Dead Reckonings

Disclaimer: Don't own, just playing, yadda, yadda. There are a couple of lines in this chapter from the Highlander season five episode Dramatic License. No infringement intended.

As the title suggests, lots of exposition in this chapter.

For Sergeant Conley, since he finally got his computer fixed;)

Chapter 5 – First Lessons

Tim McGee had both heard and read the phrase "his mind reeled" many times, but he had honestly never been able to apply that description to himself. Until now.

"…Keane killed you, McGee, and that started it."

"Started what?"

"Your immortality…"

He had barely managed to hold himself together long enough to leave the group of people who had just told him the impossible. Once outside, he felt the strong desire to run, to escape the insanity that had invaded his life.

Immortal? Me? No, this is a dream, a very, very weird dream… It has to be…I can't…

Suddenly he felt that strange sensation, a feeling that he now knew signaled the approach of the woman, Amanda. He turned and saw her walking towards him, a sympathetic expression on her face. He felt a surge of anger and the idea that somehow, this was all her fault arose within him.

"Leave me alone!" he barked and headed toward the driveway before he remembered that Ziva had driven him here. He couldn't leave.

"I'm afraid I can't do that, Tim," she replied in a soft voice. "You're sort of my responsibility now. At least for a while."

Surprised, he turned to face her. "Why?"

"Because you're going to need a teacher."

"A teacher? For what?"

"How to survive."

McGee scoffed. "Survive? You told me I'm-."

"Yes, but there are things you need to know, and frankly I'd rather not give you the '101' in Gibbs' front yard." She stepped up to him and gently took him by the arm. "Come on, let's take a walk. I saw the perfect place to have this little chat on the way here."

Reluctantly, McGee allowed himself to be guided down the driveway and once they reached the sidewalk Amanda turned and pointed to their destination, its tallest point just visible above the trees.

"A church?"

"Holy Ground. We'll be safe there."

"Safe from what?"

"People like Doran Keane."

McGee stumbled slightly as more memories from the past few days surfaced.

"…you have no idea what you are, do you?"

"…shot in the chest, three times, and then…his head was cut off."

"…three shots to the chest, and then…he was going to cut your head off."

"He…he was going to…"

"Yes."

"But why?"

She patted his arm. "I'll explain everything once we get where we're going. Trust me." She noticed his expression and sighed. "OK, you don't trust me. You do trust Gibbs, though. Right?"

"Yes," he said without hesitation. She smiled.

"And Gibbs trusts me to take care of you. OK?"

"O…OK."

They started walking again, and it occurred to McGee that under normal circumstances, he would be enjoying himself: a cool autumn night, walking through a nice section of town, with a beautiful woman on his arm. The reasons for his situation, however, still weighed heavily on his mind and he shook his head. There was nothing normal about his life now.

Finally they reached the church, an old but impressive brick and timber building with a towering spire and beautiful stained-glass windows flanking the entrance. McGee briefly wondered if this was where Gibbs attended services before Amanda opened the door and led him inside. They entered the main area and made their way towards the altar, finally settling in one of the pews a few rows from the front. After checking to make sure they were alone, Amanda turned to face him. She studied him for a moment and smiled ruefully.

"Sorry, it's been awhile since I had to do this and the last time…didn't go well. OK, first thing you need to know. We can die, but only by—"

"Decapitation?"

"Yes. The man who caused your 'first death' wanted to make it permanent."

"But why would he want to kill me?"

Amanda sighed. "He shouldn't have killed you in the first place. We're not supposed to interfere with pre-Immortals."

Suddenly at least something that McGee had wondered about in the past few days made sense. "So you can tell if someone is going to become Immortal, even if they haven't…been activated yet?"

"Yes, just like we sense each other now. It's not as strong, but the feeling is there if we do encounter a pre-Immortal. There's no guarantee that person will become Immortal, though; only if they die violently. Poison or disease won't do it."

McGee thought back to the other cases he and Ziva had uncovered. "So all of those other murders with the same M.O.… and the 'special people' Flynn mentioned, Keane was killing pre-Immortals?"

