Home     The Sentinel     Stargate SG-1     NCIS     Supernatural     SVU     Firefly    Awards

Angels and Heroes    
by Kikkimax

"Tony?"

"Yeah?" came the reticent reply from somewhere on the other side of his monitor.

"What are you doing?"

A faint sigh sounded before Tony finally looked up and logged off the network. "Just checkin’ something."

"Care to share?" Kate prodded, ready to get to the bottom of the mysterious and apparently unwanted present.

"Not really. It’s personal."

"Personal?" Gibbs asked with his usual impeccable timing, seemingly appearing out of nowhere as he made his way to his desk and sat down. "Surely not on my time."

"Dammit," Tony muttered sotto voce as he gave Kate the evil eye. "Not really personal-personal, Boss. Sort of work-related personal," he explained sheepishly.

"Well that’s clear as mud," Kate taunted, enjoying watching her frequent tormentor squirm for a change.

"Elaborate," Gibbs ordered, folding his hands in front of him and turning his cool blue eyes to DiNozzo in rapt attention.

Tony released another deeper sigh and reached for the parcel, holding up the shiny gift for inspection. Gibbs narrowed his gaze and stared at it intensely for a moment then wordlessly nodded his understanding, apparently satisfied by the non-explanation as he pulled out a file and turned his attention to it.

Still in the dark, Kate bit back her annoyed and somewhat perplexed envy of their silent man-communication. "I see you haven’t opened it yet," she pressed for more information, looking from Tony to Gibbs. "Is it ticking or something?"

"No," Tony huffed with a mirthless laugh, placing it back in the bigger box and tossing the whole thing into the trashcan next to his desk.

"Tony!" Kate objected, crossing over to retrieve the smaller package. "You’re not even going to see what it is?"

"I know what it is. It’s a Christmas ornament."

"Oh." Kate stood holding the present, going so far as to raise it to her ear and shake it gently. "It’s not broken," she offered tentatively. "Why would someone send you an ornament in June?"

"Leave it alone, Kate," Gibbs warned. He spared her an irritated glance when she didn’t promptly return the gift to the garbage.

"Do you want to open it?" Tony finally asked in mild exasperation.

"Not if you don’t want me to," Kate lied as she plucked at the red ribbon hopefully.

"I don’t care," Tony mumbled, making of show of pulling out a case file of his own. "You can have it."

Kate gleefully took the box back to her desk where she untied the ribbon then cut the tape with a letter opener, unfolding the elegant gold paper carefully.

"DiNozzo?" Gibbs queried, sounding a little worried.

"It’s okay," Tony assured without looking up. "It’s safe. My mother has four of them."

Kate froze. "Safe? Why wouldn’t it be safe?"

"It’s a yearly offering from the follower of a serial killer who Tony put away way back when he was still a green-behind-the-ears rookie cop," Gibbs supplied with the tiniest touch of pride in his voice.

"Something my mother does not know and I’d like to keep it that way," Tony advised seriously. "I told her I was in an ornament club."

"You were a uniformed officer?" Kate questioned, hesitant to open the box now that she knew its significance.

"No, Kate," Tony deadpanned, "They handed me a gold shield the minute I graduated from the police academy. What do you think?"

"I never really thought about it at all, I guess," Kate admitted, trying to picture a younger, less cocky DiNozzo in blues. She smiled at the image.

"You gonna play with it all day or open it?" Gibbs asked impatiently checking his watch.

"No," Kate responded in an apologetic tone aimed at Tony. "I didn’t realize. I’ll throw it away."

"Go ahead and open it. It only means something if I let it, right?" Tony soothed himself as much as Kate. "Just, ah… do me a favor and don’t keep it on your desk, okay?"

"Sure." Staring down at the now completely exposed white box, Kate hesitated once again.

"Open the damn thing," Gibbs growled at her.

When she jumped Tony was quick to grin at her and she knew it would be okay. She untucked the top flap and pulled back the thick layer of bubble wrap to find a delicate, hand-spun glass angel.

"Oh, Tony, it’s beautiful." She held it up by a tiny golden chain, watching the light dance over its intricate surface. "So the perp is sitting on death row, I take it."

"Actually, no," Tony responded uneasily. "He never even made it to trial, he offed himself in the county lockup the night we busted him."

"So who sends the ornaments?" Kate questioned carefully as she set the angel out of Tony’s line of sight, paying more attention to his guarded body language.

"I’ve never been able to find out. They’ve all had phony return addresses and postmarks from all over. But this one and the one last year were both mailed in DC."

"This makes ten, right?" Gibbs asked.

"Actually, this is number eleven. I get one once a year on the next victim’s birthday in the order they were killed. I hate to admit it but it took me five years to figure it out. Which is why I gave the first four to my mother, it took that long to piece together the pattern," Tony confessed a little awkwardly. "I thought last year would have been the last one because there were only ten victims."

"That might be significant," Gibbs warned, leaning forward attentively. "I’d like to go over the original case file."

Tony hesitated, actually looking like he might object for a few seconds before nodding his compliance and typing something on his keyboard. "There," he said, having already stored a copy of the file on his own hard drive. He still had friends in the most unexpected places.

"Why an ornament?" Kate persisted, trying to understand.

"Tony busted the guy on Christmas Eve," Gibbs clarified as he brought up the file Tony had sent him. "Single-handedly, I might add."

"I never said that." Tony frowned as Gibbs smirked back at him.

"It’s a big gold star on your record, DiNozzo. Or don’t you think I checked you out before I hired you?"

"That is pretty impressive," Kate exclaimed, "A rookie taking down a serial killer alone."

"I didn’t do it alone; there were dozens of people on the task force. And I wasn’t exactly a rookie," Tony grumbled petulantly. "I’d already been on the force for a couple of years."

Gibbs harrumphed. "Rookie."

"So why haven’t I ever heard about this? It’s not like you to gloss over your accomplishments."

"It’s no big deal," Tony muttered, uncharacteristically humble. "I got lucky."

"Oh come on, Tony," Kate wheedled. "Don’t be so modest, it doesn’t suit you. I want to hear how you brought down the big bad murderer all by yourself."

"Drop it, Kate," Gibbs said evenly, as he read the information on his screen.

Tony swallowed once then spoke so softly Kate almost missed it. "I was his type."

"His type," Kate repeated, suddenly getting the picture.

"Yeah… tall, slender, dark hair… young. "

"Male prostitutes," Kate guessed as she crossed the aisle and settled on the edge of Tony’s desk.

"Most were runaways just trying to survive, but a few were pros," Tony agreed grimly. "The department pulled in practically every young cop on the beat for the undercover detail after the press got wind of it. Before that it hadn’t really been a high priority case."

Kate felt a shiver run down her spine. "And out of all the decoys the killer picked you."

"We’d been running the undercover operation for a little over three weeks with no luck even though most of the local talent was in short supply. Those kids were scared for good reason. The smart ones relocated," Tony explained bleakly, running a hand over his face, obviously disturbed by the memories. "We were gonna shut down the next day for Christmas."

