He'd slept too much that day, he told himself that was the reason he was wide awake, watching McGee sleeping next to him. Trent had never met a man like him, so innocent and trusting at times, but with a brilliant mind that caught so much more than people ever gave him credit. Looking at him, such a perfect body, slim and sleek, with only the lightest dusting of hair, his pale body virtually glowed in the moonlight. There were a few scars, for some he knew the story, but for the rest he was in the dark. He wanted to know. In the quiet of the night he could admit to himself that he wanted to know everything.

Tim shivered and Kort pulled the blankets up higher, smiling as the other man instinctively burrowed closer. Kort rolled to his side to meet him in the middle of the large bed, letting his leg slide between Tim's. Content and finally sleepy, Kort closed his eyes and let the rhythm of Tim's breathing lull him to sleep.

-NCIS-

Ryan Hicks sat in Interrogation Room Three, absolutely terrified. He'd woken up inside a drawer in Autopsy, naked and cuffed to the cold metal surface. At his first yell, the drawer had banged open and Dr. Mallard had been standing over him, scalpel in hand. His assistant had been standing next to him, the large tool they used to open the rib cage in his hands.

Dr. Mallard had tapped the scalpel against his face as he leaned close enough for Ryan to smell the tea the older man favored. "So glad you're awake. I would hate for you to miss a moment of our time together."

It was then that Ryan noticed the large Y already drawn on his chest, marking the upcoming incision. He'd begun to scream and beg, promising to tell them anything, not even realizing when he lost control of his own bodily functions. Now he was wearing nothing but an orange jumpsuit, still smelling of his own urine, waiting to see what would happen to him.

-NCIS-

Behind the mirror, DiNozzo grinned at Ducky. "The marker was a nice touch, Gibbs won't even have to break a sweat on this one." As if to prove the point, the door slammed open, causing Hicks to jump.

Gibbs dropped the file on the table before slamming both fists against the heavy wood. Hicks jumped again, as did the observers in the next room. "Start talking."

"They said you couldn't be trusted, that you'd hold back information." Hicks leaned back as Gibbs got in his face, the air from each word feeling like a slap.

"What. Did. You. Do?"

"I planted bugs. I put listening devices in the building so our agency would know what you were doing behind our backs."

"What else?"

Ryan was confused as he shook his head. "Nothing, that's all I did."

"Really?" Gibbs opened the file, showing the careful research DiNozzo had put together. "Your people are always leaving a trail of bugs and they don't get paid extra for it. Now, you're claiming that you did?"

"What?" Hicks was sweating and wishing he'd never met with the CIA recruiter that had come to his college a lifetime ago.

Gibbs slides one sheet of paper across the table. A bank statement, the name Ryan Jeffrey Hicks across the top, three deposits marked with a yellow highlighter, each for fifty thousand dollars. Instantly, Ryan knew no one from the Agency would be arriving to save him. He was the fall guy and he hadn't seen it coming.

"Damn it." He buried his face in his hands. "I was such an idiot. Gregory Martin is the one that ordered the bugs, but that's all I did, that's all I know. You have to believe me, Agent Gibbs."

Smirking, Gibbs picked up the file, leaving the bank statement on the table as he walked out. Alone in the room, Hicks crumpled up the page and threw it against the wall as he let out a yell.

DiNozzo passed Gibbs in the hallway. "Gregory Martin, I'm on it, Boss."

Gibbs nodded as he continued on down, heading for another observation room. "Check with Abby, see if she's found anything on guest number two."

-NCIS-

Kort bounced his leg as he watched Tim sort through his battered bag, pulling out various electronic gadgets and placing them in his new case. "Are you sure about this? Do you trust this man?"

"Yes, I'm sure about this. Yes, I trust him, and," Tim gave Kort a look, "yes, I know what I'm doing."

"I know you do. I'd just feel better if I could watch your back. Kinda getting used to having you around."

Tim ducked his head so Kort couldn't see the expression on his face. "Well, I think you're stuck with me." He stood and handed over a second burn phone. "If you haven't heard from me in five hours, put the battery in and turn it on. If you haven't heard from me in eight hours, call Gibbs. The number is in the phone."

Kort followed him to the door. He'd been grateful that McGee had gone shopping for more personal necessities in addition to the phone, even if the only boxers in the casino gift shop had neon green poker chips on them. Standing in the doorway, a private conversation was impossible so he pulled Tim close to whisper in his ear. "Do what you have to do, but don't be a hero about it. Just get in and get out. A man skimming money like that can be dangerous when cornered."

Under the watchful eye of other guests, Tim nuzzled closer. "I know, I'll be careful." As he pulled back, their lips brushed together. "I won't let you down."

-NCIS-

Guest number two was in the last interrogation room at the end of the long hallway. Rarely used, maintenance had to remove a large number of boxes before the prisoner could even be brought in. Their mystery man had seemed surprised to find himself in such a run down room, and even more surprised to find himself handcuffed to the chair.

