best friends. I'm still allowed a break from being his target. I know Tony has certain juvenile needs, and my job is to weather them in order to keep his ego sufficiently inflated so he can get through the day, but I draw the line at opening myself up to him grilling me about what happened after we left the office and whether we christened the elevator."
Abby offered him a frank expression that quickly shelved his resistance. Her relationship with Tony was stridently different than McGee's. He suspected they both loved the guy in their own ways, it was hard not to. Kate was right years earlier when she referred to him as an x-rated Peter Pan. So, with a sigh of resignation, McGee tapped a few letters into message then hit send. He fully intended to put the phone back on the stand and go to sleep, but it flashed to life with an incoming call almost instantly.
"For the record, I regret answering this," McGee gnashed his teeth before activating the device in speakerphone mode. "Tony?"
"McLordOfTheRing," Tony's voice boomed over the line sounded wide awake, inquisitive, and out of breath. "How goes it, partner? Good evening or did you need a shoulder to cry on? I'm guessing it's more one than the other since you're texting me for company after 2 a.m."
McGee turned his head and looked knowingly and maddeningly at Abby who shrugged apologetically as she bit her knuckle.
"Everything's fine," McGee replied. "I sent you the message so that you didn't spend the weekend planning to suck up to me next week just so you can be named my best man. Well, that and your messages just sounded desperately lonely. It was suggested that I should check in to see if you were okay."
"Okay?" Tony crowed breathlessly. "I am so much better than okay. Do you know what my TV can do now? I found this amazing game that's like Candy Crush, but you play against others using your remote and it acts like a hand device on a Wii. This is amazing. I just got this whole cardio mixed with jujitsu sort of workout. Actually, I think I should stop now. I may have pulled something on that last lunge to get the extra points."
"Lunge?" McGee repeated. "You're lunging to score points?"
"Hey, every little bit helps," he huffed in a tired fashion. "You'll thank me for that little tidbit of insight later. After all, Miss Scuito is a woman who knows about the wild side."
"Uh, Tony," McGee attempted to interrupt but found his mouth covered by Abby's hand as she shook her head forbidding him to speak.
"I mean it, Tim," Tony continued. "If you want to keep her happy, you're going to have to do more than you did in the past, which I think the record shows wasn't much. You gotta up your game, McLover. Bring something new something she hasn't seen or done before. Good luck on that."
Abby's huff, entertained more than insulted, sounded loudly in the room and struck the voice on the phone silent.
"And just what do you think wouldn't be new to me, Tony?" she asked.
There was a pregnant pause while Abby stared at the phone and McGee bit his lip to keep from guffawing. It had taken the entire time he had known both his fiancée and his partner for this to happen, but finally, FINALLY, Tony got caught being… well, Tony to him in front of Abby. While getting engaged was still McGee's favorite part of the previous 24 hours, this moment was a not too distant second.
"Abby?" Tony asked hesitantly. "McGee, you couldn't tell me she was in the room?"
"Timmy can't talk right now," she said as she kept a hand over his mouth. "So, what was that you were saying about my wild side?"
"Figure of speech, Abs," Tony chuckled nervously. "Just jerking your McBoyToy… Sorry, your McFiancé around a bit. Keeping him on his toes for you, you know, making sure he doesn't take you for granted and become boring. It's just what a best man is supposed to do. Isn't it?"
Both McGee and Abby heard the desperation and guilt in Tony's voice. Their grins at his awkwardness and discomfort were identical but had polar opposite foundations. Abby thought it was cute he felt so embarrassed at getting caught. McGee appreciated the fear in his voice as he realized he was busted.
"Uh huh," she said. "What is it that you think I would find boring?"
"Oh, well, you know," Tony struggled. "Uh… Hey, did you see the time? Is it really that late? Wow. I can't believe McGee called me at this hour when he's obviously spending time with you. That's a little insensitive of him. I'll definitely talk to him about that on Monday. If that's…. Um… That's… that's… Okay. How much trouble am I in with you right now, Abby?"
"None," she relented as she chuckled warmly. "You're lucky. I had a fabulous evening. Nothing is going to change my mood."
"Oh, thank god," Tony muttered. "I mean, hey, that's great you two had fun. But seriously, are you sure you want to marry McGee? What's that about? And telling Gibbs you were planning this? Gibbs and marriage is like putting a curse on the nuptials before it happens. Are you two nuts?"