"Tony, you don’t have to…"

"It was cold that day. Really cold," Tony continued, keeping his voice low. "As soon as I saw him on the street, I thought he might be the guy even though he never approached me. Finally he showed up at the fast food place where I went to get coffee and warm up every few hours. He didn’t really do anything except watch me, but somehow… I just knew."

"You’ve got good instincts," Kate encouraged quietly.

"After a while he walked over and very discretely showed me a pair of fur-lined handcuffs and a hundred dollar bill," Tony managed a small laugh. "Then he showed me the number on a key to a room in a fleabag hotel down the road. Two of the bodies had been discovered in cheap motel rooms so it sort of fit the killer’s erratic MO. I finished my coffee and followed him out. My team was on the ball so I don’t think I was ever in any real danger."

"Then what happened?"

DiNozzo let out a long slow breath. "It’s kind of anti-climatic actually. When he let me into the room he locked the door and asked me when my birthday was. I made something up and he marked it in his date book. I asked if he was planning to kill me and he admitted that he was. When he pulled a knife, I pulled my gun. By the time my backup kicked in the door a minute later I already had him in cuffs and was reading him his rights."

"God, Tony," Kate whispered. "Weren’t you afraid?"

"Not at the time," Tony shrugged unassumingly. "It happened too fast. I got the shakes later, but I played it off as adrenaline."

"Let me guess, he vowed revenge."

"Nope. Just the opposite," Tony replied nonchalantly, getting to his feet. "He called me his angel, his… hero. He said I’d freed him from his demons. I’m gonna hit the head," he added as he wandered away from his desk.

"Sorry, Gibbs," Kate offered guiltily. "I didn’t mean to open any old wounds."

"You didn’t know. Hell, I didn’t know the specifics," Gibbs allowed as he snapped on a latex glove and rounded his desk. He plucked the empty box out of the trash and held it out to Kate. "See if Abby can pull any prints off this. In fact, take all of it."

"Why?"

"There were only ten victims. I don’t know if Tony remembers or not," Gibbs replied pointing to his own computer, "But the birthday he gave the killer was June 15^th."

"That’s day after tomorrow," Kate responded worriedly as she put on her own gloves and gathered the wrapping paper. "So you think whoever is sending the angels might try to finish what the killer started."

"Better safe than sorry," Gibbs retorted.

Tony wasn’t exactly in the mood to discuss his love life with Margo Camp, the network administrator and resident busybody. When he heard her voice coming from the breakroom he hung back from the door holding his empty cup as he considered his options. Endure an interrogation here with the benefit of caffeine or retreat back to his desk to ward off pitying looks from Kate without. He really needed some coffee he decided unenthusiastically.

Taking a chance, he leaned forward to peek into the small room, nearly bumping heads with the guy from the mailroom as he looked out, obviously slipping under Margo’s man-finding-radar. They exchanged brief, conspiratory nods in passing and Tony tried again. Just as he thought Margo held the fresh pot of coffee hostage while sharing the latest office gossip with Bradley Honeycutt, another of NCIS’s more attractive young agents. She spotted Tony instantly and waved him in. Caught, Tony tried to force a polite smile as he entered, already working on an excuse to get in and out quickly.

Brad’s eyes were glazed over but he nodded at the appropriate times and Tony realized he was looking for a reason to bolt. Not willing to be the next victim, DiNozzo ignored the pleading look and carefully backed towards the coffee machine, tuning out the conversation completely. With a sigh he poured himself the dregs of the decaf instead of waiting for the good stuff. By the time he poured the scant remains of the Hazelnut creamer into his bitter brew Brad was making his escape.

"Oh, honey," Margo exclaimed, turning her sights on Tony. "Don’t drink that." She swiped his cup and dumped the contents into the sink then filled it with fresh, real coffee. "There’s a new carton of creamer in the fridge," Margo instructed as she topped off her own beverage then finally set the pot back on the burner. "Be a doll and get it, would you?"

Obediently, Tony opened the mini-fridge without actually bending over as he suspected Margo wanted him to do. Keeping one eye on the much older woman he quickly located another pint carton, surprised to find it already open. He poured some in his cup and then a larger amount into Margo’s when she held it out to him.

"Thank you, sweetheart," Margo crooned as she took a big drink. "So have you gotten yourself a girlfriend yet?" she fished for information. "I know a charming young woman who would love to go out with you. She’s my daughter’s neighbor’s second cousin. Okay, I haven’t actually met her myself but they say she has a wonderful personality. Do you like kids? I think she has four."

"DiNozzo, Gibbs wants you," Brad said, sticking his head back in the doorway.

"Sorry, Margo, I gotta go," Tony apologized as he took his cup and fled. "Thanks, man, I owe you one," he muttered to Brad once they cleared the room.

"You sure do, you bastard," Brad confirmed, well aware Tony hadn’t even tried to help him. "But Gibbs really is looking for you."

"Oh. Shit. Thanks anyway," Tony replied as he hotfooted it back to his desk. "What’s up, Boss?" he asked a minute later, sitting his untouched coffee down to put his jacket on.

"Grab your gear. We’ve got a body down at the docks," Gibbs informed him. "Where the hell is Kate? Kate!"

Tony slid his weapon into his holster then took advantage of the brief wait to pick up his cup and take a sip. He made a face at the taste and set it aside as Kate came sprinting down the stairs.

"Where’ve you been," Gibbs questioned her. "We’ve got to go."

"You sent me to the lab, remember?" Kate retorted as she hurried to get her gun.

Gibbs moved to the elevator and Tony grinned at a frenzied Kate as he followed.

"Wait for me," Kate called after them, grabbing her bag and barely squeezing in as the doors closed.

Leaning back in the seat Tony closed his eyes and took a few deep breaths as they came to a stop. Either he’d picked up a stomach bug somewhere along the way or Gibbs’ driving was inexplicably getting even worse. It had to be Gibbs’ driving, he decided since he’d felt fine when they’d left the office. Before he could get his door completely open Gibbs was already out of the truck and headed towards the gathered police cars and emergency vehicles.

"Are you planning on getting out sometime today, Tony?" Kate asked as she grew impatient and crawled out the driver’s side instead of waiting for him.

"Right behind you," Tony sighed as he finally opened his door, taking another second to clear his head before standing up.

"That’s an interesting shade of green," Kate commented, shouldering her bag as she came around the front of the truck to follow Gibbs.

"Where?" Tony asked nonplussed as he glanced up and down the gray strip of asphalt wedged between two rows of long, flat warehouses parallel to the water. "There’s not a tree in sight."

Kate stopped and turned to really look at him. "I was talking about your face. Are you okay?"

"I’m fine," Tony lied. "Let’s get over there before he starts to yell." They ducked under the yellow tape and headed directly to the scene. Tony’s gear seemed especially heavy and his feet didn’t want to move in a straight line but he put his physical discomfort aside and tried to concentrate on the job. "What have we got?"

"It’s a dump job," Gibbs replied from where he squatted next to the body of a dead sailor wearing a duty uniform. "There’s not nearly enough blood for him to have been shot here. And look at the way the body is arranged. Nobody hits the ground that neatly after taking a large caliber slug to the head."

