There's Always Tom Morrow (Season Two)

by SASundance

This is a look at how things might have gone if the MCRT had to face the consequences of ignoring protocol, procedures and the rule of law. In this universe, Tom Morrow holds his agents accountable. The series consists of tags from season 2 episodes, each tag is a stand-alone vignette. At the end of each tag, everything will revert to canon norms again.

3. Chapter 3

Series: There's Always Tom Morrow

Episode: S02 E03 Vanished

Title: You Can't Handle the Truth

Characters: Abby Sciuto, Timothy McGee, Caitlin Todd, Leroy Jethro Gibbs, Thomas Morrow, Anthony DiNozzo, Sister Rosita, Genevieve Taylor (OC), Suzanne Collier (OC), Lieutenant Baker (OC)

Beta'ed: Nope, so expect the errant comma and semicolon. It is when it's all said and done my bête noire.

Word count: 23,197

AN Warnings: Content in this one deals with body modification (tattoos and piercing) which may cause offense due to its graphic nature. The specific section occurs at the end of Part 4. I don't want to give out spoilers but if you read the first two thirds of the section you will work it out. The graphic discussion is proceeded by five asterisks so you can skip this part if you are easily offended and proceed right to Part 5.

Seriously, dear readers, the lengths I go to in researching stuff for these stories. Can you even begin to imagine what my search history looks like to the average or not so average observer?

Part 1

NCIS Probationary Field Agent Timothy McGee sat at his desk freaking out ever since he'd been informed that the director wanted to talk to him after lunch. He had absolutely no idea what Director Morrow might want to discuss with him. He ran a quick mental checklist of everything he'd done recently and couldn't think of anything that might earn him directorial ire or a need to censure him. The probationary agent wished that Gibbs was in the office to provide support should there might be some sort of a problem, though. Gibbs and DiNozzo were off carrying out security vetting at the Norfolk Naval Base (Tim's old stomping grounds) and they weren't expected back until tomorrow at the very earliest. So unfortunately, there was no help from that quarter.

It did seem to Tim that it was incredibly convenient that Director Morrow would want to see him when Gibbs wasn't around to watch his back. Still, despite Gibbs' rule about there being no such thing as coincidence, empirically, Tim knew that wasn't true, at least not always. Coincidences did happen, not everything was inexorably connected.

Investigating further, when he asked Cate if she'd received a summons from the director too, the brunette had shaken her head, claiming ignorance. She'd asked him disapprovingly if he'd been up to any mischief to which he protested his innocence quite emphatically, saying he wasn't DiNozzo. However, having sussed out his nervousness about the imminent interview, she proceeded to torture him with possible examples of why the director had scheduled a meeting with him, knowing she was getting under his skin.

Oh sure, he'd seen her do the same thing to DiNozzo. She'd find a weak spot and poke at it relentlessly and he'd thought it was hilarious, but somehow it was a whole lot more enjoyable when Cate did her psychological profiling thingy on Tony. He'd lean back in his office chair, a big shit-eating grin on his face as she went straight for his annoying team member's soft underbelly. Watching her plunging her rapier-sharp psychological sabre in and twisting it around just to watch DiNozzo squirm was priceless. Tim was now learning that it felt completely different when he was on the receiving end and she decided to use her uncanny ability to seek out his vulnerabilities and use them against him. It sucked and he wished she stop.

Tim knew he always folded under pressure when he was around stern authoritarian types, particular males. Probably because they reminded him of his father, Admiral John McGee, who treated Tim like he was one of his underlings, rather than his son. Tim never felt like his father was proud of him, he never felt good enough, even though intellectually, he knew his father loved him. He just wished that his dad was even a little more demonstrable, less disapproving and more accepting of Tim's differences.

Even as he thought about his difficult relationship with his father, McGee wondered how their resident profiler, who was so bad at profiling victims and suspects, could also be so adept at zeroing in on his and Tony's vulnerabilities. The disparity between her profiling in different contexts might be because she spent a lot more time with colleagues, so she had more time to observe them, as opposed to people who she profiled during investigations. As the probationary agent pondered this possibility, another explanation occurred to him, after all, he was a certified genius with an IQ of 147, and he probably should have thought of it earlier. She undoubtedly used her United States Secret Service contacts to gather intelligence on Tony and his background.

He'd heard scuttlebutt that DiNozzo's father was supposed to be some big-shot super rich businessman, so it was quite likely she'd gotten intel about him from the Treasury Department of the Secret Service. Cate may have resigned from the US Secret Service, but he was sure that she still had a contact or two in the agency. He wondered if she'd investigated Gibbs; he wouldn't put it past her, she was pretty damned ballsy after all.

She kind of reminded him of a younger version of his paternal grandmother, Penny McGee in some ways, although in other respects, they were like chalk and cheese. For example, his female workmate whined and complained about male patriarchy and how it made it ten times harder for women to succeed in the workplace than men. Yet after getting the plumb assignment, being on the protection team for the POTUS and a Secret Service profiler she'd thrown it all away for a man. Having a tempestuous love- affair with one of the carriers of the US Nuclear Codes broke fraternization regulations and when it was discovered, she'd been forced to resign before she was fired.

Meanwhile, Penny McGee hadn't just managed to break through the so-called glass ceiling in all its academic bigotry and condescension, she'd smashed it. And that was long before anyone else had even coined the now much-used glass ceiling phrase. Furthermore, Penny had done so all without the constant need to remind everyone about the gross disparity that existed when it came to gender equality which, arguably was even more pronounced back then. The simple truth was that she was good enough that she didn't need to remind people of her accomplishments or the obstacles she'd overcome along the way.

Of course, McGee hadn't known Caitlin Todd when she was at the apex of her career on the POTUS' protection team. Maybe she wasn't constantly lecturing her male colleagues about patriarchy and male dominance back then. It might be that her whole harridan-like hectoring of her male colleagues was a way of her dealing with her disappointment at having reached the pinnacle of her career at the Secret Service and then losing everything she strived for so unexpectedly. If she blamed her fall from grace on 'the system of gender biases and inequalities for females,' rather than her out of control libido and impulsiveness, it conveniently absolved her of personal responsibility for losing her job. Forced to start over at NCIS as a newbie investigator, which if she was being honest, she'd have to admit was nowhere near as prestigious a position was easier if she could blame on the system.

Not knowing if his hypothesis was accurate or not, he decided to do some subtle digging to validate or refute it. Abby and Ducky were obvious sources he could grill since both worked with Cate before she started working for NCIS. Plus, those two loved to gossip, although he could just imagine the veteran medical examiner correcting him firmly. 'I hate to be a nit-picker, young man but I'm far from just an average gossip. I am a raconteur par excellence.'

Deciding that he'd research his hypothesis as soon as he had an opportunity, McGee tried to focus on the cold case files they were supposed to be studying, except that Cate wouldn't stop her psychological niggling. Finally, Tim grew tired of her constant aggravating him so he'd grown a pair as DiNozzo would say. He told her in a voice that he imagined was authoritative instead of slightly quavering, as he feared, to shut up. He reminded her again, (as indeed he had with DiNozzo when they'd been finishing up the last case of the missing Marine helicopter pilot) that he was now a full-fledged member of the team, not a TAD that they could push around and he demanded their respect.

DiNozzo had just laughed at him and told him he would always outrank him, but McGee knew better. With his level of genius, Tim reckoned it was only a matter of time before Gibbs realised that he was much better qualified to be his 2IC than an ex-cop with a Phys. Ed. degree or a protection agent, who had left the USSS in disgrace. After all, he was the one who found Ari Haswari for the boss, not Cate or DiNozzo.

When he'd pointed out to Cate that he was now a genuine member of the MCRT and expected to be treated with respect, she'd nearly wet her pants laughing at his naivete and replied waspishly, "Oh you wish, Tim. That's so not how it works. You don't earn respect just for being appointed to a team, Probie. You have to work for it."

Part 2

Special Agents Anthony DiNozzo and Leroy Jethro Gibbs were headed down to the Norfolk Naval Base to carry out security-vetting of the employees of a small independent technology firm. The company had won the tender to install a component on the navy's radar systems aboard their submarine fleet. Tony snorted mentally, thinking it would have made a lot better sense to vet them before awarding them the contract but someone in the Department of Defence had screwed the pooch, as Gibbs would say, and forgotten about that pesky little step. Therefore, they'd been sent down to Norfolk by Director Morrow to rectify the lapse in procedure asap so that the refit could proceed. They'd likely be away from the office for two to three days, depending upon several factors and normally, getting to work on his own with Gibbs would be something Tony would relish but he wasn't looking forward to this assignment.

In the good old days (before Gibbs hiring of Todd and McGee) the former Marine and cop had essentially worked together as partners, but with the newest inclusions onto the team, their dynamic, unsurprisingly, had changed beyond recognition. Rather than being two equals, they'd morphed into an angry, uncommunicative, and extremely authoritarian boss and his flaky, skirt-chasing goof-ball subordinate who needed to be head-slapped to be able to concentrate on the job for five seconds. The dramatic change in their working relationship felt bizarre on so many levels and left Tony floundering as he tried to forge a new role on the team.

Oh sure, Tony wouldn't dispute that Gibbs had a lot more experience than he did as a federal agent since he'd only been a fed for the last three years. However, it was also fair to say that at least a significant amount of the time Gibbs had spent as an NCIS agent had been spent running around engaged in Black Ops and counter-intelligence work. So, in some ways, Tony had far more experience in investigation and law enforcement than Gibbs did. After all, in his six years as a cop he'd worked as a patrol officer, walked a beat, was a transit and a Vice cop, went undercover on numerous occasions and finally he was a homicide detective in a city with a very high homicide rate. All of which had enabled him to build up an impressive network of experience and valuable law enforcement contacts, too.

In his opinion, it was also their different skills sets and dissimilar professional experiences which had made them such an effective partnership. Tony thought about interviewing people as a prime example; Gibbs excelled at interrogating suspects through a combination of intimidation, psychological mind games, following his gut and projecting his infamous second B-for-bastard persona at the hapless individual. Meanwhile, Tony shone when he was communicating with witnesses and coaxing information out of people who were reluctant or didn't know that they possessed crucial information. Together they'd complimented each other's strengths and weaknesses.

As a bonus, there'd also been far less of the testosterone driven posturing and one-upmanship from Gibbs, which was no longer the case now that there were two additional agents on the MCRT. Back when it was just the two of them there'd been more give-and-take, even Gibbs' teasing had been far more good-natured, rather than being aimed at putting Tony down and making him an object of derision. Now, as far as Tony was concerned, Gibbs' barbed shots were intended to put him in his place and make it clear to him and the probies that his status was as Gibbs' dim-witted but ever faithful lap dog.

For DiNozzo, the former relationship of collegiality had been akin to other partnerships he'd had when he was a LEO (discounting Danny) only better, so he missed these old days with just the two of them. Even if the workload was brutal due to the smaller team, they worked like a well-oiled machine and Tony loved his job. Likewise, he was never worried that Gibbs wouldn't have his back when he needed backup and even now when it came to going into a dangerous situation in the field, he still trusted him.

Unfortunately, he no longer trusted his boss (Tony didn't think of Gibbs as a partner anymore) to have his six in other situations, especially when it came to the new agents or their training. Despite them working together for the last three years, suddenly Gibbs seemed to have forgotten that Tony took his responsibility for watching out for his teammates extremely seriously. Seemingly, Gibbs was now buying into the façade that Tony didn't take anything, including his job seriously and quite frankly, it pissed the former cop off. Maybe it was time to reassess his career on the MCRT.

Tony thought back to the start of their three-hour car ride to Norfolk Naval Bases – well it was normally a three-hour journey, give or take some but with Gibbs at the wheel, he usually managed to knock the driving time down to approximately two and a half hours. Although, Tony had heard the Gibbs lore (as passed around by gullible probies and FLETC graduates) that Jethro was able to arrive at his destination in a fraction of the time that it took mere mortals to drive the same distance. Granted Gibbs usually had some cockamamie short cut involving driving cross country at breakneck speed, but the fact was that the fastest route via road was approximately 194 miles on the I-64 E route and it was slightly over 147 miles as the crow flies, so tales of him arriving in 30 minutes were bullshit and the result of feverish minds. That or Gibbs had started the rumours himself to give weight to the mystique that he liked to project.

Firmly ignoring the vagaries of Gibbs' driving techniques after three years working together, it hadn't taken him too long once they'd gotten underway for Tony to realise that something was wrong. They seemed to have a honking big elephant riding along with them in the NCIS sedan which he'd signed out of the motor pool. He'd gloomily noted that the mechanic had once again assigned them a car whose shock absorbers were due to be replaced. It never failed; when they were headed somewhere on a road trip, the staff handed them the keys of a vehicle that were already RS. They knew Gibbs would thrash the car just to get to where he was going a few minutes sooner, often by taking it off-road in terrain that normally required four-wheel drive.

Anyway, DiNozzo decided that since the elephant was taking up the entire back seat and breathing heavily on the nape of his neck that he'd better address said pachyderm asap. It was no use putting it off since they had a long drive and he preferred to beard the lion in his den sooner rather than later. If he was going get a licking, verbal or physical he'd learnt at an early age just to bite the bullet and get it over and done with. Tony figured that was why people thought he had a death wish but dealing with Senior had taught him that the longer he let the old man stew in his juices the worse it was for him and he'd discovered the same rang true with Gibbs, too.

Taking a deep breath, he inquired gamely, "So, I gather I've done something to piss you off, Boss."

Glancing across at Tony longer than was prudent for someone responsible for a five-thousand-pound car in traffic, he said in his typically passive-aggressive snark, "Ya think, DiNozzo?"

Resisting the strong urge to roll his eyes and reply that he wouldn't have said it if he didn't think it, Tony merely replied, "Care to share, since unlike some people, I'm not psychic."

