Harry, now shaven and shod, jumped on a bus to his office. Combing his hair one last time and straightening his tie, he entered the impressive building. Taking the elevator to the top, he took a deep breath and stepped into the boss's outer office.
"Hello, may I help you?" A polite female voice asked.
Harry turned and spotted the receptionist, a not-altogether- unattractive blonde. He thought he remembered meeting her once before. "Yes. I need to see Mr. Kilgore."
"Do you have an appointment?"
"I was told he wanted to see me."
"Name?" The receptionist asked, opening an appointment book.
"Harrison Ford," Harry sighed. Her eyes flicked up from the book, as if she were about to tell him off for joking around. Hiding a smile, she flipped several pages before shaking her head.
"I'm sorry, Mr. Ford. There's no appointment for you in here."
"I work here. I need to talk to Mr. Kilgore about the Yarrow case."
"We have no employees by the name of Harrison Ford, sir. Trust me, I'd remember," she smiled politely but coldly. He was not going to get any farther with her.
Nodding his thanks, he stepped back into the elevator, suddenly cold. Punching the button for his floor, he hurried out of the elevator and collided with a solid body.
"Hey, watch it!" a familiar voice said angrily.
"Peter?"
The man scrutinized Harry carefully. "Do I know you?"
"Peter, it's me. Harry."
"Harry...?" Peter inquired.
"Ford."
"Sorry, I don't know anyone by that name." Peter stepped around Harry and closed the elevator. Harry stood, dejected and bewildered, for a few moments before remembering why he was there in the first place. He walked quickly, resisting the urge to run, to his office. Or what had been his office.
"Who are you?" he asked rudely, bursting in on the new occupant.
"Timothy Burke," the man answered, coming around his desk. "Do you have an appointment, Mr....?"
"No," Harry said shortly. "Why are you in my office?"
"I'm sorry, your office? I've had this office for a year. Janice!" he called out the door. A woman poked her head in the door.
"Yes, Mr. Burke?"
"Could you please escort this gentleman out? He seems to be a bit confused."
"I'm not confused! This is my office! I work here! I'm working on the Yarrow case! Let go of me!" Harry shook off the secretary's hand.
"Excuse me, sir," Burke said calmly. "I don't know who you are or why you've come here. But I can assure you, this is my office and I am working on the Yarrow case. If you do not leave with Janice right now, I will have no choice but to call security." He picked up the phone threateningly. Harry put up his hands in a gesture of surrender.
"Fine. All right. I don't know what kind of sick joke this is, but I'll play along. I'm leaving now, okay?" He stalked out of the office, almost shaking with anger and confusion. What's going on? Where is my life?
Reaching the street, he looked around. What was he supposed to do now? No apartment, no job. Dazed, he started walking. He didn't know where he was going, and it didn't really matter. Was this all some kind of joke? It couldn't be; there were too many variables, too much complexity. Whoever had orchestrated the joke couldn't possibly have thought of everyone he would talk to. Everyone he had talked to...Tony! Harry dug in his pockets for the card and read the address. That's not too far from here, he thought. What the heck? It's not like I've got anything else to do.
With a new sense of purpose, he set out for NCIS Headquarters. Arriving at the address, he saw a fairly large red brick building with a simple sign out front reading 'NCIS'. He took a deep breath and walked in the front door. Obtaining a visitor's pass from the front desk, he asked where he might find Tony DiNozzo. The receptionist pointed him upstairs.
Exiting the elevator, he looked around nervously. This appeared to be the hub of the office; people were streaming back and forth, carrying files and chatting about cases. Gulping, he stepped into the fray. How would he ever find Tony in this? He started wading in one direction, any direction, hoping it would be the right one. He caught snatches of conversations from several people along the way.
"...evidence not sufficient..."
"...found in an elevator."
"DNA matches..."
"...and oh, man, was she hot!" a familiar voice broke through the babble.
"Tony!" Harry called, searching for the source of the voice.
"Hey, Harry, what's up? Decided to come by after all?" Tony sat at a desk in a small cubicle. Nearby was an attractive brunette who looked as if she were trying to block out Tony's voice.
"Yeah," Harry answered. "Listen, something really weird happened at my office – "
"DiNozzo, who is this?" a gruff voice interrupted. Tony grinned, mouthing, 'Sorry, Harry.'
"This, boss, is Harrison Ford," he crowed. Harry thought he saw the brunette snicker.
"DiNozzo..." the voice threatened.
"I'm serious, boss! Harry, meet my boss, Special Agent Gibbs."
