Back at the house, Tim's search confirmed that all the Marines mentioned, although at different times, all served together. They must have recruited each other when needed. There were eleven in all, two of which had records, only minors as juveniles. Nothing they didn't already expect.

McGee sat back from the computer. He had already relayed his information to Gibbs over the phone. It didn't really give them much to work with. Nothing more than background, and while that was important, McGee didn't really feel like he was contributing much.

Ziva and Tony had been gone for over four hours, as had Gibbs, leaving McGee to fend for himself for dinner. The last time that he had spoken to them, it didn't appear that they were getting anywhere either. This was going to be a slow case, he could tell. He continued his fruitless search through the bases records as he chewed on his tangerine chicken. He had never really liked Chinese food before working for NCIS, but the constant eating out had gotten him used to it.

He took another look through the photographs of the mini notebook. It was fairly straightforward what was going on. They had the evidence to convict, but the problem was that just taking out the low rollers would not cut off the head of the snake, which was the important thing.

Gibbs came back just as he was getting out of the shower. He didn't look happy. "Get anything good, Boss?" he asked, scrubbing his hair with a towel.

He only grunted and slammed his keys on the kitchen table on his way back to his room. "Guess not," McGee said quietly, turning back into the bathroom. Yep, it was going to be a long one alright. He looked into the mirror. He'd slept a lot better than he thought he would last night, considering Daniel died yesterday morning. Unfair as the whole situation was, Daniel had looked happy the very last time he saw him.

Also, his talk with Tony had helped. They were both finding out that they had a lot in common, growing up only with fathers who were completely incapable of showing just the type of emotion that their sons needed. McGee liked the way they were becoming with each other, even if Tony had threatened to pull McGee's spleen out by his throat if he made that closeness known. McGee had to give him credit on the Hitchhiker's Guide reference, even if it just came from the movie.

Unfortunately, Tony and Ziva came up empty as well. When they got in, Tony fell onto the couch and stuck his feet up on the armrest as Ziva stalked into her room, a fowl look on her face. Tony sighed. "It wasn't a good day, Probie. We couldn't ask anybody questions without alerting them that we're onto them, so Ziva had to sex it up." He rolled his eyes. "They still didn't give up anything. She's not very happy." He looked to make sure she wasn't watching. "I have to admit, though, she's still got it."

They both flinched as a throwing knife came out of nowhere, embedding itself in the back of the couch.

The last thing Tony wanted at the moment was to be woken up in the middle of the night by a Ziva fist to the stomach. He looked over just in time to see her stroking Tim's hair to wake him up on the other bed. Tony sat up. "Hey, why are you being nice to him?"

She looked back at him, an evil look on her face. Tim, who appeared to have woken up, said, "I think she's still mad about last night."

Ziva turned back around to face McGee and said in a soft voice, "There has been a murder."

Tim sat up and began to pull on his boots. "Who?"

"Sergeant Dillon Masterson. He is in the unit we have been investigating."

Tony was still rubbing sleep from his eyes. "His name wasn't on the list."

Tim shook his head. "No it wasn't. What—you think he was the snitch."

"It makes the most sense."

"Well," Ziva said, leaving the room, "you should get ready. We are heading out in fifteen minutes."

They both dressed quickly in the room that they were sharing. It was obviously meant to be a room for children, that is, if the two twin size beds were anything to go by. "So," McGee spoke as he reached for his jacket, "what exactly did you do or say to Ziva to make her so mad at you?"

Tony laced up his shoes. "What makes you think it's my fault?" he gave a fake hurt expression.

Tim rolled his eyes and smiled. "Because I know you."

"Yeah, yeah." Tony sighed. "Alright, I may have slapped her on the ass as she walked off. That's not so bad, right."

"Well, it's definitely inappropriate. Especially if she was already feeling uncomfortable about how she had to act."

Damn. "Do you think I should apologize?"

"Hey!" Gibbs yelled from their door. "What the hell are you doing? Fifteen minutes." He stalked off. "And if you don't apologize, I'm gonna lock you in a room together and let her have her revenge."

He stood and took off out of the room, snagging his bag on the way. "Get a move on, Probie!"

