A/N: This is the end. Story's over. Not working on anything else currently. I have dissertation obligations. Hope to talk to you soon. Take care, Sheila

Chapter 5

"What are you and Gibbs up to?" Bishop sat on top of her desk, legs folded under her.

"Stuff," Tony said staring at his computer screen. He had been given 15 of the businesses from McGee's list to vet, and while he didn't have Tim's overall skill in searching the nooks and crannies of the internet, he'd learned quite a few tricks during his tenure with the geek.

"I thought we were a team," she said frowning.

"We are," he said still staring at the monitor. "And on this team, you are the probie, a position that allows you very little access to decision making power outside of the ocassional lunch order."

"All I've been doing for weeks is following up on cold cases while you and Gibbs are in and out of the office. Abby says something is up. That's why she's backed off. She says that there's no way Gibbs would've gotten rid of McGee like he did. She says he's probably undercover- which she says is a really bad idea."

Tony's head shot up. "Shut up! I don't want to hear another word!"

Ellie froze, mouth open.

"Don't you dare speculate on anything publicly. Have you no sense at all?!"

"I- I'm sorry."

Tony could feel the color rise in his cheeks. "Conference room A. Now!"

She got up and trotted after him. Inside the room, he shut the door behind her and grabbed her by the arm, pushing her into a dark corner. "Ellie, listen up. There are times when we are doing things that we can't talk about. That happens for a reason. I can't tell you what's happening, but speculating like you are can put people in danger."

"Oh my God! He is undercover!"

"You don't know anything and you won't speculate on anything! You got it!?"

"I want to help," she hissed. "Please!"

He studied her for a long moment. "You don't know anything. Right now, I am researching businesses, looking for criminal connections. I could use some help. That's all."

She nodded.

"Ellie, discretion is crucial here. You gotta understand that. You don't talk to Abby about this. She is about the best person I know, but I know 4 year olds that keep secrets better than she does."

"I got it," she said breathlessly.

"Alright, probie, we got work to do."

…

"My phone?"

"Yeah. I want to check your phone. Stevie and Fat Joe put their phones on the table. Now, it's your turn. Give me your phone."

"Paul, this is just weird. I've never seen you like this." McGee knew that losing his phone cut him off from any sort of rescue.

"This is what happens when a Lombardozzi is crossed. My pops taught me to take no prisoners."

"There is nothing on my phone!"

"Fat Joe! Stevie!"

The two thugs rushed him, knocking him over before he could brace himself. They wrestled with him for a minute before Stevie fished the phone out of his pocket. They got up, Stevie tossing the phone to Paul, and Fat Joe standing between McGee and the door.

McGee struggled to his feet, glaring at Paul. "I guess you learned everything from your old man."

"You want to call me mafia?"

"I don't know, Paul. I'm beginning to feel like Fredo in Godfather II."

Paul laughed. "Fredo knew it was coming and he knew he deserved it. Betraying family is unacceptable."

"I didn't betray you." McGee's breath was shallow.

"Am I going to find anything on this phone?"

"Go ahead. Look it over. You decide." McGee knew there wasn't anything on the phone to implicate him. Undercover 101.

Paul watched him for a moment and then tossed the phone on the table. "Not going to bother. You didn't sell any list to my competitors."

McGee sighed deeply.

"I really had you going, didn't I?" Paul laughed. Stevie and Fat Joe joined in.

"You're an asshole, Paul! You know that. You can go to hell!" His face was hot with anger. He reached for his phone and Paul did nothing when he grabbed it off the table. McGee started for the open gates.

"Hey Beaver, stop. I need to say something to you."

McGee halted in his tracks and turned. "I don't want to hear it."

"Actually, I think you do."

McGee waited. It was both terrifying and compelling.

"Do you want to know why I hired you?"

McGee sighed. "I don't really care."

"I grew up without a dad. He was in and out of jail. When he was out, mom kept him away from the house. The few times I saw him were the best times of my life. I knew that he kept me away to protect me. He wanted me to be a scientist, and I tried to do that for him, but I wasn't cut out for it. You probably knew that."

McGee didn't say anything. He remembered Paul as constantly needing someone to re-explain concepts to him, but McGee had always been happy to do that for him.

"I never got that scientist job, you know. Just drifted. My family had money so I spent time in the old country. Learned about the family business-"

"Paul, this has nothing to do with me," Tim said shaking his head. "I'm sorry you didn't get to see your dad, but I had nothing to do with it."

