hi. normal chappie today-no action, excepting a slap (not Ziva and Abby, sorry!), mostly explanations, and vair petit humor, if you can even call it that. otherwise, i' just writing this cuz the disclaimer alone looks boring and, well, cuz i am bored.

so.

say the name of this chapter 5 times fast, i dare you.

disclaimer~ how many times do i have to go through this? not mine. and one to grow on: not mine.

Dulles Airport had seen many cheerful greetings over the years. Most people simply hugged everyone in their group and left, but there were some special moments no one who ever worked there would forget. For instance, one group actually got permission from the manager and put a banner across the entire lobby welcoming their 110-year-old mother, grandmother, and great-grandmother home.

Another family hired a mariachi band to play a wedding march when a bride and groom came off a plane from their honeymoon.

This greeting had no huge banners and no music, but the way the team arrived was startling enough.

McGee had told Emily to head back to NCIS, and, after some protests, she had, grumbling loudly and swearing darkly. The others had arrived in a Porsche Boxster (with Tim behind the wheel; time may have been of the essence, in case Winifred learned that Dani was there, but there was no way he was letting near a sports car, much less his), a black sedan just like the ones used by federal agents, and a blood red hearse pumping BrainMatter at full volume.

The minute the parking window operators saw the two cars pull in at the same time, they let them in without any hesitation and called their friends up at the main lobby: "You will never believe what just came through the gates!"

Inside the airport, a young brunette about 2 years older than Sarah was sitting in the waiting area, clutching a brown-paper wrapped package and glaring at everyone like they were the witches in disguise.

The others in the area gave her a wide berth. Brown package, mean girl, strange clothes—she was wearing what looked suspiciously like a witch's costume—all pointed to something weird going on and they didn't want to mess with her.

When the team came through the sliding doors, she looked up and squealed in excitement so loudly, the entire room winced and moved further away.

"Biiiinx!" she screamed, running toward McGee. The package was thrown randomly—thankfully, Ziva's ninja assassin reflexes took care of it—as she jumped on him, giving him an Abby-worthy hug of epic proportions. "God, it's so good to see you! How've you been? Jesus, you've grown, you're huge!" She let go and backed away, looking up at the 6'2" Tim. "Why can't I be as tall as you?" she complained, stamping her foot.

"It's a mini-Abby," Tony said, shocked.

"I did not think the world was big enough for two of you," Ziva told the forensic scientist. "If she dyed her hair, she could be your little sister."

"Awwwwwww!" Abby crooned. "I've always wanted a baby sister!"

"Good to see you too, I've been better, yes I've grown, and because you're a munchkin and will always be a munchkin," McGee replied easily. Dani stuck her tongue out at him.

"Oh, gee, thanks for ignoring me, I'm just your best friend standing over here!" Sarah yelled, holding her arms out.

"Sarily!" Dani squealed again, pulling the girl into a hug. "God, you look so different! Do you know how hard it's been in Salem without you?"

"10 years will do that to ya, Dan," she laughed. "And I'm guessing it's the same way Georgetown is without you. I'm mean, my roommate Lindsey is nice and everything, but…"

"She doesn't know," they both nodded.

McGee shook his head. "Guys, this is Danielle Dennison," he introduced her, as she pulled from his sister. "Her brother, Max, is the one who brought the witches back last time. She helped us finish them off, and she should really know that the name is Tim." He glared at her. "Dani, these are my friends and co-workers, Agent DiNozzo, Agent David, Abby Sciuto, and my boss, Agent Gibbs."

"Nice to meet 'cha," she said nodding. Dani frowned at Tony and Abby. "Did I jump the dateline?" she wondered. "Why're you guys in costume?"

Ziva grinned maliciously. "Tony lost a bet that he could pick up a girl at a bar," she explained.

Abby stared the girl down. "You have something to say about my clothes?" she asked suspiciously.

"Yeah! They're awesome, and they look like they belong in the party I was going to go to tonight." She held up her dress. "Didn't get to go, though."

Abby grinned. "There's a rave tomorrow night if you wanna come with me! It's in a graveyard!"

"Abby," Tony spoke up, "we're gonna be a little busy fighting witches from ancient times, remember?"

"Hey, 300 years is not ancient," Sarah protested, offended. "If there were zombies from like ancient Greece, then yeah, but not colonial America."

Abby nodded, still a little miffed. McGee glanced at Gibbs to make sure they were both thinking the same thing; there was no way in #3!! that they would be there for the fight. When he saw the ex-Marine nod slightly, he felt a huge weight come off his shoulders. There was no way he would've been able to convince Abby without Gibbs's help.

"So, who's place am I staying at?" Dani asked, looking decidedly at Tony. Tim could've sworn he saw Ziva tense—ever so slightly.

"Dream on, Dan, Max would kill me," Tim warned. "And before you even think it, it can't be me or Sarah, either. She's staying at my place and nobody's going to her dorm."

"My house," Gibbs spoke up, for the first time. Dani met his eyes and shrunk. The only reason she didn't hide behind McGee was pride. Gibbs's face grew into a grin. "Relax, I don't bite."

"Much," Tony murmured. Gibbs whacked the back of his head. "Sorry, boss." Another smack. "Right, no apologies."

Dani looked up at Tim. "I thought you were kidding!"

McGee smiled wanly. "I don't kid about my job," he replied. "You and the book will be safest at Gibbs's house."

She nodded slowly. "Ok… but I'm making sure the doors and the windows are locked tight."

For some reason this made them all laugh.

McGee was about to get into his Porsche—with Ziva inside, since they lived close by—when Sarah motioned for him to go outside with her. Ziva raised her eyebrows when Tim excused them and told her to stay there. She did—at first.

