Chapter 6

"Why don't you try to save the frogs?"

"Because they're stupid. They won't stop coming no matter how hard I try. I'll bet even the ones that get away come back for more and drown for their trouble. What's the point?"

"Saving an innocent creature who doesn't know that some water is bad."

Tim sat in his apartment, Jethro panting contentedly beside him and wondered what to do. He couldn't go in to work. NCIS hadn't asked for his help yet...and they hadn't accused him of anything yet. ...but he felt so antsy, like he needed to be doing something, and he couldn't help but think of those stupid frogs. Every so often, they showed up in his dreams, but that was one dream he didn't tell anyone about. He didn't like that he still thought of them, of the frogs flailing uselessly and then floating lifelessly in the swimming pool.

Jethro wuffled at him and Tim smiled a little.

"Yeah, Jethro...it's late enough. We can go out now." He stood up, clipped on Jethro's leash and headed out the door.

It wasn't safe to walk around the neighborhood at certain times of the day, i.e. any time when the sun was not up. Tim had learned that the hard way and now he let things be how they were. It was easier than waging a useless fight against it.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

Tony pulled up at the building and thought there must be some sort of a mistake. No way could Tim be living in this area. No way. It had to be wrong. He looked at the address again. No, that was definitely what was listed. Was it a joke? He kind of doubted it. This would fit with Ducky's description of a "hole in the wall". This would be awkward.

Still, he took a breath and got out of the car. There was no security in the front of the building. He just walked in. Up to the second floor, trying not to notice the peeling paint, the stained carpet on the floor. This was only slightly better than the place Tim had lived during his undercover operation.

He knocked on the apartment door and waited. Nothing. No sounds from within.

"What you doing there?"

Tony turned. There was a man staring at him with distrustful eyes.

"I'm looking for Tim McGee. This is his apartment, isn't it?"

No response.

"I'm a friend of his." I used to be anyway.

The man laughed. "How good a friend can you be if you don't even know where he lives?"

Tony smiled. "We've lost touch for a while. I know where he lives, just wanted to be sure of the apartment number."

The man stared at him for a little while longer.

"Who do you work for?" he asked finally.

"What?"

"Come on. I can smell a cop from a mile away. You Metro? Narc? Cause Tim isn't a druggie."

"Nope. Not Metro. I'm a federal agent."

"Is that supposed to make me feel better?"

Tony grinned. For all his suspicion, this guy wasn't going to hurt him. "The pay's better."

The man smiled grudgingly. "Tim's not here. He took his dog out for a walk a little while ago. You wanna wait for him, I wouldn't recommend waiting in here. People don't like cops hanging around the hallways."

"Good advice. I'll wait outside."

Tony walked back down the hall, past the man and down the stairs.

"Hey, fed!"

"Yeah?"

"He usually walks northwest."

"Thanks."

"Don't thank me. If you're lying, Tim's dog'll get you...if Tim doesn't." Then, he laughed and went into his apartment. Tony heard multiple locks being turned as he continued on his way, digesting that strange thought of Tim being as dangerous as Jethro could be if riled. He walked out of the building and turned northward. This was a bad area of DC, one of the places that the Hope VI revitalization program hadn't yet reached. He'd never want to be in this area at night. He didn't particularly want to be here now.

Then, after walking less than a block, he found who he was looking for. He waved a little to get Tim's attention. Tim halted briefly, obviously not very happy about seeing him and then kept coming.

"Hey, McGee. I was looking for you."

"Were you?"

Tony almost winced. Tim's voice was so unfriendly when he spoke now. ...but it hadn't been when he had been talking to Ducky. It had been open, afraid, but not unfriendly.

"Yeah, I was."

"More questions?"

"Yeah."

"Back at NCIS?" Tim asked. He didn't seem at all surprised.

"Yeah."

"Okay. I have to take Jethro back first."

"You mind if I tag along? I think I might get hurt if I hang out here."

A brief smile and Tim kept walking, forcing Tony to keep up with him.

"This area is safe enough at this time of day. I've never been mugged in daylight."

Tony stopped dead in his tracks. "You've been mugged?"

"Only a couple of times."

"McGee...you've been mugged more than once?" He grabbed Tim's arm but released it instantly when Tim tensed up.