Amanda considered his question. "Or possibly those who were already Immortal, but since no one seems to know about him, that's unlikely."

"I still don't understand why he would want to kill people…like him."

"It's the Game. Most Immortals believe that the last one of us left alive will have the power of all the others, and through killing other Immortals they gain their power. It's called the Quickening, that transfer of power from one to the other. When two Immortals who are in the Game meet, they fight to the death."

McGee felt his stomach do a slow roll and he fought to control the rising nausea. "How?"

"With swords. Immortals learn to fight to survive, and that's a big part of what I'm going to need to teach you."

"But I…I failed fencing! I'll never be able to fight like that!" McGee tried to quell his rising panic and Amanda placed her hands over his own, a gesture that offered little comfort to the terrified man.

"The fencing you were probably taught is nothing like what we do. You will be able to learn to defend yourself when necessary…or take the offensive."

McGee leaped to his feet. "No! I don't want any part of this…this Game. I don't want to kill anyone." He started to leave but Amanda caught his arm and held him in place.

"I know you don't, and there are plenty of us who would rather not, but since there are also plenty who are actively seeking out others to kill, you need to learn to protect yourself." She turned him to face her and studied him again. "It's like your job now. You use deadly force when you must, right?"

He winced, remembering the unfortunate times when he had been forced to fire on someone, with devastating results. "But I hate it."

"Good. You're not supposed to like it. But you do know that sometimes…"

"Sometimes I have no choice."

"Exactly."

He sank back into his seat. "And I have no choice now… I have to learn how to fight. I can't avoid it."

"No. Not unless you wanted to spend eternity on Holy Ground." Her eyes flashed in anger. "And even then you may not be safe."

"But I thought you said—"

"Immortals will not kill on Holy Ground. Mortals still will. And you can't feel them coming."

McGee suddenly remembered the man that had been with Amanda. "How many…mortals know about us? Gibbs, and Joe…and now Ziva, they all know. How many more?"

"Not too many. We are very careful about who we tell, and as for most of those who have found out on their own or from others, they will not interfere. They just…watch."

One of Gibbs' rules came to his mind: always watch the watchers. The irony of that rule almost made him chuckle. People would be watching him now, people who knew that he…wasn't normal. He wasn't normal. How would the others see him now? His teammates? His family…? Suddenly another memory flashed through his mind.

"…we have never found an Immortal who was not a foundling or who knew their birth parents. Since you grew up with a family, you were adopted."

The significance of that phrased slammed into him again and he barely managed to voice that fact of his new reality. "I'm… I'm adopted."

The sudden change of gears didn't seem to phase Amanda in the least. "Yes."

A sense of betrayal overwhelmed him. "My parents… they lied to me! Why didn't they tell me?"

"I can't answer that, Tim. Maybe they thought it was best. I'm sure they have no idea where you came from and wanted to save you the pain of wondering about your birth parents. Or maybe they did want to tell you and the opportunity never presented itself. Sometimes we do lie to protect the ones we love."

McGee absorbed the information Amanda had given him, wondering if this was why his father had acted the way he had. He knew his mother and grandmother Penny had loved him, treated him like a true member of the family, but…

"My father… I was never good enough for him. Do you think…?"

"I don't know, Tim. I'm Immortal, not omniscient." She grinned. "None of us are, no matter how long we've been around."

"How long have you… Sorry, that's probably not something I should ask, is it?"

Amanda chuckled. "I know it's considered rude to ask a woman her age, but in this case I can make an exception. I don't know exactly what year I was born, but I died the first time in 850. A.D., that is."

McGee almost choked, sure he had misheard her. "1850?"

"No, 850. Middle ages, Medieval times, whatever you want to call it. It wasn't that great, believe me."

"How did you…die?"

"I was whacked over the head by a member of the town watch for stealing a loaf of bread." She seemed very matter-of-fact about it, but McGee was horrified.

"I'm sorry…"

She patted his cheek. "Not your fault, Tim. Best thing that happened, believe me. If I hadn't, my teacher wouldn't have found me, and I would have probably starved to death instead."

