As McGee typed, he tried his best to tune out the humming from the various machines surrounding him. Despite his attempts to drown the noise with Abby's Plastic Death CD, he could still hear them under the growing bass line. It was a vibrating tone that he was more than a little ashamed to admit matched his own internal rhythm at the moment. Abby seemed to be struggling with her nerves too as they'd worked alongside each other that morning, but if she felt as shaky as he did, it didn't show. Maybe he'd had too many Caf-POW! today. He didn't have quite the same tolerance she did. Was this a sign of caffeine overdose? It wouldn't do to get distracted, not now. He shook his head quickly and kept typing.

After a few tense, noisy minutes, Major Mass Spec's insistent ring broke through the air. McGee couldn't remember the last time he'd felt this level of relief for dirt samples. It had been almost eight hours since Palmer had brought Abby the samples from the Petty Officer's autopsy. He'd bagged, tagged, and hand delivered clothing, shoes, a watch, and debris. From an autopsy standpoint, it was cut and dry; Ducky felt confident enough with the situation that he went so far as to speculate that the cause of death had likely been the bullet Ziva had put between his eyes.

"Abby!" McGee called, letting his voice carry out into the hallway, "We've got a ding, come help me with this."

"Coming, coming," Abby grunted as she came back into the lab, several boxes stacked in her arms high enough to cover her face, "Here take these, switch me."

McGee juggled the boxes into his arms as Abby turned towards the insistent machine. "What is all this? More from Palmer?"

"From Yang, in the evidence garage. It's… more."

"More… evidence?" He asked.

Each box was labeled, name, date, case numbers. Not the case they were working on. He carefully arranged them on the cleared table and turned to reach for the gloves behind him.

"Sort of. It's- well, I'm not sure yet, but I've got a hunch. A gut feeling. Something about Wheeler's whole case is hinky, so I asked for everything Yang could get me from the bombing near Anacostia last month."

McGee's brow crinkled, "Tyler's case? The armored car attempt? This wasn't a robbery though, different location, different MO-"

Before he could finish, Abby's head shot up from the results, "Oh god. McGee, you need to call Tony."

"Why? What's wrong?" Tim's fingers had rushed to speed dial before she could answer, reflex taking hold when he needed it most.

"It is the same MO. It's the same MO and the dirt in the sole of his shoes was mixed with the bomb making materials, and Major Mass Spec says that Petty Officer Wheeler was not just making a fashion statement with those hideous shoes, he was-" the phone was suddenly thrust against her ear, "Tony! Wheeler didn't surrender, he let Ziva kill him on purpose, he's rigged a-"

McGee didn't need the phone next to his ear to hear the sound that came through. He didn't need to look at Abby's face to know who- what, had cut her off.

An explosion.


Ziva had called him back a moment later, the ring of McGee's phone startling them both out of their shock. McGee had sprung into action in his own way, sputtering for a second before attempting to gather his things to leave. Instead, he reached gently and took the phone out of Abby's shaking hand.

"It's Ziva's number," he said before opening the phone. "Ziva? What happened? We lost signal with Tony after-"

"McGee. It was a bomb. I believe it was poorly crafted, meant to explode when we-" Her voice was hoarse, and she coughed painfully, "when we opened the door or entered the home."

Abby's hands were waving vigorously at him, prompting him to switch quickly to speakerphone. Her voice was strong, scared but persistent, "Are you okay? Gibbs, Tony? How bad is it?"

"I am fine, Abby. McGee, I imagine local LEO's will be responding to the explosion in a moment. Gibbs is calling for emergency medical technicians as well. You will need to come help process the scene."

"Of course, I'll be there as soon as possible," McGee nodded and swallowed his fear. It wouldn't do any good to let his nerves take over now. They'd been building all afternoon, practically fried by the time the explosion had happened. It was as if his body had known all along that there was a bomb, something terrible ticking away all day.

"McGee!" Abby's hand came down hard against his shoulder, "Don't just gloss over that! Ziva, who are the EMT's for? What happened?"

He winced, switching the phone to his other hand so he could rub the injured area. "It's probably a formality, a precaution. She and Gibbs called first responders and I'm sure it's just standard procedure. They're fine, so-"

"No. Tony was closer than Gibbs or I. He was… he still has a pulse. He is still breathing. That is what is important right now."

"Oh my god, Tony," Abby's wail fell muffled into the crook of McGee's neck. The force of it wobbled McGee, temporarily taking him off balance.

"Is he…" He swallowed. Tried to steel his nerves, but realized he had nothing left to steel and quietly finished, "Is he okay?"

"I am sorry, McGee. I do not know."


Driver's hypnosis was a hell of a thing on any other day. After Ziva's call, McGee was surprised he could still stand, let alone drive safely to the scene. Regardless, he'd made it there in one piece. No memory of how he'd gotten there, just a faint fog in his mind that had clouded over his senses. He was in no shape to be investigating a scene like this, not one so rife with the smell of charred wood and smoldering debris to remind him of Tony's uncertain fate. It was a mess, even from a distance. From where he parked, he could see smoke. He could see first responders, their lights flashing and vehicles crowding the street.

No sooner than he'd slipped the key out of the ignition, Ducky knocked gently on the driver's side window, startling him. It didn't escape McGee's notice that the familiar face did nothing to comfort him. If anything, Ducky suddenly represented a harbinger of death. With Wheeler cold in the morgue at the Yard, it was no good omen to see him here at the scene, not with Palmer and the van close behind him. McGee opened the car door, willing his feet to step out onto the street with as much conviction as he needed.

"Hey Ducky, Gibbs call you in?" McGee busied himself with going through the motions, grabbing his gear, locking the car.

"Yes, in fact he did. He's busy with local officers right now, but I wanted to ask before I began any examination at the scene. Do you have any information as to what happened here? I can't imagine Jethro sending anyone into a house that could be rigged with explosives, even if the culprit is already safely locked away in my morgue."

McGee stopped at that, stuttering in the middle of his stride on the sidewalk. "You don't… you don't know what happened? That means it's not Tony, right?"

"Tony's gone?" Palmer's small voice interrupted.

"No, I- He's not-"

"Mr. Palmer, I assure you, none of our agents are being placed on our gurney this afternoon, not on my watch. Please go ahead of me and begin the preliminaries as needed." Palmer nodded and pressed forward past them into the scene.

"I haven't had a chance to talk to Gibbs yet," McGee said, "Ziva called. All she said was that they needed me down here and that… Tony was still breathing."

Ducky matched McGee's quick stride as they approached the crime scene, "I'm sure she didn't mean it nearly as ominously as it was delivered. She felt it prudent to be blunt, and to the point. In her eyes, she must have been relieving anxiety, not causing it."

"I know. I know, I just can't stomach the thought of Tony in whatever condition he's in. Whatever condition that requires that kind of blunt truth." He felt Ducky's hand on his arm and turned back towards him. His lips tightened and his eyebrow rose, "What? It's true, if everything was fine, she would have said he was fine."

The images his mind had been conjuring of Tony on the drive over were truly haunting. Ziva's words played like a broken record over increasingly disturbing hypotheticals. McGee could see Tony's body lying prone on the steps of Wheeler's porch after the explosion. He could picture his face torn by the gravel and his spine broken and his body charred and every image was worse than the last. He couldn't lose Tony. They couldn't lose Tony, not like this.

"Timothy. I was only going to remind you that Agent DiNozzo is quite lucky to have someone who cares as much as you. He and I can both say with confidence that you will get to the bottom of this. Determine whether or not anyone else was responsible and see them brought to justice."

"You're right. I'm sorry, I'll get my head in the game. For Tony."

"For Tony."