NCIS. Abby/Kate. 013. Yellow. *
Title: Albeit a Very Persistent One
Fandom: NCIS
Characters: Abigail Sciuto, Caitlin Todd, Timothy McGee, Jethro Gibbs, Anthony DiNozzo, Donald "Ducky" Mallard
Prompt: 013 Yellow
Word Count: 3,430
Rating: R
Spoiler: Slight for "See No Evil."
Summary: While investigating the death of a Navy petty officer, McGee is knocked unconscious and awakens in the world of LJ Tibbs.
Author's Notes: Title from a quote by Albert Einstein: "Reality is an illusion, albeit a very persistent one." The prompt comes from the realization that "yellow" is a kind of sensationalist or exaggerated journalism. Somehow, that realization became this story. Forgive the similarity to my previous fic, 'Desperado.' It's a whole different animal. ;-D Abby makes an appearance only in the BROADEST sense. But she is mentioned. So... ;-D
Little Damn Table
"There are some people who live in a dream world, and there are some who
face reality; and then there are those who turn one into the other."
-- Douglas Everett
"L.J. Tibbs rose to his full height, towering over the cowering..."
McGee sat back, looking at the words on the page. "Towering over the... whimpering? Simpering?" He leaned forward and tried that.
"L.J. Tibbs rose to his full height, towering over the simpering young suspect. 'Why don't you explain to me why that girl is dead?' Tibbs demanded. 'Then we can talk about leniency.' He locked the man into his cold, icy stare before he left the room. The young detective was waiting in the hallway, anxiously awaiting Tibbs' verdict. 'You did good, Tom,' Tibbs said.
"The young detective smiled. Despite the gruff exterior, perhaps L.J. Tibbs truly did hold a soft spot in his heart for the young, green detective. 'Thank you, boss.'
"'Hey,' Tibbs said, putting an arm around the young man. 'You can call me by my first name.'
"'What is your first name?'
"THE END."
McGee leaned back and smiled himself. 213,002 words, by his count. He unspooled the final sheet of paper and placed it carefully on top of the thick manuscript. He'd give it a few weeks, then go back and edit it down to about 150,000 words. It wouldn't be easy; there was a lot of gold in those pages. But it had to be done. He stretched his arms and stood, putting his pipe back in the drawer and rising. It was almost two in the morning; he had to get some rest if he was going to be any use to the real LJ Tibbs. He was halfway to the bedroom when his cell rang.
He saw the readout and groaned, reluctantly answering. "What is it, Tony?"
"Wake you up, Probie?"
"No, I was actually just on my way to--"
"Good!" Tony interrupted. "Gibbs wants us to meet him at Quantico."
McGee sighed. "Now?"
"No, McGee, next Monday around noon-ish. Come on!"
McGee hung up and rubbed the back of his neck. He grabbed his shoes and dropped onto the couch to put them on. It was going to be a long day.
---
The body was at the bottom of a steep slope, sprawled on the dewy grass. Gibbs and Kate were at the bottom of the slope with Ducky, watching as he examined the body. McGee paused at the top of the incline and exhaled, looking for a safer way down. "You're sure there isn't a safer way down?" he asked.
"Come on, probie, live a little!" Tony said.
McGee sighed and started down the slope. Kate was wearing her NCIS cap, her hair sticking out like wings on either side of her head. "The call wake you up?" he asked.
She glared at him and he saw she wasn't wearing any make-up.
Gibbs motioned at the body. "Well, Duck, tell us it was an accidental so we can get out of here."
"Afraid I can't do that, Jethro," Ducky said. "We have no evidence our poor fellow wasn't assisted in his fall down this incline. There's trauma on the back of his head; looks as if he was struck with a blunt object."
"Why would he have to be assisted?" Tony wondered. "This thing looks like a death trap." He skidded to a stop next to Gibbs and said, "I still say we call it. Accidental death, the head wound is from hitting the ground. Who's with me?" He raised a hand and scanned the team. "Anyone? Come on, somebody's gotta..."
Gibbs interrupted. "McGee, did you bring the pads to sketch?"
McGee groaned. "In the truck. I'll go get them." He moved past Tony and planted his foot on the slope. His shoe skidded back down and he said, "Okay, seriously, are there stairs or stepping stones or..."
"Mr. Palmer has a rope system over there," Ducky said, gesturing to his right. "Should assist with reaching the summit."
McGee headed over and found the rope. It was tied to a tree, knots tied every few inches as handholds. McGee tugged on the rope to test its stability and then planted his feet on the ground. "One foot in front of the other," McGee muttered to himself. "Just... take it easy and..."
