Chapter 2

When Tim woke up on Monday morning, he felt amazingly energized for the new work week. While he would deny that he'd been in a bad mood ever since all the stuff with Rock Hollow had happened, he could admit that he really was feeling a joy that was more than he'd felt in a long time. Hopefully, Tony wouldn't really be paying attention. He didn't want to have to lie about his writing... but he was going to lie about his writing. He didn't want to deal with any degree of renewed irritation or probing about what he was writing. It was all going to be secret for as long as that could last.

But he was also going to see if he could sneak his photos onto his work computer so he could do a little brainstorming when he had some down time. Tony and Ziva rarely looked at his computer unless they had a genuine need. ...except when they thought he was being sneaky.

Tim smiled to himself as he made his morning coffee. Gibbs had a rule about that. If you have a secret, the best thing is to keep it to yourself. That was Tim's plan.

He ate a quick breakfast and then headed to work early, hoping that he could get the pictures transferred before Tony and Ziva were even there.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

They were sitting together in a car outside a simple walk-up apartment building. As they watched, a man walked out.

"There he is."

"Are you sure that's him?"

"Absolutely."

"Who is he?"

"We don't know. Yet." He took a photo as the man got into a very nice car and then drove away. "We will."

"No one is supposed to know that I'm here. If the feds find out..."

"We'll figure out what he was doing and we'll stop him."

"What if he's already talked?"

"No one's looking for us yet, are they?"

"Not as far as you know."

"No one is looking yet. That means he hasn't talked."

"Yet."

"We'll take care of it."

"You'd better."

"We will."

Then, the man at the wheel put the car in drive and drove away.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Tim uploaded the pictures onto his computer and put them in a folder on his desktop, knowing that Tony would only notice if he called it something obvious. Once they were in that safe spot, he looked around. No one had arrived yet. So he put the memory card in the top drawer of his desk so that it didn't get damaged if he had to run around and started to look through them. He jumped to the Baltimore photos first simply because he didn't know Baltimore as well and if he was going to set his book there, he should have a better sense of it than he did.

As he looked through them, he was more and more liking the idea of setting the action in Baltimore. That Sparrows Point really seemed like a good setting for a big showdown. He'd just have to figure out how to get McGregor out there. Then, he looked at the last couple of pictures he had taken and saw the people in them. He didn't like that. It was possible that he could get some identifying features from them. He'd have to blur them out. No people to inspire him this time. Not a one, but he couldn't do that just yet. Not here at work. Maybe he should just delete the photos right away to make sure that he wasn't even subconsciously inspired by these people.

No, the picture is good. I just will make sure that none of my descriptions match these guys.

Then, the elevator dinged and Tony walked in. Tim quickly closed the folder and looked up.

"You're here early, McGee," Tony said.

"Yeah. I woke up early and just decided I might as well come in."

"Did you get anything done?"

Tim smiled and looked at the folder on his desktop.

"Not really."

Tony laughed. "Well, I guess it's still time on the clock."

"I guess so...but I won't say that very loudly. Just in case."

"Yeah, wouldn't want the wrong people hearing it."

The elevator dinged again and Ziva arrived. ...just as Gibbs came striding in as usual.

"Legal wants your reports on the Johnson case now," he said.

"What's the rush, Boss?" Tony asked, furrowing his brow. "I thought it wasn't urgent."

"It wasn't. Now, the family is claiming we botched the investigation."

"No way," Tim protested, standing up. "I spent hours on Ensign Johnson's computer, looking for something that would prove the family right. There was nothing there!"

"Then, write up your report and don't miss anything," Gibbs said. "Ziva, go and get Ducky's final conclusions on the cause of death. Make sure he didn't leave anything out."

"Ducky would not leave anything out," Ziva said.

Gibbs just raised an eyebrow.

"But I will ask." She looked at Tony and Tim with an irritated expression and headed for the elevator.

This was always annoying. It was particularly for Tim because Ensign Johnson's family had insisted that their son would never have committed suicide, that he would not have been involved in anything shady and that anything that indicated otherwise was clearly a lie. Tim had gone through every inch of the ensign's computer, phone and laptop. It had taken him three days to get through it all and to have an official protest about it really rankled. Plus, he would have to spend even more time writing up his report than Tony or Ziva would simply because he'd done so much. He'd got a start on it last week, but a new case had taken up the time and, as Tony had said, it hadn't seemed urgent.