Sarah led her brother a few rows down and pulled him behind a hulking SUV with tinted windows. Tim just looked at her, blinking, while she crossed her arms and glared.

"You're thinking about it, aren't you?"

"About what?" he asked innocently.

"Thackery Binx, don't you dare give me that crap. You know what I'm talking about!"

"Uh…"

"You're gonna tell them, aren't you?" McGee looked at his feet and refused to look his sister in the eye. "AREN'T YOU?"

It was her near-shout that told Ziva their place. She hid on the other end of the huge vehicle and listened.

"Em—Sarah, you don't know them the way I do," he insisted. "Tony'll enver stop teasing me about it, but they'll understand, they'll adapt, they'll accept it…"

"Thack!" she said seriously, reaching up and grabbing hold of her brother's shoulders. Sarah sighed, shaking her head. "You remember old lady Smith?"

"The one that inherited Elijah's land?" She nodded. "The one who always smelled like cat litter and left food out for me everyday, even Halloween?" Another nod, stopped suddenly.

"Who are you to judge someone for smelling like cat litter?"

"Hey, I kept myself clean. What happened to her?" Concern raised its head at the mention of the now-probably-99-year-old woman. When she looked at him sympathetically, it changed to worry. "Sarah? What happened to Mrs. Smith?"

"She, uh, she figured it out." Tim paled. "I'm sorry, I knew you were still… sensitive after the whole Deep Six murders, and I didn't want to…"

"What happened?"

"She noticed when you weren't in front of the Sandersons' cottage Halloween '93," she explained, looking at the star-less sky. "So… she followed you guys to the cemetery. She had a food bowl and everything."

"Oh, God. How much did she…?"

"Last parts only. She convinced herself that it was a dream though…" Tim sighed in relief, leaning against the SUV. "… until last year."

"Last year?" he repeated, a dark feeling in his gut. Looks like it rubs off.

Sarah nodded. "She was… remodeling the house. Had to knock down a wall—everyone was cheering her on, she was almost 98—and she found a picture inside it."

"A picture?"

"Yeah… Remember how you told me when I was 10 that Elijah told you he wanted to be a painter at that same age?"

McGee smiled at the memory—he'd just announced it at the dinner table on Thanksgiving. His father had nearly choked on the turkey. He stood like that for about a second before connecting the dots. "Elijah made Thackery Binx's Sorry Fate."

Sarah nodded. "I-I'm sorry, Thack, she remembered us from when the McGees rode us around town, and you know she owned that little candle shop Mom loved. But still, she thought it was some huge coincidence… until she saw your picture on the back of your book."

Her brother turned so white she'd thought he'd died for a second. "She died of a heart attack and Max called to tell me, but I didn't want to tell you because…"

"Landon had just killed the other two people," he finished. "That's three people. Three people dead because of that stupid series!" McGee shook his head and started pacing again—his family had long since put it down as a stress reliever. "That's it. I'm done. First the guys catch wind of it and won't leave me alone about it today, then Landon… did what he did, and now this! I'm going to my publisher the day after tomorrow and ripping up that contract!"

Sarah shook her head and slapped her brother across the face. "Get yourself together, Thack, or so help me I will Gibbs slap you!"

He stared at her, shocked. "Listen to me, Thack. You're a great writer and half my English Lit class has mugs with your name on it. They brought them to class on your birthday last year. And you love doing it, almost as much as NCIS. You rip up that contract and I'll rip you to shreds, got me?" He nodded, still shell-shocked. "All I'm asking you is to leave out a few things in your story. You know, like…"

"Do you want me to lie?" Tim asked, backing away. "Em, you're my sister and one of my best friends, but there's no possible way I can lie! Especially not to Gibbs! First they're too good, they'll see right through it! Second, they know me too well, they know when I'm lying, and third, it's physically impossible for me to lie, and fourth, lying to Gibbs… I can't do it!"

"Why not?" she asked. "We lied to our foster parents." McGee turned away. "Thack, it was necessary. They would've kicked us out of the street if you hinted the truth, and you know it. What so different between Dad and Gibbs?"

"You really wanna know?" Sarah nodded. "First, Gibbs is Gibbs. You don't lie to Gibbs. Second…" Tim met her eyes, seeing nothing but a look that said she just wanted to help. "He… he reminds me of Father."

Sarah froze. Tim almost never talked about their birth parents. They'd told everyone who knew they were adopted that their parents had died. So far, no one had asked their real last names yet, not even their Mom and Dad. He had made sure that Sarah had grown up knowing about their parents, and knowing it was an enormous secret, but once he ran out of stories, he shut his clam about them. He hadn't mentioned them since he joined NCIS.

He had said that their father was tough but caring—like a Marine—though. "And I could never lie to Father. Ever, Sarah. He's just like Gibbs, except…" Tim smiled wanly, "Gibbs is the right age… if I really had been born in 1977."

Sensing that the conversation had ended, Ziva made her way silently back to the car, closing the door before it was even in their eyesight. Several things rang through her mind as her mouth joined in the small talk the McGees were supplying. But their names are not McGee. They were adopted. Where are their real parents? And when was McGee—Tim, really born?

And of course:

McGee drives too slow.

above is my weak attempt at humor in a chapter that should really have had a little more inside it. sorry, my sister just came back from a field trip to greece and italy-i didn't get to go last year bcuz my health insurance doesn't cover those places, surprise surprise- and was busy telling us about how the pilor on the plane went "do any of you know about murphy's law?" (she raised her hand and started screaming she did-physicist's daughter) after they did a diagnostic on the plane, finding nothing wrong though the "right generator appears to be working--just not hard enough."

i'm rambling. anyway, i managed to re-write this puppy IN 20 MINUTES to try and meet my 5-o-clock deadline...

shist. 5:09.

PEACE~Tibki