Authors note: Just something I decided to do out of extreme boredom. I think Tony/Tim from NCIS is awesome and anyone who doesn't; the answer is simple. / DONT READ. / I own nothing except for my own ideas, and the horrible want to actually own the show, though I don't. And also, making McGee go to the Comic Con as Logan was just a funny stunt for me, since Wolverine is one of the most Bad ass mofos out there, and McGee is so... Not. XDD

- Tony DiNozzo slammed his hand down on the steering wheel in front of him; he'd long since put his car in park and unhooked his seatbelt, though he had yet to get out. Instead, he'd sat in silence in front of the Federal Prison in Hopewell, VA. He remembered easily the past frantic weeks they'd gone through; Him and the rest of the NCIS team, trying to prove Timothy McGee's innocence. Of course.. In the end, there was little they could do, despite the fact the same team had managed to prove his own innocence against a frame up a while back. Of course, with McGee's case, there had been hardly any way to prove he didn't kill his former best friend from childhood; Petty Officer Jeffrey Simmons, who had wound up dead a little over a month ago.

Of course, with Gibbs being Gibbs, so as to not ruin NCIS reputation, he'd handed over the investigation of such a crime to the FBI; who as far as Tony was concerned, had done a shitty job. Nothing came out right; or rather, everything went perfectly smooth, which was what Tony was so concerned about. For one, he knew his Probie; incapable of cold blooded murder generally, but even if he had been, McGeek knew enough from their own investigations not to leave evidence at the scene of a crime. But there had been enough evidence in Jeffrey's appartment to convict him. Two, was the crime scene itself. The body had been found slumped in a sitting position on his couch, his arm slung over the back of the couch to the side, as though he'd been sitting, hanging out with a friend while he'd still been alive. Likewise, there were two bullet wounds in his body; one from the side of his head, where someone must have been sitting, and one straight to the heart from a frontal position. The bullets proved to come from the make of gun McGee carried.

There was a lot of blood from just these two wounds, but it made sense with the amount of alcohol bottles scattered around the appartment; and clutched in a deathgrip by Jeffrey. All of the bottles had been tested, and one of the bottles on the coffee table had tested positive for McGee's saliva. From there, a small trail of blood marked a path straight to the victim's bathroom, where in the drain, a few hairs of McGee's were found. That seemed to be the end of the evidence at first, but upon inspection outside, obviously there was more 'blunders' on McGee's part. Hidden in a plastic bag inside the shrubs that bordered the doorway to the house, blood soaked clothes were found; both McGee's size and style. And if that wasn't enough to put a red, flashing sign above Probie's head, the driveway was made up of a decoritive, colored sand; which had also been found in the tires of the car McGee currently owned.

Only making matters worse, McGee had been out and away from the Office for a few days durring the time of the murder, and none of the agents there had known exactly where he had gone. So of course, McGee had been pulled in for some extensive questioning. Durring the interrogation, McGee had hesitantly offered up in an embaressed tone that he'd gone to the Comic Con in Ruckersville, Virginia. It had taken another few nervous filled moments for him to admit he'd gone as James Howlett; or rather, Wolverine. Unfortunately, when those who the FBI could bring in for questioning from the Comic Con were asked, none were able to place McGee there at the time; " To many Wolverine's to count this year. " They'd said.

When McGee had offered to show the costume he'd worn in a little proof of his testimony, it had both shocked NCIS and the FBI that McGee couldn't produce said costume; " It must have been stolen! " he'd claimed, but it didn't matter to anyone but his team, it seemed. Even for the Jury, the pan of events had been easy to see; McGee drives himself alone to Jeffrey's house in Ruckersville, sits down and has a beer with a drunken friend. Pulls his gun, and shoots him once in the head, then stands up, and shoots him again in the heart. Walks to the bathroom, cleans up, dresses in different clothes and stashes the bloodied clothes in a bag in the shrubs. Makes his getaway in the car he came in. The only thing missing was motive; until an anonymous call came in, tipping off the FBI about a recent fight between McGee and Simmons about McGee's father that had come to blows. The call was unable to be traced.

McGee was sent to trial and convicted for the murder, and sent here; to the Federal Prison in Hopewell, Virginia. Even a month later, the team that had been left behind had continued to work as much as they could, to somehow come up with evidence that would prove McGee's innocence, despite the overwhelming, incriminating evidence. The only things they'd come up with in such a long time, however, were McGee's professed innocence, and a powdery residue on the steering wheel and handle of McGee's car, the bottle that had his saliva on it, and the doorknob on the victim's house. Which could all be counteracted by the 'evidence', and the presumption McGee was wearing gloves.

McGee's absense had taken it's toll on the NCIS agents - his friends, foremost - since he was convicted. It hadn't been Gibbs' fault that he'd had to terminate McGee's employment there, but damnit, Neither had it been McGee's! Tony DiNozzo startled himself by banging his fist against the wheel of his car again, bringing him out of thought and back to where he sat in the car. But he was still reluctant to get out; to face the boy he'd easily teased and picked on and made fun of, even though he'd been his best friend durring the entire time. This entire month, he hadn't been able to bring up the nerve to face him, because of everything that they had done - and weren't able to do.

He owed the guy a visit, though. He owed it to McGeek to show him that he still believed he was innocent. So, taking a large breath to steady his already trembling body, - nervousness or anger? - DiNozzo finally willed himself to open the car door and step out into the huge parking lot for the Prison. It was because of his preoccupied thoughts, however, that he didn't hear the footsteps behind him, silent as they were. It came as a moment of surprise as something harshly hit the back of his head, then everything disappeared into a world of black as he passed out; he never even felt the pavement strike his flesh as he fell.

- DiNozzo slowly woke up, fully clothed, to the feeling of soft warmth against his back and left side, the feeling of a head tucked neatly under his left arm, against his chest. For a second, he thought he had woken up with his last affair; a pretty blonde who had actually tired him out fairly well durring the night. But as he slowly opened his eyes, the exact opposite of the girl's room found his eyes; instead, he found bare walls painted a deep red surrounding them. He and whoever was with him was lying on a rather comfortable bed, the ruby red covers laying smoothed out underneath the two bodies, ready to be used. Next to them, to the left a ways, was a lone refridgerator, and next to that was a bathtub. On the next wall to the left of the tub, was a sink, and a toilet. The floor was white tile, and other than what little furniture was already glanced at, there was nothing else in the room.

Except for the huge, glass structure situated more than twelve feet above DiNozzo and the body sleeping against his, and next to the structure looked like a speaker. Besides this, there was no way to get in or out of the room; no windows, no doors, no trap doors, hitches in the walls; nothing. Blinking his eyes a few time to rid them of sleep, DiNozzo tried to make sense of what he was seeing, though he couldn't. He was slightly startled, though, when the body next to him shifted, a small sigh of awakening vibrating out of the form. But as DiNozzo glanced down at the awakening person, even more shock filled his form.

McGee was sleepily blinking up at him, wearing the same clothes his senior had last seen him in; a bedraggled suit without a tie. Confusion filled both of their hues, which was only amplified by the sudden, female voice that seemed to float over them from every corner of the room, though after a few seconds, DiNozzo figured out it was coming from the speaker previously noted.

" Good morning, Boys. Welcome to your first day of Hell in Paradise. "