Chapter four

By the time the clock chimed midnight and Gibbs headed home, they were no closer to finding Petty Officer Williams. There had been some surveillance on the man’s route to work, but all that had told them was between which cameras he had disappeared; the cameras had picked up nothing of interest. One camera, he was there, the next, he was not.

Gibbs’ mind was still working in overdrive. Seven victims in as many weeks – this was a vicious serial killer. Not the worst he’d ever dealt with, but they were racing against time to find Williams before he turned up dead.

He sighed upon seeing the clock turn to one minute past midnight. A new day; Friday had turned into Saturday.

He resisted the urge to down a glass or three of bourbon before going to bed. He doubted he’d be able to sleep – he had hardly slept since the first body had showed up nearly two months ago, and even less in the last week.

He was in the bathroom brushing his teeth when Tony returned.

“Oh, good, I’m here again.”

“DiNozzo, I’m in the bathroom,” Gibbs said.

“Can’t seem to help it, boss,” Tony said. “I just show up wherever you are.”

Gibbs glared, then spit, rinsed and left the bathroom. Tony trailed after him, into the adjoining master bedroom. Gibbs’ king-sized bed was as perfectly made as ever; even in the middle of a hot case, he didn’t let go of his military training.

“Where do you go when you’re not here?” Gibbs asked, as it was one of the burning questions on his mind.

Tony frowned. “What do you mean?”

“You’ve been gone for nearly twelve hours,” Gibbs said. “Your ‘visits’ are sporadic at best.”

“I—uh,” Tony said. “I don’t know. Was it really twelve hours? It didn’t feel like it.”

“It was twelve hours.”

“Huh.”

Gibbs glared at him as he stared off into space. “So where were you?”

Tony shook his head. “I don’t know, boss. It’s—foggy. And not just as in ‘foggy memories’, but as in—fog. It’s just kind of grey, nothing there.”

Gibbs hated not understanding, and he didn’t understand this, that was for sure. But then, he normally didn’t talk to ghosts or whatever the hell it was DiNozzo had turned into. Ghosts were supposed to be a thing of storybooks – not something he had to deal with on the job, all because one of his agents had a particularly hard time keeping out of trouble.

“You’re almost more trouble than you’re worth,” he muttered, turning away from Tony.

“Almost? What do I have to do to cross the line?” Tony asked, and Gibbs could hear his smile.

“Actually die,” Gibbs snapped, and then regretted it. It was far too likely a scenario to joke about it.

“You’re such a happy person, boss,” Tony said, grinning. “Love you too.”

Gibbs turned back to look at Tony, shooting him a glare. Then he stopped short, because he saw the smile on Tony’s lips, but also the pain in his eyes. Gibbs knew that as frustrating as this was for him, it had to be at least ten times worse for Tony. Tony may or may not be dead at the moment; Tony was the one who couldn’t touch anything or anyone.

“I need to sleep,” Gibbs said gruffly.

“Then I should—uh, leave,” Tony said, but he looked thoughtful.

“What?”

“Um,” Tony said. “I don’t know if I can leave.”

“What do you mean?” Gibbs asked. “I just told you, you’ve been gone twelve hours.”

Tony studied the floor. “Not like that, I know that. But—I don’t know why, but like I said, I show up wherever you are. I don’t know if I can go anywhere where you’re not.”

Again, Gibbs despised not understanding. He wanted to know what Tony was, what the rules were – and why Tony returned to him every time, instead of anyone else. Why could Gibbs see him, and not McGee, Ziva, or for that matter, Abby? Abby was far more likely to be open to this sort of thing, and Ziva – well, Gibbs had seen the looks she and Tony had shared. He pushed the thought away as jealousy flared within.

“Try,” he said.

Tony nodded, biting his lip. “Okay, here goes.”

He closed his eyes, Gibbs watching all the while – and then he faded away. It wasn’t like when he disappeared for hours, because then he simply vanished in a millisecond; now he faded slowly into nothingness.

A part of Gibbs wished he hadn’t sent Tony away. He was already missing him, already worried about what could happen to him.

Tony was a ghost, Gibbs reminded himself. Ghosts couldn’t get hurt.

Although he didn’t know that either, not really, because he didn’t know the rules.

He turned to the bed, pulling back the covers to get in. He’d be able to get perhaps three hours of shut-eye before he’d jerk awake and return to NCIS headquarters all too early.

“Okay, that was weird.”

He looked back to find Tony standing behind him, in the spot he’d faded from.

“What?” Gibbs asked.

“I can leave,” Tony said. “I went to my apartment. But there’s this—this pull. It starts out fine, but then after a while, it gets stronger and stronger, and then I can’t stay any longer, and I’m brought back here.”

“Here?” Gibbs echoed.

Tony nodded. “To you, I guess.”

Gibbs had to say the word that filled his mind. “Why?”

Tony looked away, and Gibbs thought he saw a hint of red in his cheeks. “I don’t know.”

Gibbs’ gut told him Tony was lying, but he didn’t want to get into it at the moment. Even though he wouldn’t be able to sleep for long, he was tired.

