June 11, 2006: I'm working on several stories at once so my apologies for the delay in providing this chapter.

This has not been Betaed for continuity within NCIS or for anything else, so any errors are my own darn fault. This story was started before Ziva David joined the team.

I do not own these characters but hope that no one minds if I play with them for a bit. :)

Many thanks to those who read and those who review. I greatly appreciate your feedback. :D

June 14, 2006: Finally getting this posted. :) Except the Documents page won't load… grrrrrr…

After approximately ten attempts to get it to work, I'll try again tomorrow.

June 15, 2006: Once more, with feeling... ;)

Enjoy!

Tin Star

Chapter Six

By lilmouse

"Don't shove me Harv. I'm tired of being shoved."

- Marshal Will Kane (Gary Cooper), 'High Noon', 1952

The body lies on a cold metal table in Autopsy, a part of the conversation but merely from the perspective of evidence. It cannot provide much insight beyond the obvious traces of information discernable from the flesh and bones and all those delicate organs that are now without purpose. The body won't be asking for coffee or permission to use the washroom or demand a lawyer.

Death has taken the soul and is weighing its merit while the body remains as testament to the fragility of the human race.

It is three in the morning and the scene at East Potomac Park has been thoroughly scoured. Everyone is tired and hungry and wishes nothing more than a comfortable bed and a clear vision of light at the end of the tunnel; the satisfaction that comes at the successful conclusion of a frustrating case.

They are so close and yet still hobbled by obstacles, but they can all sense that reward.

So close…

"Tell me a story."

Even at three in the morning, Tony Dinozzo recognizes the words Gibbs has just spoken. They echo a seven-year-old girl who had asked for a story moments before the shooters targeted him and he landed in hospital for three weeks. He wonders if Gibbs realizes what he has just said.

"Tell me a story."

"A story?"

The small head nods, eyes never leaving his face.

"Uh…"

"What're you waiting for, Dinozzo?"

"Once upon a time," Tony begins, his voice initially mimicking a favourite television host from his childhood, "there was a man named Robert Joseph Garvey."

"Dinozzo -"

"He wasn't a very nice man. He killed his sister, Helen, while his niece, Katie, watched from a hiding place in a closet." He knows he's walking a fine line between 'clever' and 'impossible'. Gibbs hasn't had a coffee in at least an hour and he can tell the man is pushing himself, drawing on those personal Marine reserves out of habit to keep going. McGee isn't faring much better but at least he doesn't get grumpy. He does, however, stammer more when he's tired but is smart enough not to say anything when he's like this unless it's really important. Ducky has almost finished the autopsy and is just fussing with the details, a cut here, a probe there.

Tony finds the analogy of someone carving the Christmas turkey vaguely disturbing but his brain is making odd connections right now. He's been surviving on Doritos and soda and still his stomach growls, hungry for more junk.

It amazes his doctor that he's so physically fit.

Of the five people who were at the scene, Palmer is currently absent. He has taken a few samples to Abby and is missing the beginning of the story.

"He kept the NCIS agents running in circles while they tried to protect the little girl - the only witness to this horrible crime - from being killed as well." Tony glances at the grim line of Gibbs' mouth, at McGee's nervous eyes, at Ducky's raised eyebrow. He returns his gaze to the body and starts to walk around the table as he speaks. "She's in protective custody now. Mr. Garvey had an alibi, a really good job and a really good lawyer. NCIS didn't like him very much but there wasn't a lot they could do." He leans down and whispers in the ear of the corpse, "Agent Dinozzo was particularly pissed as his stay in hospital made him testy."

"Dinozzo…"

"I'm getting to the good part, Boss." Tony straightens and rolls his shoulders as he completes his walk, returning to the point in the room where he started. "There's a happy ending - sort of. Well, not for Mr. Garvey, but everyone else is happy he's dead." He holds up a finger and feels like Columbo. "Except for maybe his girlfriend." He acquits himself well when he delivers that line. Peter Falk would be proud.

"Are you done, Dinozzo?"

"You wanted a story, Boss, and almost done, to answer your question."

"I assume you have a point to all this?" Gibbs has known Tony long enough to recognize this process. Sometimes he has to talk his way through a situation in order to arrive on the other side with something useful. The patience level of his boss isn't at its peak right now but Tony figures a few more minutes are all he needs.

"Every story has an ending, Boss."

"Give us the Reader's Digest version."

"Gotcha." He's aware that he's vibrating but has no idea where his extra energy is coming from or when he's going to crash. He clears his throat and takes a sip from his Mountain Dew. It's a good thing NCIS keeps their pop and snack machines well stocked at all times. "So, how did he die?" He looks at Ducky who sighs heavily. "Dr. Mallard has just told us it was due to a blow to the back of the skull and not drowning in the Potomac." Tony feels like his title should be 'Detective Inspector Something-or-Another' from Scotland Yard instead of 'Special Agent'. Ducky has the accent, the right looks - though the scrubs won't do at all - and even the eccentricity frequently evident in British mysteries, but he isn't in that role at present.

