Tim sighed heavily as he took another photo of the dead Petty Officer, William Grant. The man had been stabbed multiple times and his throat was cut so deep it nearly severed his spinal cord. It was the third one in two weeks and everyone was starting to worry that they may have a serial killer on their hands. Tim took one final picture before putting his camera away and letting Jimmy and Ducky get to their preliminary work up.

"All yours Ducky," Tim said, tucking the camera safely back into its carrying case.

"Thank you my boy," Ducky responded as he and Jimmy crouched down next to the body. Tim shivered slightly as an icy breeze cut through his thin windbreaker. Fall had arrived and the beauty of Rock Creek Park was breathtaking. The bright hues of orange, red and yellow leaves danced wildly on the breeze, creating a wave of swirling colors.

"Hey McDreamy," Tony said, pulling Tim from his thoughts. "Are you just going to stand there all day staring at the trees, or are you going to actually do some work?"

Tim shot Tony an annoyed look, "You are one to talk Tony. The only work you have done this morning is stand there and bark orders."

Tony puffed his chest out proudly and smiled, "Well I am the Boss today. That is part of my job description."

"For one day Tony. Gibbs left you in charge for one day. Don't let it go to your head."

"Too late for that," Ziva said as she approached the two men and thrust a bag of evidence into Tony's chest.

"Do I sense a little hostility?" Tony asked, rubbing the spot on his chest where Ziva had made contact.

Ziva cut her eyes at Tony, but spoke to Tim, "Did you find any evidence on the body McGee?"

Tim shook his head, "Nothing useful. Grant was stabbed over a dozen times in the abdomen and then had his throat slit. Whoever did this obviously had a lot of rage, because his throat was cut all the way down to the spinal cord."

"That sounds familiar," Tony said, taking a sip of his coffee.

"Grant is the third victim this month," Ziva added. "I do not think that it is coincidence that all three were killed in a similar fashion."

"Well," Tim added. "You know what Gibbs says about coincidences." Tim turned to face Ducky when he heard him trudging through the thick layer of leaves, nearly slipping on the slick forest floor. He was out of breath by the time that he reached the team.

"Are you okay Duck?" Tony asked.

"Yes, yes," Ducky said, wiping the sweat from his brow with a handkerchief, "I am afraid that this blasted head cold has left me a little off balance. Nothing that a spot of tea can't fix."

"Do we have a time of death?" Tony asked, eyeing his unsteady coroner with concern.

Ducky adjusted his glasses on his nose and tucked his handkerchief back into his pocket, "Yes. I would estimate that Mr. Grant died about six hours ago. The cause of death appears to be exsanguination from a severed carotid artery. Poor man bleed out in less than a minute. Once I get him back to the lab I can determine the cause of death with more accuracy."

Tony looked down the hill to the body and then back to Ducky, who was still winded from his initial trip, "Why don't you go sit down for a bit Ducky. We will help Jimmy with the body."

"I assure you Anthony, I am fine," Ducky said, with a wave of his hand.

"You are sick Ducky," Ziva added. "Let us help you."

Ducky eyed his team and then looked down at Jimmy, who was patiently waiting for help in collecting the body. It was a long trip back down the hill and he had been feeling dizzy all morning. With a resigned sigh he nodded his head, "Very well, but do be careful."

Tony patted Ducky on the back as the man walked toward the van. He smiled as he turned back to face Ziva and Tim, "One of you go help Palmer."

"What?" Tim asked incredulously. "Why don't you go help him?"

Tony pointed to himself, "Boss for the day...remember?"

Tim opened his mouth to protest, but knew it would do no good, so he shut it once again. He turned to face Ziva, but she was already gone, heading toward the sedan, looking back only once to offer Tim a sly, impish grin. Tim rolled his eyes and started making his way down hill. He was going to have to stand up to those two one day. He was starting to grow tired of being stuck with all the grunt work.

"Is Dr. Mallard okay?" Jimmy asked as Tim reached the bottom of the hill.

"He's fine," Tim explained. "That head cold is leaving him a little...unbalanced."

Jimmy frowned, "I told him he needs to go to the doctor, but he is being stubborn as usual."

Tim chuckled, "Doctor's do make the worst patients."

"That they do," Jimmy smiled. "I will talk to him again when we get back to headquarters. I'm guessing you are here to help me with the body?"