Tim shook his head. So much for getting some extra time to look at the photos today. His real job would definitely be taking precedence. All day long.

And unfortunately, it really was all day because, important or not, they still had other work to do. Legal was constantly asking if they were done yet, and they still had to get other work. Because Tim's report was so much more detailed, Gibbs left him working when it was possible, but Tim was out for two hours with Ziva conducting interviews on their current case. He worked on his report through lunch, although Abby did a lunch run for all of them. Tony and Ziva finished their reports, but Gibbs had told Tim to put in all the details so that the family couldn't claim he hadn't done enough. Tim understood the reasoning, but at the same time, he resented that he had to do the same work twice, basically, just to make someone else feel better.

Then, in the afternoon, the network went down and no one was getting work done. Gibbs was extremely irritated and Legal was still hounding them even though they knew that there was nothing anyone could do about it.

Except for IT. They started working on the network and begged Tim to help them, not because they couldn't do it without him, but most people were less likely to harangue Tim for not working enough when this wasn't even his actual job. So for a couple of hours, Tim was helping get the network back up and running. Finally, at six, it was back, and Tim was back at his computer. By seven, Legal was gone but Tim wasn't quite finished.

"You want us to wait for you?" Tony asked.

"No," Tim said, shaking his head. "My brain is fried anyway. Once I finish, I'm going to head home and sleep. This is enough to make me want to never look at a screen again."

Ziva laughed. "That will only last for a day."

"If that," Tony added.

"You're right, but I'll just see you guys tomorrow."

"Very well," Ziva said. "Good luck."

"Thanks."

Tim smiled but then got back to work, knowing that he had a lot to do but the end was actually in sight.

"Done, McGee?"

Tim jumped. Gibbs had appeared out of nowhere.

"Another hour, Boss, and I'll be done. I'll stay and get it finished so that Legal has everything in the morning."

Gibbs nodded and then left. Tim went back to work and got it all done. Finally. He sent the file to Legal, leaned back in his chair and stretched. That had been intense and irritating.

But he was free. He could go home and enjoy an uneventful night. It sounded wonderful. He wouldn't even work on his book. He'd just go home, eat and go to bed.

Well, maybe he'd work on it just for a moment. Before he logged off, Tim decided to open up the photos once more, just to give him a little pick-me-up after the miserable day. And he was happy to find that just looking at the photos made him feel better. He still had that excitement about getting to write again. He looked through them quickly, smiled at the prospect and then shut everything down and left the building.

He had just reached his car when he realized that he'd forgotten to grab the memory card so that he could put it back into his camera. Oh, well. It would still be there tomorrow. He could get it then. Nothing to be too concerned about.

He felt a feeling of relief as he got into his car and drove home.

When he got there, he grabbed his stuff and hurried up to his apartment. He opened the door, tossed his bag to the side, turned to put his gun away and then stopped as he turned on a light. He looked around feeling a deep disquiet.

His apartment was a complete mess. His computer parts were scattered all over the floor. His books had been pulled off the shelves. The drawers of his writing desk were pulled out. His computer wasn't damaged, but it was clear that someone had been searching through his stuff there as well. Everything was shuffled around. Searching. This wasn't a case of someone just destroying things for fun. It also wasn't a robbery because his computer was top-of-the-line and a thief would have taken it. But it was there. Undamaged. Someone was looking for something specific. That made him extremely nervous. For a wild moment, he was afraid that it was Landon Gray or that someone else had realized he was getting ready to write again. But he instantly dismissed that as ridiculous. No. This wasn't about that.

But it was still extremely worrying. Instead of putting his gun away, he held it tightly in his hand and took a step forward, eyes darting around to see any sign of the invader. He stepped far enough forward that he could see into the bedroom. It was in the same state of disarray. The drawers were pulled out, his clothes scattered all over the room. Everything had been pulled out from under his bed as well. It was likely that the bathroom was the same.

Instead of walking any further into the apartment, he stepped carefully backward. Whoever had done this might still be in here. He had no idea how long his apartment had been like this. Most of the building was full of people like himself who worked all day.

He started to turn back toward the door, realizing that he hadn't locked it.

Too late.

He turned just in time to see a fist fly at his face. He didn't have time to defend himself or even to duck.

His face exploded in pain, he reeled backward, dropping his gun, and fell to the floor, blackness rushing in.