Giving him the laser-like glare that was supposed to incinerate him, Gibbs said. "Ya wrote Cate up for not following procedure when you were searching the quarters of the pilots, Newell and Barnett."

Tony sighed. As the senior field agent, he shouldn't have to justify this action to Gibbs. It had been perfectly straight forward disciplinary action on the part of a supervisor.

He clarified curtly, "Agent Todd notice steam coming from the bathroom, indicating that the apartment was probably not unoccupied as we previously assumed. At that point, she should have retreated from the threat and informed me that she believed we had an unknown person inside the apartment. Instead of following procedure, she chose to investigate by herself and she was ended up as a hostage."

Gibbs didn't seem impressed. "It was Captain Barnett and there was no harm done. It didn't warrant a written caution, DiNozzo."

Tony couldn't believe his ears. "Yes, it turned out to be Barnett, who didn't have anything to hide or any nefarious intend but that's not the point, Gibbs. If he'd wanted to, having gotten the drop on Todd, he could have snapped her neck or slit her throat with a K-bar before she knew what was happening. He is a MARINE; they are trained to kill as you well know."

Tony shook his head at Gibbs lack of outrage. "What if it had been someone other than Captain Barnett, a stranger with evil intent - she let herself get taken and lost her weapon. That is a damned serious slip-up."

"Sometimes these things happen, DiNozzo."

"Yeah, I'm well aware that sometimes shit happens, despite following procedures and people die or are injured despite everything but NOT this time. Agent Todd was a former secret service protection agent and she should be used to following procedures, so she has no excuse, yet she screwed up. The end result was that Cate was taken hostage and she surrendered her gun, both of which were totally avoidable situations, so I wrote her up. Hopefully, it might make her wake up and follow proper NCIS procedure next time. What's your problem?"

"I don't write people up, you know this. I handle things face to face. Ya should have had the balls to tear her a new one, not put it on paper like some asshole officer."

Tony knew what Gibbs was saying was the truth, he preferred to dress people down, usually delivering a tongue lashing right out in public, but the senior field officer also knew it would have been futile doing so. Cate would have just ignored him.

"Yeah, well I decided to make it official so she might take it seriously. Thanks to you telling her on her second case that I don't get to tell her what to do, only you do, that ship of a verbal reprimand from me being an effective training tool has long since sailed, Boss," he said with heavy irony.

"Which was why I wanted it to be on the record that I'd warned her officially about her ignoring procedure. That way should she ever get herself or someone else killed by going lone wolf instead of reporting to her partner and superior, I'd be able to show that I tried to train her appropriately and she'd ignored that training."

Gibbs was fuming and Tony knew that he was going to be in the doghouse for not following one of Gibbs unspoken but inviolable rules, but he didn't care. Todd was a loose cannon and a danger to herself and others if she didn't follow procedure out in the field. He was not going to apologise for doing his job to the best of his abilities. Being Gibbs' second was far from easy, with the man hamstringing his efforts to perform his duties at every turn and he'd basically left him with no other choice but to make it official.

"Don't ya think it is a bit rich citing Cate for ignoring procedure when you were drooling over some girly magazine. That's not exactly acting professionally, DiNozzo."

Tony smirked; it seemed that the Morality Police (aka Caitlin Todd) had been whispering in Gibbs shell-like ear, expressing her misplaced ire at the official caution. Not that he was shocked though. Honestly, it was just too easy to rile up Sergeant Blue Stocking, using one of her favourite hobby horses to do so.

The very first time he'd encountered the then secret service agent was when he'd been sketching the crime scene aboard Air Force One and she rather acerbically enquired as to why he was using such an antiquated method of collecting evidence as opposed to taking photos. He'd been quite tolerant of her 'question' at the time, since it was blatantly clear that what she'd known about crime scene investigation could fit on a postage stamp. So, he politely set out to explain why a sketch was necessary, in addition to taking crime photos of the body of the POTUS' dead football carrier.

To make his point more fully, Tony had picked up a magazine (which happened to have a bikini-clad model on the cover) to explain that without a frame of reference which a crime scene sketch would provide, there was no way to tell what the model's bust size was. Ducky had commented that his explanation including his visual aid had been inspired, but Cate had been highly affronted and decide right there and then that Tony must be a male chauvinist pig. Of course, she totally and conveniently ignored the fact that the magazine wasn't his which was in his humble opinion pretty damned pathetic seeing as she claimed to be a profiler.

As it was lying around aboard the POTUS' plane, he presumed that it belonged to the military personnel who served as football carriers or the Secret Service agents. For all he knew at that time when he picked it up, it could have been her damned magazine and she was a lesbian checking out the hot babes. And that would have been fine with him; he didn't have a problem with who people were sexually attracted to, with the caveat that they must be consenting adults. Like a lot of cops, Tony abhorred paedophiles but unlike some sections of law enforcement he was also broadminded about people's sexual preferences.

Of course, after spending very little time with her, it became very clear that Todd was quite homophobic, so he discounted that possibility that it might be her magazine. Not because she couldn't still be lesbian and in denial or still in the closet but because if she was, she wouldn't have left evidence of her preferences out in clear view for everyone to see. Anyway, the point was he utilized something which was lying around, he wasn't the one who brought it aboard.

Honestly appalled that a so-called profiler would rush to judgement so fast and be so blind, DiNozzo couldn't resist messing with her. He admitted that he hoped to teach her a lesson, so he played up to her prejudices, acting like the chauvinistic skirt chaser she'd instantly decided he was and then she'd never wavered from her flawed first impression. It was one of his character failings, having his old man tell him what a loser he was as a kid, how he'd end up in the gutter and drag his friends down with him, his younger self has revelled in living down to his father's expectations of him at the various schools he'd been exiled to after his mother died.

Likewise, Cate with her judgmental schoolmarm persona had equally managed to rub him up the wrong way, unlike so many other female agents and cops he'd worked with in his career. But Caitlin Todd was so sure of her superiority and skill and so transparent about her opinion of him that he'd reacted by showing her what she expected to see. He gloried in the knowledge that she was too stupid/bigoted/ inflexible to see beyond his masks.

The junior NCIS agent (who'd formerly protected the POTUS) had made it far too easy for him to bait her and play to her biases. It was child's play for the consummate undercover operative he was, and he played the role she'd cast him flawlessly. Although to be honest, he kept expecting that someday she would figure it out, but it seemed that self-confirming bias was far stronger than her profiling abilities. While Tony was waiting the Probie had joined the team seemed to have decided to take his cues from Todd. DiNozzo had taken some small comforted in the belief or hope that Gibbs was aware of his worth, although this conversation wasn't exactly easing his concerns on that score either.

Tony couldn't help smirking when he thought about Gibbs sending them to investigate the apartment of the two missing Marine pilots. They had no idea what had happened to the men and were looking for leads. Hints about their state of mind prior to the night flight, anything at all that might explain their disappearance including things that they might be concealing or even in hindsight with the discovery of Capt. Barnett, clues that the scene might have been faked.

As an incurable snooper by profession into other people's possessions and highly observant by nature, it hadn't exactly been a surprise to Tony that they found a girly mag in the living room. The pilots were young officers sharing an apartment, which some suspicious bigoted types might think was suspicious. In his experience it wasn't exactly unusual for guys to have that type of material lying around, despite Cate's moral and or feminist disapproval.

Tony had noted that it was quite common reading matter/ interior decor in the military. Given the institutionalized homophobia which existed in the armed forces and by extension, the law enforcement community, he'd often felt that it was used by a lot of guys to proclaim their straightness, regardless of their sexual orientation. Despite the don't ask don't tell dictum, anyone suspected of being gay faced an uphill battle for acceptance and career advancement, so it seemed perfectly logical that guys felt the need to project a façade of heterosexualism, even if they were straight and especially if they weren't.

Plus, that magazine was also a damned good place to conceal something that you didn't want people to see, effectively hiding it in plain sight, which was why he'd checked through it to see if there was anything there. Tony guaranteed many agents or cops would eye it with distaste or moral outrage like Cate but then disregard it as a place where someone might chose to hide something so of course he wasn't going to ignore it.

Yeah, okay, so he'd also used the moment to embarrass the shit out of Cate, playing up the sex-obsessed role she'd assigned him on their first meeting because maliciously he enjoyed highlighting her gullibility. Sure, it was a bit mean, but then she was the one that called him a pig and a male chauvinist yet then in the next breath was angry about him treating her as one of the guys and getting too comfortable with her. She wanted to be treated as an equal but also when it suited her, as Daddy's Little Princess, given the non-icky jobs and a room with a bath (not a shower because girls took baths) which meant that when it came to male colleagues, they couldn't win with her.

The fact that Tony had her back, ready to shoot Captain Barnett in the head when he'd captured her and disarmed her- despite her failing to alert him to an intruder in the apartment - never factored into her whining to Gibbs about what had occurred. Not that it exactly surprised the senior field agent, but it did disappoint him that she was such a piss-poor profiler that she'd failed to recognise he still had her six. Still, Tony expected that Gibbs would be able to see beyond her over-the-top feminist rhetoric and her moralistic outrage. Unfortunately, it seemed he'd been dead wrong about his boss' opinion of him for them to be having this conversation though.

As they sped along the Hampton Roads Beltway towards the tunnel, Tony had a major epiphany. Every time he pointed out Todd's mistakes or dared to give her a dressing-down, Gibbs took it as a personal criticism of himself, probably because he'd personally recruited her for his precious team. Tony wondered what Gibbs saw because he seriously doubted it was what he saw when he first encountered her. A profiler who failed to spot a serious threat in a journalist who was she had more than a nodding acquaintance with who'd turned out to be an assassin that attempted to kill the POTUS. She was also a secret service protection agent who ignored fraternization regulations and was therefore compromised, as in extremely vulnerable to being blackmailed. As far as he was concerned, Caitlin Todd was hardly in any position to be acting as the moral police.

Yeah, who wouldn't think she was a real find and want to hire her straight away before someone else snapped her up? Although, according to analysts who worked in Major Threat Assessment Centre, Gibbs told the director he wanted her on the team because she had balls. As if Gibbs weren't enough for any team!

Chuckling cynically, he said, "Well, you know me, BOSS. According to Cate, I'm just a dumb jock male chauvinist pig who can't keep it in his pants and doesn't give a crap what happens to my teammates. Such a screwup, I'm constantly surprised I can walk and chew gum at the same time, ya know."

Gibbs reached over and head slapped him.

Damn it, Tony was so fed up with this stupid habit Gibbs had restarted last year on that case of the corpse in the 314-gallon external fuel tank jettisoned from an F-14 Tomcat. Tony had told him in no uncertain terms when first recruited and Gibbs first tried that shit with him that he wouldn't tolerate it and he'd respected his wishes. Now, suddenly with the newbies on the team and needed to be seen as the omnipotent commander, the elective mute had started it up again. Tony might laugh it off, say it was a sign of Gibbs' affection, but it humiliated him, nevertheless. It made him feel incompetent and insignificant. Yet another sign that it might be time to look at transferring to a new team.

"Awesome come back, Boss," he said sardonically.

Shooting him a poisonous glare, Gibbs replied, "So if you are so professional, DiNozzo, explain about the shit ya pulled on McGee with the alien mask and the magnet? Ever heard of contaminating a crime scene?" the supervisory special agent drawled with heavy irony. "Not the time to be playing juvenile pranks on your team members."

"Aw, gee, what was I thinking?" Tony snarked, adopting a faux horrified expression al a Macauley Culkin, open-mouthed in dismay, his hands on his cheeks before becoming deadly serious as he defended himself.

"By that stage, it wasn't exactly a crime scene, Gibbs. Captain Barnett had been located and we were waiting on the forensics from the burnt-out cabin. Abby had already blackmailed McGee into taking a massive amount of unnecessary forensic evidence from the site to confirm her aliens made the crop circles theory. We had a surplus of trace evidence. While we were waiting around for Abby to determine if Captain Newell's body was in the fire, Abby had her 'Timmy' searching the cornfield for additional data for HER alien investigation which had nothing to do with the missing pilot."

He paused for breath, scowling before he said, "She was caught up trying to prove that aliens had created the crop circles. I was just trying to make a point with the probationary field agent that he was wasting valuable NCIS time and equipment gathering information which was non-work related. The truth is, he was carrying out unauthorised work because Abbs had bribed him by promising to show him her newest tattoo. I thought it might work better than a head slap, Boss. But you are right, I should have written him up instead."

"Why didn't you? You didn't have a problem doing it with Cate," Gibbs retorted, not appearing shocked or angry about Abby conducting her own investigations on NCIS dime. Tony was disappointed but not truly surprised by his attitude, Abby was his favourite after all.

Shrugging, he told Gibbs candidly, "Because if I had, your favourite forensic lab rat would have been in a whole heap of trouble. Abby would have been suspended if not worse and that would have pissed you off, but you'd probably have called in a marker or two and had it swept under the carpet."

They exchanged a look and Tony saw that Gibbs didn't disagree with his assessment of the situation, and it emboldened him to continue speaking his mind.

"I have extraordinarily little credibility as your senior field agent as it is and we both know who you'd have sided with, if I'd written her and it wouldn't be me, even though I was in the right. You not backing me up would have seen any remaining influence I had over the junior agents fly out the window and I would have been as effective as a eunuch at an orgy, so I made a decision to take a more creative approach to train and discipline them."

Gibbs scowled. "Thought you and Abby were friends."

Tony rolled his eyes; Gibbs didn't get it. And what did that have to do with anything anyway. Was he just supposed to ignore it if she didn't follow procedure or committed offences?

"We are friends, good friends but what Abby did was wrong on so many levels. Did you know that Ducky went into the lab to ask her to run a tox screen on a tissue sample he'd taken from an exhumed sailor from Arlington?" When he saw all the evidence that she'd coerced McGee into collecting for her 'research project' strewn all over the lab he thought she was overwhelmed and being overworked. He told her his case would wait a few more days."