Tim cast an irritable glance back up the hill. Tony and Ziva were nowhere to be seen. They probably left without him and he was going to have to ride in the back of the coroners van...again. "Of course."

Jimmy gave him a look of pity before setting about getting Grant into the body bag. He knew it wasn't the best time to talk to Tim about what his counterparts did to him...what they do to him on a frequent basis. They don't respect Tim, which Jimmy couldn't wrap his head around. Tim is one of the best men that he knew. He was a great person and didn't deserve to be treated the way he was. They appeared to have very little faith in their co-worker, even though he had proved himself to them time and time again.

"Do you hear that?" Tim asked, getting to his feet and pulling his gun from his holster. Jimmy was jerked from his train of thought and upon seeing Tim's gun, his heart began hammering in his chest and he found that he couldn't move. He held his breath and listened intently for whatever Tim had heard. It was a struggle to hear anything over the sound of his pounding heart, but after a few moments he heard the sound of leaves crunching. Someone was coming toward them. What if it was the killer? Sweat beaded up on Jimmy's forehead as he nervously watched the intense stare of Tim as he waited for the intruder to come into view.

Tim's brow furrowed and he lowered his gun as the source of the footfalls appeared in his line of vision. "Dad?"

Jimmy jerked around to see John McGee standing just feet away from his stunned son. The elder McGee was pale and winded. His clothes were disheveled and soaked in blood. He had a wild look in his eyes that chilled Jimmy to the bone and made his hair stand on end.

"Dad are you okay?" Tim asked, holstering his gun and rushing toward his obviously distraught father. "What happened? Are you hurt?"

John McGee looked at his son with such sadness it took Jimmy's breath away. "I'm so sorry Tim," John's voice cracked.

"Dad what are you talking about?" Tim asked, reaching for his father, who looked near collapse. "What did you do?"

John's bottom lip trembled as he spoke, "Please forgive me son. If I...If I don't do this they will."

"Do what?" Tim asked. Confusion and fear colored Tim's words as he tried to process what was happening. He took a step closer to his father, "Dad, please talk to me. If you don't do what?"

"This," John whispered as he pulled a hunting knife from the waist of his pants and plunged it into Tim's belly. "I'm so sorry Tim. Please forgive me."

Tim gasped as the blade penetrated his flesh. He stared in shock at his father. He couldn't breathe, he couldn't move, he couldn't do anything but look into the eyes of the man that just ran him through. John rested his forehead against Tim's and spoke softly to his son, "It will be okay Tim. This is better...I promise."

John pulled the dagger from Tim's belly and the young agent stumbled away from his father as blood spilled out from the wound and ran down his leg. Tim wanted to ask his father why...why had he just stabbed him, but when he opened his mouth only blood came out. Tim couldn't feel his legs anymore and there was nothing he could do to stop himself from collapsing to the ground. Tim stared at the sun as it filtered through the canopy above him. All thoughts of what just happened disappeared as he took in the glorious sight above him. Fall was such a beautiful season, he thought to himself as he watched the gently sway of the leaves in the breeze. He could hear the sound of muffled shouting, but it seemed so far away. The familiar pop of gun fire echoed in the back of his mind and the world around him started to grow fuzzy as darkness started to creep into the edges of his vision.

Jimmy sat there in horror as he watched John McGee pull the knife from his son's gut. Tim stared at his father as he stumbled backwards and collapsed to the ground. 'No,' Jimmy thought to himself...this couldn't be happening. This...it isn't right. John sobbed loudly as he stood there watching his child struggle to breathe. He appeared close to collapse himself, but he managed to keep himself upright. He staggered toward Tim and fell to his knees next to his son's side. Blood dripped from the knife that John still clutched in his hand. Jimmy was paralyzed in fear as he watched the scene unfold. He knew he should do something, but his brain wouldn't slow down long enough for him to grasp onto a solid idea. John ran a shaky hand through his hair and exhaled deeply. "God forgive me," he said as he reached down and pulled Tim's gun from his holster.

"Stop it!" Jimmy shouted. It surprised him almost as much as it surprised John. "Put the gun down!"