"We thought he was sleeping," a cop standing behind Gibbs provided uneasily. "We didn’t even see the blood until we got out of the car."

"You found him."

"Yes sir, we were making our normal rounds. This place is usually dead unless a ship is coming in. No pun intended."

"It might not be that busy but it isn’t exactly covert either, he’s in the middle of the road," Gibbs mused as he carefully checked out the wallet on the ground. "It wasn’t a robbery. There’s sixty bucks and two credit cards right here."

"Why would someone dump a body in such a conspicuous location?" Kate asked, looking around.

"Because they wanted it to be found," Tony surmised as he pulled the camera out of his kit.

Gibbs frowned in Tony’s direction as he rose to his feet and turned a suspicious eye to the artificial canyon around them. His gaze came to rest on the small crane that almost completely blocked the end of the road. Further away he spotted a man loaded down with equipment working his way to the top of a cell tower. He made a mental note to send someone to question him since he had a bird’s eye view of the entire vicinity, although he was still climbing and probably hadn’t been there long enough to see anything useful.

"How far away is Ducky?" Gibbs asked as he brought his attention back to the immediate area.

"I’ll check," Kate replied as she pulled out her phone and hit speed dial. She walked away a few feet so she could hear.

"What’s in these building?" Gibbs questioned the small crowd of dock workers.

"Overflow from the main warehouse," a man in coveralls stepped forward to answer. "Not much at the moment; empty pallets mostly. We were dockside but came over when we heard the ambulance."

"Did you touch the body?" Gibbs asked the EMTs.

"Nah," the older guy said with a shrug. "We could see he was dead. I mean the whole back of his head is gone."

"Ducky’s still at least twenty-five minutes out," Kate reported, rejoining the group. "Something came up at NCIS as he was leaving the building."

"Swell," Gibbs grumbled as he turned to address the group around him. "Okay, listen up. Everybody stay put until we can interview you. And keep your eyes open, people."

Kate exchanged a glance with Tony. "Gibbs?"

"This set-up is hinky."

"What are you thinking, Boss?" Tony asked as he lowered his bag and tried not to look as dizzy as he felt.

"I’m thinking this is a hell of a location for an ambush. Kate, laser and sketch, DiNozzo, sit down before you fall down. Give me the camera, I’ll take the photos."

"What? Why?" Tony started to protest when the crack of rifle fire split the air.

The first bullet took out one of the lights on top of the police cruiser sending pieces of colored plastic flying through the air. Bodies dove in every direction in a confused panic, no one quite certain which direction the shot had come from.

"The cell tower!" Gibbs shouted as he ducked behind the squad car and pulled his weapon. At his warning people scrambled for better cover on the opposite sides of the haphazardly parked vehicles as the second, third and forth shots echoed around them.

"Tony!" Kate shouted as she spotted her coworker down on the ground out in the open. The splash of crimson on his face was easier to see but less worrisome than the wet spot spreading across his dark jacket. The camera lay busted beside him.

She moved to break cover but Gibbs grabbed her by the arm and yanked her back. "Stay down," he ordered tersely. "DiNozzo?"

Still under fire, Tony grunted and rolled onto his stomach then crawled as fast as he could to the relative safety offered by the ambulance, leaving a bloody trail behind him. He laboriously propped himself up against the rear wheel then pulled out his gun. Breathing heavily, he closed his eyes.

"DiNozzo!" Gibbs called urgently, staying low as he tried to edge closer. Another carefully aimed shot kept him in place. "Tony, drop your weapon and put pressure on that wound. Now!"

"Pressure," Tony repeated breathlessly. He lay his gun down beside him and clutched at the hole in his shoulder. The soggy cloth immediately gave way to little rivers of red that trickled between his fingers.

"That’s good. Good job, Tony. Don’t let go," Gibbs praised. "Has anybody called in for backup?" he shouted to no one in particular.

"Help is on the way," one of the policemen assured loudly. "I’ve advised dispatch we have an officer down and we’re being fired on from the cell tower north of our location. The SWAT team and an army of cops should be here soon."

"I hope it’s soon enough," Gibbs muttered, well aware they were sitting ducks until a sharp shooter could take out the perp.

"Tony?" Kate asked, dropping down to peer under the car when she heard the sound of retching coming from the direction of the ambulance. She got an excellent view of bile as it hit the asphalt.

Tony coughed and wiped his mouth with his bloody sleeve. "Hell of a time to be car sick," he muttered. "I’m okay."

"You’re not okay," Kate argued across the distance separating them.

"It’s just a flesh wound."

"Cut the macho bullshit, DiNozzo," Kate scolded under her breath. "Yesterday you were acting like you were going to die from a splinter."

"He’ll be okay," Gibbs said, sounding more like he was giving an order than offering reassurance. When he dared to take another peek a shot ricocheted off the bumper right in front of him. "Dammit! He’s got me pinned. Maybe someone else can get to DiNozzo if I distract him."

"I’ll go," a voice said from the next vehicle over. Gibbs looked up at the rather muscular paramedic and narrowed his eyes as he assessed him. "I was a special forces medic, sir. I’m trained to work under fire."

Gibbs nodded his approval. "Go around the other way, as far away from me as you can get."

"Yes sir." The man quickly moved to the far end of the other car then shook out his hands and positioned himself like a runner on the starting blocks. "I’m ready."

"On three," Gibbs instructed as he readied himself for the fake out. "One… two… three!" He bolted forward a step then immediately pulled back. The sniper didn’t let him down, knocking out a headlight and showering Gibbs with glass.

In the meantime the medic sprinted for the ambulance. He yanked open the side door to hastily grab a tackle box then dropped down next to Tony. "How ya doing?" he greeted, barely winded as he gently pushed Tony’s head back to get a better look at him and take a pulse.

Tony sluggishly glanced up at him through his lashes but managed a grin. "I’ve been better, actually."

"I take it from all the shouting you must be Tony?"

"Good guess."

The man slipped a pair of trauma shears out of his pocket and made quick work of Tony’s suit coat. "Well Tony, you’re a little shocky but I think you’re going to be fine. You can call me Doc."

"Doc, of course," Tony slurred, not bothering to complain about the expensive jacket. It already had a couple of holes in it anyway, not to mention the growing stain.

"Let’s have a look," Doc said as he cut away Tony’s bloody shirt. "Wow, it’s through and through your upper arm."

"Ha, Kate," Tony muttered, gritting his teeth as Doc applied a pressure bandage. "I told ya it was just a flesh wound."

"Whew. You’re a very lucky man," Doc replied, trying to keep his head down as the sniper continued to make pot shots into the knot of vehicles all around them, sending debris flying. "There must be an angel on your shoulder today."

Tony looked at him oddly but before he could comment he felt another wave of nausea. He pushed Doc away as he brought up more bile.

"Oh man," Doc commiserated as he handed Tony another bandage to wipe his mouth. "That’s a weird reaction to getting shot."