There was a snap from above and he looked up, just in time to see the branch the rope had been tied to. His eyes widened and he fell back, suddenly almost parallel to the ground with nothing holding him up. The branch bounced on the ground and then twisted through the air. As he hit the ground, the branch connected with his forehead.
Stars spun in front of him, his head throbbed magnificently and then... nothing.
---
"Is he conscious?"
"Looks like he's coming to."
McGee blinked, looking up into the face of Tony and Gibbs. He was lying on a table, probably in the morgue as creepy as that sounded, but something seemed... wrong. "What happened?" he managed.
"You got hit on the head, son."
McGee opened his eyes wide. Did Gibbs just call him son? And was he... was he smiling? "You had us really worried, Tom," Gibbs continued.
"I'm..." McGee shook his head and smiled. "I must've gotten hit harder than I thought. I could've sworn you just called me Tom."
"Well, what else is he gonna call you, McGill?" Tony said.
McGee looked at Tony, then at Gibbs. It was then he realized that he wasn't in the morgue. He was a dank back room of a small-town doctor's office. He had, of course, never seen it before, but it was exactly how he pictured Lenny "Lucky" Chance's exam room. But if this was Lucky's exam room... then...
"Tibbs?"
"Yeah, McGill?"
"Oh, boy," McGee breathed.
Tony, or rather Alfred "Al" De Luca, glanced at Tibbs. "What's wrong, buddy?"
"Um... nothing, Al." He slid off the exam table and hurried to the door. "You know, I-I think it was just a bump. I'm sure it'll be fine. I just... need an ice pack. I'll be..."
The door opened and Katrina Shooter stepped inside. McGee froze in his steps. Why had he ever thought it would be a good idea to composite Kate and Abby into one person? Here, standing in front of him, was a real-life Reason Why Not: Abby's bright green eyes mixed with Kate's dark skin, the dark hair hanging down over her eyes, the sensible blouse open so far that you could see the black lace of the bustier beneath. Naughty and nice in one package.
He was in so much trouble.
Katrina pouted her black-red lips and said, in Kate's voice with Abby's husky delivery, "Where do you think you're going, McGill?" She lifted an ice pack and pressed it lightly to his forehead, guiding him back to the exam bed. "Now, you're going to sit here like a good little boy until Lucky tells us you're good to go."
McGee sat down, trying hard not to look down Kate, ah, Katrina's blouse. He swallowed hard and looked at the ceiling. "So... the, uh... the case?" he said.
"Don't worry about the case," Katrina cooed, pressing her face close to McGee's. He noticed she had Abby's lips, but Kate's face. It was so bizarrely... right.
He shivered and looked to the left. Tibbs and De Luca were standing still, looking neither at him nor at Katrina. He supposed sometimes he did ignore characters for the sake of what was happening right in the forefront... but Katrina pulled him out of his reverie. "You know what they say cures a concussion, don't you, McGill?"
Being the writer, he knew what he would have Katrina say. So he laughed nervously and slid away from her, taking the ice pack and holding it against his own forehead. "Um... I'll... be over here. With Tibbs and De Luca."
The two men came back to life as if a switch had been thrown. Tibbs spoke rapid-fire: "Dead man found in the street. Head wound. Did he fall or was he pushed or was it blunt force trauma to the head?"
Lucky stepped into the room. "No signs of blunt force trauma."
Lucky left.
McGee frowned. He was a little more graceful with his segues than that, wasn't he?
Tibbs said, "Okay, let's check his phone records, bank statements, address book, family contacts, his neighbors, call everyone who had contact with him and McGill, I want security tapes from all the businesses surrounding the crime scene."
"That'll take at least twelve hours," McGee said.
"I don't have twelve hours, McGill," Tibbs said. "We have a body with no cause of death. I want answers and I want them now!"
---
"What do you have?" Tibbs said.
McGee looked around. "What just happened?"
Tibbs ignored him and De Luca began his spiel. "No enemies, according to his friends. No unusual activity on his bank accounts."
"You just asked us for this stuff," McGee marveled. "How did you get this so fast?"
"Tibbs asked us for this stuff twelve hours ago, McGill," De Luca said.
McGee stepped back, shaking his head. He muttered, "Must've been a time lapse I didn't notice..."
Katrina walked in and McGee blinked at her, looking over his shoulder at where he thought she'd been standing. "When did you leave?"
She pouted. "Didn't you miss me at all, McGill?"
"No! I mean... yes, I did, it's just that... I-I didn't notice when you..."
"I got the trace back from the wound on the back of the victim's head," Katrina reported. She handed the report to Tibbs and said, "Traces of sawdust. There was blood on the handrail right next to his head, which was right next to him. I think he hit it when he fell."