"Your teacher?"

Sadness clouded Amanda's expression and she took a few moments to respond. "Rebecca. She was…she was a true lady. She took me in, taught me how to survive…and to be better. I was an illiterate thief, I'd never known any other way to be, and she taught me…so much. Not just about the Game, but how to believe in myself." She swiped at an errant tear that had started to slip down her cheek and put on a bright, fake smile. "I'm sure I'll have a lot easier time teaching you, right?"

"I'm not so sure of that." He wanted to ask her more about Rebecca, but his years as an investigator had taught him when to know when a subject was best left alone. "I've never been much of a fighter, and I really don't know if I could fight…to the death."

"Hopefully you won't have to find out any time soon, but in the meantime, we have a lot of work to do. Come on, let's get you home."

McGee mentally slapped himself. "Oh God, I completely forgot about Ziva. She's probably wondering-"

"It's OK, I'm sure she's had her own stuff to worry about…"

XXX

Ziva stared at the man who called himself a Watcher, unsure if she was ready to accept all that he had told her.

"You want me to…spy on McGee?"

Joe chuckled. "Not spy, exactly. Just observe what he does, with whom he interacts, mortal and Immortal, and keep a record of it."

"Mortal and Immortal? How will I tell the difference?"

"By observing McGee," Gibbs answered with a smirk.

"You saw how he reacted to Amanda. Until he gets more used to it, he'll have a hard time hiding that response," Joe explained.

"And if one of these Immortals…" She struggled to remember the right word. "…challenges him? What then?"

Joe sighed. "We can't interfere. It's part of the Watcher code, and has been that way for centuries." He shook his head and gave a rueful chuckle. "Although I'll admit, I've always had a bit of trouble with that part myself."

"But McGee is my partner. My friend. I cannot just stand by and watch him be killed!"

"Hopefully you won't have to. There aren't all that many Immortals left, and a lot of them aren't out looking for a fight." Joe sighed. "Just pray McGee doesn't run into any of the ones who are, at least until he's ready to deal with them."

"I do not like this. What if one of these Immortals, like Keane for instance, does not fight fair? What then?"

Joe glanced at Gibbs, who nodded. "There are rules for a reason, Ziva. If someone breaks them, well…" He simply shrugged, but Ziva had known him long enough to read what had not been said.

"Understood. Now what?"

"Now you let Amanda take care of him and his training. I must admit, it will be interesting to have a record of an Immortal's training from the beginning. We don't have many of those," said Joe.

"And at work?"

"Nothing's changed, Ziva. If it's not related to McGee being Immortal, they don't need to know, and if it's not related to work, no one at NCIS needs to know what either one of you are doing," Gibbs replied.

"And no one else at NCIS knows…?"

"No. Rule number four, remember?"

"I do."

"Good. Alright Joe, I think that's enough for now."

"One more thing," Ziva said. "I cannot get one of those tattoos. My faith forbids it."

"Don't worry, we'll work something out." Joe said as he stood and held out his hand, which, after a brief hesitation, Ziva shook. "It was a pleasure to meet you, Ziva, and I look forward to working with you on this."

"It was a pleasure to meet you, too," she said, although her expression belied that sentiment. She released Joe's hand and turned to Gibbs. "I should go find McGee and take him home." Gibbs shook his head.

"Amanda will take care of him, Ziva. Trust me. Now go home, get some rest."

"I…I will try, Gibbs."

He kissed her forehead. "Goodnight, Ziva."

"Shalom," said Joe, and she couldn't help the small smile that crossed her face.

"Shalom."

She slowly walked out the door and down the steps, pausing to glance back before she made her way to her car. She was tempted to go and look for McGee anyway, but Gibbs' orders were clear. Someone else was responsible for him now.

She really was not sure how she felt about that.

