Chapter 21

"I've heard nothing but good things about you, Agent McGee," Terence said. He was trying to brighten the black mood that had descended with Tim's entrance.

Tim tried to focus. He needed to do something productive. Sarah had called and Tim had said nothing about what happened the night before. She had wanted to get together, but he had begged off, saying that Gibbs needed his help with another case.

"Agent McGee?"

Tim shook his head. "Sorry, Mr. Ainsworth. I-I must not be entirely awake yet."

Terence nodded. "Since we're going to be working together for the next little while maybe we should drop the formal address."

Tim nodded. "You can call me Tim... or McGee. Everyone else does."

"Which do you prefer?"

"Does it matter?"

Surprised, Terence said vehemently, "Yes, it matters. It's your name."

"Then, you can call me Tim."

The dead tone in his voice made Terence very uncomfortable. He took in the cuts and scrapes on Tim's face and hands, his lack of expression, and most importantly the seemingly total lack of interest. This man, whoever he was, did not inspire much confidence.

Tim looked out the window and wished he had gone through with his suicide, but Gibbs had said they needed his help. He could try and do something useful. Maybe he'd even forget for awhile.

"Okay... Terence. I don't know much about what's been going on with this case. Could you go over what you discovered and what happened?"

Terence nodded, doubtfully. "How much experience do you have?"

"In what respect?"

"I was told you were good on computers."

Tim shrugged. "I got my master's in computing forensics from MIT."

Terence blinked. He had leapt to a bad conclusion. "I think you're more than qualified to understand what I found."

A ghost of a smile flitted across Tim's face. "We'll see. Gibbs said something about paintings, but I'm not really up on my art history."

"Good thing for you that these are forgeries then. That's not the important part. What's important is what was underneath them." Terence pulled out the file photos and began to go over the details of what he'd found. Tim was intrigued in spite of himself. Unlike Tony, he followed the tangent of the Archimedes palimpsest and was interested in the new technology. Terence was relieved to discover that he could fall into the technical jargon and Tim still understood. As the time passed, he noticed that Tim became more animated and less withdrawn. Whatever was bothering him had faded. Terence regretted coming to the end of his evidence because he suspected that once Tim began thinking about other things, that deadness would return.

"That's all I have, Tim. Officer David and Agent DiNozzo said that you'd want to go through the case files I found; so I made another list of the numbers and codes."

"Another?"

"I made one for the FBI when I gave them my information. They have already analyzed all the data."

"Why do Tony and Ziva want me to do it as well?"

"Because of the mole, I'd assume," Terence said. He noticed that Tim was starting to withdraw, but he wasn't sure he could draw him back. He handed Tim the list of cases.

Tim looked at them without much interest. It had been nice to think about something else for a while, but the memories of the previous day had reasserted themselves with a vengeance. In an effort to forget them again, he asked, "How are you doing? I mean, beyond this case."

Terence shrugged. "I've been better. I'm better off than my wife and my children."

"What do you mean?"

Terence did not like this train of conversation as it was painful to him, but if it kept Tim from whatever depression he was experiencing, then it might be worth it. "The same day I got shot, my wife did as well. She's in a coma, but I don't even know where she is. My children were all taken out of school and are in protective custody."

"How did you get shot?"

"Apparently, the things I found were more important than I had thought initially. Agent Gyllenskog thinks that someone is actually after me. Unfortunately, my wife was with me when they tried to take me out."

"I'm sorry. Are there any leads?"

"I'm hoping that you can find some. The FBI already went through all the cases, I was told, but they might have missed something that you'll catch."

Tim still looked worn, but he now had some sort of purpose. "I'll do my best, Terence, but I can't guarantee anything."

"There are no guarantees in life... or what's that saying? The only certainties are death and taxes." Terence regretted his words when he saw Tim wince. "What happened to you, if you don't mind my asking?"

"I was in an accident yesterday," Tim said. He looked away.

"That one on the Beltway? I heard about it on the radio this morning and yesterday. It sounded awful. Does anyone know who the driver was?"

"Yes."

"Who caused the accident, then?" Too late, Terence realized what Tim's problem was. He wished he could stuff the words back in his mouth.

Tim swallowed and stared out the window. "I did."

"I'm sorry, Tim. That was insensitive of me."

"No, it's the truth. I caused the accident, and I did it on purpose." Tim stood as if to leave.

Terence started to apologize again, but the door opened.

"Hey, Mr. Ainsworth," Tony said brightly. The hours of sleep he'd been able to get had done wonders for him. "We're back. How's it's going, McGee?"

Tim just shrugged and slipped out before anyone could ask him any questions. He saw Gibbs and Ziva standing together in the hallway deep in conversation. Not wishing to speak to anyone he walked to a window and stared outside, looking in the direction of the Beltway. He wondered which was worse: his current guilt over the death of strangers or Terence's guilt over the upheaval of his family. It could be a case of six of one and half-dozen of the other. At least Terence hadn't killed anyone. He looked over at Gibbs and Ziva again. They appeared to be wrapping up. Tim risked approaching.

"Boss?"

"What, McGee?"

"I have enough to get started. I was thinking that I'd go over to NCIS and look through the case files."

Gibbs looked carefully at Tim. He wasn't any better, but at least he was working. "Alright, McGee. Let's go."

"I can take the bus, Boss. I've been doing it for a long time."

"Did I give the impression that this was open for debate, McGee?"

"No, Boss."

"Good. Get to the car."

"Yes, Boss."

As Tim walked down the hallway, Gibbs turned back to Ziva. "So what have you found about McGee's passenger?"

"Nothing, Gibbs. His DNA doesn't show up in any records. No dental work is on file, and since his body was destroyed when McGee's car blew up, we can't even get a picture. Have you asked him to make a composite yet?"

"No. What about his sister?"

"Sarah says that she only got a brief glimpse of him before he grabbed her. She couldn't give many details. He never used a name, and the most she could tell me was that he was very strong. She said that his arm felt like a vice."

"What about the police?"

"They are skeptical, but so far they are not recommending pressing charges."

"Any word on the families?"

"Not that I have heard. The radio people are calling McGee a murderer and I can only guess that others feel the same way. I wish that man had not died in the accident. It was too kind."

Gibbs couldn't agree more, but he just grunted and left Ziva to her guard duty.