On the Trail of Phineas Torn

by channeld

written: on a whim
rating: K plus
genre: drama

disclaimer: I still own nothing of NCIS.

August 23 read the tiny date display on the bottom of Tim's computer. His heart fluttered alarmingly. Just one week and one day until the Tuesday when it would land in the stores. He could wish and hope with all of his might, but Tim knew it wasn't likely to stay a secret forever…

Tony, from his desk, made cobra eyes at him. "What are you looking guilty about, McGuilty?"

Tim rushed to compose his face. "Nothing. Just working."

If you hadn't wanted to be in this position, Self, you shouldn't have agreed to do this.

"Yeah. Sure," Tony replied, his tone showing that he didn't believe it.

You wanted the money. You were greedy for the extra cash. And soon they'll find out.

"You've got something going on in another life, McGee? 'Cause you know nothing stays hidden from a crack team of investigators."

"Tony, let it go," Ziva scolded. "I do not think McGee has anything to hide."

"Thank you, Ziva," Tim said with a warm smile. "Because I don't." Whoops. Not true. "Have anything I'm ashamed of." Better.

But Tony still looked suspicious. "What are you up to, McGee? McGemcity? Whoever you are?" He got an ah ha! look, and quickly tapped on his keyboard. Then his eyebrows shot up in a major AH HAH! jump. "Thom E. Gemcity has a short story in a mystery anthology coming out next week!"

While Ziva scurried to read over Tony's shoulder, Tim grumbled, "Technically, it's a novelette; not a short story. A novelette is longer. And I thought you promised to stop Googling the Gemcity name."

"Consider it a work-related action, McGoo. We have each other's backs, and you have money in your pocket from using our personas."

"This is not about you!" Tim shot back.

Tony and Ziva both turned disapproving eyes on him.

"Okay, well, before, I may have…borrowed some character traits of yours to use in my books, but that's not the case here."

"The book comes out on August 31," Ziva remarked, reading Tony's screen. "We will check at the bookstore then."

"Do that," Tim challenged, but inside, he was wincing. Why did I ever agree to do this?

On the 31st, Ziva and Tony dashed from the squad room at lunch time, headed for the book store on 8th Street. They came back grim-faced, each carrying a paperback and reading as they walked.

"I am twelve pages into your story, McGee, and I do not see a mention of Officer, or Agent, Lisa anywhere," Ziva remarked, looking at Tim threateningly.

"And where's Special Agent Tommy? There's no story without him," Tony growled.

"I told you guys…"

"Yeah, I don't recognize any of the characters in here," Tony continued to grouse. "No L. J. Tibbs, no Amy Sutton, no Pimmy Jalmer…just some tough older guy named Phineas Torn. He is pretty smart; I'll hand that to him," he added, with slight disdain.

"Yes…your writing is getting better, McGee," Ziva said, thoughtfully. "It is an entertaining story."

Tim nodded, with a smile. Any praise he could get was worthwhile, if surprising. But still they haven't caught on! I'm safe! I'm—

Gibbs breezed in and looked over Tony's shoulder. "What's that?"

"McGee, or Gemcity, has a story in this new book," Tony said, with a slight smile. "Take a look."

Gibbs read the first few paragraphs and then locked eyes with Tim. "Fornell know you're using him in your story?"

Tim hunched his shoulders, working his suit coat closer to his body. The air in the squad room seemed chillier this afternoon.

Ziva and Tony appeared to be furious at him, although he couldn't figure out why. Were they angry that he had borrowed just a few, just the tiniest character traits from the FBI agent? It wasn't like any of them were close friends with Fornell: as many times as he had helped them, he had also been a thorn in their sides. They all got a slight sinking feeling whenever Fornell entered NCIS HQ. Having to share credit with another agency was never pleasant. So there was no reason why they should be defending Fornell.

And really; the story had Fornell, er, Phineas Torn, coming off very well. He used his years of experience and solved the case perfectly. Justice would be served, and his sweet young daughter, just now old enough to realize what her daddy did for a living, was proud of him.

So what's the problem? I didn't involve them, as I said.

The next morning, Tim was assisting Abby in her lab. They both turned at the sound of a cough. Agent Tobias Fornell of the FBI stood there, flanked by Tony and Ziva, who were smirking.

"Hey, kid," Fornell said, causing Tim to wonder if Fornell really knew his name. "Your team here just put me onto this story that they say you wrote. It's good, kid. Really good. You have an eye for detail."

Tony looked as if he had bile in his throat. "But…Fornell, he…he made you into a character here!"

"Yeah. I thought that sounded like me. I'm flattered, kid; really. I'm gonna pick up copies of this book; send 'em to my family, saying, Look! I'm in a book!" He grinned. "Well, see ya. That's all I wanted to say." He turned and went back to the elevator. Tony and Ziva trailed him, looking stunned.

Tim smiled a little, goofily, at their backs. Abby, beside him, had been quiet. "You put Fornell in a book?" she asked.

"Well, it's just a novelette in an anthology."

"But you put him in a book. Is Amy in there?"

"No; she isn't. These are all new characters."

Abby pursed her lips. "Go find something to do, McGee. And then don't do it in here. I need to think."

"Okay…" Puzzled, Tim left the lab.

A week later, Tim found himself happy by the glowing reviews his story received in the press, and saddened by the cold shoulders his coworkers (particularly Abby, Ziva and Tony) were giving him. So I wrote a piece and didn't tell them. So what? It's not about them, so why can't they leave it alone?

His publisher, Lyndi Crawshaw, was starting to nag him about doing another book. The advance payment that she dangled before him was enticing, but…after so many long hours on the job, it was hard to come home and face blank sheets of paper in his typewriter. The only way that he could crank out a novel with the same rate of speed he'd done on the novelette would be if he stopped working.

