August 6, 2006: Here is another chapter. Sorry it has taken so long: Time, energy, computer issues and some more FFN hiccups.

As usual, any characters you recognize belong to the NCIS universe and any you don't recognize belong to me. Just for fun, folks, no infringement intended. This story still isn't being Betaed so any errors are my own darned fault. For example, birth dates are touched upon briefly and I have my own take on them. If they've been established in the show, I don't know about it so please bear with me. :)

August 13, 2006: My continued thanks to those who read and those who review my writing. Your comments are greatly appreciated. :)

I enjoyed doing Abby's perspective for the last chapter so here is McGee's.

Enjoy!

Tin Star

Chapter Eight

By lilmouse

"The public doesn't give a damn about integrity. A town that won't defend itself deserves no help."

- Martin Howe (Lon Chaney Jr.), 'High Noon', 1952

Special Agent Timothy McGee is tired and nauseous and that is never a good way to start the day.

It is 0900 hours.

He is in Autopsy - again - and the body of Robert Joseph Garvey is still on one of the tables. At the moment, it is covered by a sheet and for that he is very grateful. The body was exposed when he'd first arrived and Tim has never been comfortable in the presence of death. The smell of chemicals clashes with the lingering aroma of the spicy sausage on Tony's latest pizza but he's trying not to think about it.

At least the visual input has been reduced.

Doctor Donald Mallard has explained his findings in full detail and the team is asking questions and posing theories. The cause of death is blunt force trauma to the back of the skull. Other parts of the body are broken and fractured and bruised but Ducky figures the victim was already dead when these injuries occurred.

Probably.

"If he was indeed the one who so brutally murdered his sister," the good doctor had concluded, "then he certainly had a taste of his own medicine."

Gibbs and Abby are discussing baseball bats and the age of wood and he really isn't following the conversation very well. He gathers that some hairs have been discovered on the body under the uniform - costume - that don't belong to Mr. Garvey. They could be traces of the murderer and this is good news but he's having trouble focussing on anything but the body.

The body. It was a person, once. Living, breathing, dreaming.

Just like Caitlin Todd.

He misses her smile, her teasing and her insight. He can still see her lying in that cold, cold drawer in the Morgue. The image of her beautiful face so still and expressionless is permanently burned into his brain, filed under the heading of 'Friends Lost'.

He likes to think he would have come to say his goodbyes to her without the encouragement of Tony DiNozzo, but he still isn't sure if he would have had the nerve to stay alone with her for very long. There are times when Tony drives him crazy - patient, affable, aim-to-please Tim McGee - to the point where he wonders if he is capable of committing murder.

And yet -

Tony had followed him down, taken the time to ensure that he had visited Kate before she - her body - was prepared for her funeral. Kate deserved his respect, deserved to be acknowledged as a member of the team one more time by two of the men who worked hand in hand with her daily to try to make the world a better place.

Tony, Kate and Tim. "The Three Amigos", as Tony had referred to them during one of his amicable moods that always puts McGee on alert.

Kate: one of the guys while simultaneously being a strong, intelligent woman.

Kate: his nosy, protective 'big sister'.

Kate: confident, beautiful, caring.

Dead.

It is still so fresh in his memory that there are times when he looks at her desk and expects her to be there, across from Tony, having a paperclip fight or sniping about a difficult case. Then they'll realize he's trying to work and decide he's a viable target. They'll gang up on him, any moment now, and he'll feel the spotlight of hazing he thought he'd left behind after his first year at MIT. So familiar, patterns and habits and all part of the dysfunctional, wonderful office family he looks forward to seeing every day.

Gone.

He wonders if anyone in the crowd of people who were waiting to greet their loved ones knows that a woman died that day on the roof of a nearby building - protecting her family.

Tim knew he was delaying the inevitable by not visiting Kate but if he saw her body it would make it real and he wouldn't be able to pretend she was still alive just… not at her desk. But because of Tony, Tim was at least provided with a degree of comfort and closure.