"Yeah. It's not as exciting as it sounds. They only roughed me up a little bit and when they realized that I didn't have anything, they ran. I learned when it wasn't a good idea to be outdoors and everyone went on with life."

"Didn't you report it?"

"No. Why bother? Nothing got stolen because I had nothing worth stealing. I didn't need the attention."

They arrived at his building and went up the stairs. Multiple locks turned and the same door opened.

"So you do know him, Tim?"

Tim smiled. "Yeah, I know him, Jed."

"Friend of yours?"

Tim looked Tony in the eye. "He used to be."

"He gives you any trouble, you just holler. I know you got the lungs for it."

Tim chuckled and nodded. "Will do, but he won't be any trouble. I'm going to be out for a while. If I don't get back tonight could you feed Jethro for me?"

"Sure thing, Tim." Jed looked at Tony. "I have my eye on you."

"Leave him alone, Jed. He's harmless."

"If you say so, Tim."

"I do." Tim opened his door and Tony got his first glimpse of Tim's new life. He was appalled.

It was a bachelor setup with a fold-out couch in one corner (obviously Tim's bed) with a doggy bed beside it, a rack of clothes (shoes lined up neatly beneath them) and a dresser beside it, the kitchen in the other corner with a counter, small sink and hot plate. The bathroom was in the other corner. There was no door. It was a cluttered space but Tony also noticed that it was very clean. As clean as a dingy apartment like this could be. What bothered him a lot more was what he noticed was missing and he blurted out his surprise before he could think about censoring himself.

"Where's your writing desk, McGee?"

"I sold it to Jimmy. It wouldn't fit up the stairs."

"But your typewriter..."

Tony made real eye contact with Tim just for a moment and he saw a pained regret there, but when Tim spoke, his voice was calm, as if giving the time of day.

"I had to sell it, too."

"But..."

"I wasn't writing anything worth reading anyway. I'd already stopped writing the Deep Six series, and I couldn't find anything else to write about that was worthwhile. It was a while back. My rent was due and I didn't have enough money saved up to pay it. So...I went to a pawn shop near here and I sold it to them. Paid my rent. I got another temp job the next week; so it wasn't a real problem. Just...just don't tell Ducky."

"Don't tell Ducky?"

"Yeah. He agreed that selling my car...and my TV...and my computer...that those all made sense, particularly in this area, but he said that I shouldn't give up all my hobbies. When we realized that the desk wouldn't make it, he made sure that I found a place to put my typewriter. It was nice of him and all, but not practical."

Tim turned away and got out a big bag of dog food. He poured some into Jethro's dish and then filled the water bowl beside it. Tony had regretted a lot of things from what had happened in the last couple of years, but seeing where Tim was living...and knowing that he'd had to sell his typewriter just to pay his rent...that actually made him feel a physical pang.

"Don't tell Ducky. He'll be upset."

Not as upset as I bet you were when you did it, McGee, Tony said silently.

"I won't tell him." For now.

"Thanks. Now, I think you were picking me up to answer questions because you're starting to realize that I look guilty."

Again, the calm, cold voice. Tony wished that Tim would show something. But he didn't, not unless you looked him in the eye for more than a few seconds, but Tim didn't allow that. He shifted his gaze away when he noticed.

"Bye, Jethro," Tim said. "I'll see you when I see you." To Tony's surprise, Tim actually hugged the dog and then stood up. "I'm ready to go."

"Okay. My car's just downstairs...if no one stole it, of course."

"I doubt it."

Tony led the way, and Tim made no effort to chat. They just drove to NCIS in a tense silence.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

"I already talked to you guys yesterday," Brian said, snagging two kittens who were trying to get out the door through his legs.

"We have some more questions," Jamie said.

"Okay..." He made a sound of exasperation as another kitten made a bid for freedom. Ziva caught it. "Come in before the rest of them get away."

Jamie and Ziva grinned at each other and stepped into the small house. There were about ten kittens running around the main room and a box in the corner. Brian saw their looks at the rather incongruous vision of a guy whose house looked like Radio Shack having a bunch of cute mewing kittens tumbling all over everything. He sighed.

"I found them on the road in a box on the weekend. I'm only keeping them until I can make sure they have a home. I'm not a cat person."

One of the little kittens in his hand began licking his wrist. Jamie turned a laugh into a cough.

"I can see that."

