"McGee!" Gibbs tossed a folder on McGee's keyboard, just clipping his hastily retreating fingers.

"What's this boss?" he picked up the file a made to inspect the contents.

"Your accident report," said Gibbs curtly.

McGee froze and stared at him wide-eyed, paling by degrees until he almost faded away. He lowered the folder very slowly and placed it to one side on his desk.

"I'll a look at it later, Boss," he croaked.

"No, you'll look at it…," Gibbs began but he was cut off by Tony.

"It was you!" he said in amazement, "I went down there like 20 minutes after that meeting yesterday and it was gone. What have you been doing with it for the last 24 hours?"

Gibbs looked up at Tony solemnly, "Sanitising it," he said in measured tones.

"Ah," said Tony lightly, he personally might not have bothered with that step.

Gibbs returned his attention to McGee. "You will not be on active duty until we have this sorted out," he threatened. "Do you understand me?"

McGee swallowed dry-mouthed, "Yes Boss" he whispered but he still made no move to pick up the folder.

Gibbs held his gaze. "You realise I could pension you out on psych grounds?"

McGee closed his eyes for a moment. Then he opened them and returned Gibb's stare.

"OK," he said finally with as much conviction as he could muster.

Eyes still fixed firmly on Gibbs; he reached his hand slowly over to where he had placed the file. It wasn't there. Puzzled, his eyes were drawn to the spot. He stopped short, the file had magically disappeared. At that precise instant, he heard Tony sobbing theatrically at his desk. He turned to see him sitting with his feet propped up on his desk, shuffling through the photos in the file.

"What a tragic waste…," he sniffed.

"It's a car, Tony," said Ziva bluntly.

"I know to you it's just a way to get from point A to the morgue," Tony started.

"Hey, DiNozzo!" yelled Gibbs impatiently.

"What?" he looked up and saw Gibbs and McGee staring at him incredulously.

Gibbs clicked his fingers a couple of times and put out his hand to receive the file.

"Oh, sorry Boss." He sprang from his seat and made the deposit, gracing McGee with an apologetic smile on the way.

"As I was saying," Gibbs continued to McGee eyeing Tony in the process, "you need to look at this file right now."

The time taken for the series of climax, anti-climax and climax had given McGee time to steel his nerve. He took the file from Gibbs unquestioningly. He procrastinated for just a moment, adjusting the angle of the file in his hands. Then he took a deep breath and opened it.

For a moment he couldn't see much of anything on the prints. The outside edges were clear enough but he could not seem to make his eyes focus on the center of the photos. Almost like the way Ducky's glaring light in autopsy always seemed to supersaturate the gynaecological bits of the corpse. He squeezed his eyelids together and felt sweat burn his eyes. He tried again, squinting hard trying to ignore the fact that his heart was slowly making its way up his chest and into his throat.

It wasn't working. He picked up the top photo and tried to just concentrate on just that one. The vignetting slowly cleared before him and there was a spark of recognition as the lines and colour of his first car materialised in front of him. He could not possibly comprehend that he had been able to fit in that car in that condition, let alone live through the experience. He felt the sweat run down the sides of his face and realised he was breathing way too frantically.

"He's going down, Boss," he heard Tony rushing up behind him.

'He's OK," Gibbs calming voice answered, "What do you see McGee?"

McGee stared a while longer at the tortured image in front of him. He distanced himself from the emotional frenzy going on inside his head and processed the gestalt. Then he saw it and relief flooded over him. He snapped the photo back on the desk and looked up at Gibbs.

"It's the same bus," he said simply.

"What, exactly the same?" Tony questioned. "That's a brand new bus in that photo by now it would be….," then he considered the notion, warming to the idea, "bussing geriatrics from their nursing homes to their bingo halls," he concluded.

He grabbed the photo off the desk, "He's right boss! It's the same make and model as the one Ziva almost ploughed into."

McGee was leaning back thoughtfully in his chair, "It still doesn't explain the nightmares."

"Maybe you saw it on your way to work," Tony suggested.

McGee looked up at him suddenly, "My way to work, I hadn't thought of that. I was looking at the cases."

"That's why I'm senior agent and you're still the.."

"I was late one day about a month ago," began McGee ignoring Tony's rhetoric.

"Tuesday the 13th," Ziva confirmed.

Tony, McGee and Gibbs turned as one to look at her.

"What?" she said innocently, "I'm a numbers person. I remember things. So sue me."

"Traffic was banked up for miles. There was an accident." McGee continued, "I ahhh, spent a fair bit of time going past it."

"Was it like yours?" asked Tony.

But McGee only closed his eyes and shuddered.

"So," said Tony in an attempt to distract McGee, "you were primed and ready by accident number one and triggered by accident-waiting-to-happen..."

"Hey," Ziva protested,

"…number two." Tony shot her a gleaming smile.

"So, what, am I OK now?" said McGee in confusion.

"Let's see," Tony had an evil glint in his eyes and they all knew what was coming.