"Keeping secrets from Gibbs is always a bad idea," Abby remarked.
"Valid point," Tony noted. "Congratulations again. I don't want to know what you and McGeek did once you left the office, especially if it makes you use the word fabulous to describe it."
"Oh Tony," Abby cooed seductively. "It was cosmic."
She disconnected before he could react or respond. McGee retrieved his phone from her fingers and shook his head as she cuddled close to him again.
oOoOoOo
Muddy Waters Café
Georgetown
Sunday's did not usually find Gibbs far from home. They usually found him in the basement, but when duty called he answered.
In this instance, the duty was unofficial and the target of his duty was a lawyer who did not seem to be keeping up his end of the bargain. Gibbs tracked Parsons to his normal Sunday spot and cornered him in a booth.
"I take it you're not here to try the egg white omelet," Parsons quipped as Gibbs slid into the booth seat opposite him while wearing a scowl. "Allow me to let you in on how an above-board investigation—one that doesn't end up on OIG's radar for possible misconduct—goes. You do a lot of research. You do a lot of writing down of ideas and possibilities. You do a lot of planning and you do a lot of waiting. When the matter is politically sensitive and could compromise national security, it moves glacially slow. I will let you know as soon as there is progress worth reporting."
"Like whether you've found Carter Scott?" Gibbs asked with a strategic chuckle. "I'm betting my guy finds him before yours. Of course, that might be because your guy has spent too much time watching my guy, thinking he's a lead. You're smarter than this, Richard."
Parsons face grew stony as he put down his fork and sighed. He leaned his elbows on the table and offered Gibbs a frank expression.
"As I said, by the books investigations turn over every rock but we do it in a methodical fashion," he explained. "What I have now confirms, beyond a reasonable doubt, that the McGee family—those ilvign and deceased—are above reproach in every angle of this investigation.'
"You knew that before you started," Gibbs charged. "John McGee was a four-star admiral and the top candidate on a short list to be the Secretary of Defense before he went on terminal medical leave. He was vetted all the way back to his kindergarten transcripts. The guy was a pompous ass and a severely lacking father, but he never took a wrong step in his career or the White House and Department of Defense wouldn't have considered him."
Parsons nodded then sipped his coffee. The café was moderately busy and, in other circumstances, he would have worried about the wisdom of having this discussion in a public place. However, this was Gibbs. If there was one thing Parsons knew for certain about the man it was his ability to pick the right place and right time for effective action.
"All true," Parsons nodded. "That is in my report. As I said, no stone unturned, but also concrete admissible evidence to show as much. You can let Agent McGee know he no longer has to worry anyone will question his rather large purchase two weeks ago at Charleston Alexander in Alexandria. I do hope Ms. Scuito said yes considering what he paid for the ring."
Gibbs' mouth became a hard flat line. He liked Parsons—now at least. He understood the man was doing what the thought was right, but sometimes that apparently meant not sharing necessary knowledge. His compulsion to do everything by the book reminded Gibbs a bit of McGee when he truly was a probie. Thankfully, he learned more effective (and still passably legal) ways to get the job done with less formality and less time spent.
"He doesn't know where Carter Scott is, but what I want to know is why you were looking for him if you're so convinced that our inquiry into that cold case is irrelevant," Gibbs inquired.
"Your cold case is irrelevant," Parsons insisted. "Lt. Commander Scott is someone of interest in another part of this investigation—one I am not at liberty to discuss. Before you start giving me the Medusa stare and trying to make me crumble, I'll tell you this much: He's not a suspect. He's a material witness. Granted, his knowledge is about something for which the statute of limitations ran out long ago, but his knowledge is still useful in giving me the leverage I need to deal appropriately with a more recent heinous act. You can let McGee know he doesn't need to fear his friend was the victim of foul play. The man ran, Gibbs, and I'm sorry to say that is my fault. I moved too quickly and I scared him."
"You scared a Navy SEAL?" Gibbs questioned. "How? You just said he wasn't a suspect."