Harry turned around slowly. The voice did not sound friendly. He was startled by what he saw. "Holy cow, Mark Harmon! My sister's crazy about you. Say, do you think I could get an autograph for..." he trailed off. The man did not look happy.
"What is he talking about, DiNozzo?" Harry bristled. Nothing like being talked about while you're right there.
"I, uh, don't...know, boss. Harry?" Tony was starting to sound a bit concerned, as if reconsidering inviting the shoeless man into his apartment earlier.
Harry thought fast. He had no clue what was going on here, but he decided he'd better play along if he wanted to find out. "Oh, um, sorry. I...you...look like a movie star I...uh...saw once. Sorry," he repeated.
Gibbs looked at Harry for a long moment, sizing him up, before sitting at his desk. "Why are you here, Mr. Ford?"
"I'm defending Captain Yarrow."
"You are?"
"Yes," Harry said curtly. He didn't much like this Gibbs questioning everything he said.
"What happened to Timothy Burke?" Gibbs asked matter-of-factly.
"Nothing. We're working together," Harry lied smoothly.
"Really."
"Really." Harry met Gibbs' eye fearlessly. He was a lawyer, for Pete's sake, he could bend the truth with the best of them.
"Can I see some ID?"
"Sure. Here, my driver's license." Harry was nearing his boiling point. That Gibbs had some nerve. Gibbs checked it over, then handed it back.
"Tony, take Mr. Ford to Abby. Tell him what we have."
"C'mon, Harry. I think you'll like Abby." Harry dutifully followed Tony from the area.
"Kate," Gibbs said quietly when they were gone. "Do a full background check on him. Something's not right."
"Got it." Kate began typing furiously. An hour later, she frowned and muttered, "That's odd..."
"What's odd?" Gibbs asked, not missing a trick.
"You said his driver's license was Maryland, right?" Gibbs nodded. "Well, no one named Harrison Ford has a driver's license in Maryland. And that's not all. I estimated his age to be thirty. Even with a three-year margin of error on either side, there was no one born in the US by the name of Harrison Ford in that time. I also checked the Maryland and Virginia bars. Not there, either."
"So Mr. Ford has a false driver's license and is impersonating an attorney. Those are some serious charges."
"You really think he's lying? He seemed like such a nice guy."
Gibbs gave her a look, as if reminding her of the last 'nice guy' with 'kind eyes'. "Kate, either he's lying or – "
"Or he doesn't exist."
"Hello, may I help you?" A polite female voice asked.
Harry turned and spotted the receptionist, a not-altogether- unattractive blonde. He thought he remembered meeting her once before. "Yes. I need to see Mr. Kilgore."
"Do you have an appointment?"
"I was told he wanted to see me."
"Name?" The receptionist asked, opening an appointment book.
"Harrison Ford," Harry sighed. Her eyes flicked up from the book, as if she were about to tell him off for joking around. Hiding a smile, she flipped several pages before shaking her head.
"I'm sorry, Mr. Ford. There's no appointment for you in here."
"I work here. I need to talk to Mr. Kilgore about the Yarrow case."
"We have no employees by the name of Harrison Ford, sir. Trust me, I'd remember," she smiled politely but coldly. He was not going to get any farther with her.
Nodding his thanks, he stepped back into the elevator, suddenly cold. Punching the button for his floor, he hurried out of the elevator and collided with a solid body.
"Hey, watch it!" a familiar voice said angrily.
"Peter?"
The man scrutinized Harry carefully. "Do I know you?"
"Peter, it's me. Harry."
"Harry...?" Peter inquired.
"Ford."
"Sorry, I don't know anyone by that name." Peter stepped around Harry and closed the elevator. Harry stood, dejected and bewildered, for a few moments before remembering why he was there in the first place. He walked quickly, resisting the urge to run, to his office. Or what had been his office.
"Who are you?" he asked rudely, bursting in on the new occupant.
"Timothy Burke," the man answered, coming around his desk. "Do you have an appointment, Mr....?"
"No," Harry said shortly. "Why are you in my office?"
"I'm sorry, your office? I've had this office for a year. Janice!" he called out the door. A woman poked her head in the door.
"Yes, Mr. Burke?"
"Could you please escort this gentleman out? He seems to be a bit confused."
"I'm not confused! This is my office! I work here! I'm working on the Yarrow case! Let go of me!" Harry shook off the secretary's hand.
"Excuse me, sir," Burke said calmly. "I don't know who you are or why you've come here. But I can assure you, this is my office and I am working on the Yarrow case. If you do not leave with Janice right now, I will have no choice but to call security." He picked up the phone threateningly. Harry put up his hands in a gesture of surrender.
