No Matter How Far We've Come, I Can't Wait To See Tomorrow .... With You

Jizzy Pickle -The male sex organ. Resembling a pickle, but with jizz.

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You can't catch me
mcgee, sexy, timmy

Title: You can’t catch me
Author: DarkDani
Rating: PG-13 I’m guessing. There’s kinda disturbing imagery involved, but it’s more suggested rather than out right.

Genre: Angst

Word Count: 417
Summary: I’m waiting

Disclaimer: Don’t Own ETC
Author’s Note: Dunno where this came from. Hope u like.

Back against the wall, knees pulled up to his chest, arms wrapped round himself. Timothy McGee stares at the wall ahead, motionless. A cold nose rubs against his hand, arm, face. ‘Jethro’ his mind slowly supplies. If he concentrates hard enough, he can hear his dog whimpering. Distressed by his owner’s state. You can’t catch me.

He vaguely hears a clink. Jethro must have nudged his keys. He feels the canine rest his head on his arm. His keys are on the floor; where Tim dropped them. After he had driven home on auto-pilot. Before he slide down the wall. I’m waiting.

How long had he sat here? ‘Hours’ his mind supplied, again. Long enough that the glow was from street lamps. No longer the mocking sun-shine. Blistering heat made the nauseating smell that much worse. Long enough that all was silent. No kids playing, shouting, laughing. Kids happy, smiling, like they should be. No blank gazes, from lifeless eyes. Long enough that his phone gives a beep. His inbox is full. Missed messages. Missed calls. Missed texts. Long enough, that the insistent knocking on his door isn’t loud enough to wake anyone in his building. Not yet, anyway. You’re not good enough.

Jethro growls at the door, the un-named person, the noise. ‘You should probably answer that’ He’s hearing voices. Great. ‘Don’t anger the Boss, Probie.’ Tony. Eyes normally happy, full of mischief. Now cold, empty, glaring. Abby, Ziva and Tony leaving together. Tim had felt a flicker of relief. No-one should be alone. Getting wasted together. Always did after a hard case. Tim too, normally. Not today though. They blamed him. You can’t catch me.

The trail was cyber. Links, video, pictures. He was the one that let them down. Let her down. Flashes. Blonde, Blood, Bile. So much innocence, gone. Ripped to pieces. Click. Come on Timothy. I’m waiting.

It had been a game. You can’t catch me. I’ll give you a week. You can’t catch me. Repeated over and over and over. On every video. Every Picture. One everyday. Kidnapped, tortured, slaughtered.

Links to photos. Links to videos. Links to bodies. All taunting. You can’t catch me. Door opened, closed. Growling stopped. Links, computers. ‘You’re good at computers, aren’t you Timothy?’ Not good enough.

Arms wrapped around him, strong, safe. I’m waiting. Calloused fingers stroked his hair. You can’t catch me. Soft words are whispered. You’re not good enough. He wasn’t good enough. 8 bodies. 7 innocent.

You didn’t catch me. I win.

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Crying is good! It means that you were able to connect with the reader. :D (In this case, me.)

That sounds great. It was my pleasure. <3

lol ok then. I'm glad u cried? =/ =D x

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