Even so, the medical examiner managed to stretch his presentation of the facts to over fifteen minutes.

Tony will be done in five.

"He didn't drown and it obviously wasn't an accident, so what happened? And why was Mr. Garvey discovered wearing the uniform of a petty officer when he isn't a member of any military group and has lots of Gucci suits in his closet to choose from?"

Gibbs is rubbing the bridge of his nose. "Tony…" It's a sign of his exhaustion that he uses the given name instead.

The agent testing his patience gestures broadly with both arms. "So who did it?"

"If you say Professor Plum with the candlestick -"

"McGee, please." Tony smiles and moves in front of his friend, clasping him heartily on the shoulders. McGee jumps in his skin. Even tired, Tony still has an alarming grip. "It was Miss Scarlet, and my bet would be on the lead pipe."

"Ah, 'Clue'. Mother likes to play that game but it's very frustrating. She insists on looking in the envelopes first then making up a story to match that conclusion."

"You're not helping, Duck."

"Sorry, Jethro."

"Miss Scarlet," Tony repeats. They look at him with varying degrees of wariness. He throws his head back and laughs and feels like Dr. Evil for a moment. When he faces them again, he releases McGee and his face is perfectly serious. "The girlfriend, his alibi. Who else has anything at stake? Maybe she knew about the inheritance and was seriously in on the game? Maybe she has access to his money and doesn't need to kill Katie Garvey when she has a rich accountant's bank account to play with?"

"So why the uniform?" Tony smiles at Ducky, happy someone has joined in the game.

"Elementary, my dear Watson!"

The four men turn as one to witness Abby striding into the room, closely followed by a startled-looking Palmer. She looks wide-awake and is vibrating faster than Tony. He wonders how many Caff-Pows! she's had since he last saw her and whether or not she has one left and would be willing to share.

"Hey," Tony says in mock indignation, "I'm Sherlock."

"I always figured you preferred Mike Hammer," Abby says, moving to stand next to the body, taking in all the gory details with glee. Palmer trails behind, obviously confused.

"I'll take Sam Spade over Mike Hammer. 'The Maltese Falcon', 1941, a classic."

"People!"

The room echoes at the roar of the lion. Tony waits a beat before he says, "Tell them, Abby." He has no idea what she is going to say and wants to make sure her news doesn't get lost in the surreal, colourless hours before dawn.

"I got bored waiting for the drug screen on our guest so I played with fabric." She bounces. "The uniform isn't a uniform," she states firmly. "Wrong material, noUSMC approval identification serial number, poorly sewn plastic buttons." She rolls her eyes. "I mean, come on. It's a costume."

They wait for her to continue. She's bursting to do so but is holding back, like a child waiting for Christmas morning before throwing herself at the presents under the tree.

Tony figures the two Christmas references have popped into his head because it is November and he hasn't done any holiday shopping. Not that his list is very long and he certainly won't be visiting his family -

Dead body. Need Pizza. Must get through this to get pizza. Focus, Dinozzo.

Gibbs pierces her with his steely gaze. "And?"

She grins, unaffected by the intimidation factor of her boss. "Someone is just trying to play with our heads, that's all. Oh! And I played detective and called some of the costume places I know and asked if anyone had rented or purchased any uniforms lately."

Abby stops. Five men wait for her to say something. She stares back at each of them, not blinking in that freaky way that drives Tony crazy.

"Abbs -"

"And I found it, Bossman! Paid for two weeks ago using a credit card - how sloppy is that? - with this name on it." A piece of paper unfurls from her fingertips and she gives it to Gibbs. He squints at it but the light isn't good where he's standing and he doesn't have his glasses. Tony leans a little to the left and is able to make out the letters.

Oh. My. God.

He was right.

"Miss Scarlet…" His voice trails off when Gibbs frowns up at him, realizing Tony can read it when he can't and not being pleased. Tony straightens and smiles, trying to look harmless.

"Stacey Burnett." Gibbs crumples the paper. "Pull up her address, let's -"

Tony raises his arms suddenly as if he's been burned. "That's it! That's It! Stacey Burnett lives in Charles Town, West Virginia!" He hops a few times, as if he were dancing at a club. "Whoo-hoo! Damn, but that was bugging me."

The room falls silent. He lowers his arms and scrunches up his face. "What? I'm on good medication here, feeling no pain and full of Doritos but the brain is still working, thank you very much."

"Charles Town, West Virginia?" Abby and McGee are so cute when they speak in stereo like that. They frown at one another so Tony doesn't know if it'll ever happen again. He's sorry he didn't have a video camera to capture the moment.