"I was queasy when we got here," Tony told him, trying not to gag on the taste in his mouth. "It seems to be getting worse."

"Stomach flu?"

"I don’t think so. It came on too fast."

In the distance they could hear the wail of multiple sirens and the random firing abruptly ceased. "Here comes help," Doc soothed as he finished up the bandage and rubbed Tony’s back as he puked again. "We’ll have you fixed up in no time."

"How is he?" Gibbs asked as he suddenly dropped down in front of them with Kate half a step behind.

"Are you trying to get shot?" Tony gasped out between ragged breaths.

The nearby squeal of tires as the police car speed away almost drowned out Gibbs answer. "The shooter is on the run. He probably panicked when he spotted the entire local police department headed this way."

"They’ll get him at the bottom of the tower if he doesn’t break his neck on the way down," Kate added as she brushed Tony’s matted hair back from his forehead. "How are you doing?"

As if in answer Tony’s eyes rolled back and he began to seize.

Gibbs handed the sniper over to the NCIS agents who met them at the door and then thanked the police officers who had helped him transport the man back to headquarters. He considered changing before starting the interrogation but the blood on his clothes was from one of his own and that raised the ante considerably. The stains would serve to remind the perp just how high the stakes were. But first he had to see Ducky who had never shown up at the scene but had sent for the county coroner instead.

"What the hell is going on, Duck?" Gibbs asked as he entered the morgue and stopped short.

"Ethylene glycol," Ducky announced without looking up from taking pictures of the still-dressed corpse on his table; the body of Margo Camp.

"Antifreeze?"

"Hmm? Oh yes, it is a main ingredient in a lot of the older types of antifreeze. It’s also in hydraulic brake fluid, photographic developing solutions, industrial solvents for lacquers and paints, and even cosmetics in small amounts. How is Tony?"

"The round tore up some muscle and cracked the bone in his arm on the way through," Gibbs sighed, running a hand through gray hair that he swore was getting grayer as the day wore on. "They were more concerned with the seizures and persistent vomiting when I left. Kate’s going to call if anything changes."

"Yes, I’ve just spoken to the attending physician to advise appropriate treatment. They should be administering the antidote as we speak. I believe we got it in time."

"Ethylene glycol," Gibbs said in a deadly calm voice as he caught on.

"No doubt you wondered why I begged off the shooting. We had problems closer to home."

"Margo?"

"She was the first," Ducky sighed solemnly. "Her coworkers said she appeared to be intoxicated shortly before she began to vomit. By the time the ambulance arrived she had gone into a state of protracted seizures. She died en route to the hospital. In the meantime, four more people became ill. Five counting Tony. Frankly, I thought we had an epidemic on our hands or perhaps some type of bio-terrorist attack."

"Well that explains the ambulances out front. How’d you figure it out?"

"People were staggering, disoriented, and vomiting. Just as I decided to quarantine the building Abby got the first tox-screen back," Ducky explained, setting the camera aside. "Looking at the symptoms I should have realized sooner. It took us a little longer to find the source."

"Which was?"

"Nearly one third of the contents of the hazelnut creamer in the first floor coffee room was undiluted solvent."

"And nobody noticed?"

Ducky shook his head. "In its pure form ethylene glycol is clear, colorless, odorless… and very sweet. In fact most poisonings from it are accidental ingestions by children and animals who like the taste. It takes less than a teaspoon of antifreeze to do in a normal sized housecat, you know."

"A teaspoon? How much creamer do these people use?" Gibbs asked, appalled by the idea of anything but black coffee.

"Aw, but this was full strength. It would require a lesser dose to be lethal. Although I do suspect Ms. Camp was not a firm believer in moderation."

Gibbs stared at Margo’s pale, bloated face. "Could this have been an accident?"

"Very doubtful," Ducky exclaimed sadly. "It’s more likely we have a snake in our midst."

"Lucky? How do you figure that?" Tony grimaced as he shifted his weight on the bed to find a more comfortable position. "I was shot and poisoned all in the same day."

"And you survived both," Kate pointed out, tucking another pillow behind his injured shoulder then fussing with the blanket.

"I guess. Poor Margo," Tony sighed. He wiggled a little more causing the extra pillow to fall then waved Kate away with an irritated grunt when she tried to replace it.

Holding her hands up, Kate backed off. "You want to try a little water now?" she asked as she held up the Styrofoam pitcher. "Just wet your mouth," she encouraged when he pulled a face and looked away.

"Maybe later," Tony hedged as he closed his eyes, not willing to risk another bout of vomiting. His abdominal muscles ached almost as bad as his arm. "The pain meds are making me drowsy. I think I’ll take a little nap."

"Well, it’s not like you’ll dehydrate," Kate gave in, glancing at the assorted bags of fluids hanging above the bed. "How many IVs do you have now anyway?"

"Just two needles," Tony mumbled. "That stuff’s all piggybacked together. Kate?"

"Yeah Tony?"

Tony opened his eyes and looked at her suspiciously. "Doesn’t Gibbs need you back at the office?"

"He’s got McGee," Kate shrugged, obviously hiding something. "Are you trying to get rid of me?"

"No, I just wondered why you’re still hanging around when there’s work to do. I mean it’s not like I need a bodyguard or anything. They got the guy who shot me."

"Yep, sure did. I understand Gibbs has been interrogating him for the last three hours. I almost feel sorry for the guy. Almost."

"But you’re still here because he’s not the one who poisoned me and everyone else."

"There’s no way the sniper got into NCIS," Kate confirmed reluctantly. "He didn’t show up on any of the security cameras and he’s a big boy, hard to miss. Considering the lengths the person with the poison would have had to go through to bypass security, it was most likely an inside job."

"And Gibbs thinks this whole thing has to do with the eleventh angel," Tony surmised.

"It’s a hell of a coincidence, wouldn’t you say? Two attempts on your life hours after receiving it?"

"Kate?"

"Yeah Tony?"

"If I start to puke again will you put me out of my misery?" Tony asked groggily as his eyelids fluttered shut. "Shoot me right between the eyes this time."

"It would be my pleasure," Kate assured as she settled in a chair next to the bed to watch over him. "Go to sleep."

"I done told you, I don’t know nobody named DiNozzo," Junior Silva swore savagely as the sweat poured down his face.

"Then tell me why, out of all the people you had in your sights this morning he’s the only one you actually managed to shoot?" Gibbs asked as he leaned back in his chair, away from the stale odor of booze and perspiration.

"I don’t know. I ain’t that great a shot when I’m drunk," Junior insisted. "Maybe he was the only one who wasn’t fast enough to get outta my way."

"Not that great a shot? You kept me pinned pretty easily."

"Hey, I was trying to hit you."

"Is that a confession?"

"No! I just… I want my lawyer."

"He’s on the way," Gibbs advised coolly. "I understand he got caught up in traffic."

The big man wiped his damp brow. "I have the right to remain silent."

Gibbs smiled and took a long drink of coffee. "Sure you do. Just listen while I do the math."

Junior shrugged, going for nonchalant but coming off as scared to death.

