Title: Dead Reckonings

Story: NCIS crossover

Chapter 7 of ?

Rating: PG (gen)

Set in early season 5

Disclaimer: Don't own, just playing, yadda, yadda.

Chapter 7 – Suspicions Arising

Tony sent his report to the printer and leaned back in his chair with a sigh. He was glad the case was finally over; he normally liked stakeouts, a chance to satisfy his habitual curiosity with regard to other people's business, but this case had dampened his enthusiasm for that particular hobby. Having the item they were supposed to be watching stolen right from under their noses had been embarrassing, to say the least, but even worse was the knowledge that the person who had requested their assistance had tried to play them for fools.

As he listened to the printer churn out the document his gaze drifted towards the desk to his right. McGee had finished his own report and left well over an hour ago, soon followed by Ziva and Gibbs, leaving Tony to his own devices. He unconsciously rubbed his shoulder, still sore from the wrestling match he and Probie had engaged in a few days ago, and briefly wondered just when the younger man had started working out. Tony had found himself on the losing side of that match, with McGee's strength and tenacity surprising him.

McGee's new muscles weren't the only thing that had changed over the past six months. He no longer spent time with the team outside of work, quickly declining any offers to go out for drinks or dinner at the end of a case, and while he had never been one for sharing personal information, he had become even more guarded lately, ever since the case with the decapitated Marine.

No, Tony mused, the changes had started a bit sooner than that. McGee hadn't been himself since he and Ziva had gone off together. Ziva's explanation for McGee's behavior had seemed plausible, but Tony had been trained by Gibbs under Gibbs' rules, and one in particular dictated his actions: never believe what you're told, always double check. After waiting for McGee to drop his guard and discuss what Ziva had revealed, which hadn't happened after nearly two months of subtle and not-so-subtle hints that McGee could tell the senior agent what was bothering him, Tony had decided to take matters into his own hands…

*four months earlier*

Tony waited until his teammates left before picking up his phone and dialing the number he had managed to retrieve from McGee's directory. It rang three times before a feminine voice answered.

"Hello?"

"Mrs. McGee?"

Tony heard a wry chuckle before she responded in a tone that very much reminded him of Tim.

"Used to be. Who is this?"

"Special Agent Tony DiNozzo. I work with—"

"Oh my God, is Tim okay?" He could hear the panic in her voice and immediately felt guilty for how he had handled his introduction.

"He's fine, Ma'am, I promise. I'm sorry, I didn't mean to upset you."

"Okay." He heard her take a deep breath. "Then why are you calling me?"

"Well, you see, I've been a little worried about Mc…about Tim. He's been a little off lately, and…I was wondering if you might have an idea why that is?" Silence. "Ma'am?"

"He…Is he in trouble?"

"No. This isn't anything official. Just one cop, watching his partner's back."

"I see. I'm sorry, Agent DiNozzo—"

"Tony."

"Tony. Tim…hasn't confided in me lately."

"Lately?"

She sighed. "He used to call at least once a week, just to catch up, but about two months ago he stopped calling. I tried to call him, but either he wouldn't answer or he'd just say he was too busy to talk. I got the impression that he's…mad at me, even though he would never say that. What's going on? I'm worried about my son."

Tony decided to take the leap. "Is he your son, Mrs. McGee?"

She gasped. "How…? Why would you ask that?" He could hear anger, but the fact that she hadn't immediately answered confirmed his theory.

"He isn't, is he?"

"He is in every way that matters," she replied stiffly.

"And you never told him otherwise?"

"No." The anger had returned. "Absolutely not."

"May I ask why?"

"Because…we were afraid he would want to find his birth parents, and we didn't want that."

"Why not?"

"Because they abandoned him. They…left him to die, and if I hadn't found him…"

"What happened? How did you find him?"

"I…" She lapsed into silence for several moments before she spoke again. "This isn't something I've discussed with anyone outside my family, Agent…Tony. It's not something I want getting back to Tim."

"It won't. What happened?"

Another sigh. "We were living off-base in Newport. John had just left on a six-month tour, and I…I had gone to the beach a few miles away at Sachuest. I was hiking along the shore when heard a child crying and…I found him tangled in some brush a few yards from the road. He was starving, filthy, dressed in rags, no shoes…I couldn't believe someone could do that to a child! He couldn't have been more than three years old, and to have been dumped like that…"

"No one reported him missing?"