“I’m going to sleep,” he said.

Tony nodded, but looked indecisive. “I’ll just—uh.”

“You can stay,” Gibbs said. “I can put on a movie in the living room if you want to.”

“You have movies?” Tony asked, surprise obvious.

“Two DVDs,” Gibbs said. “You forgot them here last time you had to stay here.”

Tony grinned. “I knew you wouldn’t have bought any yourself. But really, boss, it’s okay. I’ll just—I’ll practice going other places. Perhaps that can be useful.”

Gibbs nodded. He didn’t ask what Tony was going to do in between trips. A part of him wished Tony would stay – it was the same part that wished Tony could get in bed and sleep next to him, in his solid and real form. But those were thoughts that were quickly squashed down, and he figured Tony would spend his time in the living room, or perhaps in the basement.

“Night, boss,” Tony said. “Sleep well.”

Gibbs didn’t respond, his head resting heavily on his pillow. He hadn’t slept well since the start of this, even less so since Tony disappeared. He wondered if he’d ever sleep right if Tony’s body turned up.

Tony was still there when he woke up, four hours later. Gibbs felt far from rested, but he was certain he wouldn’t get back to sleep.

“Sleep well?” Tony asked easily, floating a few inches above the chair standing in the corner. Gibbs wondered why Tony chose to ‘sit’ in the chair, when he could obviously hover unhindered anywhere, but he supposed it had to do with a sense of normalcy.

He grunted his reply to Tony’s question.

“I would’ve made coffee if I’d been able,” Tony said, “but solid things are a bit out of reach for me these days.”

Gibbs rubbed his eyes. It was far too early in the morning for this kind of thing – although he wasn’t sure what a good time for ghostly discussions was.

He headed into the kitchen, and Tony trailed behind.

“I’ve been practicing going other places,” Tony said.

“Yeah?” Gibbs said, putting on a pot of coffee.

Tony nodded, leaning slightly too far against the counter as he tried to look normal, sinking just a little bit into it. He didn’t notice, and Gibbs didn’t see the need to point it out.

“Saw McGee and Ziva,” Tony said. “And Abby.”

Gibbs raised an eyebrow at him. Had it been a bit later, and things had been a bit less—bad, with the risk of Tony being dead, he might have mocked Tony about being a voyeur.

“I could stay a little longer each time,” Tony said continued. “I mean, it wasn’t much to see – they were all sleeping. I’ve gotta say – Probie looks exhausted and Abby—um, well, she has pictures.”

“Pictures?” Gibbs asked, ignoring the quip about McGee. He knew McGee was tired; they were all tired – it just showed more on McGee, because he hadn’t learned to hide it as efficiently yet.

“Of me,” Tony said, and Gibbs wondered how it was possible for a ghost to blush.

“Yeah. In her lab too,” Gibbs said.

He grabbed a cup and poured coffee into it. He sighed with some contentment as he sipped it. He caught Tony staring at him, and raised an eyebrow.

“Can’t offer you any,” he said.

“What? No,” Tony said. “No, I know.”

They were silent for a few seconds, regarding each other. There was pain in Tony’s eyes and Gibbs could only guess that it was the same thoughts that Gibbs was having. Was Tony dead? Was this an interlude, someone dangling his life in front of their eyes, just to show what they could never again have?

Gibbs shook himself free of the depressing thoughts, and glanced at the clock. “This is the longest you’ve stayed.”

“It’s getting longer,” Tony said. “The first time was just a minute.”

“Don’t suppose you’ve figured out why?” Gibbs asked.

Tony shook his head, looking at the floor. “Working on it. But there aren’t really any books I can check – and even if there were, well—can’t turn a page.”

Gibbs drank his coffee quietly.

“You know,” Tony said, “I don’t know how many times this’d have been useful. I mean, imagine the stuff I can get to see now – bad guys making deals, never knowing I was there to watch and that kind of stuff.”

“Yeah?” Gibbs said. “And how’d you prove you were there?”

Tony rolled his eyes. “It’s so you, to just see the problems and not the possibilities.”

Gibbs smiled slightly. With coffee back in his system, he felt slightly better; the liquid fought off some of the black depression that threatened to overwhelm him when he thought of Tony and why he was currently standing slightly see-through in his kitchen.

“I’m going to—”

He stopped, when he realized that Tony had just vanished once more.

“Damn it.”

It was Saturday, but that didn’t matter to Gibbs. Two people were missing – they needed to find both Tony and Williams.

McGee did look exhausted, Gibbs thought, although he didn’t lighten the youngest agent’s burden. Gibbs wanted every bit of information about Williams he could possibly get – they needed to find the link between the victims. So far, two of the victims had served on the same ship, and another two had worked for the same commander at different times, but there was absolutely nothing that tied them all together. The Bethesda Hospital angle Ziva had run down had led nowhere.

“Uh, I mean, nothing that we’ve found so far,” McGee stammered when he shared this information with Gibbs.

“Has to be something, McGee,” Gibbs said.

“Yes, boss, of course,” McGee said, but lingered. “It’s just that—I’ve checked through everything I can think of.”

