The elevator door dinged open and he stepped off. The area was dark and desolate, as he knew it would be. Having worked here for four months, he knew the schedule of the employees. He knew when they came in, when they left, who went to lunch when, and so on. Even if he had miscalculated, had made an error and arrived when someone else was there, it wouldn't have been a problem. It wasn't unusual for him to be down there. He could make small talk, coming up with some excuse to explain his presence.

He sat down at the area that had been his for four months. It hadn't changed in the past year, as though no one had even touched it. Maybe they hadn't. He hoped no one had changed their password. Probably not; they had no reason to believe he knew their passwords and even if they did, what would he possibly do with that knowledge?

The computer loaded and he first tried his old password. It worked, much to his delight. I guess no one has used this one, he thought to himself. Maybe they've retired it like they do with jerseys in sports. It was an amusing thought; it wouldn't have been too conceited of him to acknowledge the way they'd fawned over him and treated him like the demigod of Cyber Crimes Unit. It had been to his advantage that he was held in such high esteem. It had made doing this all the simpler.

With the computer fully loaded, he placed the flash drive in and got to work. He knew it would take some time, but he was prepared to stay as long as he needed to. He'd already reworked the key card monitor so that it wouldn't show that he'd been there and the security camera was on a loop. Anyone watching would just see an empty room, giving him plenty of time to work in peace.

Hacking into the FBI was nothing new. He'd been in their system so many times he probably knew it better than their computer geeks. For him, entering the system was akin to walking into your parent's home after being away at college for a few months. That didn't mean he shouldn't proceed with caution. When he'd been ordered to hack them by Gibbs he could hide behind that if he got caught (though he'd rarely been caught). In this case he couldn't do that. He couldn't get caught on this one; he wouldn't get caught on this one. It put the pressure on, making him sweat profusely even as he sat there, barely moving, save for his fingers which were flying around the keyboard with no hesitation.

The only sounds filling the room were the harsh clicks of the keys, the monotonous ticks of the clock and the violent beats of his heart. Maybe it was his imagination, but the latter sound was almost deafening. But why should he care how loud the beats were? No one could hear him; no one was there. Right? Feeling the hairs on his neck begin to prickle, he looked quickly over his shoulder. No one was there.

Get a grip, he told himself as he turned back around. Just get in, get the job done, and get out.

Time sped by and before he knew it he was done. He removed the flash drive and pocketed it before he shut down the computer. He still had a sheen of sweat on his forehead as he rode the elevator up, though a quick wipe of his arm got rid of that. By the time he left NCIS he was completely composed and had worked his heartbeat down to its regular pace. He resisted the urge to grin in satisfaction. He had done it!

The security guard at the front door gave him a nod as he walked past. "You're here awfully late."

He shrugged. "Figured I'd get a lot of my paperwork out of the way so I wouldn't have to come in early tomorrow."

"Well, you have yourself a good night, Agent McGee."

Fornell opened the door and shed his coat. He hung it on the rack in his foyer before going into the kitchen and pouring a glass of Scotch. He tried not to drink during the week, but damn if he hadn't earned it that night. Today had not been the best of days and tomorrow would prove to be an even worse day. He didn't like the idea of accusing someone of treason, especially not someone he'd held in such high regard. No doubt many people would be surprise; hell, he'd been surprised when he'd had the first suspicion, but he'd had no choice but to investigate it further.

He lifted the glass to his lips and drank the entire thing in one gulp. Then he poured another. The damn kid had been good, he'd give him that. Of everyone in the agency he'd been the last person Fornell would have suspected of treason (and that included Fornell himself). Of course, he conceded, that was the point. No one suspected a guy like that. They brushed him off as being a geek and geeks can never pose a threat. Until they do, Fornell thought wryly to himself.

With the second glass in hand, he returned to the living room, kicked off his shoes, and sat down on the couch. The file was there on the coffee table where he'd left it that morning. He flipped through it. The kid had started off small: first he'd grabbed low-class information, stuff that anyone with basic hacking skills could get. It would get him some money on the secret-trading market, but not much. As time went by, the hacker had gotten cockier and had begun stealing more high-class things, the kind of things people would pay good money for. The kind of stuff not just anyone could gain access to.

He turned on the television but he wasn't paying much attention. His mind was on other matters.

As he returned to the kitchen for another glass of Scotch the ground shook beneath him. He couldn't be sure if he heard it or saw it first, but he turned just in time to watch his couch explode. The force propelled him backward into the dinner table, his body knocking the table over onto its side. He landed behind it, falling among pieces of glass from his now shattered centerpiece (a birthday gift from his ex-wife and one he wouldn't spend much time mourning) and the piles of paperwork he'd left on the table that morning. Fornell's head struck the hard linoleum floor and his mind began to go black as his former couch blazed in the living room.

The last thing he thought before falling unconscious was that how glad he was that Emily was staying at her mother's house that night.

AN: This story is already complete and I'll post about one chapter a day (maybe one every other day depending on how busy I get). When reading this, just remember: sometimes things aren't what they seem!