"Tox report?"
"He had a ton of alcohol in his blood," Katrina said. "Drunk as a skunk."
"Fell down and died," De Luca said.
Tibbs nodded and said, "Looks like another case closed." He walked over and cupped the back of McGee's neck. "Good work on this one. McGill."
"But I... didn't do anything."
"Oh, he's modest, too," De Luca said, following Tibbs from the room. "See you tomorrow, McGill."
Alone in the room with Katrina, McGee cleared his throat. "What about me, Tom?" she asked, slinking forward.
"Um... s-see you tomorrow?"
Katrina laughed huskily. "Oh, you're going to see me way before tomorrow." She leaned in and licked his cheek.
McGee nearly fainted. Again.
---
When McGee found himself suddenly in a car, he didn't take very long to realize what had happened. He looked over at the driver, relieved to see De Luca behind the wheel instead of Katrina. "So, uh... what's the plan here, De Luca?"
"We're heading to the Jones house to let them know how their father died." He looked over at McGee. "You sure you're all right? You look kind of pale."
"I'm fine," McGee said. "So... De Luca. What do you think of working with Tibbs?"
"He's a great boss and a great man," De Luca said without passion. "But the real thrill is working with someone like you. The attention to detail! The computer skills! When I think of trying to solve a case without your know-how, McGill... well, I shudder to think of it."
McGee frowned and muttered, "I'm not this narcissistic, am I?"
"What was that, buddy?" De Luca asked.
"Nothing," he muttered, looking out the window. He frowned. "Are we driving in circles?"
---
"Well, here we are," De Luca said.
McGee spun around. Somehow, they'd gotten to the front porch of a house in what appeared to be Fairfax. He stepped off the porch and looked around. This was his cousin's neighborhood; he recognized the small pond at the end of the road. "How did..." He decided to simply accept where he was and rejoined De Luca on the porch.
"You sure you're all right?" De Luca said. "I think you hit your head harder than we thought."
"I'm fine," McGee groused, ringing the doorbell. The door opened and a petite blonde woman smiled out at them. "Detective De Luca, Detective McGill. What a pleasant surprise. I assume you have something on my father?"
"Yes, ma'am," De Luca said. "I'm sorry to inform you, but your father seems to have died in an accident."
The woman began sobbing uncontrollably and collapsed in McGee's arms. He looked at De Luca, who was standing to the side waiting for his next turn to speak. "Um... u-um," McGee said, putting his hand on the back of the woman's head. "I-it's okay?"
De Luca smiled. "I'll say this for you, McGill. You've got a way with the ladies."
"She's grieving her father, Tony-- Al!"
"You make me feel so safe," she said against McGee's chest.
McGee pushed her gently away and cleared his throat. "Um... ma'am, we should probably head back to our office."
"Are you sure?" she asked, stepping back and running his tie through her fingers. "Maybe you could come in for... some coffee?"
McGee glanced at De Luca for help, but he was nowhere to be seen. "Um, I really don't think I should drink coffee this late."
"Then forget the coffee."
McGee's eyes widened and he stepped back, extricating his tie from her hands. "No, I r-really don't think that would be appropriate, ma'am. I'm sorry for your loss." He hurried down the front steps, all but flinging himself into the car.
De Luca looked over at him. "Wow, that was quick, McGill."
"Just drive," McGee gasped, running his hand over his face.
---
McGee unlocked the door to McGill's apartment, already inside before he realized he didn't know where De Luca had disappeared to, where the car was or where exactly his apartment was located. He dropped his jacket on the couch and sighed, moving across the room to his desk. He leaned across it and looked out the window; ah, the obligatory neon sign with a letter burnt out.
He loosened his tie and pulled, moving towards the bathroom... when he was attacked from behind. He yelped and hurried out of the attacker's grip, spinning around and staring at the intruder with wide eyes. "Kat-- Katrina?!"
"Don't look so surprised, Tom," Katrina purred. She'd taken off the blouse, leaving the bustier in place. McGee couldn't help but be drawn to the lace cups; he wasn't sure if the proportion was Kate, Abby or neither of them, but he was positive neither woman was built exactly like that.
He swallowed hard and said, "N-now, Katrina... we have to... we have to cool it."
"Cool it?" Katrina said. "Ooh, you mean ice cubes? I could go to the freezer and..."
"No!" McGee interrupted, his voice cracking. "You, uh, you just stay right there and I'll... I will, um, go to the, um... over here." He hurried into the living room and Katrina followed him.
"Hmm, maybe you have another girl coming over tonight. Maybe Pauline Castro?"
McGee tried to place the name, finally remembering it was the fake name he'd given to Paula Cassidy.