Gibbs huffed irritably. "I know about the case, DiNozzo. The victim died 36 years ago. It was a cold case."

Tony rolled his eyes although Gibbs was scowling as he drove in his usually cavalier fashion, so he probably didn't notice. "Maybe it wasn't a current one, Boss but it was still a case nevertheless and every single one deserves our full attention and best efforts, regardless of how old it is. Juxtapose that case with Abby was trying to prove that aliens made crop circles and tell me that what she did was okay."

Gibbs didn't say anything, and Tony pressed his point home. "Ducky didn't know that she wasn't working on a real case, but she sure as hell did. Abs should've put her crap aside…well, she shouldn't have been running it at all. She should have sent it off to a colleague who investigates that short of paranormal shit, but she didn't."

The senior field agent took a deep breath and stated flatly, "She. Screwed. The. Pooch", placing a period after each word, the staccato delivery of the sentence intended to convey his absolute conviction to his superior.

"Still don't get why you have such a bee in your bonnet about it, Special Agent DiNozzo," Gibbs said, using his formal designation and making it clear to him who he would have sided with if it had come down to a choice.

"Because I've seen cases get thrown out of court because of improprieties in the handling and analysis of evidence. I reported one forensic scientist back when I was a Homicide detective for mishandling evidence and letting a killer go free. At the end of the day, our sworn duty is to the victims of crime," Tony avowed, disappointed that it should need to be said at all to the supervisory senior agent of the MCRT.

Now, as they started on the second half of the journey, having stopped briefly so that Gibbs could load up on caffeine, Tony wondered if he should be reconsidering Tobias Fornell's offer of a job at the FBI. He was growing terribly weary of Gibbs' favouritism and his interference in Tony's ability to be an effective senior field agent. Junior agents made mistakes, but it was how those mistakes were dealt with which determined if lesson were learnt and the inexperienced juniors developed into better agents.

Part 3

Director Morrow looked at Probationary Agent Timothy McGee sitting on the other side of the conference room table. His assessment of the young man who he'd had cause to observe since he'd been assigned to the DC office was that the probationary agent who was looking a bit pasty-faced frequently vacillated between appearing to be terrified of his own shadow (or Gibbs) and vexingly smug. Ordinarily, Tom wouldn't have a great deal of interaction with such a newly minted agent as Timothy McGee but several factors meant that the director had more opportunities to watch him and draw his conclusions about the agent who' only officially joined the MCRT three weeks ago.

Unlike many newly appointed probies, McGee had been hanging around the DC office as a TAD, as well as doing computer searches looking for Gibbs' nemesis Ari Haswari for almost a year. Of course, the other factor related to his familiarity with the young man was that SECNAV had taken a personal interest in McGee since he'd been hired, not all that surprising as his father was an Admiral in the United States Navy, as was Agent McGee's grandfather. Tom wasn't sure if Admiral John McGee had explicitly requested SECNAV look out for his son or if it was just the old boys' network in play. Nonetheless he'd been quick to inform Morrow who McGee was, back when he'd first applied to be an agent.

As he picked up a file, clicking the remote control which would record audio and video of this interview, Tom knew that he probably couldn't kick the probationary agent out of the agency, which was his preferred option given the absolute debacle that transpired during the case with the Marine Corps pilot. Termination was how he'd normally proceed under these circumstances if he was dealing with any other probie who didn't have the political connections of the McGee family. That said, while Tom may not be able to toss him out on his butt, he was damn well going to ensure the credulous young man received the biggest fright of his life, not to mention he intended on making Timothy McGee's life a living hell for the foreseeable future. Hopefully, it would be the wake- up call the fool needed and if it wasn't, then being transferred to San Diego should do the trick.

Sighing fatalistically, he started the interview. Clearing his throat, Tom stated, "The purpose of this interview is to investigate a number of irregularities alleged to have taken place during the investigation into the disappearance of Marine helicopter pilot Captain Todd Newell, and the co-pilot, Captain Patrick Barnett. The interview is being videoed in the presence of the Head of NCIS Legal Department, Joseph M. Landers, Head of Human Resources, Genevieve Taylor, NCIS Director Thomas Morrow and Special Agent Timothy McGee.

McGee looked a little concerned, but Tom didn't think that the true gravity of the situation had hit him…well not yet. He might expect his father would be able to sweep this under the rug, although, the director suspected that McGee possessed a robust opinion of his academic achievements and his computer prowess. So, in turn, he may be clueless that John McGee influenced his career prospects, albeit explicitly or indirectly. Still, Morrow couldn't help playing devil's advocate. If McGee wanted to give his father the middle-finger over expectations he'd follow the two previous generations and enlist in the Navy, why not apply for a job at the FBI or other federal agency that wasn't under the auspices of the Navy? At least, if he were in McGee's shoes, it's what Morrow would have done, rather than applying to the significantly smaller agency that was associated with the navy?

Tom also speculated that the probationary special agent may be under an illusion that Gibbs would just be able to make this whole situation go away. It was a distinct possibility since Gibbs appeared to be Teflon™ coated, in that no shit ever seemed to stick to him but if that was the probie's rationale, he was in for quite the nasty surprise. These transgressions being addressed at this interview were impossible to brush aside because of the nature of the case. It was a high-profile case which inevitably attracted a lot of attention from the media and therefore the bureaucrats. Gibbs could try to pull strings, but that wasn't going to work, not this time.

Tom decided to get the interview underway. He took a sip of his coffee before stating, "Probationary Special Agent McGee, we have your case report pertaining to the investigation into a missing Marine Corps helicopter pilot, Captain Todd Newell, and the co-pilot, Captain Patrick Barnett, who was later located but hadn't taken part in the training flight. Can you walk us through what happened when you arrived at the scene of the downed helicopter?"

McGee eyed the various individuals, deciding that Genevieve Taylor was the most sympathetic person in the room and as he began his account directed his focus towards the sylph-like figure of the manager of the HR department.

"Um…well when we got to the scene the helicopter was standing in the middle of what appeared to be a crop circle. It instantly became apparent that the crime scene, as we assumed it to be at that point, had already been contaminated by the Marines who are already investigating the scene. They'd established that the helicopter still had 60% of its fuel supply and was undamaged. It was at that point that Colonel Teague ordered his men to stand down."

McGee looked nervously around the room at the men and woman listening to his account and reached for a glass of water, sipping it slowly. Morrow felt he was using the activity to try to collect his thoughts.

The probationary agent began speaking again. "So, the Colonel reported that the helicopter took off at 2300 for a night proficiency flight but that the flight controller lost the signal 10 minutes into the flight. They were not notified of the helicopter's location by the local sheriff until just after sunrise."

He paused again before explaining what had happened when NCIS assume responsibility for examining the scene. "So, the boss…um I mean, Agent Gibbs handed out assignments. He told Agent DiNozzo to sketch and shoot the scene, Cate…um Agent Todd to bag and tag evidence from the helicopter, and he directed me to lay out a search grid of the cornfield. At that point, a Marine helicopter flew overhead as Teague's men launched an air search for the missing Marines.

Shifting around in his seat, McGee looked down at the wooden veneer of the conference room table, seeming to find it fascinating as he said, "So Gibbs talked with the Colonel about what was going on. Then Colonel Teague handed him a camera memory card which contained overhead photos of the site. Gibbs passed the photo card to me and told me to send it to Abby. Which I did before going back to the grid search, as ordered."

Morrow frowned. "But you didn't follow your supervisor's orders, did you, Probationary Agent McGee? In fact, you questioned Supervisory Special Agent Gibbs," Morrow stated flatly as McGee jerked in surprise.

Honestly, Tom reflected wryly, McGee shouldn't be so shocked that they knew. It wasn't just NCIS who were present, there were also Marines to bear witness to what was going down. It shouldn't come as a surprise that most, if not all the Marines took an extremely grim view of insubordination, especially when it was a brand spanking new probationary field agent calling out a superior who was also an ex-Marine to boot. Damned straight they'd sit up and take notice. Mind you it wasn't so much McGee's insubordination that the director was focused on at this stage. It was what had motivated the probie to protest about what would seem to be a reasonable the order that Morrow was interested in.

"Why did you question Gibbs' directive?"

The probie looked concerned and Tom could see beads of sweat accumulating on his forehead and upper lip as McGee started to panic. He finally seemed to realise he was in a heap of trouble as he tried to justify arguing with the senior supervisory agent.

He blurted out, "Well the Colonel and Gibbs agreed to keep the whole disappearance of the Marines and the crop circles from the media because they wanted to avoid mass hysteria about them being abducted by aliens. So, I just thought that giving Abby…um our forensic scientist, Abby Sciuto the photos of the crop circles might be too distracting because she's so obsessed with the paranormal."

He looked at Genevieve and shrugged, "But Gibbs ignored my concerns, so I sent them to her to examine then and then went back my grid search."

Morrow clarified the situation. "You are saying that you knew all about Dr Sciuto's obsession with the paranormal, including alien crop circles. Is that correct?"

McGee looked relieved to be on what he assumed to be safer ground. Little did he know, Morrow thought cynically.

"Everyone knows that Abby's into the paranormal," he replied with a shrug. "When we were dating, she would bore me to tears with her cockamamie theories."

Genevieve Taylor gave him the benefit of her soulful brown eyes as she smiled at him. "So, what happened when you sent Dr Sciuto the photos from the camera memory card, Probationary Agent McGee?"

McGee flushed and appeared to get flustered. Tom wondered if it was due to the stunningly beautiful HR manager' charismatic personality or perhaps he was starting to get an inkling of the dangerous waters he was trying to navigate.

When he rather immodestly boasted, "Just as I expected, Abby…um I mean Dr Sciuto was extremely excited about the apparent crop circle and being in a position to carry out tests on it," Morrow realised it was Taylor's charms that had him all hot and bothered. He quickly smothered a smile. McGee was trying to impress her, but then he wouldn't be the first impressionable male to be affected by the HR manager's good looks nor to underestimate her formidable intellect, either.

"She was visibly distracted, just as I'd predicted," McGee smirked flirting clumsily with the mocha-skinned woman.

Letting Genevieve take over, he nodded subtly for her to continue the questioning. After all, she was doing an excellent job, so why stop what was working so well.

Nodding imperceptibly, acknowledging of his directive, she said, "In what way was she distracted?"

"Well…ah you know, she was jumping up and down like the Energizer Bunny and wouldn't let me get back to my work."

As he watched his /HR manager finesse the interview, Tom thought about McGee's psychological evaluation before being hired on as an NCIS agent. In it he'd been described as introverted with an inferiority complex who exhibited marked passive-aggressive traits. Dr Joyner had also observed, per McGee's FLETC instructors that he had difficulty coping with domineering individuals.

The psychologist noted he possessed an almost pathological need to please strong dominant females, which she'd red-flagged as posing a security risk because it made him vulnerable to coercion, blackmailed, being turned into a double agent or otherwise persuaded to look the other way when it came to handling classified intel. if he was directed to by an alpha-typed female. It was Dr Joyner professional assessment that these factors precluded Timothy McGee being given a security clearance or permitted to access sensitive data., recommending his unsuitability to be employed as a federal agent.

Her recommendation had been ignored. SECNAV had hired McGee anyway, and was given access to classified data. Now, they were, trying to figure where to go from here. It was only his third case as a field agent and the psychologist's greatest fears had already been realised. Morrow scowled - this was not good!

The HR manager leaned forward as she responded to the comment regarding the forensic scientist. "Dr Sciuto does become quite passionate about things at times," she observed dryly.

McGee shook his head, "I swear, sometimes she acts like someone who has no background in science, whatsoever. She didn't like the results of the tests she ran on the crop circles that failed to prove that it had been made by non-terrestrial methods rather than being man-made. So instead of accepting the results like a rational scientist she just repeated the entire battery of tests a second time, hoping that she'd get the results she wanted if she tried again" he ranted.

Morrow wondered if he was criticising Abby Sciuto because he was carried away by Taylor's charm, he was trying to cover his ass, or he was genuinely irritated by her pig-headedness. Whatever his motivation, he still raised a great point. How can you believe in forensic science if you reject evidence when it comes back with a finding that doesn't support your theory? How can you call yourself a scientist?"

Looking over at Director Morrow, Genevieve was asking him if he wanted to take over the interview, but he indicated nonverbally that she had his approval to continue. She nodded her understanding and continued to ask McGee questions.

"What I don't understand is why Dr Sciuto was still investigating the crop circles?" Taylor asked, looking puzzled. Tom mental congratulated her on her acting ability.

McGee frowned. "I don't understand what you're asking."

"Wasn't it was established fairly early into the investigation that the co-pilot, Captain Barnett had been located and that the pilot, Captain Newell had intentionally flown to Smoky Corners at the behest of his brother. Why then did the crop circle continue to hold such a focus on the investigation?"

McGee shrugged noncommittally. "Well because Abby was convinced that the crop circles were connected to the case and also, she wanted to get access to the classified investigation that the Air Force had carried out 9 years before our investigation about prior crop circles in Smoky Corners."

"But the Marines discovered the cabin fire and there was reason enough to suspect that Captain Newell might have been caught inside and perish. Surely that was a more crucial direction to focus the forensic resources rather than investigating a possible alien abduction?"

McGee nodded emphatically. "I know, right. That's why I didn't think it was a good idea to give her the photos in the first place. I knew she was gonna get distracted," he said self-righteously.

"And you were right, Probationary Agent McGee. That's precisely what happened," the HR manager flattered him lavishly as he flushed at the praise from the beautiful female.

Director Morrow had heard enough. Genevieve had done an excellent job but now it was time to get to the nitty-gritty of the situation. He spoke firmly, "So here's what I don't understand, McGee. You rightly point out that it was not the best course of action to pass on those photos of the 'crop circles surrounding the Marine helicopter to Dr Sciuto as she became very distracted by them. So please can you explain to me, why did you not only take an unnecessary number of photos, samples of the corn stalks right down to the roots and soil samples so she could carry out tests, but you also agreed to carry out additional tests."

