"Where in the damn hell is McGee?"
Tony looked up with tired eyes from his never-ending stack of paperwork and glanced over at the Probie's empty desk. Looking up at a snarling, coffee-wielding Gibbs with a well-earned look of innocence, he shrugged his shoulders.
"I don't know, Boss. Maybe following a lead?"
Gibbs' nostrils flared like a pair of highly risky nineties jeans.
"By himself, DiNozzo?"
Tony had the grace to look sheepish. He was operating on little sleep and a dangerous amount of caffeine. Wracking his brains, he tried to remember the last time he had tossed a paper ball over in the general direction of Tim's desk and silently acceded it had been a long time. Hours, as a matter of fact. Even the disgustingly aromatic egg-salad sandwich the Probie had had for lunch couldn't have seen him on the can for that long.
"Would you like me to call him?"
Gibbs looked at him as if he had asked if he wouldn't mind accompanying him to the proctologist.
"Oh, I would," he drawled sarcastically. "I would like that very much, if it isn't too much trouble."
Resisting the urge to snap that it wasn't his damn fault that the golden child was AWOL, Tony fished his cell out his pocket and pressed speed dial number four. Trying to protect his sweet soul against Gibbs' vitriolic stare, he willed the damn genius to pick up already. With Tim having been on the team for nine months already, he was surprised when the phone merely rang and rang without answer. When it hit voicemail, Tony flipped his cell shut and looked up at Gibbs uncertainly.
"No answer, Boss."
Gibbs let out a bone shattering sigh before stalking off to his own desk. Snapping his cell off the cluttered pile of files, he put a call through to McGee himself, readying himself to dish out a serious ass chewing. When the voicemail line clicked on, he slammed the phone down in temper. He had drummed it into that kid from day one that he must never, ever be unreachable. Least of all in the middle of a working day when he should be damn well under his nose at all material times unless directed otherwise. Drumming his fingers irately on the desk he forced himself to remember that the kid's disappearing act wasn't really Tony's fault and adopted a more conciliatory tone.
"Any ideas where he could be?"
Tony shook his head and Gibbs instinctively knew he was telling the truth. Despite the relatively short period of time they had been working together, complete with teething problems, both his Senior and Junior Field Agents had recently taken to covering for each other for trivial misdemeanours where possible. Despite Gibbs dishing out generous headslaps for these acts of subterfuge, they secretly pleased him as he watched discreetly whilst Tony and Tim began to grow close to one another.
"When was the last time you saw him?"
Tony hesitated before swallowing deeply.
"Not sure, Boss. I've been reviewing these suspect files all afternoon and I… well I guess I wasn't really paying that much attention. He was definitely here just after lunch and that was the last time I distinctly remember seeing him."
Gibbs glanced at his watch. It was four fifteen p.m.
"So, he could have been gone for about three hours by now?"
Tony nodded uncomfortably.
"Yes, Boss."
Gibbs shook his head impatiently before flipping open his cell and trying McGee's number again. He was again met with an incessant ringing and it was just as he was about to throw the phone down that a light caught his eyes. Striding over to McGee's desk and pushing loose filing sharply out of the way, he looked down at the kid's ringing cell phone. The ringer and vibrate were off and he slowly shut his own cell. His impatience and annoyance were beginning to tinge with substantial worry. Tony followed his Boss over to the Probie's desk and felt a similar sense of worry dog him. McGee never, ever went anywhere without his cell. It was a cardinal rule. Acting on impulse more than anything, he reached over and yanked the top desk drawer open.
He and Gibbs stared down at the shiny NCIS badge and NCIS issued weapon silently.
"Well, this isn't good," Tony mumbled more to himself than anything. "This is not good."
Gibbs felt his mouth run slightly dry but remained in military control of himself.
"No," he agreed quietly. "This isn't good, DiNozzo. This sure as hell isn't good…"
"What do we do?"
Gibbs rubbed a hand through his hair and tried to think. There could be any number of innocent and reasonable explanations for McGee's highly uncharacteristic breach of protocol. Gibbs' brow furrowed. Tim was every bit the rule follower as Tony was the breaker. They were chalk and cheese. If either of the two were to take an impromptu trip off the reservation, he would have put money on it being Tony and would have simply prepared to rip the kid a new one on his eventual, safe return.
McGee was a different kettle of fish.
For him to be gone, without warning or explanation was about as usual as a snowy owl sunbathing on Bondi beach. It just wasn't him. Slowly settling on the explanation that some class of family emergency had arisen, Gibbs silently pointed Tony back to his desk and threw himself behind his own. Tim had rarely, if ever, mentioned his family but he was nearly sure he was pretty close with his little sister. Perhaps something urgent involving her had come up and his JFA was simply caught up in trying to assist.
"Ok, DiNozzo, this is what we're gonna do. We're gonna do nothing for another hour or so. It could be the case that there is some family emergency or something that McGee is attending to. If we don't have sight of him or word from him by close of business today… we'll start ringing around. For now, just get back to work."
Tony stared at him with clear lack of conviction.
"But Boss, this… this isn't the Probie's style. He would have left a note or something to let us know where he was going if it was something like a family emergency. Plus, why leave his phone, badge and gun? Surely he'd have at least brought his phone? I mean…"
He flushed somewhat.
"It's not likeI care or anything… I just don't want to get the blame for whatever the hell he's doing."
Gibbs, despite his worry, smiled a small knowing smile to himself. Tony, talented Agent though he was, would not make a very good Actor.
"You're not going to get the blame for whatever this is," he said quietly. "Though, as the SFA it is your damn responsibility to know where the JFA is when I'm called away for hours on end. I've told you this more than once since McGee joined the team. You are me when I can't be here. Because this is the first time something like this has happened, I'll let it slide. Next time, I won't be so generous. Do you understand me?"
Sighing, Tony nodded.
"Yes, Boss."
Gibbs gave a grunt of acknowledgement and was about to order Tony back to work when his cell rang. Glancing down at the number he didn't recognise; his heart sank when he remembered it could never have been McGee since the genius didn't have his phone.
"This is Gibbs."
His voice was snappish and curt but that didn't seem to phase the caller.
"Is this Special Agent Gibbs?"
Piercing blue eyes did a three-sixty degree turn to the ceiling in impatience.
"Isn't that what I just said?"
His impatient anger, stemming from worry, was instantly replaced by instinctive fear at the answering laugh. He had dealt with many a cruel man in his life and career and although some people swore evil was all in the eyes, he swore it was all in the laugh. The cold, soft laughter that wafted through his cell instantly set his teeth on edge and caused his stomach to clench painfully.
"Temper, temper, Special Agent Gibbs. I'm just trying to return some lost property to you."
Gibbs forced himself to remain calm and betray not an ounce of emotion.
"And what lost property would that be?"
There was no laughter this time, only an arctic indifference that chilled Gibbs to the core.
"It would be one Special Agent Timothy McGee."
…..