Brian rolled his eyes. "Would you like to sit? Just make sure you don't crush a kitten. Do you want to take one?"

"No, thank you," Jamie said...but Ziva looked at them speculatively without answering.

"So you said you had questions?"

"Yes. We need to ask you about Timothy McGee."

"Why? You don't think he killed Smythe, do you?"

"We have to look into every lead," Ziva said.

"Well, whatever lead you have, if it leads to Tim, there's no way it could be right."

"Why do you say that?"

"Because...that's not the kind of person Tim is."

"What kind of person is he?" Jamie asked with a side glance at Ziva.

"Okay...Okay, he's... Tim sometimes acts a bit full of himself, but I've talked with him a lot and it's not that he really feels that way. He knows he's good at what he does but he just hasn't figured out the right way to show it. Besides, I know Teresa and Lorenzo and Paul all probably talked about that fight he had with Smythe, but it wasn't as bad as they probably made it out to be."

"What happened, then?" Ziva asked.

"Tim was getting really frustrated with Smythe swooping down every five minutes and asking what Tim was doing, why he wasn't done yet, stuff like that. Tim finally stood up and told him to get out of the way. If he wanted us to get done on time, he could help a whole lot by keeping his big mouth shut."

"Smythe didn't think much of that?"

"He was a Marine. Of course, he didn't. He accused Tim of having no respect for the Navy and all it did for the country, saying that he couldn't be trusted with a job like this. He obviously wasn't qualified for it. Quantico should have got someone better, more suited for the job."

Ziva shifted uncomfortably but said nothing.

"Tim just lost it and started shouting...but he only shouted. He never even took a swing at Smythe...and Smythe deserved a swing. I think a well-placed punch to the jaw would have done him good. ...but Hal came and pulled Tim away. Tim calmed down almost immediately and he seemed really embarrassed about losing it like that. Of course...with everyone gossiping about Tim being crazy, he probably hated that he was acting like it."

"He was acting crazy?" Jamie asked.

Brian hitched his shoulders uncomfortably. "It's just an expression. Tim's not crazy. You only have to talk to him for a few minutes to see that. He's just...really awkward. He's afraid of being himself around people. Of course, with the prima donnas all acting like Tim offended them just by existing, it was only natural that he wouldn't feel comfortable around them. ...but he was always really nice to Charlie and me."

"What about the others?"

"Well, Teresa and Lorenzo are the worst. Paul was upset that Hal hired a new guy to be in charge, but after a while, he just did his work without comment. He wasn't friendly, but he wasn't mean about it. Ronna...well..."

"What?"

"She actually quit three weeks ago, said that she wasn't going to put up with working beside a maniac anymore. She yelled at Hal and then gave her notice. She stormed over to Tim's office and said it was his fault and then she walked out."

Jamie winced. "How did Tim react?"

"That was the weird thing. He didn't react. Not at all. He stared at her, like she was TV show or something. He must have been upset, but you couldn't tell it from anything he said. Hal called him into the office a bit later and then Tim left. We all thought that Tim was being let go to make peace, but he came back the next day...and Ronna didn't. No one asked about it, but we were all wondering."

"Did you?" Ziva asked. "Did you ask him what was wrong?"

"Charlie and I tried, but Tim just said that there was nothing going on, that Hal had just been making sure that he was okay. ...but after that, Tim really started working on getting the program finished. He was the first one in and the last one out most days."

"Was it normal for him to come in as early as he did yesterday? He said he arrived at 0630."

"I don't know. I don't check in until nearly nine most days. He's always there when I get there. I can't think of a day when I beat him. I think part of the reason he came so early was to have some time when Smythe wasn't there...but I think he also liked working away from everyone, didn't like having all the attention." Brian looked at them both. "I'm telling you. Tim couldn't have killed Smythe. It's just not him! Besides...people disliked Tim a whole lot more than he disliked Smythe. If someone at Soft-Tech was going to be killed..."

"It would have been Tim?" Jamie finished.

"Yeah...and no one killed him. People at Soft-Tech aren't...aren't the kind of people who snap and commit murder. We're all geeks to some degree."

"Well, thank you, Mr. Moore," Ziva said standing. "If we have any more questions, we will call you."

"Okay. ...you sure you don't want a kitten?"

"No," Jamie said.