Seeing that McGee was about to vehemently deny that accusation, the NCIS director gave him his patented glare. "Are you stating that you weren't scanning the cornfield with a magnetometer because Dr Sciuto told you she needed additional information about the crop circles?"

Tim opened his mouth and ended up closing it again before he finally admitted reluctantly that he had been using the magnetometer to scan the field, per Abby's instructions.

Morrow stared at him, "So why would you do that? You participated in her plan to carry out unnecessary and unauthorised forensic testing, the cost of which would be borne by NCIS and ultimately by the American taxpayers. All to satisfy some highly dubious whacked-out theories about aliens by Sciuto, which you've already admitted you believed did not have any scientific validity. I would like to know why you were complicit."

The probationary agent looked annoyed at having painted himself into a corner with his previous statements. Right about now, he was probably realising he'd been set up by the lovely manager of Human Resources. She had led him around by his dick so to speak, praising him repeatedly and he fell for it, amply demonstrating why he was such a risk to national security.

Finally, getting his act together, Tim parried, "Well I expressed my doubt about the advisability of giving Abby the aerial photos taken by the Marines to the Boss and he ignored me."

Morrow raised a metaphoric eyebrow and said, "Yes he did. But he didn't tell you to gather unnecessary trace and photographic evidence plus carry out forensic tests that by your own admission, you knew weren't related directly to the investigation, did he?"

McGee was forced to admit that he didn't but countered by saying, "But I'm just the probationary agent."

The director stared at him. "And if you were completely clueless about the fact that the evidence Dr Sciuto demanded you collect for her was crucial to the case, I'd probably be willing to accept that excuse at face value. However, as you are so very fond of informing everyone, you have a Bachelor of Science in Biomedical Engineering from Johns Hopkins plus, a master's degree in computer forensics at MIT.

"You knew full well that Dr Sciuto was conducting redundant forensic tests and you failed to report it to Gibbs or me. Instead, you became an active participant in her scheme. Why did you do that?"

Looking like a kid who was caught with his hand in the cookie jar, (which he had been) McGee sat seething as he glared at the other people in the room. Joe Landers, the NCIS head of Legal shook his head, taking pity on the young agent for the mess he was in.

He said mildly, "You know, your best bet is to come clean, Probationary Agent McGee."

Landers decided to give him another piece of sage if unsolicited advice. "The thing is, that we already know the reason why you agreed to take part in Dr Sciuto's scheme to carry out superfluous forensic tests to satisfy her personal curiosity, Mr McGee."

Tim corrected him reflexively, "Um…Special Agent McGee."

Tom Morrow looked quite forbidding as he told him, "That's not a given, McGee. You are a probationary agent, which makes it much less complicated to terminate your employment. The head of the legal department is advising you is that your best option would be to admit your culpability if you have any desire to keep working here and throw yourself on our mercy.

"No doubt, you expect that your brilliance with computer science and technology makes you too valuable an asset for you to lose your job, but you'd be dead wrong about that," he warned the livid looking probie.

"Agents first and foremost must be incorruptible, which means they should not be susceptible to coercion, blackmail or dishonesty. You, McGee, failed miserably to rise to those standards which we expect of our agents when tested and this was only your third case as a fully-fledged member of the major case response team."

McGee squared off his shoulders and jutted out his jaw stubbornly, his nonverbal body language telegraphing his belligerence before he seemed to cave from the inside out. It was like a balloon which suddenly had all the air let out of it, Tom thought trivially.

"Fine!" Tim blurted out impetuously. "I told Abby not to get carried away, but she wouldn't listen to me. Wanted a whole bunch of stuff… trace evidence that wasn't pertinent to the case but Abby insisted it was important. She offered to show me her new tattoo if I got samples for her," he said angrily before becoming pouty. "I don't get what the big deal is? Why am I being singled out here?"

Despite the seriousness of the situation, Tom smothered a grin. Unspoken was the sentiment, 'it's not fair,' and also the foot stamping that a kid might try on before throwing themselves on the ground in an epic tantrum of wailing, tears, not to mention the fist and foot pounding the ground.

He told him sternly, "Let's start with your last question first. You aren't being singled out and I think it is a bit presumptuous of you to leap to that conclusion. It speaks to either a victim mentality or a massive superiority complex. I wonder which?" he asked rhetorically since he didn't expect to receive an answer.

Steepling his fingers unconsciously, he continued. "Just so we're clear, Dr Sciuto is in a heap of trouble for misappropriating government equipment and resources for her personal use, plus the serious matter of the coercion of a federal agent. Then there is the investigation which will be taking place into whether her unauthorised use of the forensic lab and purloining of an agent to run her 'additional tests' impeded the investigation in any way or indeed interfered with any other cases."

Morrow paused long enough to evaluate the truculent probationary agent in front of him before continuing his scathing dressing down. "Does that make you feel less persecuted, McGee or less "special" since you know that Dr Sciuto is also facing serious consequences for her part in this inexcusable situation?" He retorted cynically, gesturing with air quotes to emphasise the word special before he told him honestly, "The truth is, that you aren't anywhere near as indispensable or extraordinary as you may have been led to believe.

"Frankly, if your father wasn't Admiral John McGee, whose own father was also an admiral in the US Navy, then your career as an NCIS federal agent would already be history."

Interrupting Morrow angrily, McGee snapped, "My father had nothing to do with my career at NCIS. I succeeded without any help from him, unlike other people I know."

Genevieve leaned forward, frowning at him as she addressed him sharply. "A serious accusation to make, Probationary Agent McGee. To whom are you referring?"

McGee finally seemed to have caught a clue and stammered, "Um nothing."

Morrow grinned evilly at his two managers. "According to office scuttlebutt, I believe McGee is under the misapprehension that Special Agent DiNozzo's father bought him a college degree in Phys. Ed. and a job because he is too stupid to have earned either."

Landers and Taylor shared an amused chuckle at the notion of Anthony DiNozzo Senior wanting to help a son (who he'd abandoned at age twelve) with a college degree. Not to mention assist him with a career in civil service (a vocation the so-called business tycoon despised) which were ludicrous, even if he wasn't totally estranged from his only offspring.

They shifted their focus to regard McGee with expressions akin to pity as Morrow proceeded to educate the luckless probationary field agent about the facts of life.

"I'm not going to dignify your ill-informed notion regarding the Senior Field Agent with a response. However, regarding your claim that your career has nothing to do with your father, I can assure you, this egregious procedural lapse of yours would see a mere mortal such as your immediate superior, DiNozzo or Todd facing immediate dismissal and the end of their law enforcement careers. You are getting a chance to redeem yourself only because of your father and grandfather's stellar navy careers."

McGee was furious. "Well, you should fire DiNozzo for contaminating evidence then. He put an alien mask and a magnet in the cornfield where I was scanning to prank me. Why isn't he in trouble?" he demanded petulantly.

Ah yes, there was that passive-aggressiveness that Dr Joyner had flagged in his initial psychological assessment, Tom thought cynically, exchanging a glance with the HR manager.

"That will be investigated if it is deemed to have affected the case," Morrow responded neutrally. "Although as the evidence you were collecting (by your own admission) was for Dr Sciuto's personal research which was unauthorised, I question if it can be regarded as contamination. Meanwhile, let's discuss the consequences of you failing to follow procedure."

He eyed McGee sternly. "A civilian was assaulted on this case. I'm concerned that if we hadn't wasted manpower and forensic testing trying to prove aliens were responsible for creating crop circles instead of focusing on the case, maybe the young woman might not have been hurt."

Tapping his fingers on the table absentmindedly as he gathered his thoughts, Tom continued, "So, here's what is going to happen, Probationary Special Agent. You'll be reassigned as a special liaison with the DC Metro Police Department, specifically to the Vice Squad since you seem so interested in body tattoos. I'm sure that they will be able to utilise your expertise," he said with a straight face, "and indulge your curiosity for inkwork. Perhaps you could offer to show them yours, you know the one you acquired to impress Dr Sciuto, so she'd agree to go out with you."

McGee looked poleaxed but remained silent. Morrow wasn't sure if it was because he was truly dumbstruck or due to a modicum of self-preservation. If that was the case, it was better late than never, the director mused sardonically. If it was shock that the director knew about his tattoo, then the probationary agent wasn't as smart as he liked to think he was. DiNozzo, as per protocol had updated McGee's personnel file about distinguishing marks (including tattoos) for the purposes of identification in the advent of an agent dying.

"Also, effective immediately, I'm suspending your security clearance for an indefinite period. During your reassignment, you'll be required to attend mandatory counselling sessions twice a week with the NCIS in-house psychologist. You will explore your motivations as to why you failed to follow procedure and allowed yourself to be coerced into aid Sciuto in conducting unnecessary evidence testing, despite freely acknowledging it was not necessary.

"You'll need to satisfy Dr Lopez that you no longer pose a risk to the national security of the United States before your intel clearance is reinstated. A security clearance is mandatory for permanent assignent onto a team or to be a cyber-security agent. Without that clearance, your career options will be seriously limited at this or any other federal agency."

Morrow noted with a sense of grim satisfaction that McGee turned white as a sheet as he began to deliver his disciplinary consequences. By the time he'd finished though, McGee was looking a very decided shade of green and he suspected he was in danger of losing his lunch. Well good! The probationary agent was being cut a break that few of his colleagues would be offered, so Morrow was determined that an extremely harsh wake-up call be sent.

If he wasn't totally satisfied with McGee's reliability after completing his counselling, the director was determined to ensure that he ended up working somewhere completely innocuous, like ending up managing digital evidence records or permanently assigned to the pool of general agents (many of whom were FLETC newbies) who were called out on routine matters, effectively doing scut work when extra bodies were required. Either way, if he couldn't be trusted, Timothy McGee wouldn't be exposed to data which required a security clearance of anything affecting national security as he had access to on the MCRT. This time it had been something that hadn't endangered national security for which Morrow was grateful, and he was going to make damned sure there wouldn't be a next time

Even if McGee did manage to earn back his security clearance and it was a pretty big if, the director planned to transfer him to the San Diego office, under Leon Vance's eagle eye. That way' he'd be far away from Dr Sciuto's influence, supposing she retained her job, of course. Which was not in any way a certainty right now.

She was in a shitload of trouble and not even Gibbs would be able to wave a wand and just sweep it under the rug this time. She would face significant consequences even if SecNav wouldn't let him terminate her contract!

Part 4

Tim McGee looked around at the positively primitive cyber capabilities with a mixture of distaste and disbelief. Even NCIS had much better than this crappy workplace and he had it on good authority that NCIS was outdated by comparison to other federal agencies such as the FBI. The DC Metropolitan Police Department was positively archaic, though. It was a disgrace the conditions he was expected to work under here.

Since obviously cops weren't anywhere near as smart as federal agents, Tim figured that it probably didn't affect them all that much having such inferior technology to work with. For someone like him with his MIT background however, it was akin to expecting Vincent Van Gogh to work with a paint-by-numbers set. He felt it was an insult to his skills!

Honestly, this whole situation of him being assigned as a liaison to Metro PD at Vice was completely stupid and a waste of his valuable time and resources. Bottom line was that he was being punished for wanting to see Abby's new tattoo and what red-blooded male could resist an offer like that. It was just extremely unfair that he'd landed in so much trouble when the tattoo in question had turned out to be a complete non-event.

How was he supposed to know it was on her damned ankle when she'd talked him into gathering evidence? She'd mislead him into thinking it was somewhere intimate like her ass or her breast. It should be obvious to everyone that IF he'd known it was a tatt on her ankle, there's no way he'd have been tempted to collect all those dumb samples for her. Unfortunately, somehow everyone at NCIS found out and blabbed to the Metro cops who revelled humiliating him about it So not fair.

Still, compared with the disciplinary actions imposed on Abby, he'd probably gotten off lightly, he supposed. Abby had been ordered to pay for all of the unnecessary tests she'd run and since she'd run all of them twice, the total cost for her forensic curiosity to be satisfied about the fake crop circles created not by aliens but by the residents of Smoky Corners had turned into a huge amount of money that she now owed the agency. Plus, on top of being hit with a considerable bill for running unauthorised forensic tests, they'd also imposed an additional hefty fine for her misappropriation of government property and resources (his and her time on the agency's dime plus using the forensic equipment) and she'd been demoted several pay grades. All in all, it had been a costly financial folly.

However, probably the worst sanction as far as Abby was concerned was that she had to submit all her work for auditing at the end of every working day. One more mistake and her contract would be terminated. So yeah, things could be worse for him, McGee conceded rather grudgingly, not that he felt that his reassignment had been warranted of course.

Sighing, he stared at the foot and a half high pile of photos that he needed to scan into the database he was setting up of tattoos. The Metro Police Department database consisted of six main categories, known sex workers, suspects of crimes, individuals convicted of crimes, underage runaways and missing people known to have tattoos and also a category cataloguing tattoo artists' ink art and styles. McGee had written a computer program so that when dead bodies turned up which were unidentified and they had tattoos, they'd be able to identify if the ink work had been done by any of the local tattoo artists or if the tattoo matched one already recorded as belonging to one of their regulars. They also planned on including a category for prison tattoos and gang tattoos but for now, attached to the Vice department, McGee was focusing on these groups.

This was the last lot of photos that he needed to scan and then it would be done. It was ridiculous that he had to physically scan hundreds of photos – it was an appalling waste of his talents and he resented that there wasn't some techie or admin assistant that could carry out the scut work for him. Still, he was hopeful that at the end of today that this project would be over and done with and he could return to NCIS. Honestly, if he never saw another tattoo for as long as he lived, it would still be much too soon. Tatts on girls who had hot sexy bodies were one thing, but a lot of the tattoos on the older prostitutes who worked the streets were just pitiful; displayed on saggy skin that just made his balls shrivel up in revulsion. Of course, the males didn't do anything for him, even the young ripped ones to be honest.