"If you're smart, you'll shut up, McGee."

McGee felt a chill go down his spine again. Fat Joe still stood between him and the door. He had the phone, but he sensed that doing anything with it would trigger a physical response.

"Starting this business was about making my pops proud. Wanted him to get out jail and not worry about anything. McGee, you would have no idea the expenses of something like this. There was no way to keep it afloat on tomatoes alone."

McGee sensed where this was going. "Paul, don't say anymore. I'm going to leave."

"What do you think I'm going to say?"

McGee tried walking around Joe, but then Stevie was there. He stopped, determined not to show his panic.

"I knew the feds would never let me have a legitimate business. You all have persecuted my family for as long as I can remember. Why fight it anymore?"

Trapped in all directions, McGee turned to Paul. "Then why the hell did you hire me?"

"I wanted you all to know that I was honest."

"Paul, I'm not a fed anymore."

"The truth is that I was never sure if you were on the level or undercover."

"I'm telling you the truth."

Paul nodded. "I was really starting to lean in that direction until you picked up those crates. You had to check out the damn crates."

McGee froze.

"My pops said that the best way to tell if a person is lying is to accuse them of something else and then see if there is relief on their face when they realize they are not accused for their real crime. You should've seen your face when I accused you of selling my grocery contacts. Huge relief. A man feels that when he thinks his real secret is still uncovered."

"You don't know what you're taking about." McGee was breathless.

"Relax. I'm not dumb enough to kill a fed."

McGee stared at him. "People know where I am."

"Yes," Paul nodded. "I thought as much. You better get going."

McGee turned and headed out the gate. The sound was familiar. He'd heard it from his own gun thousands of times. He knew what was coming next, and he also knew that thinking about it would make him a dead man. It was all about doing. He jerked to the right, startling Stevie, and then dived for the water. The next noise was a gun firing, and his body jerked wildly as he hit the water.

…..

"He should've called me about an hour ago." Tony said into the phone in the corner behind the staircase up to Vance's office. "….Come on, Boss. You know him…No, my phone has been with me. I want to ask Abby to trace his car and his phone…I'm not panicking. I can feel that something is off. You can feel it too. I know you…Alright, I'll get the trace started."

…

He held on to the slimy wooden post, his face barely above water, as footsteps pounded the dock above him. He didn't have evidence of his wound, but his left arm kept slipping off the post. Whenever the footsteps weren't loud, he moved post to post further out into the bay. He assumed that they either thought he had drowned or was looking for a way back onto the wharf.

What he planned to do when he got to the end of the pier wasn't clear. He just knew that there was no way to for him to climb onto the wharf and evade Paul and his men. He remembered his phone, and the realized that it was far too wet to be any good. An ache had developed near his left shoulder, but he didn't look. He was certain there was a bullet hole, and it would drain his hope to see the extent of it. He closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and moved onto the next wood column.

….

Abby was in tears when he got there. She turned on him. "Is this a joke?! Is this a horrible joke?!"

"Abbs, I just asked you to track McGee. Between you and me, I know you've done it a million times."

She slapped the counter. "He's not there! He's not anywhere!"

Tony felt his gut clench. "Abby, tell me exactly what that means."

"There are no signals! No car GPS! No phone GPS! What did you and Gibbs do to him?! If you let something happen to him, I swear to God, Tony!"

"DiNozzo!"

They turned at the bark to see Gibbs in the doorway.

Tony swallowed. "Phone and car GPS are dea- gone. We can't track him."

Gibbs gave a short nod, careful not to make eye contact with Abby. "Let's go. We're taking Bishop. Tobias has a judge on speed dial. We'll have a search warrant for the warehouse by the time we get there."

"Gibbs," she said, hiccupping his name.

His mouth twitched but he didn't allow himself more. "I'll call you, Abbs."

…

McGee was wrapped around the last column between the pier and the open bay. His right arm was doing most of the work and was cramping and numb. He knew he didn't have more than an hour or two left before he was going to sink to the bottom of the bay. Still, two things held his attention. Dusk had descended. The last shouts he'd heard were about getting flashlights. And there was a barge slowly moving toward him onto its way into the harbor. It was slow enough to running at no more than 2-3 knots. He knew that if he wanted to reach it, it would mean swimming at least 2-300 meters, and then he would risk the captain never seeing him at all.