"Fine. All right. I don't know what kind of sick joke this is, but I'll play along. I'm leaving now, okay?" He stalked out of the office, almost shaking with anger and confusion. What's going on? Where is my life?
Reaching the street, he looked around. What was he supposed to do now? No apartment, no job. Dazed, he started walking. He didn't know where he was going, and it didn't really matter. Was this all some kind of joke? It couldn't be; there were too many variables, too much complexity. Whoever had orchestrated the joke couldn't possibly have thought of everyone he would talk to. Everyone he had talked to...Tony! Harry dug in his pockets for the card and read the address. That's not too far from here, he thought. What the heck? It's not like I've got anything else to do.
With a new sense of purpose, he set out for NCIS Headquarters. Arriving at the address, he saw a fairly large red brick building with a simple sign out front reading 'NCIS'. He took a deep breath and walked in the front door. Obtaining a visitor's pass from the front desk, he asked where he might find Tony DiNozzo. The receptionist pointed him upstairs.
Exiting the elevator, he looked around nervously. This appeared to be the hub of the office; people were streaming back and forth, carrying files and chatting about cases. Gulping, he stepped into the fray. How would he ever find Tony in this? He started wading in one direction, any direction, hoping it would be the right one. He caught snatches of conversations from several people along the way.
"...evidence not sufficient..."
"...found in an elevator."
"DNA matches..."
"...and oh, man, was she hot!" a familiar voice broke through the babble.
"Tony!" Harry called, searching for the source of the voice.
"Hey, Harry, what's up? Decided to come by after all?" Tony sat at a desk in a small cubicle. Nearby was an attractive brunette who looked as if she were trying to block out Tony's voice.
"Yeah," Harry answered. "Listen, something really weird happened at my office – "
"DiNozzo, who is this?" a gruff voice interrupted. Tony grinned, mouthing, 'Sorry, Harry.'
"This, boss, is Harrison Ford," he crowed. Harry thought he saw the brunette snicker.
"DiNozzo..." the voice threatened.
"I'm serious, boss! Harry, meet my boss, Special Agent Gibbs."
Harry turned around slowly. The voice did not sound friendly. He was startled by what he saw. "Holy cow, Mark Harmon! My sister's crazy about you. Say, do you think I could get an autograph for..." he trailed off. The man did not look happy.
"What is he talking about, DiNozzo?" Harry bristled. Nothing like being talked about while you're right there.
"I, uh, don't...know, boss. Harry?" Tony was starting to sound a bit concerned, as if reconsidering inviting the shoeless man into his apartment earlier.
Harry thought fast. He had no clue what was going on here, but he decided he'd better play along if he wanted to find out. "Oh, um, sorry. I...you...look like a movie star I...uh...saw once. Sorry," he repeated.
Gibbs looked at Harry for a long moment, sizing him up, before sitting at his desk. "Why are you here, Mr. Ford?"
"I'm defending Captain Yarrow."
"You are?"
"Yes," Harry said curtly. He didn't much like this Gibbs questioning everything he said.
"What happened to Timothy Burke?" Gibbs asked matter-of-factly.
"Nothing. We're working together," Harry lied smoothly.
"Really."
"Really." Harry met Gibbs' eye fearlessly. He was a lawyer, for Pete's sake, he could bend the truth with the best of them.
"Can I see some ID?"
"Sure. Here, my driver's license." Harry was nearing his boiling point. That Gibbs had some nerve. Gibbs checked it over, then handed it back.
"Tony, take Mr. Ford to Abby. Tell him what we have."
"C'mon, Harry. I think you'll like Abby." Harry dutifully followed Tony from the area.
"Kate," Gibbs said quietly when they were gone. "Do a full background check on him. Something's not right."
"Got it." Kate began typing furiously. An hour later, she frowned and muttered, "That's odd..."
"What's odd?" Gibbs asked, not missing a trick.
"You said his driver's license was Maryland, right?" Gibbs nodded. "Well, no one named Harrison Ford has a driver's license in Maryland. And that's not all. I estimated his age to be thirty. Even with a three-year margin of error on either side, there was no one born in the US by the name of Harrison Ford in that time. I also checked the Maryland and Virginia bars. Not there, either."
"So Mr. Ford has a false driver's license and is impersonating an attorney. Those are some serious charges."
"You really think he's lying? He seemed like such a nice guy."
Gibbs gave her a look, as if reminding her of the last 'nice guy' with 'kind eyes'. "Kate, either he's lying or – "
"Or he doesn't exist."