"I think Lieutenant Maye liked you," mused Tony as he eyed up his extra-large burger and fries.

"What?" said McGee, also eying up Tony's fries and wishing he hadn't opted for salad with his steak.

"I said Lieutenant Maye liked you."

"Hmm," said Tim, trying to calculate the likelihood of Tony swapping some of his fries for McGee's lettuce. Deciding that the odds were too astronomical to calculate in his head, Tim abandoned that thought and replayed what Tony had said. "What?" he said again.

"I said …"

"Yeah, I heard you." Tony looked puzzled about why he had been asked to repeat himself so Tim hurried on, "I mean. What does it matter if the lieutenant liked me?"

Tony still looked puzzled. Lieutenant Maye was their contact at NIOC and they had just met her for the second time having delivered that day's haul of Sullivan stolen gear. "It's always good to know who likes you, Tim," he said.

"Sure," agreed Tim, wondering if he could just steal a fry or two.

"Besides, it might be useful," said Tony.

"Why?"

"Having a friend at NIOC."

"Again, why?"

"Although," said Tony reflectively, "she might not want to be Maggie McGee."

"What?"

"On the other hand, she's might like a change from being Maggie Maye."

"Tony!" exclaimed Tim, "what are you talking about?"

"Just trying to look out for you," said Tony in a hurt voice.

"How?"

"Well, if you get re-assigned to NIOC it would be good to have a friend there."

"NCIS doesn't have any agents at NIOC," said McGee.

"Not at the moment," agreed Tony.

"Then why would I be sent there?"

"Who knows what the Director will do when he recovers from his concussion?" said Tony reasonably.

"Tony, you don't think the Director will re-assign me, do you?"

Tony shrugged, privately happy that he had, momentarily at least, diverted McGee's attention from his fries.

"Do you?" asked McGee again.

Tony relented, "No, I don't think he will."

McGee breathed a sigh of relief.

"Gibbs on the other hand …" said Tony.

McGee slumped again.

"It's all right, McPanic," said Tony. "I phoned the Navy Yard while you were tech speaking with the lovely lieutenant."

Tim looked up hopefully.

"I spoke to the Director's assistant and …"

"And?" breathed Tim.

"And she said our esteemed Director is in perfect health."

"What?"

"Apparently he was coming down the stairs to consult with El Jefe when my desk lamp sprang into action."

"So he wasn't hit by it?"

"Nope."

"So he hasn't got concussion?"

"Nope."

"Then what? Why?"

"Gibbs deciding to turn the screw a bit more," supplied Tony.

"The b-b-b" spluttered Tim.

"Yep, living up to the second B," confirmed Tony, "here, have one of my fries."

Tim gaped at him, doubly grateful for news about Vance and the offer of food.

"Are you feeling all right, Tony?" he asked.

"In the pink," said Tony, "I think this healthy outdoor life may be doing me good. Why?"

"You're offering me food," said McGee, "in fact, you're offering me fries. You can see why I'm confused."

"Hey, I can be generous," protested Tony. Tim continued to look sceptical so Tony said, "besides, I ordered an extra side of fries. They'll be here any minute."

Tim nodded and felt the world right itself on its axis.

It was drawing to the end of their second full day in Green Bank and they were eating in the diner before returning to the campsite for the evening. The search for Sullivan's caches had been reasonably smooth but it had been hard work as they had usually had to hike for some miles across rough or wooded terrain to find the locations. They had now found six crates and delivered them to Sugar Grove where they had been able to get brief 'fixes' of technology.

"There's something odd about this place," said Tony after having tipped exactly half of the side order of fries on to McGee's plate.

"What?" said McGee, looking round uneasily. The DiNozzo gut might not quite be on the level of Gibbs' but it was not to be lightly ignored.

"Don't know," said Tony as he gazed over the other customers. He nodded as someone smiled at him.

"What is it?" asked McGee anxiously, "who have you seen?"

"Guy sitting in that booth over there smiled at me," said Tony.

McGee looked over at the booth surreptitiously and then jumped slightly as the occupant smiled at him too.

"That's weird," said McGee, "he just grinned at me too. What do you think's going on? If only we could email Abby I could send her a picture and she could run facial recognition."

"What? You think some criminal master mind is smiling at us?" queried Tony.

"I don't know," hissed Tim, "let's just finish up and go!"

"We can't," said Tony.

"Why not?" asked McGee in some dread, "has he drawn a gun?"

"No. We haven't had dessert yet."