It had honestly shocked him that unlike the movies and television shows, most of the sex workers weren't hot sexy types as portrayed in movies and TV. Even with the ones who were pretty new to the game, many had track marks up and down their arms and rotten teeth courtesy of drug-use that he thought was a turn-off. Lots of the females were old and worn down, who, in the harsh daylight looked like they could have been his mother's age (even if they were years younger) which made him feel decidedly icky. Imagine paying to have sex with someone whowas someone's mother - euwww it made him want to throw up in his mouth just thinking about it.

McGee supposed that at night, with makeup plastered on their faces, the old hookers who'd been on the game for decades probably fooled a lot of the johns but he wondered if they'd been conned once they were naked and the ravages of time and hard living were revealed. But as squicked out by the older whores as he was, it was usually the men McGee felt the most antipathy for, dressing in outrageously skin-tight gear, wearing makeup and mincing around like a bunch of carousel ponies. Not that he was homophobic – he'd had a gay roommate when he was at MIT, but Armand played baseball and like to rappel off cliffs in his down time. There was none of that overt in-your-face sexuality like the so-called twinks and queens he'd encountered and who liked to taunt him when he went out on the streets with the cops. Plus, there were the transgenders and the drag queens, they kinda made him feel queasy too, especially when they propositioned him.

Vice was well named – he felt like he'd entered a world scarily reminiscent of Dante's Inferno every time he went into the red-light districts. He honestly thought it was a crass obscenity that ought to be bulldozed. Tim couldn't understand why anyone would choose to work in such a cesspool of corruptness, misery, and suffering as a sex worker, a social worker OR a vice cop. All of it made him throw up if he thought too much about it but honestly, it was the teenage prostitutes (boys and girls) that had horrified him the most.

Their emaciated bodies, many of them looking prepubescent and their bruises and contusions were testaments to the violence they endured living and working on the streets of DC. Plus, a good proportion of them were drug addicts and worse, they were frequent victims of sexual assault or worse. Twice since his deployment, there were horrific murders of these tragic runaways. It made him sick to his stomach.

When he first encountered runaways, he tried hard to persuade them to go home as the streets were no place for them. Murder and assault rates were horrific for sex workers.

Yeah, he got that teenagers didn't like to have rules imposed on them (he'd been a teenager not too long ago) but he tried to explain to them that the upside of going back home was they'd be safe and have a warm bed and food. Several flipped him off, well they were a lot cruder than that, suggesting he do things that weren't physically possible unless you were a contortionist. One boy, Kasey and a teenage girl with cold dead eyes (whose name he didn't know) told him harrowing and yet surely highly embellished stories of what they'd run away from at home that left him puking his guts up. When he'd tried to find the pair of teens a bit later to verify what they'd said, they'd gone to ground.

Lolly (which she said was short for Lolita) was a nineteen-year-old prostitute who looked around twelve and acted as a den mother to the younger kids, told him. "They're gone, Fed. They're afraid you'll try to force them to go home."

"Well, surely it would have to be better for them than this place," he said, looking around, unable to disguise his distaste.

She'd laughed briefly with world-weary misanthropy that would have been misplaced in someone three times her age. In a kid who wasn't even old enough to drink alcohol, it was utterly vile and obscene. "You didn't listen did ya? It might not be safe here but it's better than where they were. You're a real dumbass, you know that? Life is fucked up.

"People like you hate and fear anyone different," she pointed her finger at him. "We disgust your kind. You fear that our taint might rub off on you or worry that you might catch something off us. But your biggest fear is that you'll end up like us because on some level you understand that once upon a time, WE WERE YOU. But while you all fear us, we accept and support each other – we don't judge or think we're better than anyone else."

Lolita (and even Tim wasn't naïve enough to think it was the name she'd been born with) paused for breath and he noticed that while she looked like a prepubescent girl, her eyes were ancient and filled with such anger and hurt that made it difficult for him to meet her gaze. But for the grace of God this could be his little sister, Sarah.

Finally, she continued her harsh dressing down, "These kids know the score. And despite all of the discomfort, hate and violence we provoke in people, rich entitled cisgender types who think no matter how awful it is here, that we'd be better off, safer going back home where you wouldn't have to see us, we'll look out for each other. Your sort knows fuck-all about what goes on behind closed doors and you don't care. You don't have to watch us being raped and beaten by our drug-addicted mother's boyfriends or her pimp or her dealer. If we were at home, you wouldn't have to watch us live in fear of our lives in a nice normal home with domestic violence and chronic abuse."

McGee couldn't meet her eyes, knowing she spoke the truth and it made him ashamed and anxious in equal measure.

"You and your kind," Lolly said, her voice dripping with disdain, "You don't know jack-shit about us, Mr Fed."

Lolita looked as if she'd finally finished castigating him but suddenly, she lashed out at him furiously, likely seeing in him all the people who walked away from them instead of reaching out to help. "Besides, some of us don't have a family or a home to go, even a shitty one. What about those homeless vets up the road, like Crazy Christos and Generally MacArthur?"

They volunteered to fight for their country and now they can't stand to be inside, and they think they're back fighting in the war again, so they get shit-faced most of the time to forget.

Yet, for some reason people look down on them and treat them like trash. They don't have anywhere to go but we are their family," she scolded him. "Talk about being ungrateful and yet you want us to go home - because out of sight out of mind."

Lolly's bitterness at the world in general and her animosity directed at him since he'd foolishly displayed his arrogance by telling her that he knew what was better for her than she did, along with the harsh truths she'd expressed left him reeling with wildly conflicting feelings. Tim recognised he was experiencing what psychologists labelled as cognitive dissonance where an individual held two or more contradictory beliefs, ideas, or values; or took part in an action that went against those beliefs then experienced intense psychological stress because of it.

However, just because he knew why he was feeling so much anxiety and stress it, didn't mean he was ready to do the hard work entailed in resolving his dissonance. It was tough and uncomfortable to change long-held beliefs and values, much easier to just avoid the situation completely so his beliefs weren't being constantly challenged. Which was why he'd dreamed up the whole database project for tattoos to avoid having to be out on the street amongst people like Lolly and he was thankful his dissonance had pretty-much disappeared.

Mind you, he hadn't got off scot-free. Yeah, he avoided confronting his cognitive dissonance but there was always a reckoning. He'd had to catalogue photos of crazy people who'd had their faces tattooed which was confronting but nowhere near as much as having his beliefs constantly challenged.

Then the Vice detectives pointed out that he'd neglected to include and catalogue genital tattoos. Naturally, he'd thought they were hazing him, which they took great delight in doing at every opportunity, but the horror of horrors, they weren't joking. Some dumbasses wanted to have their privates inked. Good Lord, he could not believe that there was anyone idiotic enough to do that.

Having his butt tattooed last year so Abby would go out with him had been a memorable but a damned painful experience. That had effing hurt, so he couldn't even begin to contemplate how much more painful it would be to have genital inking carried out. So, he deliberately tried not to think about it, he'd rather focus on the future which involved him getting this ridiculous punishment over and done with so he could go back to the MCRT again.

As of today, when with any luck he finished loading those genital tattoos into the database, he'd be done with it and he could get back to being a field agent again at NCIS. Surely, he'd been punished enough; if he never saw another tattoo again it would be much too soon. Never again would he agree to ignore procedures so he could see Abby's tatts no matter where on her body they happened to be. Pushing through the pile to get done with them, McGee tried hard to ignore the graphic pictures he was scanning. He was staying focused on the end goal of finishing up the database project.

Later on, when he reported to Lieutenant Kay Baker before he left that night that the Tattoo Identification Database was now fully operational, she smiled.

"Thank you, Probationary Special Agent McGee, that's excellent news. I'll also pass that along to Director Morrow. I'm sure he'll be gratified to know that you have been making yourself useful. I'm optimistic that this project of yours will make it harder for sexual predators to get away with preying on our most vulnerable citizens, leaving no trace."

McGee blushed at her fulsome praise before asking Lieutenant Baker if the NCIS director had indicated whether his TAD was close to being completed as he was anxious to return to the agency. The lieutenant smiled and McGee noted once again that the woman had a moderate overbite that wasn't exactly attractive. He wondered for the umpteenth time why she didn't do anything about it. Although his little sister Sarah would say that the lieutenant wasn't exactly an oil painting, so he decided maybe she didn't think it was worth the expense.

"We have had some discussions about your assignment. He said that you haven't completed your mandatory counselling sessions, so he was happy for you to continue here as a liaison for at least another month," she said, trying to hide her grin at his obvious disappointment.

Tim suspected that he'd end up back on the streets and that was not something he was looking forward to. The daily parade of human misery, depravity and corruption of humanity was not something he was looking forward to revisiting. Plus, he'd found constantly being heckled and propositioned by the sex workers (male, female and he didn't want to know what else) made him feel extremely uncomfortable.

Seeing to read his mind, Lieutenant Baker told him, "I know you aren't comfortable going out on patrol, Probationary Agent McGee. It can be quite confronting until you adjust and not everyone has the chops to work in Vice," she said candidly.

Even though she had just dissed him rather effectively he was too desperate not to go back on the street again to react with his usual belligerent attitude. He was just praying that she would cut him some slack. Maybe he could offer to defrag her hard drive. Hell, he'd do the whole damned department (twice) by standing on his head singing God Bless America in binary code if it kept him from going back out on the street with the uniforms.

As if reading his mind for a second time which was kind of freaky, but in truth wasn't exactly difficult since he didn't have a good poker face, she told him. "Detectives Bianca and Fujiwara have suggested that since you've done such a sterling job setting up the tattoo database, we should get you to set up a body piercings database too."

McGee wondered how much time it would take to set up a database of ear piercing before he realised feeling slightly foolish that there were other facial piercings such as nose rings and eyebrow piercings and he thought, slightly squeamishly, some people got their tongue's pierced too, although, he couldn't imagine what would possess them to do that. When he had to wear braces when he was a teenager, he hated the way the metal braces affected the taste of his food. Anyway, if he could cope with genital tattoos, he'd surely be able to deal with a few pictures of tongue piercings.

His main concern was that if he was going to be TAD to Metro PD Vice for another month at least, could he stretch out this latest assignment to last until it was time to go back to NCIS? Surely there weren't that many items for the database, but maybe he could write a second program that could combine tattoos and piercings of sex workers, runaways, homeless vets and people with mental illnesses to help identify people who ended up in the city morgue as Jane/John Does. It was worth a shot.

He smiled back at the homely looking lieutenant and said, "It will be my pleasure, Lieutenant Baker."

One week later, as Tim made the trek back from the grimly depressing city morgue, he was berating himself for his complete gullibility over the body piercings database he'd agreed to set up instead of going out on the streets with the unies. The ME for the MPD had invited him down to the morgue to share her post-mortem photos of some of the unusual piercings she'd encountered over the last nine years in the job and frankly, he wanted to bleach his brain of the images he'd seen. Talk about being traumatised.

If he hadn't been in such a hurry to get out of going on patrol with the uniformed officers (and anyway as a federal agent, he should be working with the detectives, not the foot soldiers, surely) McGee should have been suspicious when the lieutenant mentioned the database had been suggested by her detectives. Teresa Bianca was okay if a little bit condescending to him (which was amusing, like she had anything to teach a federal agent) but Kenny Fujiwara was a gigantic nob-head and there was no way he'd go out of his way to do anything to help Tim. The dick was always smirking at him when he blushed tomato red if the drag queens propositioned him or the transgenders made lewd comments when he was around.

If McGee had needed any validation that he'd been set up by the vice cop who thought he was hot stuff, it was confirmed when the ME, Doctor Suzanne Collier rang this morning to say that Fujiwara suggested that he'd want to view the current body she was autopsying. She said Kenny told her Tim had an interest in body piercing. Frankly, McGee wasn't exactly leaping with joy about the invitation to view some pierced cadaver because he didn't do well with gore and blood, but he was a federal agent and he didn't want to look like a wimp. The Vice cops would never let him live it down if he opted out of the challenge, so he'd sucked it up and headed downtown.

[Last warning – if you're squeamish about intimate body parts and body piercing proceed at your own risk]

Nothing could prepare him for the horrific spectacle that awaited him. The victim was male, not female as he'd mistakenly assumed (and he could hear Gibbs' gruff voice in his head saying, 'rule # 8 never assume, McGee,' as he stared at the mutilated body on the autopsy slab. The victim was in his mid to late twenties, Tim estimated, and he was a male sex worker. The guy was cut, or he had been when he was alive, probably spent hours every week in a gym to have that physique. McGee noted uncomfortably that he lacked body hair and was also smooth-shaven features. He did have a mop of curly hair that looked like someone spent time highlighting it.

The dead victim made him feel uneasy, not that McGee had anything against gay people; there had been one in his FLETC class who sat in front of him in lecture who had sometimes partnered with Tim on assignments. Plus, he wasn't against males being well-groomed, he'd used his fair share of male cosmetic products since he'd been prone to dry skin and ragged cuticles since his early teens but knowing this man had sold his body for money made Tim feel uncomfortable. Maybe it was just that female prostitutes had been around since forever (everyone said it was the oldest profession in the world) and the media always portrayed them as having hearts of gold, despite being victims of poverty or drugs.

Yet, Tim argued silently, the man lying on the autopsy slab had clearly spent a fair bit of time and money on his appearance, so he surely was selling his body for sex because he'd chosen to. He didn't look like he was an addict or gaunt from lack of food so he must have seen it as an easy way to earn money instead of getting a proper job. That the rookie agent didn't even consider any other factors that might have influenced the victim's choice of employment demonstrated his simplistic view of a complex situation. Despite his time out on the streets shadowing the Vice cops, McGee was still blind to the grim realities of how and why people ended up living on the streets.