The thought hovered over his head for a moment before dropping down to settle on his brain.

If I quit my job…

What had seemed like a fanciful idea before at last was possible. Yes, with his days free, he could write fast enough to churn out a book a year. His publisher was outright saying that there was a market for his writing. He could easily make enough to support himself on writing alone.

And if it was the Phineas Torn character that people loved, he could give them more of that. Or create new characters…Torn's boss, Caleb Black, had come out of nothing but his imagination, as had his sultry, aging girlfriend, Zelda Yane. He was getting better at that, and his publisher had gushed over Zelda.

But quit NCIS? The job he'd longed for; whose hiring had made him almost die from happiness?

Well, times change. People grow and move on.

This would take some thought. Tim was sure that either way, he was bound to lose something.

The next day, Tim jumped when Tony angrily slapped a newspaper on his desk. "You got a love-struck review in the New York Times. They beg to know when the Phineas Torn novel is due out, and your publisher says December of next year."

Tim panicked. He hadn't agreed to a novel! Darn that Lyndi. She was forcing his hand. "Well, uh…"

"Are you going to have time to do all that writing, McGee, and work here, too?" Ziva challenged.

Gibbs came in. "Better not let your outside activities interfere with your job, McGee," he said. As usual, he was coming in in the middle of the conversation, but had gotten to the kernel.

"They won't, boss," Tim said shortly. "They won't."

"And what's that supposed to mean?" Tony demanded.

Tim sat back down and didn't answer.

Later in the day, Tim could stand it no longer. He didn't even wait until Gibbs had pulled one of his disappearing acts before getting up and standing between Tony's and Ziva's desks. "All right. Let's have this out now. You two are mad at me for writing again. Maybe you're even jealous of me!"

"Jealous!"

"Yes, jealous, Tony. Because I've shown I can do something that you can't do: write fiction and have it sell well. And because you want to think that I'm incapable of doing anything, it rankles you every time that I do it."

"McGee—"

Tim cut Ziva off. "So guess what? I did it again. And you can't take that success away from me."

"Who says we don't want you to be successful?" Tony sputtered.

"I thought you would at least have talked with us before you wrote again," said Ziva.

"But this wasn't about you! Why should you care?"

"Because it was not about us," Ziva said, quietly.

Surprised, Tim could only stare.

"Okay, we ragged on you in the beginning. And later. And well, later than that," Tony admitted. "But then you come out with this Fornell piece, and it's like…where are we? Are agents Tommy and Lisa over-the-hill? Or dead? Or gone to another agency? You don't tell the readers."

"Yeah? So?" Tim asked, cautiously.

"This is a well-written story, McGee," Ziva waved her copy of the book. "You do well by Fornell in it. I think you could do well by Lisa and Tommy and Tibbs and…all the others."

"You're not saying that you want me to write about them?"

"Well, no. Okay, yes. Maybe. It just feels like we were your test run, and now that you're better, you don't need us anymore."

"Maybe it is NCIS that you do not need anymore." Ziva moved closer.

"Sounds like you're on the verge of becoming a full-time writer, McGee," Gibbs remarked.

"I—I need time to think," Tim complained. "Aren't we supposed to work here?"

Two days later, Tim came back from lunch, beaming. Then he cut back his smile, remembering how many times he'd thought his teammates would react one way, only to have totally misread them. And I call myself a writer!

"A pleasant lunch, McGee?" Ziva only asked.

"Yes. It was. I spent about 15 minutes on the phone with my publisher."

He had Tony's and Gibbs' attention now, too. "Did she say, 'Where's my next Phineas Torn money maker'?" Tony said with a small amount of wither.

"Sort of. I told her I would do a new book, and try to get it in within 10-11 months, and that Torn could be in there…but…"

"But? No buts. Out with it!"

"But I said the original cast…Tibbs, Lisa, Tommy, etc…all had to be there, too. In major roles. I created a case in which the two agencies had to work together, and she liked it."

"Well," Tony said, clearly surprised. "Well. Okay, then."

"I think I might like that, McGee," said Ziva, with a pleased smile. "Although it might be nice to see the story as you write it…"

"That might be possible," Tim hedged. Well, why not? "Sure. I'll show you the chapters as they're finished." He was dimly aware that Abby had come up behind him and had grabbed hold of his chair.

"Not going to be easy to get them to us if you quit your job," Gibbs noted. "Although there's email, I guess." He frowned at the thought.

"That's the other thing, boss," Tim said, and there was a touch of emotion in his voice. "About quitting NCIS…"

"You know the form number, McGee. Or if you don't, I can…"

"Yes, I do. But that's not it. I'm not quitting." Tim heard the unspoken relief around him, and he choked as Abby smothered him in a hug.

Prying himself slightly loose, he explained, "I need NCIS. It's not just the cases themselves that add to my writing; it's the day-to-day idiosyncrasies of this job. All the little things that amaze us. Just when we think we've seen it all, something new pops up. Murders in new ways. Evidence that is not what we'd expect. Witnesses in the most bizarre of places at the most bizarre of times. Strange testimony. I need this job for the ideas it gives me. So I'll write some at night, and a lot on weekends and days off. I can be both a writer and an agent. The best of both worlds."

"That's a cliché, McGee, but I love it," said Abby.

"You don't mind me using Amy again?"

"Mind? Why, if you don't have Amy at least on a girls' night out with Zelda, I'll—I'll write my own book!"

There was an email from Fornell, late in the day.

Kid,

If you do another story with Phineas Torn (and I hope you do), could you mention that he has a Ph.D in chemistry? Because I do, although I don't talk about it much. Thought it might be an interesting plot point.

-Tobias Fornell

-END-