The apology didn't go well. She finally accepted his apology, but not before threatening to stab him, yet again. She was really into knives this week. Thankfully, Tim came in before she actually came through on her threat and somehow convinced her that Tony couldn't help the way he acted. God, the man was good at calming angry assassins.

He was still scratching at the spot on his neck where the tip of her knife had rested as he stood surveying the crime scene. Fear memory response. He looked back up to the road, about a ten foot drop and cocked his head to the side. "Does something seem off to anybody?" he asked the scene at large.

They had arrived before the base M.E. McGee had been assigned the task of canvassing the scene, in other words, circle the crime scene and check for evidence. Ziva was collecting evidence closer to the body, and Tony was doing the measuring and sketching. Pretty much drawing an exact picture, showing the distances between objects and how everything was oriented. He looked around. There was no blood in the dirt, no signs of a struggle, although, based on the dried blood covering most of the body and the many abrasions, there should have been at least something. Based on the position the body was in, it looked like the man had been placed there, instead of falling after being stabbed in the chest. There was something was wrong about the whole picture.

McGee stopped next to Tony. "I think I see it. It looks…staged."

"Exactly."

Ziva took a closer look at the body. "You are correct. Lividity has set in, suggesting that the body was in a different position before." she pointed to where the skin was darker because of the blood pooling.

Tony had seen it many times before. When someone dies and the blood stops flowing, gravity begins to pull the blood down where it pools, which is extremely visible. If the body is moved, you can still tell the original position it was in when it died.

"Someone dumped the body," Tim said.

"Well, they didn't do a very good job of it." Tony looked back up at the road.

They all continued with their tasks. Original crime scene or not, evidence could still be present. Gibbs was talking to the two twelve year old boys who had found the body, apparently while riding their bikes where they weren't allowed to go. Only a couple of M.P.s were standing guard on the road, allowing them to focus on their work.

Gibbs came back down. "They didn't see anything. They were just screwing around." He looked around. "Where's McGee?"

Tony glanced to where he had last seen him. "Don't know, Boss. Hey, McGee!" he called. Nothing. It wasn't like him to just disappear, unless…. Tony laid his notebook down and walked towards the trees, catching Ziva's attention. She headed off in another direction.

They searched through the trees for almost two minutes before Tony caught sight of Tim's jacket. He was standing when Tony saw him, but as he got closer, he slid down the back of a tree trunk, eyes staring blankly ahead of him. "Tim!" Tony called, running over to him, Ziva and Gibbs on his tail.

Tony dropped to his knees and put his hand on Tim's shoulder. Nothing registered. He was gone; somewhere in the spiritual world.

"Is he okay?" Ziva asked, catching up and kneeling down as well.

Gibbs stood behind them. "Is this what usually happens, Tony?"

Ziva looked frantically between both of them. "What do you mean 'is this what usually happens.' What is wrong with him?"

Tony turned to her. "Look, I know that this may seem hard to understand, but you have to stay calm."

"Stay calm? You cannot be serious." She took McGee's face in her hands, and shook him gently. "Tim? Tim, can you hear me?" she said, wiping the sweat from his hairline.

"He can't hear you, Ziver," Gibbs said, placatingly from above.

She didn't look away. "Why not?"

"He's…" Tony saw him close his eyes, trying to come up with the right words. He sighed. "Tony, you tell her."

Tony caught Ziva by the arm. "Hey, listen. I'm going to tell you something and you have to believe me." She looked at him, fully attentive. "McGee is…psychic."

Ziva narrowed her eyes, disbelieving. "Psychic? Since when?"

"About three months ago, when he was shot. Look, he'll tell you when he wakes up."

At that moment, a groan came from Tim, causing them all to turn back in his direction. He opened his eyes slowly. It took a minute for him to adjust, and when he did, he jumped slightly to find them all around him. He rolled his eyes, and said breathlessly, "So much for not freaking out in front of everybody."

"Don't worry about it," Tony said. "Just tell us what you saw."

McGee took a breath. "Well, we were right about this just being the dump site. I saw where the sergeant was murdered. And the people who did it. They're on the list."

Tony stood up and held out his hand. "That's great, Tim. Now come on, let's get back to the scene, before the guards come looking for us."