XXX

McGee opened his eyes and blinked several times. A beam of sunlight had breached the blinds on his bedroom window and was shining directly in his face. He turned his head to remove himself from its path and came face to face with his current bedmate. He bit back a yelp of surprise and sat up, suddenly aware of the strange sensation that hadn't left him since last night, which he now knew was due to the person next to him.

He managed a weak chuckle as he watched Amanda sleep. Second morning in a row I've woken up with a woman in bed with me. DiNozzo would be proud, he thought with a grin, which quickly faded. And I can't even tell him, not any of this. He sighed and carefully climbed out of bed so as not to disturb Amanda and made his way to the bathroom. After taking care of necessities, he stopped and stared at himself in the mirror. He could detect no change in the face reflected there: nothing to indicate his new status, his new reality.

The grumbling in his stomach reminded him of his all too human needs and he headed toward the kitchen, snagging a pair of jeans and a sweatshirt from his closet along the way. He pulled on his clothes and walked into the kitchen where he opened the refrigerator, sighing as he viewed the lack of contents within.

Guess I better go shopping…

He slipped his shoes onto his feet, grabbed his keys and jacket, and headed out. There was a coffee shop a few blocks from his apartment, and he could pick up something for the both of them.

So, what does a nearly 1200 year old woman eat for breakfast? He chuckled at the ridiculousness of the question, something he had never, ever expected to consider. I hope she likes donuts and coffee.

On the way to the shop he passed an open space dotted with carefully placed stone markers. The significance of the area, and the fact that he very well could have been residing there now suddenly hit him and he began to shake. He stumbled through the gate of the cemetery and managed to find a nearby bench before he collapsed. He stared out at the expanse of carefully groomed grass and well cared-for monuments, wondering how his friends and family would have reacted…if he had been mortal.

Eventually he became aware of the presence of another person and turned to find a familiar face watching him.

"Boss! What…what are you doing here?"

Gibbs just smirked and handed him a cup of coffee. "You looked like you needed that."

McGee accepted the cup and took a sip, amazed that Gibbs, someone who only took his coffee black, had managed to get the balance of milk and sugar exactly right.

"Thanks."

The men sat in silence, each enjoying their coffee. McGee wondered what had prompted Gibb' visit, but before he could ask, the older man broke his silence.

"How are you holding up?"

Surprised by the question, McGee voiced what had brought him to the cemetery in the first place.

"I'm still trying to deal with the fact that I…died."

Gibbs chuckled. "Yeah, I guess that would take some getting used to. You will, though. You have time."

Time. Something of which he now had in excess, unlike anyone else on the team. A fact that made him even more of a freak, and maybe more of a liability that before.

"Boss? Do you…If you want, I can have my letter of resignation on your desk by—OW!" He rubbed his head. "What was that for?"

"Like I told Ziva, nothing's changed. You're still my agent…just with a longer shelf life."

McGee let out a surprised bark of laughter. "Never thought of it that way…"

"That's a pretty good sign that everything's still the same, McGee. Just don't die in public, though. I don't think even I can explain that one away."

"Got it, Boss."

"And don't die, period. Which reminds me." He reached up and slapped the back of McGee's head again. "What are you doing out here without Amanda? She's supposed to have your six."

"Uh…Holy Ground, Boss. I'm safe here." Gibbs sent him a glare and he blushed. "Sorry, I just…forgot. Amanda was asleep and I didn't want to bother her."

"Next time, bother her, McGee. That's why she's there."

"And here," McGee muttered as he felt the tell-tale signs of her presence. "Hey, Amanda," he called as she approached, obviously furious.

"Well, at least you had enough sense to come here," she exclaimed, gesturing at the surrounding cemetery. "What were you thinking?"

This is worse than being baby-sat by Ziva…

"Breakfast?" he suggested sheepishly.

"In a cemetery?"

"Breakfast sounds like a good idea. Come on, my treat," said Gibbs with a smirk.

McGee turned to stare at his boss in surprise. "Are you sure?"

"Still gotta eat, McGee. You, too, Amanda. Let's go."

"We're hardly dressed for-."

"You're fine. I know this great little diner, and they don't have a dress code." He turned and started to walk towards his truck parked just outside the gate. McGee and Amanda glanced and each other and McGee shrugged.