"No. I checked with the police. No missing child reports fitting his description. I had a friend in social services and I convinced her to let him stay with me until his parents were found, but… After a couple of months…"

"You were too attached to give him up."

"Yes. I told my husband about him, and… John knew I wanted children, we hadn't had any luck in that area. When John returned from his tour, he talked to one of his friends, a lawyer, and... We went through the process to get Tim a birth certificate with us listed as his parents."

Tony wasn't too sure how legal that process had been, but he decided to let that slide. "And he never knew that you weren't his real parents?"

"We are. Those…people who threw him away had no right to him anymore. We were protecting Tim."

"I believe you. But apparently he did find out…which would explain a lot."

"But how? And how did you find out?"

"I don't know how he figured it out. I'm sorry. Apparently he told our teammate, and she told me. I, uh…promised I wouldn't say anything to him about it."

"Has he said anything about us? Our role in this?"

"No, he hasn't. He hasn't said much at all, to be honest. But I know it's been bothering him. He hasn't really been himself lately."

"Do you think you could get him to call me?"

"I can try, but I guess you know how stubborn he can be."

She laughed softly. "Yes, I do. But if it's at all possible…"

"I'll do what I can."

"Thank you, Tony. Tim has always said you have his back. Thank you for looking out for him."

"That's what partners are for."

He heard a soft laugh. "That's what Tim would say, too. I appreciate this, Tony. I really do."

"My pleasure Mrs. er, Ms….uh…"

"Hartford. You can call me Cheryl. Goodnight, Tony."

"Goodnight, Cheryl."

The next morning, Tony talked to McGee, told him his mother had called and was worried about him. A flash of anger and something Tony couldn't quite identify crossed the younger man's face before he told Tony to mind his own business and that he'd deal with it. Gibbs chose that moment to walk in and tell them to get to work, sending the two agents scrambling to their desks. After a few hours, Tim excused himself, saying he was going for coffee. When he returned, Tony could see he was upset about something but he brushed off the older man's attempts to offer support. He remained silent for the rest of the day, and Tony wondered if he'd somehow damaged their relationship beyond repair.

*present*

The ding of the elevator drew Tony's attention and he looked up to see one of the agents escorting an auburn-haired woman towards the bullpen. It took Tony a moment to recognize her and he stood, sending her an unfriendly grin.

"Ms. Crawshaw. What brings you here this fine evening? More fake fan mail for Thom E. Gemcity?"

She gave him a cold smile in return. "No. I've come to speak to Timothy. He hasn't returned my calls and I suspected he'd be here."

"Sorry to disappoint you, but he's gone home, and frankly I'm not surprised he hasn't called you back. What do you want with him, anyway?"

"It's about the first draft of his next book. There are some...issues with it."

"He's still writing? And for you? I would have thought he'd drop you like a bad date after the Rock Hollow fiasco."

"It's called a contract, Agent DiNozzo. He signed a two-book deal, and it would cost him considerably more to get out of it than he'd ever earn working for your...lovely organization. After he delivers the final manuscript, he's free. That was our arrangement."

"Fine. Sounds like he made good on his end. Why do you need to talk to him?"

"Final manuscript. This was just the first draft. I gave him an extension, of course, but I wasn't expecting what he sent."

"So what was wrong with it? Too much Agent Tommy and Officer Lisa getting it on?"

She snorted. "Not quite." He raised his eyebrows and she sighed. "It's considerably darker than I expected from him. Almost as if someone else wrote it. I'm not sure the Deep Six fans will approve."

"Darker? How so?" She gave him a contemptuous look. "Listen, I'm not going to go spoil the book for all his fans. Just tell me."

"Well, he killed one of the major characters. Rather brutally, I'm afraid. And the case that started it… quite gruesome."

"He axed one of the team? Let me guess: Special Agent Tommy."

"No. Special Agent McGregor."

A cold chill crept down Tony's spine. "He killed the character based off of himself? Why?"

"I expect you would know more about that than me. At any rate, I need to speak with him. Would you please pass on the message?"

"I'll let him know you stopped by."

"Thank you. Goodbye, Agent DiNozzo. It's been a pleasure." He could have cut her sarcasm with a knife, and replied in kind.