"Petty Officer First Class Federico Rossi bets at the race track in Charles Town, West Virginia," Tony explains. "Abby, when you found the link on his laptop, it reminded me of something but I couldn't remember what. Garvey's girlfriend lives there, in an apartment building not far from the track if I recall the report correctly."

McGee had done the legwork on that part of the investigation. Interview the girlfriend, interview the landlord, knock on doors to see if any of the neighbours could confirm or deny the story. Blah, blah, blah. Tony had been given the job of checking out the accounting firm Garvey worked for and subsequently the appealing female who was his assistant. Too bad she has a fiancé, though that hasn't stopped Tony before -

He gives himself a mental head slap.

Pizza. Focus. Now.

"Petty Officer Rossi paid that 'personal loan' - or shall we say 'gambling debt'? - to that guy at 'A Sure Thing', right McGee?"

McGee nods, his brow furrowing. He's a smart man but it looks like every ounce of his remaining energy is being summoned to deal with this question. Tony wonders if maybe he should sit down.

"Maybe you should sit down, Probie," he says.

McGee purses his lips. "So where did he get the money?"

"That's my point."

Now Gibbs is frowning. "Are you suggesting these two cases are connected?"

"It crossed my mind," Tony says, raising his arms again in an effort to release a knot in his back.

"Short trip," a familiar voice quips.

No one else reacts so he figures he's the only one who can hear her. Tony stops mid-stretch. A cool breeze makes the skin on the back of his neck prickle. He isn't sure if he should look over his shoulder or just ignore her. It doesn't take him long to decide he can't resist.

Caitlin Todd leans against the wall, her arms crossed over her chest, looking as fresh and lovely as she did that day he first woke up in hospital after the shooting. Her hair is loose and she's wearing a red sleeveless top and black pants. She takes his breath away. The others continue to converse without him but their words are muffled.

Abby notices he has turned towards the far corner of the room and seems lost in thought.

"We don't have a lot of clues," Tony quietly tells Kate-Who-Isn't-There.

"'Clue'?" Kate shakes her head. "That game was boring after the first ten times but 'Monopoly'? Now, that was exciting."

"Only if you owned all the railroads and had a hotel on Boardwalk," Tony argues.

God, how I miss you…

A voice penetrates his thoughts. "We need evidence, Dinozzo, not wild theories."

"He's right, you know." She steps away from the wall and Tony watches her move closer to the autopsy table, studying the body with apparent interest.

"Any of you see or… hear anything, uh… odd?"

"Other than you?" Abby asks, her expression innocent.

Kate laughs. "You go, girl!"

Tony rounds on her. "You stay outta this!"

He feels a hand on his arm. Ducky has moved quickly to his side and looks very concerned. "Anthony, perhaps you should be the one sitting down, not Timothy."

McGee drags a chair across the floor and Tony is pushed gently into it. He glances at his hands in disbelief. When did he start shaking?

No…

His hands become fists and there's something cool and sticky and sweet running down his right hand. He stares at Kate. If he looks away, she might disappear and he has to know.

"Is it the drugs?" he asks her.

She shrugs. "Probably, though you are pretty messed up to start with, Dinozzo."

"He's on some pretty strong stuff," McGee tells no one in particular. The crushed can of Mountain Dew is pried from his right hand. Someone finds a towel and tries to wipe his skin clean.

"Thanks for the vote of confidence."

"I'm not the one hallucinating, Tony."

"I'm taking codeine," Tony manages through gritted teeth. "Why would I hallucinate with codeine?"

"I don't know," McGee says.

"He isn't talking to you," Gibbs tells him flatly, and follows Tony's eyes, seeing only empty space in the shadows created by the bright task lights directed at the body and the backlit x-ray board.

Tony takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly. He relaxes his hands and flexes his fingers. He is aware that Ducky still has a hold of his arm. "So talk to me."

"What?" Palmer is completely lost and decides that since he missed the beginning of this particular scene, he'll just sit on one of the other autopsy tables and wait for it to end.

Kate smiles. "I can't tell you anything you don't already know, Tony. This is just like the hospital. The drugs are affecting your perceptions and the lack of sleep isn't helping much, either. I'm not really here."

"We need to get this case done and we need to do it now. I'm tired and I've had enough."

She leans her hip against the table and regards the body with disdain. "This is the man that killed the mother of that little girl?"

"Yes."

"Good."

"Any ideas, Kate? Am I totally off on this?"

"Oh my god, he's taking to Kate," Abby whispers reverently to McGee. "This is so cool…"

"I've got ears," he replies testily, then sighs when she glares at him.

"What tells you the two cases are connected, Dinozzo?" This from Gibbs.

