A/N: So far, I have over 14,000 words of awesomeness. Before I get carried away with how excited I am about that, here is Chapter 11. By the way…may or may not have taken this idea from Burn Notice, because I liked this one scene so much.

Chapter 11- Questioning

McGee took off with Victoria, glad he had sent the warning to the Director that she was in grave danger. That got her out of NCIS, but Gibbs could take charge for now until Victoria was eliminated. But could he kill her if she wasn't the one that shot Palmer? Technically, she hadn't done a thing yet. But he knew that she'd pull a move soon if he didn't get going with exploiting her plans.

"So, did you hear about my coworker getting shot?" he asked warily, taking out a flash drive to download the file. He had to keep her distracted. She blinked in surprise.

"No, I can't say I have," she murmured. "Who did it?"

"Your twin," he answered, taking out the flash drive now that the download was complete. He put it in an inside hidden pocket with his car keys. She said nothing.

"You still have to maim the Director. Delete all searches on my sister," she ordered. He sighed, knowing this would cost him.

"Or what?" he challenged. "You'd hurt another coworker? I'm not even remotely close to anyone there. Besides, it's not like you do any of the work yourself," Surprisingly, she remained calm. Perhaps she was expecting such an answer from him.

"I'm just biding my time. You know how I work," she headed toward the stairs. McGee took off, knowing how she was planning to exit. Victoria always liked to make a scene. A second later, there was the sound of a window being smashed and the alarm going off. He started his car, accidentally dropping the flash drive into a puddle. Oh no, he thought. He only had one other flash drive, and there was no way he's get away with downloading another file in there. Time to take one for the team. He gritted his teeth and ran back inside, holding up his badge for all to see.

"NCIS! Out of the way!" he shouted. Nobody paid any attention to him, so he stuffed away his badge and headed for the upstairs computers. They'd never look for him there. He took out the other flash drive and stuck it into the computer.

"Victoria Rakia…" he muttered, typing in the dreaded name. McGee frantically looked at the door, which he had locked to buy some time. Nobody was coming yet.

Download 23% complete

"Come on, come on, come on, come on…" The door handle jiggled violently. He held his breath. After a minute, it stopped.

"FBI! Let us in!" a voice shouted. He glanced at the computer screen.

Download 45% complete

Damn these slower modems, he thought, typing frantically to speed up the download process. If this didn't load up soon, he'd have to cut corners and get out of there. The lock slowly turned…and stopped halfway after the sound of a gunshot. He breathed a sigh of relief. Though Victoria was supposed to be his enemy, she was looking out for him. Before long, the download was complete. McGee proceeded to dump a nearby cup of coffee on the computer. The wires started to short out. He quickly crashed the hard drive and jumped out the smashed window, landing safely in the bushes. He ran toward his car. FBI officers were swarming the place, pointing their guns in every direction. As he started to drive away, his phone rang. He glanced at the caller ID. Gibbs. He answered it.

"Boss?"

"You got the file?" Gibbs asked.

"Sure do," McGee answered. "All in a day's work. Does Abby have information on the twin?"

"Daniela has been missing for fifteen years. Find out why," he ordered. The phone went dead. McGee sighed. Guess it was time to make reservations at a hotel. Even though it was mid-day, it would take quite some time to find the woman's relatives. If she had any left. He scrolled through the Internet and found a four star motel not too far from where he was located. He went ahead and parked at the hotel and started for the entrance. As he opened the door, something wet dripped onto his head. He looked up to see dark clouds rolling in. He shook his head and went inside to check in.

"Hello," he said to the woman at the counter. "Room for one, please. One night only," He laid his money on the counter.

"Thank you, here are your keys. Room C-17, third floor, second door on the left. You can't miss it," He smiled gratefully at her and headed for the staircase. The motel was generally deserted, but that didn't bother McGee very much. This was a dilapidated part of town anyway. The stairs were wooden, and creaked with every step he took. At last, he found the third floor. He reached for the doorknob, but stopped when the door swung open, revealing the service maid coming out with her cleaning supplies. He let her pass before going in. The room was a master suite, but he didn't bother wasting time enjoying the scenery. Instead, he decided that he had enough action for one day and took a brief nap.