Ziva stepped closer, a smile on her face. "I am afraid this room does not see much use, but it is good when we want some privacy." A muffled scream could be heard from room three and her smile widened. "Broken already, that might be a new personal best for Gibbs."

"You can't... you can't do this to me. I have rights."

"Oh, yes," Ziva pressed her thumb against a pressure point, listening to his whimper for a moment before she added a second pressure point that had him gasping and twitching. "That was something I had to learn when I became an American citizen. Rights, like the right to remain silent." She held the pressure points for a moment longer, watching as he struggled to make a sound.

It wasn't until she let go that he was able to let out a sob, curling in on himself as he panted and gasped. "When my lawyer gets a hold of this, he'll make you regret the day you were born."

Ziva pointed up to the camera mounted in the corner. There was no red light shining under the lens. "You mean a recording, from that camera? Sorry, it does not work. NCIS does not have a budget like the CIA and cameras are so very expensive to repair." She reached out and took his hand again. "Now, where were we?"

-NCIS-

Tim stood at the coffee bar, nursing an Espresso Macchiato. The place was busy, but not overly crowded. From where he was standing he could see the mirror behind the baristas and that gave him a view of the entire room. John arrived as scheduled and eventually made his way over to the counter with a tall Cappuccino. Neither man spoke, or acknowledged each other in any way, but when Tim shifted over to give him more room his hand moved, revealing a small phantom keystroker. John laid his hand over the device and casually moved it closer. After taking a few sips, John left the coffee bar, leaving his newspaper behind. Tim casually opened the paper to check the scores, slipping the hidden key card into his pocket.

After spending some time finishing his drink and reading the paper, Tim casually walked out and down the street. Once at John's casino, he bypassed the gaming rooms and continued up to the guest rooms. The room the card opened was furnished this time and Tim went straight to the closet and pulled out the coat that was hanging there. On the back was the hotel logo and over the pocket was embroidered "IT Staff". He settled in to wait.

-NCIS-

John Phillips arrived just as the yelling started. The casino manager was ranting at his assistant, so John went straight into the office. "Tyler, what's wrong?"

"What's wrong is that the file for the expansion plan is gone. It was on my desk last night and now it's gone." Tyler Reynolds glared at his assistant. She might be easy on the eyes, but couldn't remember the simplest of instructions. At times that was handy, but not minutes before he was to present the plans to the owner of the complex.

"Tiffany, did you tidy up Mr. Reynolds' desk after he left last night?" John circled around carefully, trying not to rush, as he looked at the L-shaped desk.

"Yes, sir, I made sure everything was organized for him." She stood in front of them, wringing her hands. "I don't know what happened."

Deciding he'd spent enough time to look convincing, John leaned over and looked in the space between the desk and the wall. "Oh, I think I know what happened. Hang on a minute." He dropped down onto the floor and snaked his arm through the computer cords as he reached for the missing file. Happy with the reason John was messing with the back of his computer, Reynolds had no clue about the small device his assistant manager was plugging into the tower. When John emerged with the missing file, Reynolds happily helped him to his feet.

Crisis apparently averted, Reynolds sat at his computer as his assistant scurried away. "Okay, since I'm running late now, let's go over last night's numbers quickly." He moved the mouse across the screen to open the needed report and the arrow bounced back. Reynolds frowned, but tried it a second time and was able to open the report. As he always did, he opened an email to write his notes on that would then be sent to each of the divisions. He typed a few letters before he realized that the cap lock had toggled. He tapped it and some random letters appeared on the screen.

"What the hell is going on?" Reynolds backspaced and suddenly the cap lock was back on. "What did that dingbat do to my computer now?" Now frustrated, he accidentally closed out what he was working on. By the time he had everything back up, the owner's personal assistant had called and asked where he was.

Reynolds slammed his hands down on the desk as he stood. "Damn it, I can't deal with this right now. John, get someone up from tech support to fix it for me."

"Right away, sir." The number he called wasn't for their IT department, however.

-NCIS-

McGee arrived in the manager's office just as Reynolds was leaving. The manager never looked past the familiar coat. "Get that computer fixed before I get back."

"Yes, sir."

"John, stay here and make sure he works fast. I need the overnights as soon as I finish with the old man." Reynolds strode out, his assistant following in his wake, clutching the file and a notepad.

Now alone in the plush office, John grinned and turned to his friend. "You heard the man, work fast."

For someone who could hack the Pentagon with one arm tied behind his back, at least according to DiNozzo, tearing through the protection that hid Tyler Reynolds' illegal activities was a piece of cake. Less that ten minutes later, Phillips was leaning over McGee's shoulder, staring at the screen.

"I thought a million, two at the top, but this, wow."

Tim started printing out copies of the hidden accounts. "They always get greedy and that's usually how they get caught."

-NCIS-

"Are you sure about this, Tobias?"

"I'm sure. Gibbs asked us to wait, so we're going to wait." Fornell pulled his coat tighter around him as they stared at the screen. From the outside, the warehouse gave no clue as to the possible devastation held inside. "Let's just see who shows up."