The decision wasn't one he had much time to consider. It wasn't dark yet, and there was a real chance that he'd be shot by someone on the pier. He wasn't fearful about it; he was too tired for that. It was all about calculating risk; something that McGee did better than most.

He let go of the pier and started out with a sidestroke giving his right arm and legs most of the burden. He didn't look back at the pier because he didn't want to know if anyone spotted him. He focused only on steady strokes and heading out for a rendezvous with the barge.

….

"Tobias, we're not going to wait outside…30 minutes is too long…We'll use Bishop as a lookout, but Tony and I are going in…Won't need a warrant. Warehouse is wide open…Well, get a move on then!"

He turned to Bishop. "I want you over the hill with binoculars. You should have a good view on the front of the warehouse. If I flash two fingers, I want you to call in every LEO within 30 miles. I'm talking Baltimore police, port authority police, NCIS, and then call Tobias."

She licked her lips. "I can do more."

"Your job is to have our six. Do it."

He turned to Tony who was loading his weapon. "Ready?"

Tony nodded and piled out of the car after him.

…..

Darkness fell as he worked his way to the barge. Part of him panicked that he would never reach it, but he kept moving. His arms were almost useless now, and he depended on his legs to keep him moving.

The nose of the barge had passed when he got close enough to yell. No one appeared on deck. Instead, the large, heavy, low riding boat kept moving. His yells were hoarse with exhaustion. Despair flooded through him as he realized that he wouldn't be seen. He bobbed up and down in the water, alone. As the end of the barge came into view, he spotted rubber tires lashed to the back of the barge, often used as a bumper. Relief flooded through him and he lunged toward them. He fumbled at them, his arms too numb to be much use, but finally, he hooked an arm through one and hung on for dear life.

….

Gibbs and Tony turned the corner, guns drawn. Wharf lights were on as were lights on in the warehouse. Men were standing around, and no one flinched when they saw the guns.

"Lombardozzi!" Gibbs yelled.

"Which one?" An old man sat on a crate.

Gibbs lowered his weapon. "You must be the old man. Where's your son?"

Lombardozzi gestured with his head. "Up in the office running his business."

"Get him down here."

"Got a warrant, fed?"

"I'm looking for a friend."

Lombardozzi let one end of his mouth curl up. "I kept telling him that McGee was a fed. Paulie is too trusting."

Three men with flashlights came running toward them off the pier. Tony turned his weapon on them and told them to stop, hands up. They did, dropping flashlights.

"What are you looking for?"

The man in front looked at Lombardozzi, and the old man drawled. "We lost a dinghy. Is that a federal crime?"

Tony stared at the three men. "He's in the water. They're looking for him. That's what they're doing."

"Stay cool, DiNozzo," Gibbs growled.

"DiNozzo!" Lombardozzi said pronouncing with Italian inflection. "I have a friend named DiNozzo. Nunzio DiNozzo. Lives in Newark. Do you know him?"

Tony screwed up his face. "I don't know any mafia trash! You and your so-called Italian connections make me sick! You're a frickin' stain on my heritage!"

"Stay focused, Tony."

Tony shook his head. "He's in the water, Boss. I can feel it."

Gibbs slowly put up a hand with two fingers. Then he looked at Dominic Lombardozzi. "In minutes, this place is going to be overrun with every law enforcement agency in Baltimore. We're going to find McGee, and you and your son are going to answer for this."

…..

The barge docked, and McGee called for help until his voice was nothing but a croak. He didn't have the strength to hoist himself on the tire and climb onto the barge. His dry throat burned and with each passing minute, the thought of letting go and drifting down into the cool, dark water became more inviting.

He was about ready to give in when his foot hit metal. There was a metal bar of some sort underwater to his left. He shifted his body and found the bar with both feet. Using the bar as leverage, he was able to hoist his body up onto the tire. He crawled on top, balancing while he reached for the railing of the barge. He grunted and pulled and pushed until his body landed with a splat onto the deck of the barge. He lay on his back staring up at the moon, his chest heaving up and down. It was a warm night, and he felt very peaceful. Closing his eyes was the natural next step.

…

Lights flooded the wharf and the warehouse. FBI had the warrant for the warehouse, and so they were in charge of the contents and all the characters within. Port Authority and Baltimore Police coordinated on McGee's search. Vance sent every available team to assist. The Port Authority had the water, and DiNozzo's gut told him to follow so he jumped on one of the boats.