"Not that I'd mind, of course," Katrina said. "Invite her to join us. More the merrier!"
"This isn't happening," McGee groaned, trying to keep the couch between him and Katrina. "This isn't happening."
"Not yet," Katrina said, unfastening her belt and letting her trousers pool around her ankles. "But give me five minutes."
She climbed onto the couch and McGee dashed across the room, trying to get away from her.
"Do I get a prize when I catch you?" she asked.
"No, I'm... I-I'm tired! I'm not in the mood!"
"I'll get you in the mood!" Katrina promised. She grabbed him around the waist from behind and started to work his belt.
"No! No means no!" McGee said, squirming in her grip.
"No never means no from you, McGill," Katrina said. She pressed herself against him, grinding her hips against his. "Come on, McG. You know you want it. You know you want me."
McGee groaned. He couldn't deny that, dream or not, her grinding was doing strange and wonderful things to the lower half of his body. And when would he have this chance again? Kate and Abby in the same body? He angled her face to his and kissed her, pressing her back and guiding her to the opposite wall.
Just as she started to work his belt, her back hit the wall and shook the entertainment center. McGee didn't even notice... until his antique clock fell from the corner. It cracked him on top of the head and he broke the kiss, stars swimming in front of him. "Tom?" Katrina asked, trying to hold him up as he fell. "Tom? Tom?"
---
"Tim? McGee, are you all right?"
McGee blinked, focusing on the face above his. "Katrina," he breathed, pulling her down and kissing her hard.
DiNozzo whooped and said, "Whoo! Go, McGee! Live how you wanna live!"
McGee's eyes snapped open and he broke the kiss. "Did he just say McGee?"
"Well he sure as hell didn't say James Bond," Kate said, pushing herself up. She looked annoyed, but there was a hint of a smile at the corners of her mouth. She stood and extended a hand, helping McGee up. "And did you call me Katrina?"
"What? No," McGee cleared his throat and touched his forehead. "Ow."
"You'll have quite a welt," Ducky said, "but I don't think it'll be too damaging. Are you feeling all right?" He held up one finger and moved it slowly from side-to-side. McGee followed it with no problem. "Any dizziness, black spots in the vision?"
McGee scanned the trees, looking for black spots. "No."
"I'll check him out again in the morning, just to be safe, but I think he'll be fine. Just got his soup a little stirred." He gripped the rope and Gibbs helped him get situation. "Reminds me of a case I worked in England. A young man was in the midst of... well, let's just say a young lady was involved. During their encounter, a clock was knocked from a high shelf, braining the poor fellow."
"Have you told that story before, Ducky?" McGee asked.
Ducky paused at the top of the hill. "Oh... dear, I believe I might have at that!" he chuckled and said, "Well... you can't say it's not appropriate! Be well, Timothy."
"Thanks, Ducky."
Tony put an arm around McGee's shoulders. "First seeing up her skirt, now a kiss? I tell you, probie, at this rate you'll get to first base with her in, oh, five or six years."
Kate kicked at Tony's ass and said, "He's probably just trying to get out of working the case."
McGee suddenly recalled the case and turned, looking at the crumpled body. He looked up at the slope, following the path the body would've had to have taken. "He slipped and fell. The trauma to the back of his head is from that branch."
Kate and Tony both turned to look. There was a branch hanging low, right where the deceased would have fallen.
"With the velocity of his fall, his head would've impacted that branch with the same amount of force as someone swinging a baseball bat."
"Wow," Tony said. "Getting whacked in the head unlocked the boy's crime scene investigation dead zone."
---
The welt arrived, as promised, just below his hairline. He examined it in the mirror, gingerly probing the red bump with his fingertips. He sighed and stepped back, leaving the bathroom and going over to his writing desk. The manuscript was still there, the huge stack waiting to be edited. He picked a page at random, from the middle.
"'We couldn't have found it without McGill's help,' Katrina said, looking at the young detective with lust in her eyes. McGill smiled knowingly; she wanted him, that was a fact. He knew it and she knew it. If Tibbs and De Luca hadn't been there...'"
"My God," McGee muttered. He dropped the page into the trash and then swept the rest of it down as well. He stared at the stack of wasted pages, feeling distraught before he realized the pages hadn't been wasted.
He sat down at his typewriter and cracked his knuckles. Rolling a clean sheet of paper into place, he cracked his knuckles and stuck his meerschaum pipe between his lips. "Deep Six," he typed. "The Continuing Adventures of L.J. Tibbs."
Maybe McGill wasn't a leading man. Maybe he was just the plucky comic relief.