"Let’s see, there were at least a dozen people under fire, so that’s attempted murder times twelve. Say you get ten to fifteen years per person to run consecutively. You’re looking at a minimum of a hundred and twenty years. And that’s before we even consider Seaman Perez’s murder."

"No, no, I didn’t kill him," Junior jumped up in a panic. "I found him. He was already dead, I just moved him to a better location."

"Oh, you found him."

"That’s right."

"Where?"

"Outside my back door when I got home from a club last night."

"And what time was that?"

"I don’t know, around three I guess. He was just layin’ there like a gift or something. I thought it was a sign."

"A sign?" Gibbs asked, narrowing his eyes.

"Yeah."

"So you’ve been planning this little shooting arcade for a while."

"No. I just been thinking about it, working out the details," Junior admitted, panting as he began to pace. "Like a fantasy."

Gibbs sat perfectly still as he registered the information. "Have you ever told anyone about this fantasy?" he asked at last.

Junior started to shake. "I don’t know. I do stupid stuff when I drink. I don’t remember."

"Was there a lot of blood outside your back door?"

"Hardly any," Junior said softly, as tears welled up in his eyes. "At first I thought he was asleep. But he didn’t move when I rolled him and I realized he was dead."

Gibbs glanced up at the two-way mirror as he got up. "Get the truck," he ordered, knowing McGee was on the other side.

"You rang, Ducky?" Abby asked, hiding her worry as she strolled into the morgue.

She’d found her favorite medical examiner uncharacteristically tight-lipped over the phone when he’d ask her to come down. It had already been a bad day for both of them considering their colleagues had been attacked in their own house but Ducky was as resilient as anyone, more so than most and his decidedly un-sunny disposition at the moment was disconcerting.

The tables were empty but Ducky appeared grim as he looked up from the photo he held in his hand. "I’ve just received a preliminary report from a good friend of mine at the DC coroner’s office. I need a second opinion before I call Gibbs."

Abby pursed her lips in confusion as she accepted the printed out picture. When she glanced at it her knees went weak and she reached for the counter for support. "Oh God," she gasped, inadvertently dropping the photograph.

"Oh dear, that’s what I thought. It’s alright," Ducky soothed as he helped her to a nearby stool. He retrieved the offending material from the floor and tried to hand it back to her. "Please, look again."

Shaking her head Abby tearfully turned away. "I can’t."

"It’s not Tony."

"What?" Abby grabbed the paper and stared at the dead face accented sharply where the long dark lashes swept down to rest against pale skin. "Are you sure?"

"I’m positive," Ducky assured. "I even called the hospital and spoke to Kate. She assures me our boy has been sleeping soundly all afternoon. This unfortunate individual is Seaman Alfredo Perez."

Abby set the picture aside and shakily fingered one of the spikes on her dog collar as she thought out the implications. "Why didn’t anyone mention the resemblance?"

Ducky frowned. "If I were to guess I’d say residual gray matter and blood splatter from the gun shot wound obscured the likeness at the scene. And I might add; sniper fire is rather distracting."

"Ya think?" Abby snorted.

"Indeed, I do," Ducky assured seriously. "On first glance I thought perhaps I was imagining things, maybe letting my worry for Tony slip into my work."

"No, that guy is a dead ringer… uh, you know what I mean," Abby rambled on, irritated by her unintentional pun. "He looks just like Tony."

"Overall, his facial features are similar," Ducky agreed. "However Seaman Perez was shorter, more slight, ten years younger, and his eyes were brown."

"Not to mention the military haircut."

"Yes."

"I don’t get the connection."

"There’s more," Ducky sighed. "Our young sailor was sexually assaulted prior to being shot then redressed postmortem. It was a bit of a political pickle, but the body is on the way here now."

"Gibbs wouldn’t have it any other way," Abby nodded supportively.

"So it was a double dump?" McGee asked as he examined the scene in Junior Silva’s small but trashy backyard.

Gibbs pinned him with a stare. "A double dump?"

"Well, there’s some blood, but not nearly enough for Perez to have been shot here, either," McGee offered uneasily. "Somebody dumped him here then Silva found him and moved him to the docks."

"Or someone left him here specifically for Junior to find."

"You think he told someone about his fantasy to shoot a bunch of police officers and that person pushed him into it by providing the bait."

Gibbs eyed him again then answered his ringing phone. "Gibbs." He glanced at McGee as he listened intently. "I want you to get that body… oh, right. Good job, Duck. Yeah, we’ll finish up here then head back... Yeah, we still don’t have the initial crime scene. It looks like a double dump. Sketch and photos, McGee," he ordered brusquely as he hung up.

McGee couldn’t help but grin at his boss’ use of his newly coined colloquialism but with one more look from Gibbs he quickly wiped it off and got to work.

Tony groaned as he opened his eyes. His body protested every little movement but he was so thirsty. The room was semi-dark and he could just make out a cup and pitcher off to his right. Confused by a drug induced fog he knew something bad must have happened but it was just too much trouble to pull his jumbled thoughts together at the moment. And all he really wanted was that damn cup that seemed so far out of reach.

As if reading his thoughts a hand came into view to bring the desired object toward him, placing the straw against his lower lip. Gratefully he drew up the cool liquid into his mouth but just as he was really getting started it was pulled away.

"Just sips," a familiar voice urged quietly. "I don’t ever want to have to watch you puke again."

"Gibbs?" Tony uttered feebly, squinting up at his boss as a light came on directly over him bringing everything around the bed into a surreal halo.

"Well it ain’t Florence Nightingale."

"No, that would be Kate," Tony replied as he became more coherent and tried to sit up. "I thought she was going to nurse me to death." He winced and resigned himself to lying flat when Gibbs took mercy on him and used the bed control to raise the head slightly. "Thanks. What time is it?" he asked with a heartfelt yawn.

"It’s late. You’ve been asleep for a long time. That morphine pump works wonders to shut you up."

"Where are we on the poisoning?" Tony inquired as he arranged his IV lines so he wouldn’t pull them.

Gibbs sighed and rubbed his eyes. "You want the facts or what my gut tells me?"

"Your gut," Tony answered immediately, accepting the cup as Gibbs passed it over to him. His mouth still felt like it was stuffed with cotton but his stomach remembered the nausea so he wisely did as Gibbs had suggested and stuck to sips.

"There’s a connection between the shooting and the antifreeze in the creamer."

"No," Tony protested. "Kate said the sniper was some psychotic redneck who wanted to off a cop."

"And he damned near did, didn’t he? If he hadn’t been so hung over he probably would have shot more than one. It’s a wonder he didn’t kill himself climbing the cell tower."

Tony chuckled softly at the thought. "They say God watches out for fools and drunks."

"Yeah," Gibbs agreed with an amused snort. "And Junior qualifies on all counts."

"Well there you go."

"Tony, I think you were the objective in both attacks," Gibbs went on somberly. "You received an extra angel two days prior to your reported ‘birthday’. Then your favorite creamer was contaminated in the office where you work taking down four of your coworkers along with you, one of them fatally."