Gibbs didn’t want to think about the idea of a crazy person randomly picking people from the streets; it would make things even more difficult than it already was to figure out the murderer’s next step. Besides, the victims weren’t random – they were all males, all attractive, all about the same age.

“Check it again,” he said.

McGee nodded. Gibbs would have expected some sort of sigh of boredom or irritation, but he got none. He studied McGee as inconspicuously as he could, and saw him glance at Tony’s desk every now and then. There was pain on McGee’s face, easily readable because unlike the rest of the team, McGee didn’t hide behind a mask. Tony did – he always had, his playboy persona his way of dealing with the world, only letting the real Tony out on occasions like when Kate and Paula, and Jenny, died, and other brief glimpses of honesty.

Ziva had always hid behind her cool mask of indifference. Gibbs had seen her slip on few occasions – when she’d had to kill her brother, and when she’d been undercover and almost killed just a few months ago – but she was nearly as good as Gibbs at keeping her feelings under wraps.

Gibbs himself had hid behind his bastardly exterior since Kelly and Shannon had been killed, and he was no longer certain that it was a mask at all; he was pretty sure it had become him.

“Boss,” McGee said, and Gibbs realized he’d lost himself in thoughts, all the while staring at Tony’s empty desk.

“Yeah, McGee?”

“Uh—I was just looking at the map of where we’ve found the victims,” McGee said. “Did you know that the sites form a straight line?”

Gibbs frowned. “What?”

McGee hit keys on his computer, and the screen by Gibbs’ desk came to life with a map. Red dots marked where the five bodies so far had been dumped. McGee was right; the sites did form a line, from the latest on Pennsylvania Avenue, to the first body in Riverdale Park. The second body had been a slight bit off the line, found just off Rhode Island Avenue, just as the fourth body had been. The third body had been found nearer the first one, in Edmonston.

“What does that mean?” McGee asked.

Gibbs had no idea, and he had no answer for McGee.

Ziva strode into the bullpen. “I just spoke to Abby. She has made computer models of how the victims must have been positioned after being killed. She wanted you to come down. What’s this?”

“The victims were dumped in a nearly perfectly straight line,” McGee said.

“Why?” asked Ziva.

“We don’t know,” Gibbs said, “but you’re going to find out. Get me an answer.”

Ziva nodded, even as she frowned at the screen. Gibbs left the squad room and took the elevator down to Abby’s lab.

“What’ve you got for me, Abs?”

“Still no news?” she asked, turning to him. She had music on, but it wasn’t as deafening as it usually was.

He shook his head. “Did you get anything out of the residue? And Ziva mentioned models?”

Abby swallowed, and then nodded, changing into work mode. Gibbs appreciated her ability to do so, to leave the hurt and worry behind, even though she tended to wear her heart on her sleeve.

“The residue was make-up,” she said. “It’s a foundation from Maybelline. Can be found in every store that has makeup. Sorry, Gibbs, I can’t get anything else out of it. I mean, I can’t work miracles. Like the frame McGee sent me yesterday – I can’t do anything with it. It’s just—all I can get is a shoe.”

She clicked a few times, and the grainy surveillance photo came up. McGee’s description of a ‘shadow’ had been accurate; Gibbs was, as usual, impressed that Abby could even make out the shoe.

“It’s a regular Nike shoe, as far as I can tell,” Abby said. “They made about three hundred thousand of the kind last year.”

Gibbs held back a sigh; another dead end. “What about the models of the bodies?”

Abby made a face. “I don’t know what to make of it – but they’ve all been placed in different positions, and they seem pretty specific.”

She showed each victim and the way they’d most likely been positioned. The latest victim had been sprawled out over something, just as Abby had described. The victim before him, Lieutenant Henry Johnson, hunched over in a sitting position, head leaning in his hand. The third victim that had appeared, Commander Lucas Mahoney, was kneeling.

“I think his hand was outstretched for some reason too,” Abby said. “There are these marks on his hand, that would’ve been possible to get if he’d been tied up before the blood had stopped settled, and the tie around his hands hindered the blood.”

“What does it all mean, Abby?” Gibbs asked.

Abby shrugged miserably. “I don’t know, Gibbs. That the murderer is insane?”

“Already knew that,” Gibbs said.

“Yeah,” Abby said. Quieter, she said, “Do you think he’s dead?”

He felt the unfamiliar feeling of a lump in his throat. “I don’t know, Abs.”

There was rage, fear, and worry keeping him going so far. It would keep him going until they found this madman and brought him down. What would happen after that, Gibbs didn’t know. It had been hard enough to lose Kate – to lose Tony would a whole different story, for so many reasons, most of which he didn’t want to think about.

Abby hugged him, head under his chin, and he held her close for a couple of seconds, before the restless need to keep going made him pull away.

“It’s good work,” he said.

“Not good enough,” she said softly.

“Then keep at it,” Gibbs said, two fingers raising her chin. “Okay?”

She nodded mutely, tears shining in her eyes but not falling. He kissed her forehead, and then he left, wishing for Tony to return – preferably alive and well, solid and opaque, but even his ghostly form would be appreciated.

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