Double apple pie and cream seemed to sharpen Tony's reasoning skills and he put his spoon down in triumph after just a couple of mouthfuls.

"I know what it is," he said.

Tim leaned forward, "do I need to lay down cover while you make a run for it?"

Tony sat up straight, "Everyone's talking to one another!"

"What?"

"That's what's weird. Nobody's sitting looking at their cell or their Smartphone or their I-pad. They're looking at who they're sitting with and talking to them!"

Tim looked around and realised that Tony was right; he felt as if he'd been transported back to his childhood and to a time when a wrist watch was the only technology most people carried with them

Now that the reason for their sense of unease had been identified, Tim and Tony settled down for leisurely post dinner coffee. Tim got the map out and entered the latest set of co-ordinates.

"That's odd," he said.

"What?" asked Tony stretching luxuriously.

"Well, look at these co-ordinates."

"What about them?"

"Wouldn't you say that they're very regular?"

Tony looked at the map, "yeah, sort of a circle."

"Look at how evenly spaced they are."

"What about it?"

"I think we could probably work out where tomorrow's caches were going to be even without Gibbs telling us. Look how regular they are."

"You're right. Exactly five miles apart each time," agreed Tony.

"Do you think …?" began Tim.

"That the Boss is playing with us? Making us go the long way each day?"

"The b-b-b …," said Tim, "do you think Gibbs has got 3 Bs?"

"At least," said Tony sourly.

"I reckon we can work out where the other hiding places are," said Tim confidently.

"And we'll go to them in the shortest order," said Tony, "and not keep driving miles more than we need to."

"Gibbs will never know," crowed Tim.

"Well, I wouldn't go that far," said Tony cautiously, "this is the Boss we're talking about but I don't think it will matter. We'll just be using our initiative."

"And saving NCIS a fortune in gas," said Tim.

"Diesel," corrected Tony, "but you're right."

NCISNCIS

"Jethro," said Ducky as Gibbs wandered into Autopsy, "have you got a dead body for me to investigate?"

"No, Duck."

"A psychological autopsy you need carried out?"

"No, Duck."

"You haven't come to steal a body, I hope," said Ducky with sudden suspicion.

"That was just once, Duck. And it was DiNozzo's idea, not mine."

"Well, as it happens I do not have any customers at the moment. It is remarkably quiet. In fact, one might almost say it's as quiet as the grave." The ME chuckled a little at his joke, "although in my experience since I have known you, Jethro, I would hesitate to designate a grave as quiet. You have a propensity for causing mayhem and uproar in the most unlikely of places."

Gibbs gave a distracted smile.

"So, what is the purpose of your visit to these nether regions, Jethro?"

"Just seeing how you're doing, Duck," said Gibbs unconvincingly.

"Ah," said Ducky, "well, that is most considerate of you. And how are things with you, Jethro. In the upper regions so to speak?"

"Quiet."

"I see. I understand that Miss Bishop has decided to take some time off?"

"Yeah. Couldn't go out in the field without DiNozzo and McGee."

Ducky smiled to himself. He had seen the panicked expression on Ellie's face when she discovered she was to be left on her own with Gibbs. In his mind he rubbed his hands with glee at the thought that he would win his wager with his assistant as to how long she would last before finding an excuse to be absent.

"So, what are you doing upstairs now you're on your own?"

"Cold cases. Catching up on paper work," Gibbs sighed.

"I see," said Ducky again, "it must be nice and peaceful without the prank war going on around you. Well, at least now that Timothy's phone has stopped its performance and Anthony's lamp has stopped twitching."

"Guess so," said Gibbs a little sadly.

"Jethro, I do believe you miss them."

"Duck ..." said Jethro in a tone of denial.

"I must admit it is strange to see you without one of your agents trailing behind you," observed Ducky, "like a goose without her goslings."

Gibbs smiled involuntarily although he also winced a little at the maternal overtones of the picture, "had to get them out of the office for a while," he said, "they were driving everyone mad."

"Indeed," said Ducky, "Mr Palmer and I were on tenterhooks lest the carnage spill over into our domain. They were really most inventive. It reminded me of a practical joke someone played on me while I was Edinburgh Medical School. It involved six caterpillars, a stuffed tortoise, a length of hosepipe and four silver sixpence pieces. The perpetrators, Alexander Dobie-Farquharson and Bobbie Wilkerson were nearly sent down for that exploit. You see …," Ducky trailed off as he saw that his anecdote was not cheering Gibbs up. "I must say I thought your choice of assignment was masterly, Jethro."