"He is the boss…"

Amanda huffed. "Fine. Let's go. But if you ever wander off without telling me again…"

"You can head-slap me, too," he said with a weak grin.

"Don't tempt me, Tim."

XXX

After spending the day with Gibbs while Amanda was out completing several mysterious "errands", McGee waited for her to return and begin his first training session. To say he was looking forward to it would have been a lie, but he was curious as to what the whole thing would entail.

Finally his early warning system (which he had begun to think of as "the Buzz") kicked in and he rose from his seat. Gibbs quirked an eyebrow at him, obviously waiting for an explanation.

"Amanda's here."

Gibbs just chuckled and followed McGee up the stairs.

"Why don't you lock your door, Jethro?" she asked as she stepped into the front hall.

"Nothing worth stealing," he replied. "Besides, a lock won't stop someone who really wants to get in."

"Maybe not, but it will slow them down. You ready, Tim?"

"As ready as I'll ever be, I guess."

"Don't sound so thrilled, now," Amanda said, and McGee blushed. "I promise I'll go easy on you the first time."

"Oh...OK. See you later, Boss."

"Have fun, McGee," said Gibbs with a grin that immediately told Tim he wasn't going to, at all. He sighed and followed Amanda out to the car.

"Where are we going?"

"I found a place for our sessions, down near the waterfront. The price was right, so…"

"Wait, you bought a place?"

"Well, yeah. We need privacy, and just borrowing a place is a little risky." She glanced at him and grinned. "Don't worry, I'll take it out of you allowance." McGee just rolled his eyes and leaned back in his seat. This was going to be interesting…

Twenty minutes later they arrived at a warehouse situated near an old fish processing plant. The smell was definitely not pleasant, and Tim hoped it would be less pungent inside.

Amanda went to the trunk of the car and pulled out two long cases, similar to those used for pool cues. McGee sent her a questioning glance but she just waved him ahead and he cautiously approached the warehouse. Amanda punched in a code at the door and opened it, revealing a large, empty space. She hit a light switch next to the door and the space was illuminated. It was much cleaner than McGee had expected.

She shut the door and set the cases on the floor before opening one and removing a large but rather plain-looking sword, which she held out for McGee to take. He carefully grasped the handle and hefted it, surprised to find it much lighter than he expected.

"Irish bastard."

"Excuse me?" he asked, startled by her comment. She laughed at his expression and hastened to explain.

"The type of sword you're holding is called an Irish bastard. 'Irish' for the shape of the pommel." She pointed to the flat-sided circle with a bar through it on the end of the grip. "And 'bastard' because it's a hand-and-a-half, a sword that can be used with either one or both hands. The grip is longer than a one-handed sword, but not as long as a two-handed sword or broadsword. It gives you a little more flexibility in how you can wield it."

McGee put his other hand on the grip and gave the sword an experimental swing. "It's a lot different than the foils we used in fencing."

"I know. I'm going to teach you a new completely new manner of swordplay, so any of those bad habits that caused you to fail before won't be put to use." She grinned. "Are you ready to get started?"

"I…yes. I'm ready."

"Good." She opened the other case and withdrew a smaller sword. "Let's start with your stance."

XXX

Three hours later, McGee slumped against the warehouse wall and slid to the floor, exhausted. His training session had been more intense than even the physical fitness tests he had taken at FLETC. The only upside to this, he mused, was that now at least his muscles would recover quickly.

Amanda sat down beside him and gently punched his arm, eliciting a groan and a glare from the agent.

"Please don't do that," he begged.

"Oh come on, Tim, it's not that bad."

"Easy for you to say," he muttered. "You never hit the floor, not even once."

"Well, you know what they say: no pain, no gain." McGee groaned again and she laughed. "Seriously, Tim, you did pretty well for the first time. I can't understand why you failed fencing."

"Different attitude, I guess. Nothing fosters competency better than 'do or die'."

"True. Look on the bright side."

"What bright side?"