As the probationary special agent looked at the beaten and broken corpse, a brutal testament about the amount of hate and anger people were capable of, Tim felt sickened at the graphic and gory evidence. Still, as tragic as the violent and senseless loss of someone so young was, he couldn't help wondering why the medical examiner had specifically invited him to view this cadaver. He'd noted that the victim had several ear piercings but that wasn't all that unusual, some guys, even straight guys wore earrings, so it wasn't exactly noteworthy. McGee did observe that the victim's left nipple had been ripped half off and that the right one was still sporting a gold ring that looked quite expensive but even though he thought you'd have to be crazy to want to have your nipple pierced, it wasn't that uncommon - in certain circles.

When he asked Dr Collier why she'd called him down, she lowered the sheet covering the victim's genital area and he felt himself throw up in his mouth, although he tried to order his roiling gut to behave so he didn't projectile vomit on the body. Whoever had attacked and mutilated the victim hadn't stopped on his torso. They'd partially severed the sex worker's penis and McGee felt his testicles heading due north even as he covered his dick with his hands in a purely reflexive reaction like men did when their partners talked about getting the dog castrated.

But as horrific as that was, worse was to come. Seemingly oblivious to his horrified response, Suzanne dispassionately directed his attention to the fact that the victim had a least four piercings in his penis. McGee found himself simultaneously cringing in disgust and racing over to the nearest sink where he proceeded to vomit up his breakfast of eggs, bacon and sausage in an embarrassing rookie reaction that made him feel like he'd lost any credibility he might have earned.

Although he tried to gloss over his lapse, saying that he had stomach flu that he'd caught from a friend, the medical examiner had seen right through his façade. She'd asked him how long he'd been a federal agent, how many cases he'd investigated and how many autopsies he witnessed. He'd tried to bluster his way through but ended up confessing that he'd only been a field agent less than a year. He didn't tell her that he'd only worked on three cases officially as a probationary field agent and a few cases as a TAD, though.

"So why would Detective Fujiwara tell me that you had a special interest in body piercing," she asked him curiously.

Trying not to sound too whiney he told her, "Because as part of my liaison work with Metro Vice I've compiled a database on tattoos and tattoo artists for identification purposes," he explained. "It was such a success that Vice wanted me to expand it to include body piercing."

Collier started at him, "So let me guess, you had no idea that genital body piercing existed, did you, Agent McGee."

Blushing to the tips of his short brown hair he admitted that he hadn't. "Not a lot of that thing in the navy and Marines, Doctor," he said wryly.

Collier chuckled, "Well granted, the victims I come across might be more likely to have a genital piercing but still, you'd be surprised. Besides, it's not like you can identify who has one when they are wearing their clothes, McGee.

Although she'd been empathetic, she'd swiftly concluded that setting up a database on body piercings was a praiseworthy endeavour. She expressed that done properly, it was necessary to understand the subject matter thoroughly.

Suzanne, much to Tim's horror, proceeded to deliver an extremely embarrassing and painstaking lecture on body piercing, focusing particularly on female and male genital piercing by way of explicit photos, some of which were autopsy photos. She began with what she called an Ampallang piercing which passed horizontally through the glans (euww) and explaining it could either pass through the urethra and was then referred to as a Transurethral Ampallang and one which didn't. Frankly, McGee thought both sounded like some form of medieval torture.

The ME went on to describe the apadravya piercing as passing through the glans from top to bottom, before moving on to what she said was the most common male genital piercing, a Prince Albert. According to Suzanne it entered through the urethra and exited via a hole pierced at the bottom of the glans. She continued to explain to the squicked-out federal agent that a lot of guys ended up stretching this piercing to very large gauges and this piercing was quite versatile when it came to jewellery.

Appearing to be completely oblivious to his embarrassment Suzanne stated calmly, "An experienced body piercer that I spoke to at a body modification convention told me that the majority of their clients purchase an assortment of different styles of rings and barbells to wear on different days or situations."

McGee smothered a hysterical giggle, wondering if someone had written and published an etiquette guide on the right style of jewellery for different situations – seduction, recreational and sporting occasions, casual and business attire. He speculated about what would be genital jewellery de rigueur whilst having wild hot sex in a coffin with your kinky Goth girlfriend before ruthlessly pushing that image aside. They weren't together anymore, and he wouldn't give up hope that someday they would reconcile but no way would he wear penis jewellery, not even for Abby Sciuto.

With a start, he realised that during his little fantasy the medical examiner had moved on from the Prince Albert piercing to a Reverse Prince Albert which apparently entered through the urethra exiting through a hole pierced at the top of the glans. Ow! Moving on, she pulled up some photographs of foreskin piercing that made him cringe. Seemingly, clients who decided to do this stuff routinely have one done on either side or top and bottom. Then, just when he thought it couldn't get any more appalling or embarrassing, Dr Collier took him back out to the corpse and showed him that the victim had (aside from a Prince Albert on his partially hacked off penis and ow, ow, ow) what she called a guiche piercing between his anus and scrotum.

Oblivious to McGee's squeamishness, the doctor explained that once this piercing was healed some guys chose to wear weights for the added stimulation. Then moved on to demonstrate via graphic autopsy photos that aside from the guiche, there were also scrotal and frenum piercings and that some men had multiple piercings to create a scrotal and frenum ladder that could also be connected up to a guiche ladder. Packing that amount of metal jewellery, Tim wondered how individuals ever managed to pass through a metal detection at an airport. It would be highly problematic especially if you were a pilot or a federal agent in this security conscious post 9/11 era.

He could just picture the sniggers, knowing glances suggestive comments that the security guards would engage in both to the person's face and behind their back – juvenile, sophomoric high school humour and everyone in the entire building would know since security guards were not known for their discretion. Note to self, Tim resolved. This was a damned good excuse if he and Abby ever got back together like he hoped and she (or any other girlfriend for that matter) ever wanted him to get a genital piercing. He'd say that he wouldn't be able to get through the metal detectors at NCIS every day.

Meanwhile, the medical examiner had given him a primer on the anthropological origins of genital piercing, making him realise that it was something that certain tribes had practised historically, plus she'd loaned him several books on body piercing, including one on genital and nipple piercing set, in of all times and places, the Victorian era which he'd always thought of as being quite a puritanical, sexually repressed society. Goes to show that you could always live and learn, although Tim could certainly think of a lot of subjects that he'd rather be learning about. Stuff that would be inherently more useful to his career than genital body piercing, but for now though, he needed to play TPTB stupid game until he could get his security clearance back again.

Thinking of sexually repressed individuals immediately made him to think about Special Agent Cate Todd. Tim would bet his beloved Commodore 64 computer that DiNozzo, having been a cop who worked Vice, knew all about genital piercing. However, he would bet his Elf Lord status that Cate would be even more shocked and outraged than he was if she was here right now. Maybe he could get some of his own back for her spilling the beans about him helping Abby with the crop circle shite and thus getting him reassigned and sent to mandatory counselling to get his security clearance returned. It would be extremely gratifying to regale her with all of this stuff since she had caused him so much trouble, if he had the cojones to bring it up of course.

Thinking about Cate's loose lips (and Abby's) and the damage it had caused for him, personally not just professionally, set his anger off. His father had been furious when he found out, calling him a disgrace to the family honour and a pantywaist for letting some crazy freak of a female lead him around by his balls. He'd ranted for hours about Tim's character flaws before telling his son that when he was first hired by NCIS he'd personally assured SECNAV than no son of John McGee would ever permit himself to compromise the agency or the United States of America for personal gain. Now he was left red-faced after Tim went and shat all over the impeccable McGee reputation for some crazy whacko bitch who believed in alien abductions. for pity's sake. He was threatening to disown him unless Tim was able to redeem himself by getting his security clearance back again.

Sighing frustratedly, he made his way to the elevator, believing he'd completed his business at the depressingly grim city morgue. His arms were loaded up with reference books on Dr Collier's hobby horse, he was struggling to press the button to summon the elevator car when she excitedly called him back.

Seeing no way out, he returned to her office. He prayed that she hadn't decided to show him her piercings since he'd decided that no one could be as obsessed with the topic as she was if she didn't have some intimate piercing herself and really, he didn't think he could cope with that. Maybe, just maybe, if Abby had one and she offered to show him, he might take her up on it…okay of course he'd take her up on it. BUT Collier was almost as old as Gibbs if he was any judge. He had no desire to see her naked – it would be like looking at his Mom – it would scar him for life.

It had been bad enough when she'd been explaining to him in graphic detail about the different types of female genital piercings. Then she'd begun demonstrating on a Jane Doe stored in a freezer drawer awaited identification. He couldn't believe it when she'd shown him what a vertical hood and the horizontal hood were, where the jewellery lay relative to the cli…cli… um ah a lady's pleasure button and then told him that they were the most popular female genital piercing because it enhanced sexual pleasure. Ewwww… he was so not comfortable discussing lady bits with a lady, even if she was a doctor but then he hadn't been comfortable discussing private man bits with her either. Unaware, or just indifferent that he was utterly mortified, Collier, carried on regardless, explaining the difference between inner and outer labia piercings and how they offered little to no sexual sensation but were purely for aesthetic purposes.

He fervently disagreed with that statement though. As far as McGee was concerned, it was a real turnoff. Although maybe on Abby… He ruthlessly stomped on his unchecked libido when it came to the Goth; it was what had gotten him into trouble in the first place.

Suzanne paused and looked at him searchingly. At which point, Tim hoped like hell that they were done but unfortunately, Suzanne must have realised that he was wool-gathering because when she saw he was paying attention she launched into an impassioned discussion of a fourchette piercing. She said was probably the least popular of the female genital piercings and was a labial piercing done at the rear rim of the vag… um 'The Lady Hole', okay, maybe the doctor didn't call it that but the medical terminology was… well awkward. Euphemisms were way easier on the uptight computer geek's sense of propriety.

Anyway, if that fourchette thingy wasn't gross enough to make you want to puke your guts up, Dr Collier then moved on to explain a triangle piercing that passed underneath the shaft of the um Lady's Pleasure Button. She said that most recipients reported it offered the most stimulation because it put pressure on their… ah, hooded lady and McGee involuntarily made a meeping sound like a wounded animal, wishing he could curl up into a foetal ball and stick his fingers into his ears. Maybe he could sing the alphabet song or recite the periodic table, something soothing to drown out all this mortification.

By the time Dr Collier started explaining that the Christina was a piercing starting at the top of the hooded lady and exiting through the pubic mound, Tim was genuinely wishing his head would explode so this would all end. Unfortunately, his head remained intact and he had to listen as the enthusiastic medical examiner explained that a Nefertiti was the opposite in that it travelled from the pubic mound and exited through the hooded lady. She explained it as a combination of a Christina and a vertical hood piercing, and he knew that his face was bright red with embarrassment as she waxed lyrical about the subject. God, he hated this stupid assignment – it was pure torture.

As he reluctantly returned to her office, despite his initial fears, she didn't offer to show him any piercings she might have had done, for which McGee was eternally grateful. Collier was extremely apologetic, explaining after catching up with him that they'd forgotten to include genital beading in the database or pearling, as it was sometimes referred to, especially in South East Asia where it had become popular.

That statement wasn't entirely factual, however. It may well have slipped her mind but since Tim hadn't even heard of it before, how the hell could he forget to include it in the piercing database? What was he, psychic or something, he concluded sourly?

Dr Collier who McGee decided would probably get on like a house on fire with Ducky (who was also verbose) produced some sandwiches for their lunch. Tim nibbled on them distractedly, finding the atmosphere to be less than convivial, even if they were in her office and not the autopsy suite. Although, he did welcome the strong coffee before getting down to business still at hand. Having eaten a hearty roast beef sandwich, she preceded to explain that genital beading was another form of body modification. It was the practice of permanently inserting small beads made of various materials (including pearls) beneath the skin of the genitals—of the labia, or the shaft or foreskin of the penis. McGee couldn't help cringing at the thought but tried to appear professional, asking why it was done.

Suzanne responded, "As well as being an aesthetic practice, this is usually intended to enhance the sexual pleasure of their partners during sex."

She gave him two more books on the subject, and he beat a fast retreat before she could come up with any more disturbing types of body modification for him to learn about.

Honest to god, he was not cut out for Vice. Maybe he should have enlisted in the Navy – at least they had tablets for seasickness. Even if they weren't all that effective, it couldn't be any worse than this.

Finally, he was able to make a clean getaway, stopping to drop Dr Collier's borrowed books in at his apartment before he returned to the precinct to get to work on the project. There was no way he was going to be caught reading those books at the precinct – he'd never hear the end of it. Some of the hazing he'd encountered since becoming a liaison made DiNozzo's teasing seem like a Sunday school picnic in comparison.

It was highly unfortunate but he'd totally forgotten that his little sister Sarah and his mother were stopping by his place to pick up his good suit for dry-cleaning for a family wedding after meeting up to have lunch together in DC. Now his mom thought he was a sexual degenerate, ignoring his explanation that the reference books were needed for something he was working on for the Metro PD. If that wasn't bad enough, Sarah was threatening to get a genital piercing that she called a Christina for her birthday after she swiped one of Dr Collier's books he'd haphazardly dumped on his table at home. His mother would kill them both when she found out and he was under no illusion that she would learn what was going on. His mom was like Gibbs when it came to knowing-all the stupid stuff that her kids didn't want her to.

Clutching at his head which throbbed painfully from his stress headache, he wondered, why did he let Abby railroad him into doing what he knew was wrong? She wasn't even his girlfriend anymore. 'No, but you hope that she will agree to go out with you again when she realises that she made a massive mistake when she broke up with you and that she'll beg you to take her back', a little voice inside his head berated him mockingly. It was true – he couldn't deny it, he still was idiotically and completely besotted with the forensic scientist despite the trouble she'd gotten him into.

And for that matter, why didn't he stand up to his bratty baby sister and demand that she returned the ME's book on body piercing which she'd stolen from his apartment. Why didn't he have an adult conversation with his mother and tell her about the database he was working on and warn her about what Sarah was planning.