Ellie watched from the entrance to the warehouse. Despite the warm summer night, she was shivering inside her NCIS jacket. It was such a quiet, eerie scene. There were people everywhere yet no one talked, and if they did, it was in muted tones. It was as if everyone knew this was a prelude to a funeral.

Dorneget found her when Vance's teams arrived, and he kept tabs on her. The search for McGee's car turned into a turf war between NCIS and Baltimore Police. Ellie watched this for a few moments and then stepped forward. She raised her voice, and suggested that they go at this from two perspectives: Either he drove away on his own steam or someone from the Lombardozzi crew disabled the GPS, took the car, and trashed it. She suggested that Baltimore follow both theories inside the city limits, and NCIS take everything outside of Baltimore. Dorneget smiled at her when the conversation went from hostile to reasonable. Two NCIS teams grabbed an FBI agent familiar with the Lombardozzi's and headed out of the city. Dorneget pushed Ellie into one of those cars.

…

Up in the office inside the warehouse, Gibbs paced back and forth in front of Paul Lombardozzi while Tobias sat in a corner and watched. "McGee was here today."

Paul glared. "Yes, the spy was here."

"You knew he was a fed," Fornell said from the corner.

"Not at first, but I kept catching him going through things that weren't any of his business. Then it became pretty obvious."

"Then what happened?"

"I said some things. He denied them. I didn't believe him. So I told him to get lost and he did."

Gibbs shook his head. "I noticed that you had a little bonfire out back. Still smoking when we showed. You always burn crates behind the warehouse?"

Paul threw his hands up. "You guys got me on that. What can I say? The city requires a permit for burning inside the limits and I don't have one."

"Tim start nosing around those crates?"

Paul shook his head. "No reason to. It's just crates. My pops called for a lawyer. It seems like I should maybe wait for him before I say anything more."

Gibbs sat down at the table across from him. "You do that, Paul. I suspect the old man is sweating downstairs. He knows you're no where near as tough as you need to be to play his kind of game."

Paul said nothing but his mouth tightened.

"You wait for your lawyer, Paul," Fornell said. "It's not going to help you. I've been putting this whole thing together in my head ever since I got here. You played tough guy, didn't you? Thought you were a chip of the old block, but somehow it went wrong. That's why that old sociopath and his crew had to get down here so fast. I bet he chewed you out good, didn't he? Told you that you didn't know nothing. I can just hear it. Then he rushes you up here while he sits down there to create the buffer. You're pathetic, you know that."

Paul's face flushed. "I would be stupid to kill a fed. Don't you understand that?"

"Oh, we do," Gibbs said. "But my guess is that you really don't."

Paul clasped his hands tightly. "Not another word until I see my lawyer."

…

Gibbs sat at his desk at 5 a.m. staring straight ahead. Fornell sat in McGee's chair, his head leaning against the divider, snoring loudly. Bishop called in from time to time. They were searching swamps, dumps, country roads- anywhere a car can be abandoned.

The elevator sounded behind him but he didn't turn his head. DiNozzo came into view and flopped down at his desk. "Nothing."

Gibbs didn't react.

Tony rubbed his mouth. "I felt it in my gut from the start."

Gibbs looked away.

"He wasn't built for this kind of work. Why couldn't we have just been satisfied with that? Huh? I would've gone undercover. He's not an actor."

Gibbs turned to him sharply. "Are we doing a postmortem? Are you going to force that on me now?!"

"I'm not like you, Gibbs! I have to talk!" Tony said pounding the table. "We lost him!"

"We don't have a body!"

"Terrific! This is the Lombardozzi family. Bodies don't count. Someone will find Tim a few years from now when they drain a swamp for development twenty miles north of Baltimore. You know that's how this works!"

Fornell's head rocked upward and his eyes blinked open. "What the hell!? News?"

Gibbs shook his head. "Just DiNozzo worried that I don't have any feelings."

Fornell rolled his head toward Tony. "Oh, for God's sakes, DiNozzo. Please don't start circling the drain quite yet. You all need each other. Besides, you know Jethro as well as I do. If it comes out bad, he'll feel the ache in his bones the rest of his life."

DiNozzo rested his head on the desk. "I know. Just can't help feeling that we should've known better."

Fornell rubbed his face and leaned forward. "Seriously, Tony, I know I am not your favorite person, but, from the bottom of my heart, I want you to understand that these thoughts you're having are nothing but deep, dark holes. Don't do it to yourself and don't do it to the people you care about."