"He isn't," Parsons said. "He was originally a victim and that's all I'll say about it until I speak to Lt. Commander Scott in person."
oOoOoOo
Squad Room
McGee arrived for work in a chipper mood. His weekend had been oddly relaxing and laid back considering how it began. Abby had commandeered the coffee table in the living room to begin her planning. Penny spoke to them over the phone and announced she was catching the first flight back so that she would be no further than Bethesda on whatever date in the near future they chose. Sarah was pleased to be asked to be the maid of honor but was disappointed the wedding would be small. Her spirits only perked up when she was told she could choose whatever dress she wanted. Abby's brothers were ecstatic and vowed both would be there. Luca was especially pleased he would not be asked to give his sister away as crowds of any size made him nervous. Kyle was exceptionally pleased with the timing of the upcoming nuptials as he had recently joined United Planet, an organization similar to the Peace Corps but that did not require a 27 month commitment to living abroad. He was scheduled to leave for his 11 month stint in Burkina Faso just after Thanksgiving.
McGee's mother offered the first moments of less than total happiness and excitement regarding his engagement. After several minutes of hard questioning about whether he was rushing into this, she finally offered a worried but sincere congratulations over speaker phone and reached an agreement with Abby on the date. McGee thought that was the end of his mother's involvement in the planning until she called back that evening stating she had taken the liberty of arranging the officiant for the ceremony. McGee agreed without thinking then spent several tense minutes apologetically explaining the intrusion to Abby and getting her to agree to it.
After that, Abby tapped into what she cryptically called her secret planning weapon and secured a location and began working on the other arrangements. McGee respected the efficiency with which she tackled this task but saw it merely as another use for her forensic skills. She analyzed the needs; she synthesized solutions. While she did that, he was left with some covert planning of his own. Two out-of-ear-shot calls and a dozen more deleted text messages later and his part of the planning was complete.
Therefore, with the only that one rough patch involving his mother now sufficiently smoothed over, he went to work with a clear head and a bright outlook for the coming days. He sat at his desk with a slight grin on his face as Tony arrived for the day. Upon seeing McGee, he strode confidently to his partner's desk and gestured to his phone.
"Check your annual leave, McGroom," Tony bellowed. "We are finding a weekend to hit Vegas."
"No," McGee shook his head. "Not interested. You can be my best man, but I'm not going to Las Vegas for a bachelor party."
"Yeah, you are," Tony insisted. "It really is the best place for it. The trick is to time it just right and give you one last big hurrah. Actually, in your case it'll double also as your first hurrah, before you enter that bitter and boring wasteland that is known as the monogamy of married life. I figure we aim for three months before the wedding. It's a tried and true formula. See, with that much leeway, you have time to fully recover, do a thorough sweep to destroy all evidence, buy Abby sufficiently persuasive apology gifts and…"
"The wedding is in two weeks," McGee announced. "It's not a formal affair so Abby started and finished the planning yesterday evening. I verified with the hotline that Gibbs' team is not on call that weekend so that's taken care of as well. No time for Vegas. No interest either, but the timing thing is where I'll end this discussion."
"Two weeks?" Tony gaped. "No. You just got engaged yesterday!"
"We got engaged last week," McGee corrected him.
"Getting married just weeks after the engagement is… unacceptable," Tony fumed. "That's what foreigners do to get a green card. Neither you nor Abby need those. Oh, and you have nearly no time off on the books after being gone from… you know… the…."
"Getting shot," McGee offered without feeling any sense of fear or stress.
Tony grimaced and he offered an apologetic wince.
"Yeah, that, sorry," he said quietly then cleared his throat and spoke more loudly. "But my point is that you're burning what you've got left to take your little trip to bayou country around the holidays. How do you plan to take time off to go to Tahiti in two weeks?"
"Why would I go to Tahiti?" McGee asked mystified.
"Honeymoon, McVirgin," Tony scoffed and shook his head. "Tahiti, Paris, Rome, Curaçao, or wherever you are jetting off to after the I do's are done."
McGee shook his head and focused instead on his screen as it reported back his latest scrapes of not-precisely-legal peaks at the millions of faces caught on NSA cameras around the country and the results of running facial recognition software against those images in search of a missing SEAL. While doing something illegal in the form of hacking was not new to him, he still needed justification for himself. Although it appeared Carter was behaving like a fugitive, McGee refused to believe his friend was walking on the wrong side of the law. Finding him, he decided, was a way of helping him and (possibly) rescuing him from whatever he was hiding from—and that something was the problem, not his friend.
Or so he hoped.
But doing that while putting up with Tony's harangue was not easy.