She paused to think. "I'll get back to you on that," she replied, and laughed when McGee groaned yet again.

They sat in silence for awhile, allowing their breathing to return to normal. Finally, McGee has worked up enough strength to ask a question.

"Amanda?"

"Yes, Tim?"

"Is it possible to have…a normal life? You know, even with all of this?"

"You mean, to continue to do what you did before? Your job?"

"That, and…other things."

"Like what?"

"Relationships…family…stuff like that."

"Well, it will be easier for you than it has been for a lot of us in the past. You have people that know about your immortality, and they accept it." She smiled ruefully. "You haven't been accused of witchcraft and banished, at least."

McGee's eyes widened. "That's actually happened?"

"Yep. Quite often. People fear what they don't understand, and there's probably nothing more incomprehensible than someone dying and coming back to life. We've been shunned, threatened…even killed by those who fear what we can do, or what they think we might do."

"So how do you deal with something like that?"

She sighed. "Many try to find a purpose in all of this, for better or for worse. Some dedicate their lives to helping others, in one form or another. Many of us are transient, never staying in one place for too long. Others find someone else with whom to spend their time. Many have taken mortal wives or husbands, and a few have settled in for something more long term. I have a couple of friends who been together for over 300 years. They've had their ups and downs, sure, but…"

McGee shook his head, unable to comprehend that type of time span. "So those who have mortal friends, or spouses…how do they handle, you know…everything?"

"Well, people do start to notice that we don't age after awhile. We either tell them the truth or move on. You get pretty good at faking your death after awhile," she said with a wink, but McGee wasn't amused.

"And the mortals we leave behind? What about them?"

"They move on, too. I won't lie to you, Tim, it does hurt, for both us and them, but it's a fact of our lives. We don't really have a choice."

"I guess not…you know, it's funny, up until a few days ago, my biggest worry was figuring out how to meet my publisher's deadline. That kind pales in comparison to all of this."

Amanda sat up and stared at him in surprise. "Your publisher? You're a writer?"

"Sort of, yeah. I wrote one book…and you wouldn't believe the trouble that caused me. My second attempt was even worse."

"Why?"

"I…it was stupid, but I based my characters on real people: My teammates. They didn't take too kindly to it when they found out. I did get a lot of fans, but unfortunately one of them took things a little…no, a lot too far. He got a hold of my typewriter ribbons, read everything I wrote, not just what was going into my book, and somehow got the idea that my life was in danger. He started killing the people I used for inspiration for my characters. He almost killed my best friend." McGee winced at the memory of what had followed that incident, but decided to keep it to himself. "Anyway, after that I scrapped the whole idea, but I'd signed a two-book contract, so I've been trying to come up with something new. It's not working."

"Well, I'm sure you'll think of something. Just don't use me as a character. I've already dealt with that once."

"You have?"

"Yeah, some crazy romance novelist was using Immortals as characters in her books. She called me a cheap whore and a thief."

"Oh God, that must have been—"

"I was never cheap."

McGee's shocked silence elicited a giggle from Amanda and she rested a hand on his knee. "I'm sure you'd never do something like that, Tim."

"No…"

"Good. But don't worry, you'll figure out something. I have confidence in you."

"I'm glad someone does…"

She gave him a very light head-slap. "Don't sound so surprised. Now come on, I think we've got time for a couple more drills."

McGee sighed, levered himself to his feet and picked up his sword. As he prepared his stance, he wondered how long it would take before handling the weapon, or anything else associated with his new status felt normal.

He never noticed his silent observer, watching him from the shadows.

XXX

McGee stepped out of the elevator and quickly made his way to his desk, relieved to be in a familiar setting, but uneasy in the fact that he was unable to bring his newest accessory with him. He had left his sword in his car, knowing full well it would never make it through security, and wondered how others like him dealt with such modern inconveniences. He was fairly sure he wouldn't have to worry about other Immortals bringing a challenge to him while he was at work, but still, even after only two days, it felt like a part of him was missing. He didn't like the feeling of vulnerability that accompanied its absence.