Tony put his hands over his head and closed his eyes.

"I confess that I'm afraid to ask what's going on."

All heads swiveled to find Ducky standing there, hands deep in his pockets.

Fornell glanced at the clock. "This is an early morning for you, Ducky."

"Never left. Jimmy and I stayed with Abby all night hoping that we'd get some answers to a long list of troubling questions- questions we've had since the day we were told dear Timothy had been fired."

"We're bastards sometimes, Ducky," Gibbs said. "I thought you knew that."

"You weren't happy that he was undercover. Don't bother denying. We've figured that much out. I have sensed the concern radiating off you for weeks."

"Does it matter?"

"Yes, Jethro, it does. Because if the looks on your faces are what I think they are, then you're going to need us. We are all going to need each other."

Fornell looked up. "We don't know anything for sure yet."

Ducky sighed. "Yet your despair speaks volumes."

…..

"Hey fella! Fella! Wake up, buddy!"

McGee's eyes blinked open and he saw the dawn of a morning eclipsed by a bushy, bearded face dressed in flannel.

"What's wrong with ya? How'd ya get on the barge, fella?"

He tried to roll over and sit up, but his limbs screamed, and he choked a response.

"Is that blood on your arm? Are you okay, fella?"

McGee stared up at his bearded savior and his parched lips opened for one hoarse message, "Call…911."

….

Vance leaned against the radiator, arms folded. "When did we last hear from the Port Authority police?"

"6:10 a.m." Tony mumbled into the arms crossed on his desktop.

"We should have an NCIS agent on each of those search vessels."

Tony nodded into his arms.

"I heard from the ground teams half an hour ago. It could take weeks to search the swamps and other possible dumping grounds. Fornell, does Lombardozzi's crew have a favorite area?"

Fornell shook his head. "This isn't really his territory. I called the assistant director. We can throw 35 agents into this by 7 a.m."

"You and I will coordinate efforts. We'll stage in MTAC."

If Gibbs had feelings about being passed over, he wasn't showing them. He sat silently in his chair, focused on something the rest of them couldn't see.

Ducky sighed. "I should probably wake Abby. Staff will be reporting for work, and I should prepare her."

Gibbs blinked. "I'll talk to her."

"Neither of you is ready yet," Ducky said shaking his head. He pushed off of Bishop's desk and started for the elevator.

Gibbs' phone rang and he frowned at the strange number. He picked it up and listened. "…You're sure?...Injuries?...Condition?...We'll be right there."

He looked up at the collective faces staring at him. He swallowed hard. "Ah, can somebody catch Ducky before he goes and gives Abby the wrong idea about McGee?"

Tony scrambled over the top of his desk and bounded to the elevator yelling out Ducky's name at the top of his voice.

…..

"Shouldn't we call Delilah and tell her you're okay?" Abby perched on his bed next to his legs.

"I don't think so, Abbs. She didn't know anything was wrong, and she's a long ways away. I don't want to worry her."

"Okay," she said patting his knees. "Can we talk again about how you were wrong to keep this from me?"

"Um, I think my answer will still be the same as the last three times we had that conversation…today. You wanna take this one, Tony?"

DiNozzo was draped over a chair. "Abbs, I told him over and over that you could be trusted. Even Gibbs was open to telling you—"

He grunted when the pillow landed in his face. Tim turned his head to Bishop. "Thanks probie."

"No problem, Tim."

The door opened and Ducky and Jimmy came in. McGee lifted his head. "Did you talk to them? Can I go, Duck? I want to go home."

"My dear boy, your wound is infected from all of those hours in the water. IV antibiotics are quite necessary. Two more days at the earliest."

McGee let his head fall back. "I hate it here."

"I don't." Tony said as he took the attacking pillow and stuffed it behind his head. "Let's order all the puddings and jellos again. That was fun."

"Tony," McGee moaned. "You must have work to do at the office. Don't let me keep you."

"No way, Timmy. You almost made cry the other night when you went missing. It still makes me happy to be around you. Insult my intelligence a few times and maybe the glow will fade."

"In words you can understand, right?"

Tony smiled. "Naw. Didn't work. I'm still smiling. Somebody needs to hand me the phone. I'm calling down for jellos and puddings…except the sugar free ones. Gross."