Maybe the NCIS psychologist wasn't completely crazy for telling him that he had a problem being assertive with dominant females and alpha males.

When Dr Collier rang him a few weeks later he panicked, thinking she was going to ask for her book back and Sarah was refusing to return the one she'd swiped. She refused to believe that the books were part of his work. She accused him of being a kinky perv thanks to hooking up with Abby last year, using the fact that he'd had sex in a coffin to bolster her accusations. Honestly, he wished Abby wasn't such an over sharer, scandalising his mother and making Sarah laugh her ass off.

When he insisted that his sister give back the stolen book, his spoilt annoying little sister agreed but only on the condition of him paying for her to get a Christina piercing and he had to go with her when she got it done for moral support. If his mother found out she'd kill him, and he hadn't missed the irony that his sibling was blackmailing him, so how did she deserve or need his moral support?

Anyway, Collier was only ringing him to inquire if he'd included scarification and branding in the tattooing database because she would be more than happy to help him with it. Plus, she had several excellent books on both topics.

Oh my gosh, Tim thought, he couldn't wait to return to the bizarre cases they got at NCIS, it would be so restful.

Part 5

Abby Sciuto, forensic scientist, Goth, surrogate daughter to Leroy Jethro Gibbs, extremely pissed-off former lover of Timothy McGee and a good friend to Sister Rosita stomped into the convent of the Sisters of Saint Joseph. Her black leather platform boots with its multi-buckled fastenings resounding up the hallway to the kitchen where the tired nun was dicing vegetables for the evening meal. Sister Rosita sighed frustratedly; it seemed that Abby was in a foul mood…again. She got that Abby was upset about what had happened at work, but really, Abby needed to accept the reality of her situation. Which when it was all said and done, it was of her own making and she needed to either deal with it or resign and find a new job.

It was over two months since she'd been suspended without pay for four interminable weeks. Since her return to work last month, Abby had taken to calling around regularly to decry the conditions she was now expected to work under at NCIS. Sister Rosita was trying hard to be patient and supportive because she considered the forensic scientist to be a good friend. Not just to herself but also to the whole convent community including the other nuns and while she knew that Abby was generally a kind and caring soul but that didn't mean that she condoned what Abby had done, either. In fact, she didn't excuse it at all!

As much as she loved the younger woman like a daughter and recognised her many good qualities, it didn't mean the nun was blind to Abby's failings. Abby could be stubborn, incredibly stubborn as in mule-like. She could be childish, demanding attention and adoration and frequently churlish when she didn't get her own way. Plus, she was prone to manipulative behaviour on occasions. Alas, she wasn't above using men, particularly males who loved her and were therefore particularly vulnerable to her feminine wiles.

Abby could be incredibly flirty with younger men and then just as easily turned on the little-girl-lost routine with more mature males. In truth, the pigtails and long white knee-high socks teamed with her schoolgirl miniskirts she favoured to show off her long legs no doubt helping to create the allusion of someone young and helpless, although the truth was that she wasn't either. The truth was that she was a highly competent super intelligent female scientist who was more than capable of looking out for herself, which of course was fortunate, Sister Rosita decided, considering the type of seedy nightclubs she favoured going to.

Meanwhile, Abby made her way up the long corridor to the rectory kitchen and Sister Rosita fully expected her to be in a foul mood, wanting to rant again about how horrible everyone was being to her and how unfair that it was. Normally, the unfailing good-natured nun would let all of Abby's pouting and angst roll right off her back as she had done so many times before, but not today. Today she'd been holding vigil at the hospital with a devastated mother whose seven-year-old child was dying of leukemia. The doctors had been unable to find a compatible match for the boy, Jason to be able to undergo a bone marrow transplant and he'd died earlier this afternoon.

Sadly, the single mother and her other child, three-year-old little Amelia would likely be thrown out on the streets soon, since they had a massive amount of medical bills which had accrued over the last two years of Jason's battle with leukemia. Mountains of horrendously expensive medical tests and medical procedures, numerous rounds of ultimately unsuccessful chemotherapy treatments and hospitalisations added up to a whole lot more money than the poor woman was able to earn. The only certainty was that the grieving mother would be forced into declaring bankruptcy. The poor woman didn't even have enough money to bury her son and when Sister Rosita had promised that they would meet all the funeral expenses, the grief-stricken mother collapsed against her, sobbing in sheer relief that he would be laid to rest in a proper ceremony.

In light of the tragic end of the innocent young life, the kind-hearted nun was not in the mood for Abby's egocentric pity-party. She was also primed to engage in some blunt home truths that would likely not be welcomed with open arms by the one who needed to hear them.

After Abby greeted her with a perfunctory, "Hey Sister Rosita, how are you?" she then proceeded not to listen when the nun replied that she'd had a bad day. Instead of asking why her day had gone so badly, Abby who'd become trapped in her victimhood persona started in on her customary whining which essentially consisted of I don't understand, why everyone being so mean to me and crying copious tears.

Unable to bite her tongue a minute longer, Sister Rosita found herself interrupting which was unusual for the nun who prided herself on her listening skills but then again, she'd heard it all before, for weeks now. "So, quit!" she said sternly.

Caught completely off guard, Abby paused in mid-rant. "What did you say?"

Sister Rosita folded her arms firmly, her nonverbal body language resolute. "I said then you should resign, Abby if you feel you are being treated so badly."

Abby stared at her friend in amazement. "Why would you say such a horrid thing to me? You know how much I love my job," she asked, sounding properly hurt. "I work my butt off to lock up dirtbags and I'm good at it."

"I know you do, Abby, and you put in a lot of overtime but if you're so unhappy then you should find someplace better."

"How can you say that? NCIS is like my family, Sister Rosita," Abby said sulkily.

"Then for the love of Mike, stop whining about how mean everyone is being to you, Abby Sciuto. You sound like a child and a bratty one at that."

"Well I can't help it since I'm being treated like a child," she retorted glowering at the large refrigerator, as if it was somehow to blame for her angst. "I can't believe I have to get permission to carry out tests for every case I'm working on and I'm being remotely monitored by some doddering old septuagenarian from the San Diego lab who gets to sign off on my work all of a sudden," she wailed.

"I'm a highly regarded forensic scientist and I'm entitled to be treated with professional respect, not like some neophyte," she argued. "And instead, I'm treated like a criminal or something. It's not fair!" she stamped her foot in her most childish manner.

In the mood for some very forthright talking, the brown-eyed nun sniffed loudly. "Well Abigail Sciuto, you are being treated like a criminal because, by my reckoning, you have committed numerous crimes. You used the NCIS lab to conduct a personal investigation and performed thousands of dollars of forensic tests that were unnecessary and unauthorised, knowingly defrauding a federal agency. Compounding your delinquency, you coerced a federal agent into collecting evidence for your private scientific investigation and made him complicit in ripping off NCIS and taxpayers. You're lucky that you still have a job, Missy."

Abby looked at her friend in hurt disbelief which quickly morphed into anger. "Now hang on a minute. I work my ass…um my butt off at NCIS, I've done hundreds of hours of overtime which I haven't been paid for. I'm probably owed twice, even three times as much money as doing a few tests cost and it was case related," she insisted.

"Initially it was, but once it became apparent that the Marine pilots hadn't mysteriously disappeared due to alien intervention then all of those scientific tests became unnecessary. It crossed the line into becoming all about personal curiosity in a subject that interests you intensely," Sister Rosita told her firmly, noting Abby's prodigious looking pout. It was not a good look on anyone but on a woman of science, it was a parody.

"And I don't care that you might feel like you are owed more than the cost of the unnecessary tests you ran, Abby. The point is that you didn't request payment for the extra hours you worked and that was your decision not to seek recompense."

Seeing Abby was about to protest, she said, "And no, I don't care if you were going to tell me that you don't get paid overtime; you chose to accept that pre-condition when you took the job. If you don't like the conditions, then find somewhere else to work or suck it up, just like everyone else has to."

Abby reared back, caught off guard by the Sister's harsh words and stern tone of voice and the normally mild-mannered nun wasn't surprised. Most people probably thought of her as a happy-go-lucky, even-tempered woman but she worked hard to control her temper. Today, it had gotten free, but she wasn't sorry…not now. Maybe later she would regret her harsh words to her good friend but today was not the day for Abby to come wanting her to join in on her poor me pity party.

"Abigail, if a nurse or doctor worked overtime and didn't get paid for it, would it be okay to take medical equipment like a tank of oxygen or run free diagnostic tests, say, a CT scan or an MRI on their friends and family in place of unpaid work they'd carried out? No, because it would mean that someone else would miss out because the budget only allows for a finite resource which, if used up, would then need to be rationed. What if ten other people did the same thing because they felt entitled because of the long hours they'd also worked without getting recompense?

"It's still stealing to take a resource away from another department who needs it to carry out its duties, my dear girl. Apart from the fact that a small agency like NCIS doesn't have the same budgetary resources of larger federal agencies, which I'm sure you know already. And aside from the cost, what other investigations might have been negatively affected just so you could satisfy your curiosity?" Sister Rosita asked her astutely.

Abby had the grace to blush and look uncomfortable before trying to justify her actions. "No, it wasn't like that Sister. There was only one case, a cold case and Ducky said it had waited so long, another day or two wouldn't hurt."

"Well, I can't say I agree with his assessment Abby. A family member who never got closure for the death or disappearance of their loved one might have died in those few days, never knowing the truth. Even if the case was forty years old, that investigation always should have taken precedence over your frivolous investigative project, even if they were sanctioned, which they were not. That was extremely unprofessional conduct Abby, no wonder you are being constantly monitored; you abused the trust that was placed in you so you can't complain about the natural consequences of your actions, my dear."

Abby's pale green eyes flashed in anger. "Hey, I resent the accusation that I acted unprofessionally. If Ducky had wanted the evidence analysed, I'd have complied. He said it could wait. You should blame him, not me."

Sister Rosita stared at her, unmoved. "Did Dr Mallard know that you were carrying out tests to prove your alien crop circle theory or did he assume that you were working on the investigation into the pilot's disappearance and his brother? Wouldn't he assume that a forensic scientist of your experience reputation and standing would not be running a personal forensic inquiry on NCIS' time and dime? Even if he'd known, would Ducky have said the same thing if he was aware that when you didn't like the test results, that you ran the tests twice hoping to get the result you wanted?"

Looking somewhat chastened, Abby cast her eyes downward which the exasperated nun noted were now filled with unshed tears and mumbled truculently, "I don't know."

"Knowing how you've said that Dr Mallard stands up for the rights of the dead, I'm guessing there's no way he would have countenanced your 'research' taking precedent over an official case. Not if he is half as principled as you've portrayed him to be. You took advantage of him, Abby. You knew all too well that what you were working on was not agency business even if he didn't. As a forensic scientist who prides herself on her professional reputation, it was extremely negligent of you not to run his tests. Even if you won't admit it, you know I'm right or you're not the person I thought you were, Dr Sciuto."

By this point in their rancorous discussion, Abby started sobbing piteously but Sister Rosita found herself to be impassive in the presence of her tears. She'd witness the genuine tears of a mother's grief for her child and felt enormous empathy for her loss whereas Abby's tears didn't come close, especially as the nun wasn't certain if she crying because she truly regretted her actions or because she'd been taken to task.

However, Sister Rosita knew that Abby was quite manipulative at times and she wasn't in the mood for silly mind games. Tears might work on her male colleagues because many men couldn't deal with a woman crying but females were far less likely to fall prey to that ploy. Huffing in exasperation, the older woman got up to stir the pot of soup that was bubbling away on the archaic convent stovetop.

As Abby continued to blubber, she said frankly, "Stop with the manipulative crying, Abby, it won't work. I've been up since 3.45 am holding vigil with Angeline Carrera as her little boy died of leukemia this morning, I'm not feeling at that charitable to someone who is trying to manipulate me into feeling sorry for her."

Giving credence to her suspicions that Abby was more upset that her friend had taken her to task about her bad behaviour, rather than feeling guilty, the Goth stopped her sobbing and said with great indignance, "I can't believe you would accuse me of being manipulative, Sister Rosita. I thought you were my friend."

Ignoring Abby's, you've cut me to the quick expression, she responded calmly. "And yet, you had no compunction manipulating your friend and colleague, Timothy McGee into aiding you in mismanaging the agency resources and collect unnecessary evidence from the scene."

"Hey, Timmy's a big boy. He could have said no to me if he wanted to."

"You offered to show him your new tattoo, Abby. That sounds like coercion, or at the very least, offering inducements to get him to do your bidding. You used your intimate knowledge of a past lover's vulnerabilities to help you to carry out an unauthorised forensic investigation. Morally and ethically that's very wrong. It was also manipulative."

Seeing the mulish look on the Goth's face Sister Rosita sighed. "Abby, because of your manipulation, Agent McGee has been disciplined and may not get reassigned back as a field agent, which as you told me, was his dream. And even if he does, that serious transgression will stay with him on his permanent record. Your selfishness has and will continue to affect his career."

Their terse conversation was interrupted at that point when Sister Mary Augustine entered the rectory kitchen to start baking bread rolls and Sister Bridget came to check on the roast beef for dinner. As Abby declined an invitation to join them for a meal and left somewhat abruptly, Sister Rosita hoped that she would go home and think long and hard about what they'd talked about.

Hopefully, Abby would soon realise she was dead wrong about this and feel genuine contrition. Sister Rosita resolved that it was high time she gave Special Agent Gibbs a piece of her mind. In her opinion, he was turning Abigail Sciuto into a spoilt, self-centred bratty child by treating her as an entitled princess because he acted like she was a substitute daughter.

She strongly suspected that Gibbs once had a family and lost them or was estranged from them because Abby had often said how good he was with children. So, although she sympathised with him because she was a kind god-fearing woman, Abby wasn't a child, although she was becoming increasing childish and it was not an attractive or welcome change. The nun wanted her quirky, sassy, caring friend back again and no soft-headed sentimental father figure was going to stand in her way.