Either way, he had 213,000 crappy words out of his system. Time to get to the business of finding the great words.
Fandom: NCIS
Characters: Abigail Sciuto, Caitlin Todd, Timothy McGee, Jethro Gibbs, Anthony DiNozzo, Donald "Ducky" Mallard
Prompt: 013 Yellow
Word Count: 3,430
Rating: R
Spoiler: Slight for "See No Evil."
Summary: While investigating the death of a Navy petty officer, McGee is knocked unconscious and awakens in the world of LJ Tibbs.
Author's Notes: Title from a quote by Albert Einstein: "Reality is an illusion, albeit a very persistent one." The prompt comes from the realization that "yellow" is a kind of sensationalist or exaggerated journalism. Somehow, that realization became this story. Forgive the similarity to my previous fic, 'Desperado.' It's a whole different animal. ;-D Abby makes an appearance only in the BROADEST sense. But she is mentioned. So... ;-D
Little Damn Table
"There are some people who live in a dream world, and there are some who
face reality; and then there are those who turn one into the other."
-- Douglas Everett
"L.J. Tibbs rose to his full height, towering over the cowering..."
McGee sat back, looking at the words on the page. "Towering over the... whimpering? Simpering?" He leaned forward and tried that.
"L.J. Tibbs rose to his full height, towering over the simpering young suspect. 'Why don't you explain to me why that girl is dead?' Tibbs demanded. 'Then we can talk about leniency.' He locked the man into his cold, icy stare before he left the room. The young detective was waiting in the hallway, anxiously awaiting Tibbs' verdict. 'You did good, Tom,' Tibbs said.
"The young detective smiled. Despite the gruff exterior, perhaps L.J. Tibbs truly did hold a soft spot in his heart for the young, green detective. 'Thank you, boss.'
"'Hey,' Tibbs said, putting an arm around the young man. 'You can call me by my first name.'
"'What is your first name?'
"THE END."
McGee leaned back and smiled himself. 213,002 words, by his count. He unspooled the final sheet of paper and placed it carefully on top of the thick manuscript. He'd give it a few weeks, then go back and edit it down to about 150,000 words. It wouldn't be easy; there was a lot of gold in those pages. But it had to be done. He stretched his arms and stood, putting his pipe back in the drawer and rising. It was almost two in the morning; he had to get some rest if he was going to be any use to the real LJ Tibbs. He was halfway to the bedroom when his cell rang.
He saw the readout and groaned, reluctantly answering. "What is it, Tony?"
"Wake you up, Probie?"
"No, I was actually just on my way to--"
"Good!" Tony interrupted. "Gibbs wants us to meet him at Quantico."
McGee sighed. "Now?"
"No, McGee, next Monday around noon-ish. Come on!"
McGee hung up and rubbed the back of his neck. He grabbed his shoes and dropped onto the couch to put them on. It was going to be a long day.
---
The body was at the bottom of a steep slope, sprawled on the dewy grass. Gibbs and Kate were at the bottom of the slope with Ducky, watching as he examined the body. McGee paused at the top of the incline and exhaled, looking for a safer way down. "You're sure there isn't a safer way down?" he asked.
"Come on, probie, live a little!" Tony said.
McGee sighed and started down the slope. Kate was wearing her NCIS cap, her hair sticking out like wings on either side of her head. "The call wake you up?" he asked.
She glared at him and he saw she wasn't wearing any make-up.
Gibbs motioned at the body. "Well, Duck, tell us it was an accidental so we can get out of here."
"Afraid I can't do that, Jethro," Ducky said. "We have no evidence our poor fellow wasn't assisted in his fall down this incline. There's trauma on the back of his head; looks as if he was struck with a blunt object."
"Why would he have to be assisted?" Tony wondered. "This thing looks like a death trap." He skidded to a stop next to Gibbs and said, "I still say we call it. Accidental death, the head wound is from hitting the ground. Who's with me?" He raised a hand and scanned the team. "Anyone? Come on, somebody's gotta..."
Gibbs interrupted. "McGee, did you bring the pads to sketch?"
McGee groaned. "In the truck. I'll go get them." He moved past Tony and planted his foot on the slope. His shoe skidded back down and he said, "Okay, seriously, are there stairs or stepping stones or..."
"Mr. Palmer has a rope system over there," Ducky said, gesturing to his right. "Should assist with reaching the summit."
McGee headed over and found the rope. It was tied to a tree, knots tied every few inches as handholds. McGee tugged on the rope to test its stability and then planted his feet on the ground. "One foot in front of the other," McGee muttered to himself. "Just... take it easy and..."
