A/N: This story resulted from something different. I asked a good friend of mine from the NFA, McMhuirich, to make me a banner with the understanding that I'd write a story that reflected the elements of the banner. I wish I could include the banner here so that you could all see it, but doesn't allow it. The story and title came from the banner. This story was a challenge to write, but one I appreciated. I hope you enjoy.

Disclaimer: I don't own anything of NCIS and I'm not making money off this story.

Nobody Can See Me Crying
by Enthusiastic Fish

Chapter 1

"Okay, Jethro, you stay in, then," Tim said to his dog. His words weren't very serious. Jethro had become ill, prompting a visit to the vet...prompting Tim to have to force Jethro to choke down pills twice a day. It was unpleasant for both of them, and Tim would be glad when Jethro was better.

He looked out the window and actually hesitated himself. It was getting pretty cloudy and threatening. They'd been suffering from a heat wave the last few days. Nighttime lows weren't low at all...near 80 degrees, and the daytime highs, coupled with the humidity made him wonder when DC had turned into a tropical jungle. The result was that he'd avoided running. Today was the first day that had looked like a tolerable temperature.

"I need to run. I've been so lazy the last few days," he said to himself. "A little rain won't hurt."

Tim nodded, having convinced himself. He pulled on his running clothes, pet Jethro who licked at his face, and then headed out the door. When he started running, he decided to try a new route. He liked running in Rock Creek Park the best, but he always liked trying to find new ways to get there. He made a random turn on his way and headed toward the park.

The first drops of rain hit him halfway through his run. He looked up at the darkening skies and sighed. If the rain actually began, it was going to be heavy, he figured.

...and ten minutes later proved him right. Before he'd even reached the boundaries of Rock Creek Park, the heavens opened and rain poured down on him in torrents. This was a typical summer storm. Heavy...and long-lasting. He knew he was going to be soaked long before he reached home...and he couldn't wait for it to stop. He didn't have time for that.

Instead, Tim put his head down and started running again. He was getting tired though. The wind had come up, and the route he'd chosen was longer than he expected it to be. He slowed down as he reached a block of apartment buildings. He slowed to a walk as the thunder rolled above his head. He grimaced. The storm was definitely not ending soon. This was not just a little rain.

"My fault for trying to be healthy," he said to himself with a slight grin.

Then, he heard something...almost like popping sound. He stopped. He knew what the sound was, but he couldn't figure out where it was coming from.

More popping and he straightened. No mistaking it. Someone was firing a gun. Tim automatically reached for his gun...that wasn't there. He didn't wear it when he went running.

Before he could decide what to do, he heard a scream from the building opposite him. Suddenly, a little girl climbed out of a window on the third floor of the building and began running up the fire escape...still screaming for help. When a man climbed out the window and started following her, Tim didn't even hesitate. He ran at top speed to the fire escape, clambering up the stairs as fast as he could, not knowing what he was going to do when he got up there, but knowing he couldn't leave a little girl at the mercy of an unknown man. Not after hearing those gunshots.

By the time he got to the roof (after climbing six floors worth of stairs), he was exhausted but his adrenaline was pumping. He couldn't see the man or the girl. Throwing caution to the winds, he shouted out.

"Federal agent! Drop your weapon!"

As he'd hoped, that got a reaction and he saw movement. He ran toward it, trying to keep under some cover...so that it wasn't obvious that he was completely unarmed.

"Drop your weapon!" he called out again.

More movement. This time, as Tim came around a small shed-like structure, he found the man. ...because the man punched him as hard he could, right in the gut. Tim dropped to the ground, groaning, struggling to breathe. He'd had the wind knocked out of him. He thought for sure the man was going to kill him, but instead, he stepped over Tim's supine body and ran back to the fire escape.

It seemed to take forever, but eventually, Tim found he could breathe again. He groaned and rolled over onto his hands and knees, taking as deep a breath as his body would allow. Then, he saw a pair of feet, bare feet. Little feet.

He looked up and saw a little girl, perhaps eight or nine, looking at him, her expression absolutely terrified. She looked like she was dressed in her pajamas and she was shaking in the storm. Tim pushed himself upright and she backed up a few steps.

"Hi," he said gently. "My name is Tim. I'm a federal agent."

She stared at him, trembling...from cold or fear, Tim didn't know. He knew that he himself was not cold, but he was feeling the aftereffects of his rather rash actions.

"Are you all right?" he asked.

She nodded jerkily.

"What's your name?"

She wrapped her arms around herself and shook.

"I'm not going to hurt you. I want help you. Okay?"

"Aimee..." she whispered.

"That's a nice name," Tim said. He wanted to ask her what had happened, but she looked so afraid, that he didn't want to push it.

"It...means...'beloved'. My...my dad..." Her eyes filled with tears, although he couldn't see them on her cheeks. Once they spilled over, they were hidden by the rain still pouring down.

"Aimee, will you let me help you?"

She nodded.

"Okay. Can you show me where you came from? Was it your home?"