"So the guy doesn’t care how many innocent people get hurt," Tony said with a guilty start.

"And the body of a sailor in uniform made sure NCIS would be lured into the ambush. Even though Junior swears he wasn’t specifically gunning for you, the poison slowed you down enough to make you an easy target."

"Couldn’t this all be just a great big cosmic coincidence?"

"DiNozzo."

"That’s right," Tony backpedaled. "You don’t believe in coincidences."

"You are the factor that links these events together. And it all goes back to a serial killer you caught twelve years ago."

"So that’s where we start," Tony said determinedly, handing the cup back as he settled against the mattress. "What do you want to know?"

"I’ve read the case file and some of the newspaper stories up to Godwin’s suicide. Tell me what happened next."

Tony shook his head as he tried to clear his mind of everything but the past. "The next month was a media circus and it only got worse after someone leaked Godwin’s date book-cum-diary to a tabloid. They printed it word for word right down to dental appointments and scheduled oil changes for his car."

"That explains how the perp knew when to send each angel."

"Yeah. Part of it was the private life of an ordinary Joe and the rest read like a how-to manual for up and coming killers. He wrote a description of each rape and murder on the date it occurred in chilling detail."

"So who leaked the date book?"

"They finally pinned it on Jason Thompson."

"The lead detective on the case?" Gibbs asked in surprise.

"I thought he was smarter than that but when he showed up at work in a brand new corvette the next week Internal Affairs nailed him to the wall."

"That’s pretty circumstantial; do you think he really did it?"

"He was a twenty year veteran on the force. I think it was hard for him to be upstaged by a rookie," Tony explained. "But he wasn’t even there for the bust. The case didn’t seem to be going anywhere so he’d taken a couple days off for Christmas when it went down. He didn’t even get his ugly mug on camera."

"He took a vacation during a case?" Gibbs asked in disgust. "He deserved what he got."

Tony grinned. "Not everyone has your obsessive work ethic, Boss. But yeah, he was a jerk about the whole thing. He took early retirement rather than walk a beat."

"And that’s when you made detective."

The grin quickly faded. "It was the mayor’s idea. I was his new golden boy. Needless to say, it didn’t go over too well in the ranks when I got promoted into Godwin’s position. It was hell."

"I can imagine," Gibbs commiserated. "But obviously you handled the job."

"They all said I was a spoiled brat rich kid who would quit when the going got tough. Maybe they were right because when I got an offer from Peoria less than two years later I jumped ship and never looked back."

"But you did some damn fine work while you were there, and under pretty abysmal conditions," Gibbs argued. "In fact I spoke to Captain Leo DeSanto before I hired you."

"You did," Tony asked in disbelief. "Just how far back do you go with your background checks?"

Gibbs allowed an evil grin. "I know how you got an A on your Spanish final your senior year at Ohio State."

Tony coughed uneasily wondering what other embarrassing tidbits Gibbs might have turned up. "The teacher was hot. For an older lady," he added under his breath.

"Do you want to know what Leo said about you?"

"God, no. He rode me like a two dollar whore. He hated me."

"He said you had the best natural instincts of any cop he’d ever worked with," Gibbs told him anyway as he casually stretched his legs out. "He also said you were a spoiled brat rich kid but you hung in there and he always knew you’d be a hell of a detective once you got some experience under your belt."

If Tony was surprised he didn’t show it. "All I ever wanted to be was a cop," he said seriously before catching himself. "Or a fireman, or a cowboy," he covered, "But mostly a cop. I guess you also know my father didn’t approve."

"I know. Let’s get back to the case," Gibbs said, letting Tony off that particularly painful hook.

"Where were we?" Tony asked, suppressing another yawn.

"Thompson got busted for being an idiot."

"Oh yeah, Thompson was out, I was in. The anniversary of Godwin’s death came and went without much notice except for a little recap in the local paper at the bottom of page 4D. I can show it to you if you want."

"You kept the clipping?"

"Well it had my picture on it," Tony grinned sheepishly.

"Of course."

"Uh, I got the first angel in February the next year. I didn’t even associate it with the Godwin case. By the time I got the second one, I was already in Peoria. It got me curious, though, but like I said, I didn’t even detect a pattern until the fifth year," Tony sighed and closed his eyes.

The moment stretched a little too long and Gibbs reluctantly gave him a shake. "Come on, Tony. Concentrate. Who might have sent you the ornaments?"

"It was a long time ago," Tony protested groggily. "I’ve slept since then."

"You’ve slept since we started this conversation. That’s beside the point."

"You know, I considered Thompson and his buddies at the precinct at first but little glass angels weren’t really their style. They were more of a ‘lure you into a dark alley and beat the crap out of you’ group of guys."

Gibbs clenched his jaw, finally making sense of something else he’d read in DiNozzo’s file. "You should have pressed charges."

"That wasn’t an option at the time. I could take the name calling; rent boy and faggot and whatever else their sick little minds could come up with. I could even take a couple of beatings. I couldn’t take them thinking I was a rat."

"Aw, Tony," Gibbs grumbled. "You didn’t have to prove anything to those assholes."

"I know that now. What can I say? I was young and dumb."

"Some things haven’t changed," Gibbs quipped.

"You know I’m only trying to toughen McGee up when I give him a hard time? I would never harass him the way I was harassed."

"I know. I think deep down he knows it, too."

"Someday he’s gonna tell me to shove it," Tony said, looking ahead proudly. "That’s when I’ll stop worrying about him."

"You never stop worrying about your problem children," Gibbs assured with a smirk. "So what about Godwin’s family?"

"Oh yeah," Tony perked up. "The wife used to send me letters."

"Threats?"

"No, no, more like… love letters. Apparently Charlie was shit for a husband and I did her a huge favor by catching him. It couldn’t have been her though. She died of AIDS a few years later but the angels kept coming."

"Let me guess, Charlie brought HIV home to her?"

"Yeah, the sorry bastard. He never even got sick."

"I need to see those letters."

Tony snorted. "They’re long gone, Boss. I threw them out as soon as I got them. I didn’t even read the last four or five. They were just so sad."

"You destroyed evidence in an ongoing investigation?"

"There wasn’t an investigation at the time," Tony pointed out. He grunted as he reached for his watch on the bedside table.

"Well there is now," Gibbs argued, knowing he was being unreasonable.

"I’ve never noticed how scary you are at two a.m. before," Tony declared as he gaped at him. "You’re looking a little rough. Shouldn’t you get someone else to baby sit me while you get some rest?"

"Kate and McGee need to sleep, too," Gibbs replied. "Considering the circumstances, there’s no one else I trust at the moment since Abby and Ducky don’t carry guns."

"Oh," Tony murmured, feeling ridiculously sentimental at the idea of his team protecting him, which he immediately attributed to the drugs.

"Just a few more minutes then I’ll let you go back to sleep," Gibbs promised. "Other family members?"

Tony let out a breath as he tried to think. "There was a brother, a lifer in Sing Sing, but they had a falling out when they were young and hadn’t talked in years. And Godwin had two kids, a boy and a girl but they were like nine and twelve at the time of the murders."