There was a snap from above and he looked up, just in time to see the branch the rope had been tied to. His eyes widened and he fell back, suddenly almost parallel to the ground with nothing holding him up. The branch bounced on the ground and then twisted through the air. As he hit the ground, the branch connected with his forehead.
Stars spun in front of him, his head throbbed magnificently and then... nothing.
---
"Is he conscious?"
"Looks like he's coming to."
McGee blinked, looking up into the face of Tony and Gibbs. He was lying on a table, probably in the morgue as creepy as that sounded, but something seemed... wrong. "What happened?" he managed.
"You got hit on the head, son."
McGee opened his eyes wide. Did Gibbs just call him son? And was he... was he smiling? "You had us really worried, Tom," Gibbs continued.
"I'm..." McGee shook his head and smiled. "I must've gotten hit harder than I thought. I could've sworn you just called me Tom."
"Well, what else is he gonna call you, McGill?" Tony said.
McGee looked at Tony, then at Gibbs. It was then he realized that he wasn't in the morgue. He was a dank back room of a small-town doctor's office. He had, of course, never seen it before, but it was exactly how he pictured Lenny "Lucky" Chance's exam room. But if this was Lucky's exam room... then...
"Tibbs?"
"Yeah, McGill?"
"Oh, boy," McGee breathed.
Tony, or rather Alfred "Al" De Luca, glanced at Tibbs. "What's wrong, buddy?"
"Um... nothing, Al." He slid off the exam table and hurried to the door. "You know, I-I think it was just a bump. I'm sure it'll be fine. I just... need an ice pack. I'll be..."
The door opened and Katrina Shooter stepped inside. McGee froze in his steps. Why had he ever thought it would be a good idea to composite Kate and Abby into one person? Here, standing in front of him, was a real-life Reason Why Not: Abby's bright green eyes mixed with Kate's dark skin, the dark hair hanging down over her eyes, the sensible blouse open so far that you could see the black lace of the bustier beneath. Naughty and nice in one package.
He was in so much trouble.
Katrina pouted her black-red lips and said, in Kate's voice with Abby's husky delivery, "Where do you think you're going, McGill?" She lifted an ice pack and pressed it lightly to his forehead, guiding him back to the exam bed. "Now, you're going to sit here like a good little boy until Lucky tells us you're good to go."
McGee sat down, trying hard not to look down Kate, ah, Katrina's blouse. He swallowed hard and looked at the ceiling. "So... the, uh... the case?" he said.
"Don't worry about the case," Katrina cooed, pressing her face close to McGee's. He noticed she had Abby's lips, but Kate's face. It was so bizarrely... right.
He shivered and looked to the left. Tibbs and De Luca were standing still, looking neither at him nor at Katrina. He supposed sometimes he did ignore characters for the sake of what was happening right in the forefront... but Katrina pulled him out of his reverie. "You know what they say cures a concussion, don't you, McGill?"
Being the writer, he knew what he would have Katrina say. So he laughed nervously and slid away from her, taking the ice pack and holding it against his own forehead. "Um... I'll... be over here. With Tibbs and De Luca."
The two men came back to life as if a switch had been thrown. Tibbs spoke rapid-fire: "Dead man found in the street. Head wound. Did he fall or was he pushed or was it blunt force trauma to the head?"
Lucky stepped into the room. "No signs of blunt force trauma."
Lucky left.
McGee frowned. He was a little more graceful with his segues than that, wasn't he?
Tibbs said, "Okay, let's check his phone records, bank statements, address book, family contacts, his neighbors, call everyone who had contact with him and McGill, I want security tapes from all the businesses surrounding the crime scene."
"That'll take at least twelve hours," McGee said.
"I don't have twelve hours, McGill," Tibbs said. "We have a body with no cause of death. I want answers and I want them now!"
---
"What do you have?" Tibbs said.
McGee looked around. "What just happened?"
Tibbs ignored him and De Luca began his spiel. "No enemies, according to his friends. No unusual activity on his bank accounts."
"You just asked us for this stuff," McGee marveled. "How did you get this so fast?"
"Tibbs asked us for this stuff twelve hours ago, McGill," De Luca said.
McGee stepped back, shaking his head. He muttered, "Must've been a time lapse I didn't notice..."
Katrina walked in and McGee blinked at her, looking over his shoulder at where he thought she'd been standing. "When did you leave?"
She pouted. "Didn't you miss me at all, McGill?"
"No! I mean... yes, I did, it's just that... I-I didn't notice when you..."
"I got the trace back from the wound on the back of the victim's head," Katrina reported. She handed the report to Tibbs and said, "Traces of sawdust. There was blood on the handrail right next to his head, which was right next to him. I think he hit it when he fell."
"Tox report?"