"Abby and I aren't going a honeymoon right off," he informed Tony. "The wedding will be on Friday night, and we're going to work like normal on Monday. Since we already have plans to go to New Orleans to see Abby's family around Christmas that will be our honeymoon."
Tony scoffed and shook his head pityingly. He knelt down beside McGee's desk and speared him with a superior look.
"The Big Easy," Tony nodded. "It's fair, but not wildly exotic particularly since that's her hometown. For a vacation, it's fine but not for something like this. Trade in those plane tickets for something better, probie. Trust me. Family holidays and honeymoons do not mix."
McGee stared flatly at him as he noted, with frustration, that his search turned up no solid results yet again.
"And you know this from your extensive experience with both?" he wondered.
Tony winced at the tart observation. He stood up abruptly then sat on the edge of McGee's desk. He lowered his voice and folded his arms as he gave McGee a look of concern.
"Tell me what's really going on," he said in a conspiratorial tone. "What's with the rush to the altar? Weddings take a year or more to plan usually. Most people drag out saying the 'I do's' forever usually."
"We're not most people," McGee replied.
"I know that, but you are also not those kind of people—the kind that meet on a Thursday and marry on Friday," Tony said. "As your best man, I must be privy to all details. I'm like the wedding bodyguard."
McGee shook his head, regretting slightly his decision to offer Tony a spot in the wedding. In truth, there was no one else he would consider as his best man, but that didn't mean he would enjoy Tony's participation entirely.
"Actually" McGee offered, "you're more like the guy who makes sure my sister doesn't pick a fight with anyone at the wedding so I can have the night off from that job, and you're the guy gives a toast. Of course, now that I think about that, asking you to be the best man seems like a bad idea. I'm reconsidering your role in our wedding. I think maybe I should ask the original Tony DiNozzo, your father, and should reconsider even inviting you at all."
Tony scoffed and put a phony smile on his face as he jabbed McGee in the shoulder in a jocular fashion.
"Okay, I get it," he shrugged relented. "I do make fun of you from time to time, but do you really think taking away my rightfully earned title of best man will improve your chances that I won't be my witty and observant self at your wedding? Come on, McGoo. You're normally smarter than that."
When McGee suddenly grinned, Tony's expression went blank and caused him to look over his shoulder, expecting Gibbs palm to be dangerously close to his head, but he found the air space around them decidedly vacant of bosses. He threw a questioning jut of his chin toward the groom-to-be.
"I just realized that my mother and grandmother will be there to supervise both you and Sarah," he beamed. "They'll listening to your every word with rapt attention. Mom and Penny might even want to pre-approve whatever you say. I'll have my mother call you so she can let you know her expectations. Maybe Penny can have lunch with you early next week to talk about decorum and manners."
Tony blinked then swallowed hard. That, he told himself as he shook his head, was a hurdle for another conversation. The women of the McGee clan were a bit too feisty for him to handle en masse.
"Stop changing the subject," he demanded. "Tell me why you and Abby are taking the express lane. I'm serious, Tim. What's going on? Is everything okay?"
His expression was sincere—as sincere as Tony got early in the morning when he was prowling for something to keep him occupied until Gibbs arrived or a felony landed the team in the field.
"Hard to believe, but it's Abby's idea," McGee reported. "She doesn't want to wait. She wants to get married sooner rather than later, and while it surprised me, I have no objections to it."
As he spoke, his phone chirped signaling he had a message. He swiped the screen and read the text then smiled widely. His surprise for the wedding was now confirmed. He and Abby had agreed not to give each other gifts (in fact, they were going to request no one give them gifts), but that did not mean he could not arrange a surprise for her.
"Why are you smiling?" Tony inquired then gasped and pointed at McGee while nodding knowingly. "Oh wow. Is there a McBun in the oven?"
McGee leveled a flat gaze at him then returned to his computer with a scowl.
"I'm not going to dignify that with a response," he shook his head.
"There is, isn't there?" Tony gaped. "It explains everything. Out of the blue proposal…"
"We've been discussing getting married for a while," McGee said.
"Getting Gibbs' blessing, aka, he found out and made you do the right thing," Tony continued.
"Actually, Gibbs joked with Abby about an engagement," McGee said in a bored tone. "I was just a bystander."