"Likewise, Ms. Crawshaw."

After she left, Tony sat back down at his desk and turned to stare at the empty desk to his right. Why would McGee kill his own character? Was he simply trying to stir up the fans, or was there something more going on? Finally Tony decided that he needed to speak to McGee, to get to the bottom of this before something happened that jeopardized the younger man's law enforcement career. He grabbed his coat and headed for the elevator, intent on paying his partner a long-overdue visit.

When he got to McGee's place he saw the lights were off, which meant either Probie had turned in earlier or he wasn't home. Tony went inside the building anyway, having decided that this was important enough to disrupt McGee's beauty sleep. He knocked on McGee's door, waiting several moments before knocking again, louder. There was no response.

Tony stood in the hallway for nearly a minute, deciding what to do. Finally he pulled his lock picking kit out of his pocket and, after checking to make sure there were no witnesses, picked the lock and slipped inside McGee's apartment. The space was quiet, and Tony's instincts told him no one was home. He slowly and carefully moved through the living room to the bedroom, relaxing slightly when he saw that it was indeed unoccupied.

After making a circuit of the living room, which in McGee's case was more of a study/library/computer work area, he stepped into the bedroom. There was no indication that anyone besides McGee was living there. The bed was neatly made, and the dresser held only McGee's hairbrush and some sort of product that he used to plaster his hair in place. Tony moved to the bathroom and carefully opened the drawers, again finding no indication that anyone other than McGee was spending time in there.

"OK, so it's not a woman. What's the deal, Probie? What's got you so off-kilter that you'd commit literary suicide...literally?" He walked back out to McGee's kitchen and checked the fridge and cabinets. Not much food in evidence, nor any indication that McGee was cooking regularly. Tony briefly wondered how one could survive on nothing but takeout and still get into shape, as McGee was clearly doing. He reached up and rubbed his sore shoulder again before heading back to the work area.

The books on McGee's shelves were classics, mysteries, and technical manuals. Nothing to indicate an obsession with death or dying, particularly at one's own hand. There was nothing on his writing desk except the typewriter, and Tony noted that the ribbon had been removed. Locked in his safe with the rest of his writing, no doubt.

Tony returned to the bedroom and carefully began to search through the dresser, noting that everything was as neat and organized as one would expect the son of a Navy admiral to be. He moved to the closet and found McGee's dress shirts, slacks, jeans, and jackets hanging on the rod, with his shoes lined up on the closet floor below the clothes. Tony was ready to close the door when he noticed a box up on the shelf that stretched the length of the closet. He grabbed the box and pulled it down to eye level, surprised to see a bit of cloth sticking out from under the lid.

After a moment's hesitation, Tony lifted the lid and sucked in a startled breath when he saw what was inside. It was a dress shirt, similar to the ones McGee always wore, with a large dark reddish-brown stain across the chest and three dark rimmed holes in the center of the stain. The stain was dry and stiff, and smelled faintly of decay. He carefully lifted the shirt out of the box and found a CD case underneath.

"God, McGee, what did you do?"

For a moment Tony wondered if this was some sort of practical joke, a sharp lesson to the terminally nosy senior agent to mind his own business, but he soon decided that McGee simply wasn't that creative. Maybe it was a prop of some sort? Created for inspiration for one of the plots in McGee's new book. It couldn't be real, could it?

Tony decided that was one question he desperately needed to answer.

He closed the box and set it back up on the shelf before closing the closet door and carrying the shirt and CD with him into the kitchen. He found a collection of folded paper sacks under the sink and took one, placing the shirt carefully inside. After making sure there was no sign of his presence left behind, he left the apartment and used his picks to lock the door behind him.

Once he was safely in his car he let out a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding. What was he going to do? He had taken the evidence without a warrant, making it useless in itself, but maybe he could use it to force a confession. But what sort of confession? Could he really believe that McGee, his näive little probie, could kill someone and keep the victim's clothing as a souvenir? It made no sense.

Finally he decided that it had to be fake, but what was McGee doing with it? And why would he have created it in the first place? Lacking the ability to answer those questions, he headed home, prepared to enlist the help of someone who could the following morning.