"He had a ton of alcohol in his blood," Katrina said. "Drunk as a skunk."
"Fell down and died," De Luca said.
Tibbs nodded and said, "Looks like another case closed." He walked over and cupped the back of McGee's neck. "Good work on this one. McGill."
"But I... didn't do anything."
"Oh, he's modest, too," De Luca said, following Tibbs from the room. "See you tomorrow, McGill."
Alone in the room with Katrina, McGee cleared his throat. "What about me, Tom?" she asked, slinking forward.
"Um... s-see you tomorrow?"
Katrina laughed huskily. "Oh, you're going to see me way before tomorrow." She leaned in and licked his cheek.
McGee nearly fainted. Again.
---
When McGee found himself suddenly in a car, he didn't take very long to realize what had happened. He looked over at the driver, relieved to see De Luca behind the wheel instead of Katrina. "So, uh... what's the plan here, De Luca?"
"We're heading to the Jones house to let them know how their father died." He looked over at McGee. "You sure you're all right? You look kind of pale."
"I'm fine," McGee said. "So... De Luca. What do you think of working with Tibbs?"
"He's a great boss and a great man," De Luca said without passion. "But the real thrill is working with someone like you. The attention to detail! The computer skills! When I think of trying to solve a case without your know-how, McGill... well, I shudder to think of it."
McGee frowned and muttered, "I'm not this narcissistic, am I?"
"What was that, buddy?" De Luca asked.
"Nothing," he muttered, looking out the window. He frowned. "Are we driving in circles?"
---
"Well, here we are," De Luca said.
McGee spun around. Somehow, they'd gotten to the front porch of a house in what appeared to be Fairfax. He stepped off the porch and looked around. This was his cousin's neighborhood; he recognized the small pond at the end of the road. "How did..." He decided to simply accept where he was and rejoined De Luca on the porch.
"You sure you're all right?" De Luca said. "I think you hit your head harder than we thought."
"I'm fine," McGee groused, ringing the doorbell. The door opened and a petite blonde woman smiled out at them. "Detective De Luca, Detective McGill. What a pleasant surprise. I assume you have something on my father?"
"Yes, ma'am," De Luca said. "I'm sorry to inform you, but your father seems to have died in an accident."
The woman began sobbing uncontrollably and collapsed in McGee's arms. He looked at De Luca, who was standing to the side waiting for his next turn to speak. "Um... u-um," McGee said, putting his hand on the back of the woman's head. "I-it's okay?"
De Luca smiled. "I'll say this for you, McGill. You've got a way with the ladies."
"She's grieving her father, Tony-- Al!"
"You make me feel so safe," she said against McGee's chest.
McGee pushed her gently away and cleared his throat. "Um... ma'am, we should probably head back to our office."
"Are you sure?" she asked, stepping back and running his tie through her fingers. "Maybe you could come in for... some coffee?"
McGee glanced at De Luca for help, but he was nowhere to be seen. "Um, I really don't think I should drink coffee this late."
"Then forget the coffee."
McGee's eyes widened and he stepped back, extricating his tie from her hands. "No, I r-really don't think that would be appropriate, ma'am. I'm sorry for your loss." He hurried down the front steps, all but flinging himself into the car.
De Luca looked over at him. "Wow, that was quick, McGill."
"Just drive," McGee gasped, running his hand over his face.
---
McGee unlocked the door to McGill's apartment, already inside before he realized he didn't know where De Luca had disappeared to, where the car was or where exactly his apartment was located. He dropped his jacket on the couch and sighed, moving across the room to his desk. He leaned across it and looked out the window; ah, the obligatory neon sign with a letter burnt out.
He loosened his tie and pulled, moving towards the bathroom... when he was attacked from behind. He yelped and hurried out of the attacker's grip, spinning around and staring at the intruder with wide eyes. "Kat-- Katrina?!"
"Don't look so surprised, Tom," Katrina purred. She'd taken off the blouse, leaving the bustier in place. McGee couldn't help but be drawn to the lace cups; he wasn't sure if the proportion was Kate, Abby or neither of them, but he was positive neither woman was built exactly like that.
He swallowed hard and said, "N-now, Katrina... we have to... we have to cool it."
"Cool it?" Katrina said. "Ooh, you mean ice cubes? I could go to the freezer and..."
"No!" McGee interrupted, his voice cracking. "You, uh, you just stay right there and I'll... I will, um, go to the, um... over here." He hurried into the living room and Katrina followed him.
"Hmm, maybe you have another girl coming over tonight. Maybe Pauline Castro?"
McGee tried to place the name, finally remembering it was the fake name he'd given to Paula Cassidy.