"And now, the rush to the altar," Tony summarized still ignoring McGee's explanations. "I haven't begun to notice the telltale signs yet, but obviously that secret will be out of the bag soon. Didn't keep your little Probie tadpoles from swimming upstream, did you? I knew I should have had the talk with you. You know, just reading about safe sex is not the way to learn the proper…"
"Abby is not pregnant!" McGee snarled loudly and gained the attention of all eyes in the room.
He seethed quietly at his desk as he glared at Tony. He lowered his voice as he addressed his partner again.
"We are not rushing to the altar," McGee clenched his teeth. "She just doesn't see any reason for a long engagement nor do I. We are getting married at the Adam's House, in the Hayes Room on the mezzanine level, at 7 p.m. a week from this coming Friday. Be there half an hour before the ceremony and let Abby know by Thursday if you're bringing Zoe or not."
"No wardrobe requirements?" Tony asked striking his Sean Connery as James Bond pose.
"It's not clothing optional," McGee replied flatly, his face still red from Tony's needling. "No one is wearing a tux so if you feel insecure and need to make a spectacle of yourself by standing out, by all means do so."
"You're serious?" Tony inquired. "No tuxedos? No fussy bowties that have to match the bridesmaids… Hey, who is the maid of honor?"
He grinned salaciously, which raised a wave of red on McGee's face.
"My sister," McGee growled as Tony licked his finger then ran it over his eyebrows while purring like a lion. "That's it. I'm withdrawing my offer for you to be the best man and I'm not allowing anyone named DiNozzo at the wedding."
"No, hey, stop that," Tony chuckled and slouched apologetically as he jostled McGee's shoulder. "Come on. You know I'm joking. Twisted Sister is Abby's lieutenant? That's nice. A family affair. Only makes sense that I stand up for you. I'll be a gentleman. I will. So the ceremony and reception is at the hotel?"
"Yes," McGee said still slightly peeved. "It's just a small gathering with champagne, hors d'oeuvres and cake. Since it's a Friday night, it won't be long and no one needs to lose their weekend to attend."
"Isn't Abby Catholic?" Tony wondered. "Is that why you're not going the church route, because of the baby?"
McGee gritted his teeth but ignored the comment mostly
"She is Catholic, and technically so is my family, but religion isn't my thing and neither of us are huge fans of all their doctrine so there was no point in booking a church," he explained. "My mother arranged for Uncle Warren to officiate. The date conveniently works for him since his sails for the Med that following Monday, and Abby is not pregnant."
"Uncle Warren?" Tony questioned. "Your mother has no siblings and neither did your father. Where are you getting uncles? Is this another family secret? I thought we talked about this, McGee. Secrets are bad… and rude to keep."
"He's not legally our uncle, that's just what Sarah and I have always called him," McGee said. "He and my father were close friends for as long as I can remember. He's like family."
"A friend of your father's?" Tony repeated as he narrowed his gaze. "Your father had no friends other than people in the Navy, people who run the Pentagon, and people who currently run or previously ran the White House. How does that include a priest?"
"He's not a priest," McGee explained as he continued typing. "He's a chaplain."
"A Navy chaplain whose ship leaves for the Med on Monday?" Tony questioned then paused. "The Nimitz leaves Norfolk for the Med on Monday. Does Uncle Warren have a last name? Oh god, it's Curtis, isn't it? You have Rear Admiral Warren Curtis, Chief of Chaplains for the entire US Navy, conducting your wedding? The highest ranking religious official in the Navy is getting you hitched? It's a lot of brass for a low key ceremony, isn't it?"
McGee sighed and felt his embarrassment rise. He had no issue with Admiral Curtis officiating—he was touched by the man's offer. What bothered him was how it came about. McGee's mother, needing to exert some control on the swiftly approaching wedding, took care of that aspect of the ceremony. It wasn't precisely what Abby wanted, but McGee was grateful she gave in to his mother's demand without any raised voices or deeply hurt feelings.
"My mother arranged it," McGee explained. "He was happy to participate."
"I forget sometimes that you come from the equivalent of Navy royalty," Tony remarked. "Two generations of McGee admirals."
"Two consecutive generations," McGee corrected him. "There are actually four admirals and one commodore in my family's history."
"Right," Tony nodded then smirked. "And then there's you. The Elf Lord. Distinguished lineage for the baby Abby's not carrying."
"For the last time, Tony," McGee sighed. "This is not a shotgun wedding. She's not pregnant."