He slept poorly but made it to the office before the rest of his team. He felt odd, smuggling evidence into the lab, but in the more than likely chance that what he was holding was fake, he figured the less explaining he had to do, the better.

Abby arrived just as he was walking towards the lab and greeted him with her usual exuberance.

"Hey, Tony! What ya got for me?" She pointed at the bag he had pulled from beneath his coat.

"I need you to test something for me, Abbs, but you can't tell anyone else about it."

"Am I doing a paternity test for you?" She asked with a wicked grin.

"No." He shut the door before he set the bag on her lab table and pulled out the shirt. Her eyes widened when she took in the large stain and holes.

"Where did you get this?"

"I can't tell you that, Abbs. This has to remain between us for now, OK? I need to know if this… What this stuff is."

"Looks like blood, Tony. And bullet holes."

"Can you test it or not?"

"Sure, even though you could have done the tests on your own, you know."

"I didn't have my kit with me, and I want to be sure."

"OK, fine." She went to grab the testing reagents and soon returned with a few bottles and some swabs. Tony watched her work as she did the first test. "Looks like it might be blood." She took out a second test ket, a cartridge that looked a bit like a pregnancy test and added another sampling of the stain to it. She frowned. "It's human blood. Where did you get this?"

"Can you tell me whose blood?"

"I'd have to run DNA, and that will take awhile. I can slip this in with some of my regular samples, and I can have the results later tonight."

"Thanks. There's one more thing." He pulled the CD out of his pocket. "I need to know what's on this."

"Tony, what's going on?"

"I don't know yet, but I think… I think someone we care about is in trouble. You can't tell anyone about this, Abbs, OK? Not even Gibbs."

"Is Gibbs in trouble?"

"That's what we need to figure out. Promise me you won't say anything." She started to protest but when she saw how serious he was, she finally agreed.

"OK, OK. I promise."

"And keep that out of sight."

She sighed, grabbed the shirt and bag and carried them to her office. "Happy?"

"Ecstatic. Let me know what you find, OK?"

"You got it. As soon as I know, you'll know...and nobody else."

He kissed her cheek. "Thanks, Abbs."

"You're welcome. Now shoo."

"Shooing." He headed up to the lab, wondering about Abby's question. Was Gibbs in trouble? He knew how loyal McGee was to the lead agent, and if Gibbs had done something, Probie would cover for him. But why save the evidence at all?

When he arrived at the bullpen, Gibbs was already at his desk, coffee cup in hand. He raised his eyebrows when he saw the senior agent.

"Getting an early start, DiNozzo?"

"Sure. Why not?"

Gibbs just shook his head and returned his attention to his paperwork while Tony began working on his own stack of files. He had made very little headway by the time Ziva and McGee arrived.

"Did we miss a call? Why are you here so early, Tony?"

"Early bird catches the worm, Ziva."

"Yuck. Why would you want to catch worms?"

"It's an expression."

"Ah, I see." She glanced at McGee, who shrugged and sat down at his own desk where he started to work in silence. After a few minutes, Tony decided to bring up last night's visitor.

"Hey, McGee, your publisher stopped by," Tony announced, and McGee stiffened. "She's not happy with your first draft, and she wants you to return her calls."

"You are writing again?" Ziva asked.

"Didn't have a choice," he muttered. "Two-book contract."

"Oh."

"Are we going to have any more cases as a result?" Gibbs snapped and McGee shook his head.

"No, Boss."

"Good. Get to work, all of your. Should be enough cold cases to keep you busy."

"Yes, Boss."

McGee immediately started pulling up files and Tony didn't even need to look to know which case he had chosen first: the decapitated Marine.

It was one of their strangest cases, and one of the most frustrating. There had been almost no physical evidence, other than the body and head. Their background into Harris had not revealed a motive for such a brutal killing; no one hated the man enough to shoot him three times in the chest and cut off his head.

They hadn't even been able to explain his resemblance to McGee. Abby had been surprised enough by it that she seemed to temporarily forgive the agent enough to work with him, and had insisted on a DNA test. The two men were unrelated, according to her analysis, which seemed to relieve McGee considerably.

They also hadn't been able to find a connection between Harris and the killer that used that particular M.O., Doran (or Lorcan) Keane. Tony knew Ziva would be looking into that case, or as much as she could after the FBI had confiscated their files after Keane had apparently killed their prisoner as well as one of their agents. Of course, the strangest part of that case was that Gibbs was willing to let the FBI take the lead on it.