Ziva walked on McGee's other side, holding onto his arm, and they all listened as Tim told her, in a very versed fashion, about his gift and his vision about Tony's death, which Gibbs apparently hadn't heard before. It didn't sit well with him. It wasn't a long conversation, but once he was done, Ziva seemed to have no qualms about believing him, even if she was a little upset that it took him so long to tell her. Gibbs on the other hand, was quieter than usual, thinking about the new revelation. Tony didn't envy him, and he knew what he was thinking. Just like Gibbs to blame himself for the death of a coworker before it even happened. Of course, Tony still held out the hope that it wouldn't actually happen. Who said that the future was predetermined?

Tony shook his head violently. He sure as hell wasn't in the mood to think about that meaning of life shit right now. If ever.

After nearly an hour of searching, they finally found the crime scene. It was at an abandoned warehouse on the base—there was always an abandoned warehouse somewhere. It was presumable that someone had found out that Masterson had snitched, told him to meet them here, and killed him. Tony had seen it too many times before. When they arrived, it became apparent that the murder was an act of anger. Blood, poorly cleaned, covered the floor and the walls. Quite a hack job, matching the body currently in the base's coroner's office.

They processed the scene quickly and then McGee left to take the mound of evidence from both crime scenes back to Abby, as Gibbs didn't trust the base "piss-testers"—as he called them—to get good results.

Later, after everybody else had gone to sleep, Tony lay awake, alone in his room, thinking. McGee's premonition about him had him more torn up than he had ever let on. He had had many sleepless nights over it. Not for a while, however, having it brought up again was working on his mind.

After half an hour, he got up and went to the kitchen for something to keep his mind off things and found Ziva perched on the kitchen counter, cross-legged with her back up against the wall. She looked at him. "You could not sleep?"

He sat down on one of the bar stools and laid his head at her feet. He looked up at her, his cheek resting the cool surface. "Would you be able to sleep if you knew you were going to die?"

She closed her eyes and leaned her head back on the wall, her expression becoming grim. "We are all going to die, Tony."

Tony closed his eyes as well. "I know that. I just didn't think that it would happen so soon." He sighed and sat up. "I've grieved over too many people. I don't want anybody to ever feel that way on my account." He rubbed his eyes. He needed sleep.

Ziva was quiet for a moment. She kept her eyes shut and her body relaxed. If anybody else had seen her there, they would have assumed that she was on her way to falling asleep, but Tony knew better. She was thinking. It was almost like she was meditating—maybe she was. He continued to watch as she finally opened her eyes and looked at him, unsurprised to see him staring. She asked, "Is it not the goal of one's life to leave behind friends that will mourn you after death?"

Tony shrugged, not moving his gaze. "I suppose. But that doesn't mean that I want you to suffer on my behalf."

They sat silent for another minute, not moving and not breaking eye contact, their presence saying more than their mouths ever could. At length, Ziva leaned forward and touched Tony's hand where it rested on the counter. "You need to rest," she said. She disentangled her legs and hopped down beside him. She pulled him out of his seat and began to push him toward his room.

He stopped at the door and she began to walk away." Ziva?" he called, quietly, tentatively. She turned. He felt like a child asking, but… "Can I sleep with you?" He had spent too many sleepless nights alone, thinking and getting himself upset.

She gazed at him for a moment. For a moment, he thought that she was going to say no, but then she nodded and walked down the hall, expecting him to follow.

It was odd. Although, he had slept in the same bed as Ziva before, he never imagined he would be doing it because of this. She pulled down the blanket and allowed him to crawl in first. He mumbled his thanks as he laid his head down on the pillow.

They lay in comfortable silence, but not because they were trying to sleep. After a time, Tony voiced the thoughts running around in his head. "How do you want to die?" he asked.

He felt Ziva shift next to him. He didn't expect her to answer right away, but he especially didn't expect her to move her head to his chest and wrap her arm around his stomach. She spoke into his shirt. "I do not like to think about it."

AN: Sorry for the long update. Finals. Need I say more. I really am working as hard as I can. You should know that this chapter is somewhat the beginning of the end of the story. Review if you can. It makes me happy!