Chapter 3 - Showtime

Abby and McGee arrived at Autopsy to find that it was standing room only: Ducky and Jimmy held center stage, Tony and Ziva were standing against the autopsy drawers and all three examination tables held covered bodies. Sensing they were here to 'watch', Abby and McGee joined Tony and Ziva in front of the drawers.

We've brought you here today, Timothy to understand the nature of being a sniper." Ducky began.

For a fleeting moment, McGee actually entertained the thought that Ducky was going to be concise.

"You know," Ducky started afresh, "the term 'Sniper' was only associated with marksmanship in 1824. It derives from a term used by British soldiers stationed in India in 1770 where a 'sniper' was a sharpshooter skilled enough to shoot the elusive snipe."

"A snipe?" Jimmy questioned. "Like the water bird?"

McGee tried to shake the impression that he and the rest of the team were the audience to a two man stand up show - but failed.

"Very good, Mr. Palmer," Ducky congratulated him. "Specifically wading birds from the genus Gallinago in the Scolopacidae family. Little blighters are notoriously difficult to hunt. Did you know that Colonial Americans used telescopic sights invented by Benjamin Franklin to aid in their snipe-shooting endeavors?"

"Wish I'd been shooting at a bird," McGee grumbled.

Abby hit him on the shoulder. "You don't want to hunt defenseless little birds, do you McGee."

"Ah no, but I mean instead of, well ...". McGee gave up – he wasn't going to win. Besides, the Ducky and Jimmy show wasn't over yet.

"If they are so difficult to hunt, Dr Mallard," said Jimmy, "why do people bother?"

McGee felt himself being set up for the punch line. He just wished Ducky would get on with it.

"For the reason most difficult-to-catch species are hunted," said Ducky cryptically.

"The thrill of the hunt?" suggested Jimmy.

"The taste of the kill, Mr Palmer: Snipes are simply delicious."

McGee sighed as his brain did a 'ka-ching'. He almost applauded but then decided to just make good his escape while Ducky was not looking.

"Come back here, Timothy," called Ducky, his tone reverting to seriousness. "We have yet to begin your little session."

McGee grimaced in embarrassment: he'd been caught sneaking out after the warm up act.

"Body number one," Ducky announced, approaching the first table.

McGee needed no introduction to this body, he had spent too much of his recent lifetime examining that profile through his sights.

Ducky threw off the cover. "Jacob Travers: drug lord to the Navy. The man responsible for more than half a dozen of the bodies that have graced this room: many of them fine Naval officers caught in a web of deceit. A man brought down by a single sniper's bullet."

McGee tried to look away but Tony had grabbed him by the shoulders and was pushing him forward towards the body.

"Look at that, McSniper," he said gleefully, "your first snipe."

"Tony," McGee groaned, squeezing his eyes closed momentarily and trying to deny that the body had only half a head.

Ducky moved on to the second table and Tony steered McGee to follow.

"Body number two," said Ducky, throwing off the second cover.

McGee frowned: it was the body of the victim Gibbs had impersonated.

"Captain David O'Neill, father of two, whole life ahead of him. Caught in the middle of two drug lords through no fault of his own. Killed by one side under the assumption he was working for the other. He did not die in vain, however, for it was only through his death that we were able to finally put an end to this intermittable drug war."

Ducky moved to the third table motioning for Tony to drive McGee over.

"Body number three," said Ducky: "The ghost of Christmas future."

He removed the cover to reveal Gibbs, lying flat on his back with his eyes closed. McGee took a step backward but only managed to walk into a wall of Tony. He felt sick to his stomach. If only they knew how close Gibbs came to actually being on that table at his hand. Just one slight miscalculation at that critical moment and that really would be Gibbs' body on the slab – only with half his head blown off.

Cold sweat crept up McGee's spine. Behind him, he felt Tony hands slide from his shoulders to his biceps, transforming from guiding claws to soothing cradles in the process. It occurred to him that, had Tony taken the shot, their positions might well be reversed: this lesson was meant for both of them.

"This is the first of many deaths that your bullet prevented, Timothy" said Ducky.

Gibbs' eyes flew open and McGee almost fainted. He felt Tony's hands tighten their grip reflexively, holding him up as his legs tried to dissolve under him.

Gibbs sat up and swung his legs over the side of the table, furthering the sense of unreality. "Never thanked you for saving my life today, McGee," he said.

McGee swallowed dryly. "That's OK, Boss."

Gibbs gave McGee a knowing nod. Well at least the kind of half-knowing nod where Gibbs knew something and McGee didn't.

Tony finally released his arms and McGee found, to his surprise, that he could stand on his own again. He marveled at the feeling of the warm patches on his arms returning to room temperature – like the whole world slowly creeping back into place.

Abby came over and hugged him. "Thank you," she said, "you saved the endangered silver fox."