She nodded.

Tim got to his feet and she started a little bit, but when he held out his hand to her, she looked up at him for a moment and then ran over to him and wound her skinny arms around his waist. She buried her face in his jacket and he could feel her shaking. He put a protecting hand on her back and led her back to the fire escape.

"It's all right." He stopped right before they started down the steps. "Aimee?"

She looked up at him.

"Is there something bad that we'll see in your home?"

She nodded.

"Okay. I'm going to stay right with you. No matter what. I'll keep you safe, understand?"

Her arms tightened around him and she nodded.

"Good. Let's go." He hoped someone had called the police already, but in case this turned into an instance when everyone became temporarily deaf, he needed to get to a phone...and he really would like to get out of the rain. There was not an inch of him that was dry...and his stomach ached from the blow he'd been dealt.

Together, they went down the metal steps. Aimee hesitated and then led him through the window into a small kitchen. Tim looked around. He saw a broken glass on the floor, orange juice puddling around it. A broken plate with toast was on the floor along with it. Aimee's arms tightened still more around Tim.

"Okay, Aimee," he said. "You don't have to go and look. You can stay right here."

"No," she whispered, locking her arms around him.

"All right. You don't want to see, though, do you?"

She shook her head.

"Okay. Keep your eyes closed and I'll lead you. Just hang on to me, and I'll look. Then, we're going to call for the police and we'll see what we can do."

No response, except that she closed her eyes tightly. Tim took a few cautious steps forward, hoping that he wasn't walking into another dangerous situation.

...but no. The living room was empty...of living persons at least. Two bodies were on the floor, and Tim was positive they were both dead. A man and a woman. Aimee's parents, he figured.

"Aimee, I'm going to walk forward and then kneel on the ground. Just keep your eyes closed."

No response. Tim walked forward.

"Now, I'm kneeling down."

She knelt with him. Tim checked for a pulse. Nothing. He had expected that, but it was still a blow to know that this little girl was now an orphan. He assumed anyway.

"I'm going to stand back up, Aimee."

She stood with him and he walked back to the kitchen. There was a phone on the wall. He knew that he'd be contaminating part of the crime scene, but he had to call for help. He dialed 911.

"Hello, this is Special Agent Timothy McGee with NCIS. I'd like to report a double homicide. One survivor."

"What is the address?"

Tim gave the address.

"We've already received two reports of shots fired at that address."

"That would explain what I'm seeing. I heard the shots while I was out running. I'm here with the survivor, a little girl by the name of Aimee. Aimee, how old are you?"

"Ten," she whispered, her eyes still closed.

"Ten years old. She's a witness."

"I understand, Agent McGee. I'll pass along your information."

"Thank you. I'll stay here until the police come." Tim hung up and led Aimee to the small table. He could probably go out the door, but he didn't want to step anymore than he already had. He could already hear Gibbs and Ducky berating him for contaminating the crime scene. "Okay, Aimee. We're going stay right here until the police come. All right?"

"Okay."

"Tell me about yourself."

It was clear where her mind was right now.

"Daddy just got home. He was gone...and..."

"Where was he?"

"He was on the Enterprise. We went and saw the ship last week."

A sailor.

"Your dad was in the Navy?"

She nodded.

"Do you know what NCIS is, Aimee?"

"No."

"It's Naval Criminal Investigative Service. I work for the Navy, too."

She opened her eyes and looked up at him. "Really?"

"Yeah. I never met your dad, but I'll help find out what happened." Tim picked up the phone again and dialed Gibbs' number.

"Gibbs."

"Boss, it's McGee. I've got a situation. Crime scene."

"Where?"

"On my running route. I'm in the apartment right now. Navy."

"Who's with you?"

"Aimee. Ten years old."

"Her dad?"

"Both."

"Dead?"

"Yes."

"You call Metro already?"

"Yeah. They're on their way."

"I'll call them and get going. What phone are you on?"

"Their landline. I was running. Didn't have my phone with me."

"Stay with the girl."

"Understood. It's bad, Boss."

"Figured. I'll make sure we get there. You in any danger?"

"Not that I can see...unless Ducky kills me."

"You touched the bodies?"

"Had to check for a pulse."

"Right. Stay where you are."

"Understood."

Tim hung up and looked back and Aimee who was staring at him, fear still in her eyes. She looked nothing like Sarah, but Tim couldn't help comparing her to his little sister. He smiled at her and sat down.

"We're just going to wait. My boss is coming and the regular police are coming."

She nodded...and then looked back toward the living room.

"They were fighting," she said.

"You heard them?"

She nodded and her lower lip started to quiver.

"Mom...screamed."

Tim pulled Aimee to him and hugged her gently.

"It's all right, Aimee. You're safe."

"They're dead?"

Tim hesitated, but she'd either heard or seen everything. She knew. He couldn't lie to her.

"Yes. Yes, they are. I'm sorry."

She started to cry and hugged him back.

"It's all right. I'm right here."

She didn't let him go...not even when Metro got there.