Sorry for the hasty apologies in this chapter, but since I'm such a softy, I'd like Tim and Tony to be on good terms for their ordeal. Reviews are always appreciated, thanks.
The two men sat tensely in the car as it pulled up to the curb, both their jaws clenched and twin expressions of frustration and irritation on their faces. They were in the middle of an argument; the driver gripped the steering wheel tightly, occasionally gesturing to emphasize a point. He put the car in park and stepped out, the other man followed.
"-You have a problem with my driving, McGee?" Tony questioned thinly, slamming the car door with unintentional venom.
"No, of course not." Tim replied, his voice laced with sarcasm. Tony's jaw clenched harder.
"At least you weren't driving, or it would have taken another," He stopped to look at his watch. "three and a half hours."
"My driving? At least I don't break the laws we're obligated to uphold!"
"We're federal agents, McGee! Not traffic cops! Driving ten miles per hour over is better than twenty under! Unlike some people." Tony fumed, Tim glared back at him. They traded murderous looks before breaking their gaze. Tim sighed, some of the anger leaving his face. Tony's face also abandoned its look of frustration, and weariness took its place.
"I...I'm sorry, Tony."
"No, I am. It's the drive, I just got a little ticked off."
"I don't know, something feels," Tim paused, grasping for a word that would describe the feeling.
"Off?" Tony supplied helpfully. Tim nodded. "Yeah, something feels, hinky." Tim smiled slightly at the word. "Here, I'll call Gibbs."
"Right, I'll go see if anyone's home." He peered around, cautiously. "I don't see a car."
"That's what a garage is for." Tony grinned at him, the phone held up to his ear. Tim shot him an irritated expression, but it only lasted a few seconds before a wary face replaced it. Tim walked casually up the front walkway, and knocked on the worn door. Tony, finishing his call joined him, straightening his tie. The door slowly opened revealing a young woman, in her early thirties. Tony and Tim exchanged glances; this surely wasn't the aunt, a woman in her late sixties. The woman glanced curiously at them.
"Hi." She eyed them with some hesitation.
"Hi, we're Federal Agents McGee and Dinozzo." Tim flashed his badge. "Are Mr. and Ms. Brent here?"
"I'm sorry, they left a few hours ago. I'm just here to sit their cat." She then gestured down the road, somewhere beyond the woods. "I'm just their neighbor."
"May we ask you some questions?"
"Sure. Come in, I'm sure they won't mind." She opened the door wider, shepherding them in. She sat them on a plush couch and took a seat in an easy chair. "I'm Claire, by the way." She said flashing a radiant smile at them. They both swallowed.
"So, Miss..." Tony looked to Claire.
"Parkinsom."
"How long have you known the Brents?"
"About four years, ever since I've moved here." She crossed and then uncrossed her legs.
"Have you met their nephew, Ben Stephenson?" Tony raised his eyebrows when she grinned slightly.
"Yeah, nice kid. I met him a day ago. Tried to hit on me, but I prefer men my own age." She smiled at them both of them, catching both their eyes. Tim gave Tony a sad look, before taking a breath.
"I'm sorry, Ma'am, he's dead." Tim felt a bit of guilt but waited to see how she'd react. She gasped, and put a hand to her chest.
"That's terrible. Ms. Brent will be heartbroken." She looked helplessly to each man, and wrung her hands anxiously. She then stood. "I guess I left my manners at home, would either of you like something to drink."
"Coffee, please. Sugar and cream." Tony requested pleasantly. Tim gave him a disgusted look, Claire quickly left the room and went into the kitchen. They saw her wipe a hand across her eyes, before she disappeared around the corner. Tim elbowed Tony in the side.
"What the heck? She's obviously upset, you don't have to sound so upbeat and then request coffee." Tim glared at Tony, who gave him an odd look.
"Something's wrong with this."
"What? A person mourning the loss of a life? Seems pretty normal behavior to me."
"No, Tim, she had just met him. And now she acts like the news broke her heart. And what aunt and uncle ever leave their nephew alone, in their meticulous house." Tony turned to Tim, an eyebrow raised. He pointed to the carpet. "Look." Tim leaned close to the shag carpet, his eyes spying a small fragment of-
"Glass." He breathed.
"There's some more over there." Tony nodded further into the house. "Saw it when she led us in."
Tim leaned back, "That could be from anything though." Tim tried feebly to argue back. They immediately quieted as Clair reentered the room, carrying a tray, three mugs of steaming coffee sitting on it. She turned and placed the coffee on the table, before straightening up and then letting out a piercing shriek. She pointed a finger, horrified. Tim and Tony, fluidly rose from the couch and drew their guns, facing the apparent threat. The hulking man stood a few feet away from them, a knife held threateningly toward them.
"Drop the knife!" Tony warned him, aiming the barrel if his gun at the man's forehead. Tim stood steadily besides him, a hardened look on his face, also training his gun at the man. They missed something though.
The quick flash of movement as Claire dashed quietly into the kitchen and then returned. They missed the fact that she had crept up behind Tony, and taken a batter's stance. The waved cheerily at the man, and the man grinned back at her. A second too late, Tony caught on. He didn't see the joy flash across Claire's face, as she swung the heavy frying pan at his head. Didn't see the moment of impact, he certainly felt it though. Tony dropped, limply, to the floor.
Tim finally realized their mistake. As two armed people stood in front of him, and behind. Damned if you do, damned if you don't. All of his choices had the exact same result. On instinct he swung around to face Claire. He didn't see the blow either, as the butt of a knife brutally came in contact with the back of his head. And he, like Tony, dropped to the floor like a sack of stones. Like a dead body.
Claire looked from the large man, to the two federal agents lying unconscious upon the carpet.
"Well, this just got interesting."