Speaking of whom -

Tony looks tired. Earlier this morning, he apparently saw the ghost of Kate and had a conversation with her. Tim isn't sure what to make of that. He figures if anyone should be speaking with someone from "beyond the grave" it should be Abby. Abby's into the supernatural and was Kate's friend. Sure, Tony was Kate's partner but -

Gibbs is handling her absence in his own way, a silent, closed, personal topic. Tim decides he'll never truly understand it. Immediately following her death, he suspects Gibbs had trouble dealing with it - no, he knows Gibbs had trouble dealing with it. Who wouldn't? The man's pain, indecision and guilt were obvious. Gibbs closed up pretty quickly, though, sealed the breaches in the hull of the battleship, and now he's the same as he was before Kate was killed.

Except where he's completely different.

Tim knows it should disturb him that he and Tony have connected on some level since they lost Kate, grown closer as co-workers and even - who knew? - be considered by one another as friends. It isn't right yet. The dynamic has shifted and they're still finding their new positions. Silent grief or no, they all wish the adjustments were unnecessary.

Wishing will not make it so.

"Told you she looked good..." Tony had addressed her profile. "Probie wouldn't believe me, Kate. Thought you would look like the 'Return of the Living Dead'."

"Did not", Tim had protested.

"Don't lie to the dead, McGee... it's not nice."

"I was a little afraid." He could admit that. It was the truth.

"He was terrified... but it took a lot of guts to come down here alone... showed how much he cared for you..."

McGee had swallowed and stated quietly, "I really did like you, Kate."

Tim will always remember Tony DiNozzo for that respectful time with their teammate. The senior agent can do almost anything these days and Tim will be more tolerant of his humour and less chiding of his ways.

Especially after Tony was shot while protecting the little girl, Katie Garvey. He thought they were going to lose him, too, and Tim wasn't sure if he could take that, not so soon after -

But he still fights back when Tony pushes and defends his position admirably, he thinks. If he were totally accepting of the abuse it wouldn't work at all. That isn't part of the exercise. He might not like the process of being a 'Probie' but he knows it is a necessary step to becoming a good agent.

Someone is asking him a question. Tim is startled from his memories and swallows. It isn't just anyone asking the question but Gibbs. He quickly searches his mind to see if it registered or not.

Error. You cannot access this file.

Damn.

"McGee -"

"Sorry, Boss, I don't think I caught that last bit -"

"The answer is three," a voice states quietly, and Tim realizes it is the first time Tony has spoken since they entered Autopsy.

"Did I ask you, DiNozzo?"

"You should if you want an answer, Boss."

Tim is torn between being insulted and being grateful. The insult is almost expected. It's just something Tony does as his twisted form of initiation and a way to remind the less experienced agent of the pecking order.

The rescue from the Wrath of Gibbs is unusual and it is the second time in the last twenty-four hours that he has presented himself as an alternate target. Normally Tony smiles when McGee is in trouble and does the verbal equivalent of pulling up a chair and eating popcorn to watch the show.

This doesn't appear to be a normal day.

There seems to be some sort of pissing contest going on between Gibbs and Tony and he can't find the Cole's Notes for that one.

"Oh, three, that three, yes," McGee stammers. "Three different sets of footprints in the mud near the shoreline."

He risks a glance at Gibbs. The man stares at him with his usual penetrating gaze. Tim feels like all his past mistakes are exposed for the agent to see, mute evidence of his failures.

Trampling his ego.

He may never fully understand how Gibbs manages that with just one look.

No.

He knows he will never fully understand -

Tony must be noticing his lack of concentration because he sends Tim a look that yells: "Focus!"

"Two have been accounted for." Abby fills the silence with her bubbly personality before the air grows stale with disuse. "A man and a teenaged boy pulled the body from the water. We've got their shoe impressions and they match."

"Which leaves a third person," Tony says, shifting in his chair, "who obviously isn't our buddy here as he was in no condition to do a jig in the mud."

Abby nods. "Or anything else for that matter."

Tim tries not to envision the body dancing to some macabre rhythm in the dark beside the East Potomac River, like a puppet jerking on invisible strings. The image is there nonetheless, a dance in the floodlights provided by NCIS for the show.