Tony caught Gibbs' glare and returned to his own stack of cold cases, hoping for a call-out, but Gibbs' phone remained silent. He managed to create the illusion that he was working, but his mind was on what he had discovered in McGee's apartment, and what Abby would be able to tell him.

XXX

Abby put the last of her samples in the genetic analyzer and gave it a small pat before she started the run. It had been a relatively busy day, with evidence coming in from other officers for her to review, and she hadn't had much time to think about the problem that Tony had brought her that morning. Now, after she had finished her work, she had time to work on the CD. She put it into her computer, scanned it for viruses, and tried to open it, only to find that it was encrypted.

"What do you have on here you don't want anyone to see?"

She started working, breaking through the first layers of passwords relatively easily, but the final layers were much more of a challenge. She spent over an hour breaking through the impressive walls whoever had protected the data had put up, but finally she managed to unlock the files. She was surprised to find they were photos, and she clicked on the first photo and opened it, finding a picture of a clearing surrounded by forest. The next photo was similar, with some parts of the picture overlapping what was in the previous shot, reminding her a bit of establishing shots in a crime scene.

Abby skipped over the next few and clicked on a later photo, gasping when she saw the image in front of her. It was a close-up of three holes in a shirt, with the holes surrounded by a brilliant red stain. The pattern on the shirt, visible around the edges, was the same as the one Tony had brought her. This shirt, however, was covering the chest of the person who had died wearing it. The location of the holes left no doubt in her mind that the victim would not have survived the wounds.

"Oh, God….Tony, what did you bring me?"

She clicked on the next shot, only to see more of the torso of the victim, and froze. She could see the person's blood-spattered chin, the presence of the spotters telling her the poor man hadn't died instantly, but what was more disturbing was that the chin looked rather familiar.

With shaking fingers, she clicked on the next image, her eyes widening in horror when it appeared on her screen. She could now see the face of the victim, his wide, glazed, dead eyes staring back at her. Eyes that were horrifyingly familiar.

The man in the picture was McGee.

She stared at the image, unable to believe what she was seeing, until finally anger took over. What kind of sick joke was Tony playing on her? This couldn't be real! She immediately checked for signs of manipulation, but the photo had none of the indicators of photoshopping. It was an original image.

She jumped up and ran to the DNA machine, quickly searching through the data to find the sample from the shirt. She opened it in the analysis program, compiled the profile, and quickly entered it into her database for a search. After a few minutes, a matching profile popped up, and she felt her gorge rise.

"No, no, this is impossible. There must be a mistake!" She downloaded the matching file from the database and compared it to her evidence. There was no doubt, both were exactly the same. It was McGee's DNA.

She ran back to her office and snatched up her phone as she pressed a number on speed dial.

"Agent DiNozzo."

"Tony, get your ass down here right now!"

"Abby, what-?"

"NOW!"

She slammed the phone down before he could respond and pulled the shirt out of its bag, holding it up to examine it. The buttons were missing, but other than that it looked exactly like the shirt in the photo, down to the small wear mark at the collar. She took the shirt over to her microscope and examined the holes, her blood running cold when the significance of what she was seeing hit her.

"Abby?" Tony called as he ran into the lab. "What's going on?"

She dropped the shirt and ran out of her office before grabbing Tony's arm and dragging him to her desk.

"Look!"

Tony looked at her computer screen and froze, his eyes widening. "What in the hell? That looks like...that's McGee." He turned to her. "That can't be…That's photoshopped, isn't it?"

"No, it's not. Believe me, I checked."

"But...then it's fake. McGee set this up to get back at me, with fake blood or something, and then planted the shirt."

"No. The shirt you brought me is exactly the same one as in the photo. I checked. Those are real bullet holes, and...the blood is covering the bullet wipe. The...victim bled after he was shot. I checked the blood, I checked the DNA and ran it through the database, and it came back. It's McGee's DNA. It's his blood, and...it's him in the picture, Tony, It's swear it, and he's dead." Her voice broke and she started to sob. "My Timmy's dead!"

"But… If that's McGee...then who in the hell just left with Ziva?"

TBC…

Next chapter is First Confrontations :)