"Who raised them after mom died?"

"Uh, maternal grandmother in Utah," Tony managed as his eyes slipped shut once again. "I think she’s passed now, too."

"We should probably locate the kids just to rule them out," Gibbs said thoughtfully to himself as Tony drifted back to dreamland. He decided to wait until later to tell him just how much he resembled a dead man.

Gibbs wasn’t especially surprised to find Abby already in the lab at five a.m., but a closer inspection revealed she hadn’t just arrived. She was still there, she just hid the signs of an all-nighter a lot better than he did as she be-bopped to her tunes and worked over the uniform on her table. "Abs," he greeted as he turned down the music that was a tad too loud for his weary senses.

"Morning, Bossman," Abby returned cheerfully as she pulled off her gloves. "How’s Tony?"

"He was sleeping like a baby when I left," Gibbs shrugged. "What have you got?"

"Well…" Abby drawled as she motioned him over to her side. "For starters, this isn’t Seaman Perez’s uniform."

"What? Abby, I want you to focus on Perez…"

"Gibbs," Abby interrupted. "This is the uniform he had on when he was discovered, it’s just not his. At least it’s not one he was issued by the Navy."

Gibbs cut his eyes back to the clothing as he snapped on some latex and lifted the shirt. "Okay, so there’s no name tag or rate insignia," he agreed.

"Right. And there never has been, either. Sewing thread would have left tiny holes in the fabric above both shirt pockets and on the shoulder."

"And on the back of the dungarees," Gibbs finished for her.

"Yeah, I always thought that was cute the way Seamen wear their little names on their butts. Anyway, I’m thinking this came from a surplus store. It’s never been washed, at least it doesn’t have any typical laundry products on it, and probably never worn at all prior to Perez’s swan song. It still has creases where it was folded. And here’s the kicker… this isn’t even Perez’s size. I checked his records; these are two sizes bigger than what he normally wears."

"So the express purpose of the uniform was to draw in NCIS."

"Or Tony. Oh, and I found two hairs on the front of the shirt. Both belong to Junior Silva."

"Hey," Kate called as she walked through the sliding doors. "I thought I’d find you here."

"Oh?" Gibbs asked, raising an eyebrow as he accepted the tall coffee she handed him. "Am I that predictable?"

"Process of elimination. Ducky’s still asleep on the cot in his office."

"That’s my next stop."

"Did you get some sleep?" Abby asked Kate.

"Some," Kate assured. "I’ve been thinking about our killer. I think we’ve got a copy cat on our hands."

"The MOs don’t match," Gibbs argued as he lifted the lid and sniffed the coffee before taking a sip. "Godwin used a knife, this guy killed with a 357."

"He’s progressing. To his mind the only reason the first guy was caught was because Tony had a gun."

"Never take a knife to a gun fight," Abby quipped. "Duh."

"Maybe that’s why he tried to take out DiNozzo," Gibbs mused. "He thinks Tony might catch him, too."

"I don’t get it," Abby said, shaking her head. "Does he want to draw him in or take him out?"

"I don’t think the killer knows either," Kate explained. "His actions are intricately planned out but erratic in their purpose. This guy’s conflicted."

"Well he’s had twelve years to think about it, I’d say he’s unstable as well."

Kate nodded grimly. "What about the package?"

"God! The outer wrapper had at least eight different prints and that’s not counting Tony’s and Kenny’s."

"Kenny?"

"Kenny Black, you know, the kid who works in the mailroom? Anyway I got sidetracked with the Perez stuff but since postal workers are federal employees it should be a snap to rule out most of the extra prints. I haven’t dusted the insides of the package yet."

"Well get on that as soon as you finish with this," Gibbs instructed. "There should only be three sets of prints on the gift paper."

"Three?"

"Yeah, I opened it. My prints will be there," Kate supplied.

"So yours, Tony’s, and the killer’s," Abby counted out on her fingers. "I’m on it."

A soft hand on his forehead woke Tony and he gently grasped it to pull it down to his lips as he stirred from a pleasant, recurring dream of Rosanna Esposito slowly stepping out of her frilly, pink prom dress. He could feel the light streaming through the window on his face as he opened his eyes… and screeched. But in a totally macho, manly way he told himself as he thrust the hand away.

"McGee!" he yelped, now utterly and completely awake.

"Yuck," Tim complained as he jumped back and wiped off the back of his hand.

"What the hell were you doing?" Tony asked defensively to shift the focus to the younger agent and away from the fact that he’d been on the verge of nibbling on his fingers.

"I was trying to see if you had a fever," McGee stammered, slowly turning three shades of red.

"I’m not sick," Tony growled, "I got shot."

"And poisoned. I know. But nosocomial infections are rampant these days."

"Nosy… what?"

"Nosocomial, it comes from the Greek nosos-- disease and komeion-- to care for."

Tony glowered at him in disbelief.

"It’s an infection you acquire while you’re in the hospital, usually from poor hand washing techniques by the staff. Uh, staff members, not Staph like the bacterium."

"So what does a staff infection do?" Tony asked uneasily as he thumbed the control and raised the head of his bed until he was almost sitting. He gritted his teeth as the pain caused by the movement subsided.

"Staph or staff?"

"Staff? The nosy one."

"Nosocomial? Oh, uh, fever mostly."

"Oh. Okay. What about the other?"

"Pustules, abscesses, boils, impetigo. Of course a Staph infection can also be nosocomial…"

"Stop," Tony commanded, suppressing a shudder. "You’ve been hanging around Ducky again, I can tell."

"Actually," McGee explained as he took a seat next to the bed. "I went through a period when I was younger when I wanted to be a doctor."

"Yeah?" Tony asked, feigning interest as he arranged his more or less useless arm below his injured shoulder across his lap.

"I even did a volunteer stint at my local hospital when I was in high school."

"You were a candy striper?" Tony questioned with a grin, now fully involved in the conversation.

"No," McGee denied haughtily, "I was a student volunteer."

"Yeah, they call those candy stripers," Tony insisted. "You were a candy striper."

McGee let out and annoyed sigh. "Sort of," he admitted.

"Candy striper."

"Yes, Tony! I was a candy striper. Are you happy now?"

"Ecstatic," Tony confirmed as he really smiled for the first time in two days. "Since you’re so experienced you can help me up."

"You’re on bed rest," McGee balked. "That means you have to stay in bed," he threw in meanly.

"Come on, McGee. I need to pee. Hey, that rhymed."

"You are peeing."

"What?"

"You’ve got a urinary catheter in," Tim said, not without a little pity. "It irritates the urethra and that makes it feel like you need to pee."

Tony grimaced as he lifted the covers and took a tentative look. "Is nothing sacred?" he moaned, wondering how he’d gone so long without noticing the rubber implement sticking out of his manhood. "Damn morphine," he swore dejectedly as he pulled down his gown and lowered the sheet.

"They’re uh, they’re monitoring your output. One of the problems caused by ethylene glycol poisoning is kidney failure."

"You learned that as a candy striper?" Tony questioned dubiously.