"Ducky," McGee pleaded. "He stayed until almost midnight last night. He made me order four macaroni and cheeses and he ate three of them. Now, he's obsessed with pudding. He's making me eat like a man with no teeth."

"I think Tony is doing a little emotional eating," Bishop said.

"Tony, ask them if they have butterscotch. I love butterscotch," Jimmy said.

"Great idea!"

Ducky looked at the ceiling. "Okay! Listen up! Timothy can not go home unless he is allowed to rest and heal. Everyone is going home."

"After pudding, right?"

"There will be no pudding. Puddings! Why must Americans call their mousses puddings? Out! All of you, out!"

Jimmy jumped up. "Tony, let's go down to the cafeteria. We can order all the puddings we want."

"It's just not the same." Tony sighed. "I will miss you, Timmy."

McGee closed his eyes. "Thank you, Tony."

"Be back in the morning."

McGee groaned.

"Abigail," Ducky said standing at the door. "That's means you too."

"He needs me, Ducky."

"Abbs, right now, I just need to sleep. Okay?"

She worked her mouth as she considered a pout, but she finally found a smile and kissed him on the cheek. "Tomorrow is Sunday. I'll be here right after church."

"Okay," he said mumbling his way to sleep.

…..

When he woke again, it was night. He looked at his vitals on the machine beside and the IVs pumping medicine into his veins.

"How you doing, Tim?"

He swiveled his head. "Boss?"

"Hope I didn't wake you. Just wanted to sit here for a bit."

"No, it's okay," McGee said lifting his head. "I've hardly seen you."

"Been busy. Lombardozzi's next shipment came in and we were waiting. Tore the whole thing apart. 27 weapons in false bottoms of the crates. Exactly as you predicted."

McGee smiled. "Good."

"Good work, Tim."

Tim shook his head. "I'm lousy undercover, Boss."

"No, I don't think that's true. I think we rushed you into a situation to fix a misunderstanding. You handled it as well as anyone. I mean that."

"He played me."

"Naw. I heard your debrief. Paul was hard to predict because he was making it up as he went along. I don't think even he knew that he was going to say from one minute to the next."

"He was my friend."

Gibbs considered that for a moment. "Maybe, he was at one time. The Paul you met two months was a different guy, somebody confusing tough with bad. This Paul doesn't know anything about friends."

McGee nodded. "I'm going to miss that money, Boss."

"About that, Tim." Gibbs cocked his head. "I don't think you're going to need to repay that judgment."

"What?"

"Yeah, I think there's a way out."

"I don't think so, Boss. I really checked into it."

"Actually, I think it's about time to dust ol' L.J. Tibbs off and send him on another adventure."

He blinked. "I made a promise to you."

"Being a storybook hero is kinda flattering."

"You don't understand. I can't finish Rock Hollow."

"Oh no, we are burning Rock Hollow. Gonna start from scratch."

McGee stared at him, mouth open. "I made promises to others as well."

"They have all signed off on this new book except Jimmy. I think we're going to have to rehabilitate him some."

"I don't know, Boss. I haven't thought about writing in a very long time."

"Well, you can't let talent atrophy, Tim. That's no good."

"You talked to my publisher?"

"Yeah. You and I are going to meet with him next week."

"I…I don't have any ideas."

"Rumor has it that you need a little push. I was thinking about that. Two nights ago, I thought, for sure, we were going to fish your corpse out of the bay. It was a real rough night. After awhile, it got so there was nothing left to do but sit and wait. And I started thinking about how your publisher said that you seem to need an idea for a title and then you just build the story from there. Then that old sailor's chant entered my head, 'Red sky at night, sailor's delight. Red sky in morning, sailors take warning.' All night long. Red sky. Red sky. That's your title."

McGee lifted his head. "Excuse me?"

"Red sky in morning. What do you think? Sort of menacing, right? Perfect for a good ol' whodunit. That's your title."

"Red sky in morning," Tim said softly.

"Just play with it a bit. A brain like yours will undoubtedly come up with all the right twists and turns."

"You sure?"

Gibbs nodded. "Looking forward to it, in fact."

Tim lay back on the bed. "I got a lot to think about."

Gibbs reached over unexpectedly and patted him on the face. "Just have fun with it."

He smiled. "Thanks Boss."

Gibbs got up and headed for the door. He stopped. "I don't imagine we could spare ol' L.J. the obligatory girlfriend, could we?"

"Can't make any promises, Boss," McGee said with a grin.

….

The End