"I think I will take one."

"Really? Take whichever one you want. You want more than one?"

Ziva smiled. "No."

"They're all clean. I have the scratches to prove it."

Ziva looked at the many squirming bodies and then picked up a dark gray kitten with a white patch over one eye. "I will take this one."

"Great! Thank you!"

Jamie and Ziva walked out to the car with the kitten, a clean blanket and a food dish. Ziva smiled at the kitten's bright pink tongue as it tried to lick her face.

"I can't believe you took one of the kittens. Why?"

"I like cats, but the reason I took one is because a friend of mine has been wanting to get a pet for her daughter for her birthday. I promised I would keep my eyes open."

"What if she doesn't want it?"

"Then, I will have a pet of my own."

"Ziva...I just don't get you."

"You do not have to. Is it not cute?"

"Yes. Very. I don't like cats. We don't usually get along."

Ziva laughed and then became serious. "Well?"

"Well, we don't have much, although I'd like to ask Hal Johnson about Ronna quitting. He never said anything about that."

"He is as certain that McGee could not have done it as the others are certain he could."

"Charles Allen said much the same, although he didn't talk as much. What do you think, Ziva?"

"About what?"

"Do you think Tim could have committed murder?"

"It does not matter what I think."

"You know him. You've known him for a lot longer than any of these people have."

Ziva looked down at the kitten now sleeping contentedly in her lap. "He is not the same person I knew. He has changed. I will not say that I know what he is capable of."

"But you don't think he did it."

"No, I do not."

"Why?" Jamie asked. "This is real question, Ziva. Why? You must have a reason."

"Must I?"

"Yes! If it's just an instinctive denial...that's not any better than the people he works with automatically saying it's a certainty. You should at least figure out why you think like you do."

"Do you think he is guilty of murder?"

"The evidence says he could have."

"But do you say?"

"I think he's capable of it. Whether or not he did? No one has denied that he avoided resorting to violence when confronting Lance Corporal Smythe. He's been in treatment and the worst he ever did was punch Tony in the face for what I heard was a very good reason. Violence doesn't seem to be his automatic reaction. I'm going to reserve judgment on this one. ...but if it comes down to the evidence saying he's guilty, I'm going to need more than you guys being certain he's innocent. For the sake of the one person on the team who doesn't know Tim, could you at least figure out a reason why I should go along with your gut feeling?"

Ziva smiled. "I will work on it."

x.x.x.x.x.x.x

"Well, Abbs?"

"I was looking through the data on the cameras. It's a pretty good system, but it's new and grafted onto an old one, and someone got into it that way. They'd have to be pretty handy with computers to do it, but it's possible."

"Could the people at Soft-Tech have done it?"

"If they put their minds to it, I'm sure they could. I know that Tim could..." Abby's eyes went wide and she covered her mouth. "I didn't say that Gibbs. I didn't say anything like that! You know I didn't!"

"Abby."

"No! It wasn't Tim! You know it. I know it. Everyone knows it! Everyone at Soft-Tech could have figured out how to do it."

"The others have alibis, Abbs."

"Then, someone else had to have done it!"

"Why?"

"Because...because it was too sloppy! There was no attempt to cover it up or anything! Tim could have made it look like there was still video going! He's done that before! Whoever knocked out the cameras did just that! Nothing fancy, just effective."

"Is that all you have?"

"Um...no...Gibbs. It's not."

"What?"

"It's coincidence! It's got to be!"

"What, Abbs."

"I mean...it just doesn't make any sense! If it were Tim, he'd be a lot better at it than this!"

"Abby! What?"

"The bullet is a 9mm, but there's nothing to say whose gun it was. I'm guessing there was a silencer, though, and the striations are consistent with a Sig Sauer, a lot like what you guys use. Possibly the same model, but can't be sure without the weapon itself. ...unless there was already a record of the striations from the specific gun and...well, then I could identify it without any real problems. I mean...I'd have to hedge a little bit because the bullet itself is a bit mangled...since it went through the dead guy's skull, but..."

"ABBY!"

"The striations match Tim's gun!" Abby blurted out and covered her face.

"What?"

"The striations from the bullet. They match Tim's service weapon. ...from when he worked here. Eighteen months ago. When he quit. That's his gun. His gun fired the bullet that killed Lance Corporal Smythe!"