John turned to face Jimmy. Tears ran down his face as he spoke, "Don't worry Mr. Palmer. This bullet isn't for my son." He then placed the gun to his temple and pulled the trigger. The explosion of gunpowder echoed through the valley and made Jimmy felt his whole body go numb as John McGee's body fell just inches from Tim's.

"You really should learn to be nicer to McGee," Ziva scolded Tony as they sat on the back bumper of the coroners van.

"You weren't exactly jumping to take his place," Tony said without looking at her. "Those with glass houses should not throw stones."

"You both should take your own advice," Ducky said, waggling a finger at the two of them. "Timothy is quite an extraordinary man. He has put up with far more than most people would. He deserves better."

Tony stared down at his coffee, which suddenly left a bitter taste in his mouth. Ducky was right. He really did need to start treating Tim more as an equal instead of his own personal lackey, "You're right Duck. I'll make it up to him. Maybe buy him some pizza after work."

Ducky narrowed his eyes at Tony, "I do believe it is going to take more than pizza to fix this problem Anthony."

Tony threw his hands up in defeat, "You're right. You're right. I'll talk to him."

Ducky nodded his head and smiled, "Good."

He was just turning to head back to the cab of the van when they heard Palmer's frantic voice echo through the valley, "Stop it! Put the gun down!"

Tony and Ziva leapt off the back of the van and ran toward where they had left Palmer and McGee. They hadn't quite reached the crest of the hill when they heard the gunshot ring out. Then they heard nothing but silence.

"Shit," Tony cursed as they made it to the top of the hill and got the first view of the valley. Jimmy was sitting next to the body of William Grant, while Tim and another man lay side by side a few feet away from him. Jimmy had his legs pulled into his chest and his arms were wrapped tightly around them. Tony half ran, half stumbled down the steep hill to his fallen teammate. He skidded to a stop next to McGee. Ziva whizzed past them to get to Palmer, who was clearly in shock.

"What in the hell?" Tony gasped when he realized that John was lying next to McGee with a bullet hole in his head. Tony could see blood pouring from the wound in McGee's belly, so he pulled off his jacket and began apply pressure to the wound. McGee's eyes were half opened and he stared blankly at the sky above him.

"McGee," Tony said, trying to get the young man's attention. "Tim I need you to look at me. Come on Tim...look at me." Tim's eyes never shifted.

"Oh Good Lord," Ducky exclaimed as he reached the bottom of the hill. "What on earth happened here?" He pushed Tony out of the way so that he could tend to McGee's wounds.

"I...I don't know." Tony stammered.

"Jimmy is in shock," Ziva said as she entered the conversation. "He does not appear to be injured but he isn't talking."

She looked down at the two men on the ground and paled, "Is that...Admiral McGee?"

Tony nodded his head and went to wipe his hand down his face, but paused when he saw the blood that covered his shaking hands. Tim's blood. "Call an ambulance," Tony ordered Ziva. "I'll call Gibbs."

"Anthony," Ducky said quietly.

Tony's spine stiffened at the raw emotion he heard in his elderly friends voice. Ziva closed her eyes and tried to fight back the tears as she saw what Tony feared to see. Tony refused to turn around and face his fallen friend, "I said call an ambulance," he ordered Ziva through gritted teeth.

"Anthony," Ducky said a little more firmly. "He's gone."

Tony spun around to face the doctor, "No. No he isn't. We can get him to the hospital and they can fix him. Hell, you are a doctor you can save him!" Anger dripped from every word that came from Tony's mouth. "I am the Boss today and I say that Timothy McGee will not die...not today!"

"Tony," Ziva said softly. She placed her hand gently on his shoulder, but he violently shrugged her off.

"I said save him Doctor Mallard!" Tony shouted. He grabbed Ducky by the wrist and forced his hands down on Tim's wound. "Do let him die," Tony seethed through gritted teeth. "Just do your job."

Ducky didn't fight Tony's actions. His lower lip trembled as he looked up at Tony's hate filled face. His voice cracked as he spoke, "His heart is no longer beating Anthony. He is gone."

Tony let go of Ducky's wrists and he fell back onto his ass as he stared at the lifeless face of Timothy McGee. Tim's blank eyes still stared up at the canopy of trees that swayed above them. Tony bit his lower lip and stifled a sob as he reached over and gently closed his friends eyes. The silence of the forest seemed overwhelming to the agents as the weight of reality crashed down upon them.