Too many horror movies as a kid -

"We don't think the body was dumped at that spot, though," Abby continues.

Gibbs narrows his eyes dangerously. "You don't think?"

"We know the body wasn't dumped at that spot," Abby corrects smoothly. "There is evidence of that further up river - blood on the break wall, fibres from the fake uniform, but no footprints, unfortunately -"

"No mud," Gibbs states.

"Right. So the third set probably doesn't belong to the killer. I mean, why would they go stand there after doing the deed?"

"But if the prints belong to an innocent bystander," Tony adds, "why didn't they send up an alarm?"

"You're assuming they saw the body," Tim points out, pleased he is able to contribute something.

"The current is slower at the edge of the river," Ducky interjects. He looks down at the topic of their conversation. "Mr. Garvey wouldn't float to the point he was found for a while."

"Dead how long again?" Gibbs asks tersely.

"I estimate about three hours at the time of discovery."

"And in the water for…?"

Ducky sighs. "Forty-five minutes, tops." He shakes his head and murmurs, "I wonder why they bothered?"

They'd gone over this point before. Tim leans against one of the tables and thinks out loud. Sometimes that tactic gets him into trouble but often it helps clear his head. "But why didn't they just dig a hole in their back yard or throw it in a dumpster in an alley somewhere? You can find better places to hide a body than a public park without the cover of darkness. The body was put in the river while it was still light, with people around -"

"So someone could have seen it happen," Tony interrupts, "but none of the folks who were involved with spotting the body recall seeing anything suspicious, and if they did, I ask once again: why didn't they call 9-1-1 at the time? Why wait?"

Abby shrugs and sucks noisily on her straw, getting the last drop of her Caff-pow!. "They didn't see it happen."

Tony's expression suddenly hardens. "Or they knew the killer."

"DiNozzo -"

"Bear with me, Boss." Tony isn't looking at any of his teammates. For a moment, Tim wonders if he's seeing Kate again but he seems to be staring at the body. "What if," he continues slowly, "Robert Joseph Garvey was killed… somewhere else, we'll say for now -"

"Likely the case," Ducky mutters as he lifts the sheet and looks at the body once more.

"- and the killer or killers brought him to the park in a car. Makes sense: paved surface going in and out, no hassles with leaving tracks, park open 24/7. The road goes closer to the break wall where we found signs of the body's entry into the river. Someone carries the body to the edge and dumps it over the wall. Quickly, casually. How many people are paying attention? It's a cold day in November and it'll be dark soon." Tony smiles and Tim feels the hairs prickle on the back of his neck. It's a clever smile, a killer smile, and he is reminded that Tony worked in Homicide before coming here and has had to kill to defend himself and others in the line of duty.

McGee isn't sure if he could do that. He hopes he never has to find out.

"Your point, DiNozzo?"

"The third set of prints belong to someone who stood further down the river so that they could watch. They were an accomplice, and they didn't wait until it got dark because where would be the fun in that? Maybe they even took pictures to commemorate the event."

"And the uniform?"

"Costume," Abby says with a roll of her eyes.

"Trying to get our attention, taunting us."

"Why?"

It sounds like a bad mystery script to Tim. Tony turns his head slightly to regard Gibbs.

"Sat-is-fac-tion?"

"You've been watching too many movies, DiNozzo."

"No, I haven't," Tony growls, his eyes bright. "I've been stuck in hospital without my DVD player while I should've been out here working on the Garvey case."

McGee's eyes widen as the two men assess one another. The drugs are obviously affecting Tony's mind. He's riding the edge of the razor and might not be aware of how close he is to being cut. He probably shouldn't be at work yet.

There's that pissing contest again -

Across from him, Abby is frowning. He can tell she doesn't like the way they seem to be baiting one another - well, Tim amends, the way Tony seems to be baiting Gibbs - and her mood is a warning sign that the very bad morning might develop into a very bad day. The tension is a physical entity in the room.

"Anthony, what are the chances of the body being pulled ashore at the very point this hypothetical person stood earlier?"

Tim releases a breath he didn't realize he was holding.