His thoughts were soon interrupted by the arrival of both Tony and Ziva. Tony was regaling the Mossad officer with tales of his weekend, apparently spent in the company of several beautiful women, yet she was strangely silent. When she noticed McGee, she immediately walked over to his desk and put a hand on his shoulder.

"McGee. How are you feeling?"

"Fine, Ziva. How was your weekend?"

"It was…interesting." Before she could elaborate, Tony joined them, grinning like the Cheshire Cat.

"Not as interesting as mine, let me tell you."

"I'd rather you didn't," McGee muttered, but Tony ignored him.

"What's a matter, McGeek? No joy in Dorkland this weekend?"

"No, I'm just a little tired. It was a busy couple of days."

"Oh really? Do tell, Probie-wan. Oh wait, let me guess: A Star Wars Marathon on TV."

"No."

"Star Trek?"

"I wasn't watching movies, Tony. That's your thing, remember?"

"Ah. So then it was the online games, eh, Elf-Lord?"

"Forget it, Tony."

Tony laughed. "I knew it. You really need to get out more, Tim."

"And you need to get to work, DiNozzo."

"Yes, Boss."

"McGee."

He looked up at Gibbs. "Yes, Boss?"

"With me."

McGee stood and followed Gibbs to the elevator. As soon as they were both inside and the door closed, Gibbs flipped the switch and turned to the junior agent.

"Rule number nine, McGee."

"Uh…always carry a knife." Gibbs raised his eyebrows expectantly and McGee pulled out his Swiss Army knife he had taken to carrying after joining Gibbs' team. He held it out for Gibbs to inspect and the lead agent chuckled.

"Don't think that's going to help you much, Tim." Gibbs took off his jacket to reveal the straps of what looked like a shoulder holster, but there was no gun attached to it.

"Boss, what…?"

Gibbs unbuckled one of the straps and removed the holster, revealing a large knife sheath that had been hidden at his back. He handed the set to McGee.

"That should work better."

Cautiously, McGee pulled the knife from it sheath and stared at the dull colored, twelve-inch-long blade.

"Boss…how did you get this past security?"

"It's Grivory: A special type of plastic, so it won't set off any metal detectors. I know it's not as big as the sword you've been learning to use, but I figured it would do in a pinch. Take off your jacket."

McGee complied while Gibbs took the knife and put it back in the sheath. He then helped McGee fasten the holster in place.

"How's that?"

McGee put his jacket back on and shrugged his shoulders, trying to adjust to the feel of the holster. He turned to Gibbs with a grateful smile on his face.

"It's good, Boss. Thank you."

"No problem, McGee." Gibbs patted his shoulder and reached out to slip the switch.

"Any, uh, other rules I should give special attention?"

"Just one: don't lose your head."

McGee managed a smile. "Yes, Boss."

When the doors opened the headed back to their desks, ignoring the questioning looks from the rest of the team. Gibbs announced he was going for coffee and McGee sat down in front of his computer, shrugging his shoulders again when the holster shifter slightly.

"What did Gibbs want with you this time, Probie?"

"Nothing, Tony. Just…giving a bit of advice."

"On what?"

"Nothing that concerns you." As soon as the words left his mouth, McGee winced. He'd have to watch his step around Tony from now on if he didn't want the senior agent to discover his secret, and antagonizing him wouldn't help. "Sorry. He was just telling me to... that I'll need to make good with Abby pretty soon. She's still miffed at me."

"Now I could have told you that, Probie, and yeah, you better. You're going to be spending your paycheck on Caf-Pows this week."

"I don't doubt it."

McGee turned his attention to his computer and ignored the rest of Tony's comments as he started checking his email. He wondered why Ziva had remained silent through the exchange but decided not to draw attention to it. Tony didn't need any more fuel for his daily speculations into his co-workers personal lives.

He had just finished his task when he felt his early warning buzz, and wondered why Amanda had come to visit him at work. He avoided looking for her, since he didn't want Tony to notice, and concentrated on his computer screen until he saw her step off the elevator. Tony noticed that right away and immediately went to meet her.