Coda

Gibbs threw down the case file in disgust. He knew that cold cases were important but the likelihood of these cases turning hot was not overly high.

After all, they'd gone cold for a reason – all leads had been chased down and had gone nowhere. Any fresh avenues of investigation exhausted. Very occasionally fresh evidence came to light or a witness withholding evidence might decide to confess what they knew. Sometimes new forensic processes might be developed and then able to unlock DNA or other trace evidence left at the crime scene. Of course, having fresh eyes look over the cold cases, on occasion did yield results but not often. Yet despite the chances of solving a case diminishing over time they were still obligated to pursue the case for as long as there was even the slightest chance to achieve justice, Gibbs thought with a frustrated sigh.

Like many other investigators before him, Gibbs got off on the thrill of the chase, the whole 72- golden hours to find the dirtbags before the trail goes cold, narrative. He was an apex predator who needed a quarry to pursue for him to feel fully alive…and to distract himself from the reality of his losses. He needed the hunt to hide from his abject failure protecting his beloved wife and daughter which had cost them their lives. Cold cases rarely gave him that thrill of the chase or the luxury of being able to shut out the realities of his miserable existence. Truth be told, he hated working cold cases, not that he would ever admit that to anyone, although he suspected that Tom Morrow had an inkling of his aversion. Tom was a canny bastard; perhaps not in Gibbs league but he was smart enough to know Jethro's weaknesses, nonetheless.

Up until recently, the MCRT had a way better than the average clearance of cold case files but as much as it pained him to admit it the solve rate had plummeted back down below the norm since the team had been reassigned to cold cases and Balboa's team had taken over as the DC major case response team. While all the teams would examine cold cases when they weren't pursuing active ones, there hadn't been a dedicated Cold Case team since Chris had been murdered – his intestines brutally spilled in an elevator in a brazen attempt to locate the memory thingy card in his digital cameras Pacci swallowed, knowing his death was imminent.

While he wasn't exactly enamoured with working cold cases, Gibbs was enough of a pragmatist to recognise that it was grist for the mill. When they had quiet periods, teams would start revisiting cold cases in the hope that something might have changed, or a fresh set of eyes would see something that others might have overlooked. Jethro also was grudgingly willing to admit to himself (if to no one else) that he rather liked basking in the congratulatory glow of the agency when his team successfully closed another cold one that has been sitting unsolved in some evidence file.

Unfortunately, it had been three weeks since they'd been assigned to working cold cases fulltime and they had only closed one case and that was mostly due to the notes Pacci had left in the case file, suggesting several witnesses he'd planned to reinterview before the last case had claimed his attention and ultimately his life. He'd noted in his distinctly scrawly handwriting that the guy Chris suspect of killing the midshipman had reportedly found God and the agent had speculated if the right pressure had been brought to bear, he might just be willing to confess to the murder.

Pacci had been correct on both counts, his suspect had been the killer and finding God had made him vulnerable to being interrogated. So, Gibbs didn't feel like his team had really earnt the collar – they'd simply been following up on their dead colleague's preliminary work and it felt wrong to accept accolades for working one of Chris' hunches.

The exasperated team leader stood up and stretched, fed up with being tied so much to his desk which was a given in that most of the fieldwork was already complete. Pacci was far better suited to cold cases than Gibbs. He was a patient easy-going agent who could bide his time; he was dogged, meticulous and thorough. Quite the antithesis of Gibbs who was as hot-tempered and impulsive as Chris had been circumspect and measured in his approach to investigating. Pacci's stellar qualities made him uniquely suited to cold cases while the former Marine needed more stimulation and excitement. He required the much higher probability of being able to bring down his prey in order to keep in check his ever-present fury at the death of his family or at least, for him to at least keep it under some semblance of control.

When he was in the end stages of a case, during the capture of the target, it was almost the only time he could focus completely upon the present and not get mired down in the past. Cold cases gave him too much time to think…too much time to remember.

Under normal circumstances, he would have probably been able to stick out temporary banishment to Cold Cases if they were at least achieving their usual closure rate – at least for a few months, but their solve rate was pathetic. It was why they had been shunted over to cold cases in the first place…well that and the fact they were missing two team members. It had exposed the fact that Todd (despite her profiler training at the Secret Service) was not a great investigator and the closure rate had slumped to an all-time low of seventy-two percent. Given her deficiencies as an investigator, Morrow claimed that he couldn't justify keeping just the two of them on the MCRT.

Gibbs protested pointing out, "DiNozzo and I worked as a team for 12 months before I hired Cate as the third team member."

Morrow snorted ironically, "True, but Agent DiNozzo was a trained investigator and the two of you had an enviable closure rate. That's the only reason I allowed you to work together for as long as you did," he stated acerbically, not even bothering to hide his ire at the former Marine sniper.

Gibbs grumbled but there was no denying the truth of the director's statement, much as he would have liked to. Unfortunately, that left him stuck in limbo in Pacci's old job and aside from him being ill at ease exclusively working cold cases, it was also a constant reminder that Pacci was dead. Which in turn, reminded him that Chris had come seeking his help in that last disastrous case and he'd brushed him off, fixated on solving his own case so he could get back to finding Haswari.

Damn it! Everything had turned to shit and much as it pained him to admit it, the fault was his. When McGee and Abby had been disciplined over the unauthorised forensic testing and she'd been constantly caterwauling about how the director had been mean to her, Gibbs had become enraged at DiNozzo.

He'd told Gibbs that pranking McGee while he was searching the cornfield with the magnetic thingamabob was his way of disciplining McGee. He said it was because Jethro wouldn't like Abby getting dragged into an official investigation for her malfeasance.

Yet when they returned to DC after completing their assignment at the Norfolk Naval Base to discover there'd been a witch hunt into the unnecessary forensic tests Abby ran on the crop circles, Jethro had immediately assumed DiNozzo had lied to him. He'd railed against DiNozzo, publicly denouncing his actions in failing to observe chain-of-command and going over his head to Tom Morrow, only to learn much later he was wrong.

The NCIS director informed him (after hearing his false accusations of DiNozzo along with most of the other agents present) that he'd learnt about Abby's shenanigans via the scuttlebutt doing the rounds. Unbelievably, the office gossip was due in no small part to Cate and Abby gloating about how gullible McGee had been in getting duped into doing her bidding, not knowing the tattoo she promised to show him was on her ankle.

Gibbs kicked his wastepaper bin in frustrated anger. He'd stuffed up!

As he'd been going off on his senior field agent, he'd maliciously enjoyed tearing him a new one right in the middle of the bullpen. Gibbs chose to ignore the momentary fury and betrayal he caught sight of on his 2IC's features before DiNozzo ruthlessly banished all sign of emotion, enduring the rest of his diatribe with calm stoicism. Once he learnt that it was Abby and Todd who'd inadvertently let the cat out of the bag that engulfed the team, not Tony, he realised that he had some fence-mending to do with the senior field agent. He'd invited him over to his place for dinner by way of apology since Gibbs would rather remarry Diane, his ex-wife (one of his exes) than say he was sorry to anyone, especially a subordinate. It was bad for team discipline he told himself repeatedly.

Turned out his attempts at hospitality and penitence were a disastrous waste of time. DiNozzo was uncharacteristically quiet. He spoke civilly when Gibbs addressed him, but otherwise, he remained silent and watchful, a situation which Gibbs found quite unnerving. No good ever came out of a quiet, still Anthony DiNozzo; the man was quintessential human quicksilver, always in motion. It should have told him that the situation was FUBAR and called for desperate measures, but he ignored his gut. Mostly they ate their cowboy steaks (which per usual he'd cooked over his open fireplace) in an uncomfortably stilted atmosphere which ended up giving Gibbs a bad case of heartburn.

At the end of the meal, with the mood increasingly awkward, DiNozzo had looked at him appraisingly before asking. "Was there anything that you wanted to talk about Gibbs?"

Jethro knew damned well that he was angling for an apology but honestly, DiNozzo had worked with him for more than three years now. He knew very well that Gibbs didn't believe in apologising because it was a sign of weakness. So, he shrugged and said, "Nope."

DiNozzo had given him a measured stare, holding eye contact for several minutes without speaking, searching his face for something. Gibbs in hindsight later figured he'd probably been seeking a sign that the SSA regretted his actions but finding no sign of contrition, DiNozzo sighed and said, "Right…well, thanks for dinner, Gibbs," and left.

The phrase 'don't let the door hit you on the way out' popped into Gibbs' mind as he analysed his senior field agent's speedy departure. Although Tony didn't exactly run out of the house like the Hounds of Hell were on his heels, more of a purposeful stride eating up the distance to his car, there was an air of determinedness about the ex-cops' departure. It seemed fanciful at the time but the way DiNozzo closed his car door foretold of a cold finality which he tried to shake off as foolishness, but his gut persisted in twisting.

Despite his spoken rule about apologies and the unspoken one regarding remorse, his eponymous Gibbs' gut was telling him that he messed up his dinner tonight. Bungled it epically. He'd failed to convey that he recognised that DiNozzo was blameless over Morrow finding out about Abby's off the books whack-a-doodle investigation into alien crop circles at Smoky Corners. That he knew that the director had found out via the gossiping of Cate and Abby.

Jethro momentarily considered chasing after his agent, confident he could catch him if he wanted to but his stubborn streak, the one which saw apologies as a sign of weakness, quickly vetoed that idea. He decided he would compromise and take his SFA one of those damned coffees he favoured with a heap of sugar and that hazelnut creamer shit instead. It seemed clear to Jethro that DiNozzo was going to play hardball, refusing to take the dinner in the spirit it had been intended – as a peace offering.

Unfortunately, it had been far too late for a coffee on DiNozzo's desk to try to fix the mess he'd created. Morrow informed Jethro that late the previous night Tony had called him at home to inform the NCIS director he'd accepted a secondment request from the FBI. He would be going undercover for the foreseeable future working with the bureau's organised crime division. Tom was ropable, saying that after Gibbs public evisceration of DiNozzo in the bullpen, word had swiftly spread like wildfire to the other alphabets that Jethro's golden boy was out of favour with The-Almighty-Gibbs and job offers had come flooding in for him from all the other agencies, keen to secure his services. After attending Gibbs dinner, he'd told Tom that he was taking the temporary undercover gig to get some distance before he considered his career options.

He'd indicated however that even if he stayed, he didn't want to return to the major case response team and that left Morrow wanting blood…Gibbs blood, if he'd lost a brilliant undercover agent and investigator. Yep, Gibbs name was mud and apparently, SECNAV was pissed with him too.

Tony's exodus left Gibbs with just Todd on the team since Morrow had decreed that Abby and McGee were not to work together anymore and Gibbs had already used up his markers saving Abby's job. McGee, in the unlikely event that he regained security clearance and requalified for field status, would be transferred to the San Diego office, which effectively left the MCRT in ruins. He'd tried to soldier on with Cate – after all, he and DiNozzo had worked as a team for more than a year and his closure rate had always been excellent. They'd do so again.

Well, that theory was swiftly shot down when their solve rate plummeted without DiNozzo. One of the biggest obstacles was that Todd seemed utterly incapable of observing one of his cardinal rules. She was constantly becoming emotionally involved in the case, making her annoyingly myopic about people who were potential suspects. The former Secret Service agent was too caught up with the victims to remain objective while working the case, which was worrying, especially when Gibbs had difficulty maintaining distance in some situations. He needed someone to compensate for his need to save Shannon and Kelly via the victims who became de facto surrogates and pull him back when he crossed too far over the line of professionalism.

As if her deficiencies as an investigator and a partner having his six wasn't enough, there was her constant haranguing him about his patriarchal leadership style. She'd always a firebrand however lately she seemed to have stepped it up a notched or five. Gibbs growled in annoyance – if he wanted to be nagged 24/7, he'd had gotten married again. It wasn't as if he didn't have females throwing themselves at him either. He thought fondly of the sexy redhead who hung out with him in his basement, but he knew that it worked because it was casual. Making the relationship permanent would have ultimately ended up in a fourth divorce and his bank balance couldn't cope with the strain.

As he focused back on Todd who seemed to think she had joined a democracy when he gave her a job, he shrugged mentally. Perhaps her nagging and criticism were just more obvious now it was just the two of them working together. So, all in all it wasn't exactly surprising that their closure stats tanked.

As much as it hurt to lose the MCRT to Ric Balboa's team (who in his opinion, couldn't hold a candle to his team) well, his former team, he couldn't really blame Morrow for having to act . His inability to admit he was wrong or formally apologise to DiNozzo had cost him dearly, losing the role of leading the top team in DC, if not the entire agency. The stubborn Marine was loath to concede it publicly, but he had no doubt that if DiNozzo hadn't deserted him, they would still hold that coveted position – after all, they'd functioned as a three-person team with Todd last year before he'd added McGee to the line-up.

Gibbs returned to his desk, albeit with reluctance, parking his ass in his chair as he picked up the cold case he'd been reading, feeling frustrated and out of sorts. In the face of his team's ignominious fall from grace, he decided that perhaps it was time he did an audit of his rules. Maybe just maybe it was time for a new rule too – sometimes you're wrong! And odious as it might be to his sense of propriety, Rule Six needed to be re-evaluated. Perhaps if you couldn't apologise when you'd made a huge mistake that was a sign of weakness. It might just have save his precious team that he'd spent the last three years carefully building if he'd been able to apologise for his actions. God knows, DiNozzo was a much more forgiving person that Gibbs would ever be.

End Notes: Yes, I do know that Rule 51 – sometimes you're wrong - wasn't developed until a much later point in the show but then Gibbs had never had to face the consequences of his many mistakes or breaking of rules and regulations either. Perhaps he may have been pushed into achieving his spectacularly narcissistic revelation that no one is always right all the time that much sooner. Imagine the implications of that epiphany if you will! Until the next tag, stay safe everyone.