-Later-

It was dark when McGee woke up again. He glanced at the digital clock. 7:30…he must've been exhausted to take a nap that long. Refreshed and ready to go, he set to work. First he checked for any Rakia's in the area, but came up empty. He tried the whole city. Nothing. No Rakia's lived in Maryland, but there was one who had residence in Georgia. It was almost eight. McGee went to go find a coffee machine. There was none.

"Now, where was that coffee shop again?" he said to himself, heading for his car. He took out his phone to look. Three blocks away. He decided to walk instead. The rain had stopped, leaving puddles behind. McGee passed the FBI area, but noticed the first flash drive was gone. Hm…he frowned. There was a slight footprint on the ground next to where he had dropped it. McGee dropped to his knee and took a swab. Time to get this analyzed. But first, some coffee. He went into the small coffee store. The woman at the cashier smiled flirtatiously at the sight of him. She must be on the same shift still, he thought.

"Back for more?" she said, winking at him.

"The coffee here is exceptional," he replied honestly. "Do you mind giving me the same order I had earlier?"

"You mean…a tall frappe, extra foam?" she replied, her smile growing wider. He nodded, laying down a twenty dollar bill.

"Keep the change. I don't like dealing with coins in my pocket. Things tend to fall out of there," She looked at him curiously. "What? Was it something I said…" He looked at the nametag, "Francine?" Her hand flew up to her spiky hair in surprise. She dropped it at once when their eyes met.

"I…no. It's just…I noticed you dropped something outside. Is this yours?" She held up the flash drive.

"Yes, thank you," He gently tugged it out of her hand and put it in a different pocket. He looked down and noticed his coffee was ready. "I'll be going now. I'm on an undercover job, and if any of my enemies know I'm here, I could be in serious danger,"

"Oh, you're a cop?" Francine asked naively. "Like, CSI and stuff?"

"Yes, except I don't work for them. I really must be going, thanks for the coffee," As he turned to leave, the woman noticed a badge sticking out of his back pocket.

"What does that say?" she asked, pulling the badge out to look at it. "NCIS? Never heard of them," He took the badge back and decided it was a good time to interview this Francine. Luckily he had a photo of Daniela. He pulled it out now.

"Do you know this person?" She frowned at the picture.

"Yes…she used to be a customer here some time ago…" Her voice trailed off. "What happened to her?"

"That's what I'm here to find out," he responded, taking a sip of coffee. This was going to be a long night. He checked his watch. It was almost nine. Had he really been here for an hour? He asked a few more questions before taking his leave, throwing away the empty coffee cup on his way out the door. As he started back to the hotel, he briefly remembered the time he came here with Abby on his first date with her. He winced at the pain of recalling that moment and continued on. Now was not the time to think of that. Work was more important at the moment, wasn't it? Sometimes he wasn't so sure anymore what really mattered. Every time he thought of Abby, all thoughts of his life, his career, and anything he should be doing just left him. She was a distraction to what truly mattered: catching the culprit. The walk back was silent and brief. McGee started to feel the effects of the coffee, so he lay in bed for several hours.

"Why, Abby, why?" he moaned, staring hopelessly at the ceiling for an answer. It was almost three in the morning. Would she be awake? He slowly dialed her number. It rang and rang and rang.

"Hey, you've reached Abby Scutio(A/N: spelling?). I'm not here right now…ouch, McGee! I'm recording something here! Please leave a-stop it, Timothy! That tickles!" There was a beep. McGee ended the call, sighing. She never even changed her voicemail.

Meanwhile…

Abby stared at the phone. One missed call from McGee. She listened to the voicemail, but it was nothing but his breathing. Should she call him back? Or did he just accidently dial her number? She bit her lip, entirely confused. Finally, she set her phone on the dresser and went back to sleep. Not the double bed. She had long since gotten rid of that. She curled up in her coffin, like old times. Back in the days where…she drifted off to sleep before she could finish that thought.