Thank you, Ducky. I'll listen to any stories you want to tell me -

"About the same odds as three cell phones ringing at once," Tony replies without hesitation. Ducky raises his eyebrows.

"It happened yesterday," Tim explains and Ducky nods as if that is all the information he requires.

"I see."

"I don't. We need solid evidence, DiNozzo. What's telling you there was an accomplice?"

Tim counts to two before Tony levels his gaze on Gibbs and states firmly, "My gut."

Gibbs stares at Tony. The gut argument is a tough one to dispute when it comes to their boss. Can Tony get away with it? Tim counts to five before Gibbs decides to respond.

"DiNozzo -"

"Photos!" Tony stands carefully and moves with as much grace as his body will allow given the circumstances. Even now it is a level of physical grace that Tim envies and knows he will never attain.

Abby pulls the photographs Tony took of the site from a craft paper envelope and puts the pile on the table. Tony places the fingers of one hand on them and applies just enough pressure that he spreads them like a croupier with a pack of cards. He runs a finger along the edges and stops at one, tugging it free without disturbing any of the other photographs. Tim has seen a magic trick like that and has no idea how Tony does it.

"Exhibit 'A'." Tony holds the photo approximately at eyelevel for a tall man. Tim wonders if he does this intentionally to assist Gibbs - who dislikes wearing his glasses - or if it is just a coincidence. "The unidentified pair of feet," he announces.

"Which are wearing some kind of hiking shoe," Abby says. Did she just stifle a yawn? Nah - "Size eleven, so probably a tall man."

"Or a tall woman," Ducky observes.

Tony's eyes squint slightly. Tim recognizes it as something his co-worker does when he's thinking. "Probie?"

"Yes?"

"You've met Stacey Burnett. How tall would you say she is?"

"Pretty tall," Tim starts but Gibbs is in a hurry.

"How tall is that, McGee?" Gibbs has met her, too, had her in the interrogation room when they were working on Garvey's alibi. Tim knows his boss is trying to make him think.

"Bit taller than Abby but shorter than you," he manages without stammering.

"I'm five-ten," Abby pipes up, bouncing slightly. And that's before those boots -

"And the Boss is six-foot," Tony adds.

"She's… tall," Tim states weakly and Abby looks at him with a slight frown.

"I'm gonna have to do your natal chart, Timmy. I can't believe you're a Scorpio."

"Leave him alone, Abbs -"

"That is so your Moon talking, Tony, but if your sun sign wasn't modified by Aries -"

"Focus," Gibbs growls and the room is silent.

They all look at the black and white eight-by-ten of muddy imprints, expecting revelations to appear.

"It could be a woman," Tony says quietly.

Abby's head bobs once. "Yes."

Tony purses his lips. "They stood in this spot long enough to give us a deep, clear set. So about… one-twenty?"

Abby's head bobs again, the calculations to determine the weight of the subject automatic for her. Experience makes it like breathing - "That'd do."

He turns his head just enough to look at Tim, who meets his gaze, darts to the photo once more, the looks back with more confidence. "That'd be about right for her, yeah."

Tony grins and tosses the photo on the table. "So some guy dumps the body while Stacey waits over here." He points to the crude diagram of the site he drew earlier while Ducky was talking, using a napkin from the pizza place. Abby has much better diagrams in her lab but they aren't there right now so Tony worked with the materials at hand.

Improvisation can save your life -

"If these shoes belong to a woman," Gibbs challenges, "who says it was a man that ditched the body?"

"That's a lot of weight to lift over a break wall, Boss," Tim states, assessing Robert Joseph Garvey to be over two hundred pounds. Tony's smile of approval is one he can't resist returning.

Gibbs glances at him briefly and with a "Humph" and a half smile, he strides from the room. "I want more concrete evidence and Stacey Burnett in here before lunch. Make it happen, people."

Tim is startled from his smile by a firm hand on his shoulder. "Good work, Probie."

"Thanks, Tony."

But there isn't time to bask in the glow of praise as his friend is already in motion. "Now let's get to it."

To Be Continued…