"Amanda, so nice to see you again," Tony drawled. "I'm afraid Gibbs isn't here right now, though, but—"

"Actually, I came to see Tim." She smiled as Tony's grin vanished and walked over to McGee's desk. He stood and barely managed to hide his worry.

"What's going on?"

"I just wanted to stop by and thank you for a very enjoyable weekend." McGee felt his cheeks start to burn under his teammates' stares. "I also wanted to give you this." She handed him a small, narrow box and planted a light kiss on his cheek. "See you tonight," she said in a stage whisper before whispering in his ear "that should keep him distracted, hmm?" McGee barely managed a smile. He had told her about Tony's nosiness and expressed his concern about keeping the senior agent from learning his secret. It looked like Amanda had a plan for dealing with it. He just hoped it would work.

She turned and waved at his team, then headed back to the elevator. Before the doors had even closed, Tony had reached McGee's desk and snatched the box from his hand.

"Hey!"

He started to shake it but Ziva grabbed it and handed it back to McGee before punching Tony's arm.

"I believe she gave that to McGee, not you, Tony."

Tony rubbed his arm and grimaced. "Whatever, Ziva. Come on, McGee, don't keep us in suspense. What did she give you?"

McGee shot Tony a dirty look before carefully opening the box. Inside was an ornate and obviously expensive fountain pen. Tony looked at it and laughed.

"'She gave me a pen. I gave her my heart, she gave me a pen.'" He looked at his teammates, and his grin faded under their twin glares. "Lloyd Dobler, played by John Cusack in Say Anything…?"

"Never saw it," they replied in unison.

"Too bad. Good flick. But why did she give you a pen, McGee? Oh, let me guess! She's a fan of Thom E. Gemcity."

"Something like that," McGee replied flatly, but inside he was grinning. He was pretty sure he understood the intended joke. He confirmed it when he read the single word inscription: mightier.

"Hope she's not as crazy as the last fan you had, McWriter."

"She's not."

"Well, too bad. You know what they say: 'crazy in the head, crazy in—'" He winced. "Thanks, Boss."

"Get your mind out of the sewer, Tony."

"It's gutter, Ziva. 'Get your mind out of the gutter.'"

"The sewer is lower, yes?"

"How about we all get our minds on our work?"

"Yes, Boss."

"Yes, Gibbs."

McGee bit back a smile. Normal. Everything is going to be OK…

The ringing of Gibbs' desk phone drew all of the team members' attentions, and they watched expectantly while he answered.

"Yeah, Gibbs." He listened, his expression darkening, and McGee felt a strange twist of fear as the lead agent scribbled something on a notepad. Something wasn't right…

"Gear up," Gibbs barked as he hung up the phone, and they all reached for their bags. "Not you, McGee. Here." He walked over and handed Tim the paper. "Get as much information on this guy as you can."

"But Boss—"

"Now, McGee." He leaned in closer and lowered his voice. "Find what you can, and call me, but don't leave the building. Got it?"

"Yes, Boss." He glanced up at Tony and Ziva, who were both staring at him in confusion.

"What part of 'gear up' was unclear?" Gibbs asked without even looking at them, and they scrambled to grab their bags before heading for the elevators. As soon as they were out of earshot, Gibbs spoke to McGee again in a low voice. "I mean it, Tim. Don't go anywhere alone."

"Boss, what's going on?"

Gibbs just shook his head and left to join the rest of the team. After they left, McGee let his head drop into his hands.

So much for normal…

He finally looked at the name Gibbs had given him and started to pull up the information. When the man's picture popped up, he stared at it in shock.

"What in the hell?"

Before he could dig any further, he felt the all-too-familiar Buzz. He wondered why his teacher had returned so soon and looked up towards the elevator, but when the doors opened, he froze in disbelief, which quickly morphed into fear.

The Immortal who stepped out of the elevator wasn't Amanda.

TBC…

Next chapter is called Learning Curve, and after that, the fun starts with Chapter 7 - Suspicions Arising.