Tony leaned closer and lowered his voice again as he offered McGee a frank and knowing expression.
"As far as you know," he taunted. "What I've learned from you so far is that she's the one who rushed the wedding plans. Maybe the reasons she gave you were a cover, a rouse, a diversion. She might have information about a mini-McGee that she's holding back until she knows you're not going to panic and flee from taking the vows. Think about it, McDaddy."
McGee gave him a suffering look but shook his head. He knew Tony was just trying to spin him up for his own juvenile pleasure. If Tony truly believed his outlandish theory, he would start nosing around Abby, looking for information to prove the theory. McGee grinned at that. His fiancée would eat Tony for lunch once she figured out what he was doing.
"Since you're so interested in this, as my best man, you should look into it further," McGee said dismissing him. "You go find out the truth and let me know."
McGee then turned back to his computer. Tony might get a kick out of pushing his buttons, but he would rue the day he did so to Abby. As if sensing the danger, Tony's smirk died on his face and he returned to his desk and dropped the subject entirely.
oOoOoOo
Director's Office
Vance rocked back hard in his chair as his eyes bulged at Gibbs. His toothpick, the one he had proclaimed he kicked once again, was clenched tight in his teeth as the muscles in his neck corded.
"He said victim and material witness?" he questioned. "You believe him?"
"No reason not to," Gibbs shrugged. "Parsons is being tightlipped. He's got something more that we don't know about yet. Statute of limitations is a pretty vague clue. Whatever it is, it ran out for Lt. Commander Scott, but there's still a viable case out there he can help with."
Vance snorted and sat forward aggressively in his seat. He shook his head and glared at Gibbs.
"This was supposed to be a closed case about a shooting in Afghanistan," he charged. "How did we end up here? Or, let me rephrase, where the hell are we now?"
Gibbs shrugged. The case was pretty loose around the edges, but the picture was clearer to him now than it had been in a while. Vance was thinking about money and resources as much as political blowback. Gibbs was thinking about justice.
"It's pretty simple, Leon," he explained. "Forget the ranks involved. We've got drug runners who operate under a long established cloak of secrecy. Back in April, part of their operation got compromised when a contractor found a glitch in some computer thing that short changed the government. We got an anonymous tip to start digging. NCIS was looking into the computer problem as a security issue only our traffickers didn't know that. They thought their 30 year-old business was about to be discovered so they put out a hit—it's what a cartel does to take down threats to business."
Vance nodded, warming to the explanation.
"Only they jumped the gun because all we would have found was a faulty computer program that didn't do proper cross referencing of data on background security checks," Vance added. "The problem in the program let the traffickers get their mules into the camp, but you're saying that was just a lucky break."
Gibbs nodded. The simplest solutions were usually the right ones.
"So all hell breaks loose, and we bring in more sets of eyes than they wanted because their shooters messed up," Vance continued. "They were supposed to take the computer and maybe take out Marrovich since he was part of the chain for the money laundering side. It's a damn miracle we found any of this out at all. If Agent Bishop hadn't gone snooping in pointless records, we'd never have found that old NIS record."
"The one that led us to Porter," Gibbs said. "He's not the head of this thing. He's involved, but someone else is running the show. He got roped in somehow. Maybe it started on that Tiger Cruise. Maybe he was already a part of it."
"You still think he's a threat to McGee?" Vance asked. "Parsons seemed to think he was targeted all along."
Gibbs shrugged. He was of two minds on that. If he took one course, it left McGee as simply collateral damage because he was merely the agent in the room and when those calling the shots thought there secret was busted. If he took the second course, McGee was conveniently targeted by someone in the group who knew another member's weakness. That made his agent merely a pawn in a threat to someone else. When Gibbs explained the theories, Vance had an obvious question.
"I don't follow that," Vance said. "Hurting McGee is leverage on whom?"
Gibbs smiled sourly as he rose and walked to the door, feeling like he'd had this discussion a dozen times before—and he had.
"Admiral Porter," he said. "As for the how, I think that is something only Porter and Carter Scott can tell us."
"You've figured out what Scott is a victim of in his past and how he's a witness to something more recent?" Vance asked.
"So have you," Gibbs replied as he opened the door. "That sick knot in your stomach you want to go away is the same one I've got in my gut telling me to keep digging."
oOoOoOo
A/N: More to come…