"Not that I'd mind, of course," Katrina said. "Invite her to join us. More the merrier!"
"This isn't happening," McGee groaned, trying to keep the couch between him and Katrina. "This isn't happening."
"Not yet," Katrina said, unfastening her belt and letting her trousers pool around her ankles. "But give me five minutes."
She climbed onto the couch and McGee dashed across the room, trying to get away from her.
"Do I get a prize when I catch you?" she asked.
"No, I'm... I-I'm tired! I'm not in the mood!"
"I'll get you in the mood!" Katrina promised. She grabbed him around the waist from behind and started to work his belt.
"No! No means no!" McGee said, squirming in her grip.
"No never means no from you, McGill," Katrina said. She pressed herself against him, grinding her hips against his. "Come on, McG. You know you want it. You know you want me."
McGee groaned. He couldn't deny that, dream or not, her grinding was doing strange and wonderful things to the lower half of his body. And when would he have this chance again? Kate and Abby in the same body? He angled her face to his and kissed her, pressing her back and guiding her to the opposite wall.
Just as she started to work his belt, her back hit the wall and shook the entertainment center. McGee didn't even notice... until his antique clock fell from the corner. It cracked him on top of the head and he broke the kiss, stars swimming in front of him. "Tom?" Katrina asked, trying to hold him up as he fell. "Tom? Tom?"
---
"Tim? McGee, are you all right?"
McGee blinked, focusing on the face above his. "Katrina," he breathed, pulling her down and kissing her hard.
DiNozzo whooped and said, "Whoo! Go, McGee! Live how you wanna live!"
McGee's eyes snapped open and he broke the kiss. "Did he just say McGee?"
"Well he sure as hell didn't say James Bond," Kate said, pushing herself up. She looked annoyed, but there was a hint of a smile at the corners of her mouth. She stood and extended a hand, helping McGee up. "And did you call me Katrina?"
"What? No," McGee cleared his throat and touched his forehead. "Ow."
"You'll have quite a welt," Ducky said, "but I don't think it'll be too damaging. Are you feeling all right?" He held up one finger and moved it slowly from side-to-side. McGee followed it with no problem. "Any dizziness, black spots in the vision?"
McGee scanned the trees, looking for black spots. "No."
"I'll check him out again in the morning, just to be safe, but I think he'll be fine. Just got his soup a little stirred." He gripped the rope and Gibbs helped him get situation. "Reminds me of a case I worked in England. A young man was in the midst of... well, let's just say a young lady was involved. During their encounter, a clock was knocked from a high shelf, braining the poor fellow."
"Have you told that story before, Ducky?" McGee asked.
Ducky paused at the top of the hill. "Oh... dear, I believe I might have at that!" he chuckled and said, "Well... you can't say it's not appropriate! Be well, Timothy."
"Thanks, Ducky."
Tony put an arm around McGee's shoulders. "First seeing up her skirt, now a kiss? I tell you, probie, at this rate you'll get to first base with her in, oh, five or six years."
Kate kicked at Tony's ass and said, "He's probably just trying to get out of working the case."
McGee suddenly recalled the case and turned, looking at the crumpled body. He looked up at the slope, following the path the body would've had to have taken. "He slipped and fell. The trauma to the back of his head is from that branch."
Kate and Tony both turned to look. There was a branch hanging low, right where the deceased would have fallen.
"With the velocity of his fall, his head would've impacted that branch with the same amount of force as someone swinging a baseball bat."
"Wow," Tony said. "Getting whacked in the head unlocked the boy's crime scene investigation dead zone."
---
The welt arrived, as promised, just below his hairline. He examined it in the mirror, gingerly probing the red bump with his fingertips. He sighed and stepped back, leaving the bathroom and going over to his writing desk. The manuscript was still there, the huge stack waiting to be edited. He picked a page at random, from the middle.
"'We couldn't have found it without McGill's help,' Katrina said, looking at the young detective with lust in her eyes. McGill smiled knowingly; she wanted him, that was a fact. He knew it and she knew it. If Tibbs and De Luca hadn't been there...'"
"My God," McGee muttered. He dropped the page into the trash and then swept the rest of it down as well. He stared at the stack of wasted pages, feeling distraught before he realized the pages hadn't been wasted.
He sat down at his typewriter and cracked his knuckles. Rolling a clean sheet of paper into place, he cracked his knuckles and stuck his meerschaum pipe between his lips. "Deep Six," he typed. "The Continuing Adventures of L.J. Tibbs."
Maybe McGill wasn't a leading man. Maybe he was just the plucky comic relief.
Either way, he had 213,000 crappy words out of his system. Time to get to the business of finding the great words.