Gibbs nodded distractedly.

"Who would have thought there was a place so close to DC where technology was so discouraged?" mused Ducky.

Gibbs' hand twitched forlornly as if it was missing delivering head slaps.

"And Jethro, although you appear to be administering a punishment to our errant co-workers I think in fact you found a most sagacious way of enabling them to recover from the recent punishing schedule," observed Ducky.

"Uh?"

"Sending our two young men out to perform a straightforward yet energetic task will make them work together towards a common goal and build the bonds of trust between them as their minds and bodies are restored."

"Either that or they'll kill each other," said Gibbs morosely.

"There is that," said Ducky philosophically, "oh, well. Time will tell. Time will tell."

NCISNCIS

Tim felt the need for a bit of 'alone time' when they got back to the campsite. Spending all his waking hours with DiNozzo was going better than he'd expected but it was still draining so he volunteered to go and collect more firewood. As he returned from his expedition, he paused on the forest edge and considered the sight before him.

DiNozzo was lighting their evening fire and setting up a tripod from which to hang a pot to heat water. He was doing it deftly, efficiently and without fuss. McGee knew that he could have done it just as well but might have wanted to give a running commentary as he did so. He wondered if that was one of the differences between them. Tony seemed to think that everything needed to look as if it was effortless and came naturally while Tim felt the need to let people know that he had learned how to do things and that they were difficult.

Looking back on life with the Admiral, Tim realised that natural ability had somehow been mistrusted, been too much of an unpredictable wildcard. What was honoured in the McGee household was hard work and struggle; there was no place for the dilettante and the young Tim had learned the lesson well. Perhaps, he mused, Tony had learned the lessons of a DiNozzo household, a household where entitlement and privilege were important and hard work was looked down on.

Tim shook himself and walked towards the fire. It was too late now to rue the way they had been brought up; perhaps they just needed to be grateful that they had both turned out to be highly competent, if quirky, adults.

"Good job," said Tim as he approached.

Tony looked up suspiciously, "And?" he said.

"And nothing," said Tim, "just saying. Looks good".

Tony relaxed, "OK, do you want cocoa or coffee?"

"Coffee," said Tim firmly, "I don't want to fall asleep watching the 'Amazing Computer' DVD."

Tony groaned, "I'm having cocoa," he said.

As they nursed their drinks, Tony said,

"I was talking to Marcie this morning."

"What about?"

"Caspar Sullivan."

"Does she know him?"

"Not at first."

"What do you mean?"

"She knows him as Colin."

"Why?"

"Seems that Caspar doesn't like his first name," said Tony, "too outlandish. He wanted to fit in so he used the name Colin. Still got teased though."

"What did Marcie say about 'Colin'?"

"Bit of a loner. Didn't have many friends."

"Not unusual," said Tim.

"Guess not. Means he must have been building up his stashes for a long time."

"How so?"

"It's taken both of us to carry those crates, Tim. Sullivan doesn't seem to have had anyone helping him so I reckon he must have filled those boxes bit by bit."

"Makes sense. He's probably been stealing small amounts from the Navy for a long time. That's why they didn't notice. What did she think of him?"

"Said he made her feel uneasy."

"Marcie? Marcie felt uneasy?" Tim was surprised. He hadn't really spoken much to the campsite manager but she had seemed a very confident, no-nonsense sort of woman who wouldn't be easily intimidated.

"Yeah, odd, isn't it? Said he sometimes had some strange views."

"What sort of strange views?"

"Didn't like the idea of being listened to. Didn't approve of the facility at Sugar Grove."

"Why'd he join the Navy if he disapproves of NIOC?" asked Tim.

"Who knows?" yawned Tony, "doesn't matter, I guess. Army CID have him now, he can't do any harm."

Tim nodded. He drained the rest of his coffee. "DVD time," he said happily.

"Great," said Tony unconvincingly although there would be some pleasure in just watching moving pictures.

"And tomorrow," said Tim with the air of conferring a great treat, "I thought we could contemplate some divine bodies."

"I like the sound of that," said Tony cheering up, "we'll go into town."

"The conditions will be better here," said Tim earnestly.

"What?" said Tony suspiciously, "why?"

"I mean, the conditions in town are much better than back in DC but still, up here they're superb. It's a shame to waste them."

"What conditions?"

"There's no light pollution," said McGee, "we'll see the stars really clearly."

"McGalileo," said Tony morosely, "you and me, we have very different definitions of divine bodies!"