"My gut."

Kate pouts prettily. "I thought I was your subconscious."

"Whatever." He snatches the towel from Abby then realizes how abrupt he's just been and apologizes. "Sorry, Abbs. Having some trouble here. Give me a minute while I psychoanalyze myself and see if I can find the pieces I'm missing."

Did that make sense? He doesn't have the energy to care.

"You like games, Dinozzo?" Kate raises an eyebrow. "Here's a clue: look at his left hand."

Tony does but all he sees is pale skin and bone. Kate-Who-Isn't-There starts humming. It takes him a few seconds to recognize the 'Wedding March', which is strange when you consider the number of weddings he's attended, mostly big Italian affairs and twice for the same woman in as many years. Two of his college buddies are getting married next year and both of them have asked him to be a groomsman.

He figures it's because he looks good in a tux and knows how to party.

Something clicks. "Ring finger, left hand," Tony says. Gibbs leans down to get a closer look. There is very little difference in the skin tone but the difference is there.

"Not 'girlfriend'," Kate states.

Tony can feel a muscle twitch in his jaw as he says, "Stacey Burnett isn't his girlfriend. She's his wife."

"Wife?" Stereo again. Abby hits McGee and he hits her back. Ducky clears his throat as a warning.

Gibbs nods once. "Get on it. I want the minister or whoever conducted the service and I want the records."

Tony releases a breath he didn't realize he was holding and assesses his situation. He is surrounded by friends. Ducky is behind him, Abby to the right and McGee to the left. At the corner of his vision he sees Palmer sit up and take note of the conversation.

In front of him, across the body, stands Gibbs and the hallucination he is calling 'Kate'. It looks so natural, so familiar, to see her beside him, smiling, he can feel his throat close with emotion. "Oh, god, Katie," he breathes, knowing his prayer to make it real will not be answered.

Despite her faith, Caitlin Todd is beyond the assistance of the deity she worshipped.

Gibbs looks to his right but Tony knows he doesn't see her. He can tell what his boss is thinking, though, as a crack appears in the stoic façade. He's thinking of the vibrant woman and how helpless he was as she was killed right in front of him. Killed because of him -

"Tell Gibbs to stop blaming himself for my death," Kate says abruptly.

Tony blinks, the corners of his eyes damp. "What?"

She stares at Gibbs and her face is agonizing to behold. "Do it, Tony. He has to stop thinking that way."

"She says you're not responsible for her death, Boss, and wants you to stop blaming yourself." Gibbs looks at him sharply. Abby gasps and McGee freezes. Tony swallows, uncertain how to proceed.

Then he has a new problem. The shaking that had subsided has returned with a vengeance. He suddenly realizes he's taken too much codeine in the last twenty-four hours and not nearly enough food. His body is rebelling against the combination.

"Shit," he mumbles, bolting from the chair and lurching towards another table, away from their evidence, grabbing at a metal bowl. Oddly enough, it is McGee - the man who gets nauseous when dealing with bodily fluids - who holds him firmly by his upper arms while he wretches into several successive metal bowls supplied by Abby. McGee's support and his own hands clenching on the edge of the table are the only things preventing him from collapsing in his vomit.

After about five minutes, all Tony can hear is the harshness of his breathing.

Wow.

He didn't know he had that much food in him.

He doesn't, now…

A warm, wet towel is given to him when McGee helps him straighten. He takes it in both hands, smothers his face with it and leaves it there for a minute before scrubbing his skin thoroughly. He can't look at Abby - not yet - when she takes it from him and offers a glass of water, which he drains completely.

The metal bowls and their contents have been whisked away and the smell is abating.

Tony resigns himself to the inevitable and stares at the empty space beside Gibbs. He sighs, knowing she'd be gone once the drugs had been so brutally forced from his system.

"Better?" Ducky asks quietly.

"Yeah."

He won't look at Gibbs, either, doesn't want to see if there is hatred or ridicule in those eyes.

"Do you need something for your stomach, Anthony?" The doctor's words seem to restart everyone. McGee and Abby step away, quietly talking about the latest break in the case and whether or not they should be calling anyone at this time of the morning. Palmer slides from his perch on one of the other tables and casts a frown at the chaos Tony's sickness has caused the orderly world of Autopsy. Ducky moves towards a drawer and opens it, rummaging through a variety of bottles.

Only Gibbs maintains a vigil beside the body.

"Some antacids, maybe?" Ducky continues. "Or perhaps you'd prefer a glass of milk? It calms the stomach nicely unless you're lactose-intolerant, of course, but as I recall you don't have a problem with -"

"Nope," Tony says clearly, and smiles. "What I need… is pizza."

He ignores the gagging noises McGee is making at the very concept of food right now - let alone pizza - and strides for the door.

To be continued…