"No, I asked Ducky about your prognosis and he told me all about the symptoms."

"You actually listen when Ducky goes off on a tangent?"

"You don’t?"

"Your hands are really soft," Tony abruptly changed the subject before he could say anything under the influence of the drugs that might get him in hot water with the M.E.

"Thank you," McGee answered cautiously as he gauged Tony’s sincerity. "I started using Udder Butter a while back."

"Udder Butter?"

"It was originally produced for chapped teats but dairy farmers found it to be a very good hand cream."

"Hold up for a minute," Tony protested impishly. "I’m still on chapped teats."

"Cows, Tony."

"Yeah, yeah, dairy farmers, I got that. Let me see your hands."

McGee studied him distrustfully before slowly offering both hands. Tony frowned as he examined one then the other, taking the time to really feel the difference as he compared the skin texture to his own.

"Udder Butter, you say. Where’d you get it?"

"They have it at any good drugstore," McGee provided helpfully as Tony continued to stroke his palm experimentally.

The door opened and they dropped their hands like they’d been stung. McGee rapidly moved away from the bed and Tony cleared his throat as he rearranged the cover nervously.

"Good morning, Mister DiNozzo," the young nurse greeted with a smile. "Let’s get you cleaned up before breakfast."

"Bed bath?" Tony inquired, both eyebrows going up hopefully.

"Of course," the nurse replied, glancing at McGee. "Your friend can help you if you would rather?"

"No!" Tony and McGee yelled at the same time.

"No, really, he was just leaving," Tony said, shooing McGee to the door with his eyes and a jerk of his head.

"Sorry, Tony. Gibbs left very specific instructions."

"And you always do what Gibbs says, don’t you?" Tony grumbled.

"So do you," McGee pointed out obstinately.

"Five minutes," Tony bargained, smiling at the nurse. "Make it ten. Gibbs will never know."

"Gibbs knows everything," McGee objected, moving to the door anyway as he had no desire to watch Tony being bathed. "Five minutes, and I’ll be right outside."

"Ten!" Tony called after him as he slipped out the door. "We work together," he told the nurse as she drew up a basin of warm water.

"This is Seaman Apprentice Robert Andrews, Seaman Perez’s roommate," Kate introduced as Gibbs entered the interrogation room. "Robert, this is my boss, Special Agent Gibbs."

"Sir," Andrews replied formally, jumping to attention.

"At ease," Gibbs ordered the baby-faced redhead as he looked him over. "And don’t ‘sir’ me, I work for a living. Are you even old enough to be in the Navy?"

"I’m nineteen, sir…" Andrews protested meekly. "I mean, uh, Special Agent Gibbs," he corrected when an icy glare was directed at him.

Gibbs glanced at Kate for conformation of his age then sat at the table when she nodded. "You were the last person to see Perez alive. That we know of."

"Yes ssss… uh, Yes."

"When was that?"

"Day before yesterday," Andrews provided, still standing at parade rest, the understood ‘sir’ almost audible.

"Are you nervous, son?" Gibbs asked, narrowing his eyes suspiciously.

"Y…yes."

"Gibbs," Kate interrupted with a longsuffering sigh. "Can I see you outside?" Gibbs shifted his frown to Kate but she stood her ground. "Please."

"Fine," he grumbled as he got up and followed her to the exit. "What’s so damned important?" he asked irritably as soon as they were in the hall.

"Why don’t you let me handle this one?"

"What?"

"Look, Gibbs, I know how upset you are," Kate appeased. "But you’re intimidating the poor kid to the point he can’t even talk."

"No I’m not."

"Yes you are. He was fine before you came into the room. And he is alibied. He had guard duty from four p.m. until midnight on the night Perez was killed. Three other people have already verified he never left his post."

"And Ducky puts the time of death between nine and eleven," Gibbs recalled.

"That’s right."

Gibbs released a pent up breath. "Five of our people…"

"I know, Gibbs, I know," Kate interrupted again. "I want the bastard, too. Look, you’re tired. You were up all night with Tony. You want to beat the crap out of somebody."

"I’m not quite sure how you meant that," Gibbs pondered thoughtfully. "Do I want to beat the crap out of somebody because I’m tired or because I was up all night with DiNozzo?"

Kate paused to think about what she’d said. "I’m sure there’s a correlation there either way," she decided. "I just don’t think you’re the best person to interview this particular witness at this particular time."

"Fine," Gibbs finally gave in. "Have at him. I’ll be watching."

"Thank you."

"But don’t baby him," Gibbs called after her as she slipped back into the interrogation room. "He’s still a sailor whether he shaves yet or not."

Kate rolled her eyes but didn’t comment as she closed the door behind her. "Robert, please sit down."

"Yes ma’am," the nervous young man replied as he pulled out a chair and complied. "Can I call you ma’am, Ma’am?"

"Sure," Kate soothed, taking the seat opposite him. "Or you can call me Kate if you’d like."

"Yes ma’am," Robert nodded then glanced over his shoulder at the door.

"Agent Gibbs had some other business," Kate lied, knowing the man wouldn’t relax if he were aware Gibbs was still watching.

"Oh. That’s too bad."

Kate couldn’t help but smile at the overwhelming relief in his voice. "Okay, why don’t you tell me about the last time you saw Alfredo."

"Al," Robert corrected. "He went by Al. Uh, he was still in our room when I left for guard duty. He was watching ESPN."

"Did he have any plans for the evening?"

Robert let out a deep breath. "He didn’t say but I assumed he might have gone out looking for a little action."

"You mean he was looking for sex," Kate prodded.

"Yes."

"Where would he go? A bar or club?"

"No ma’am," Robert said bashfully, his cheeks slowly turning the color of his hair. "He liked a sure thing and he didn’t mind paying for it."

Kate raised an eyebrow. "He solicited prostitutes."

"Yes ma’am."

"Male or female?"

Robert gasped. "F…female," he stammered, shocked by the other suggestion. "Al wasn’t gay, ma’am."

"You sound awfully sure about that."

"He was my bunkmate, I would know if he was gay. Besides, the United States Navy doesn’t allow fags."

"Whoa," Abby laughed as she entered the room behind Gibbs catching the seaman’s erstwhile proclamation. "What world does this guy live in?"

"He’s a little naïve," Gibbs agreed. "But if he’s right about Perez’s penchant for picking up hookers it reinforces the copycat theory."

"So Perez goes to an area worked by pros and ends up getting picked up himself?"

Gibbs shrugged. "He could have had a gun pulled on him or otherwise been coerced."

"Maybe somebody saw something."

"Maybe, but how many working girls do you know who would willing come forward with something like this? We’ll canvas the hot spots anyway."

"We may not have to," Abby said. "I got a print. It’s the kid from the mailroom."

Gibbs shook his head. "That doesn’t really prove anything. He could have been with Tony when he opened the outside package. It’s not unreasonable to think he might have touched it."

"Uh uh. The print is not on the paper, it’s on the angel. And Tony didn’t open the gift, Kate did. So unless Kenny’s been opening people’s packages…"

"Even that’s not completely out of reason."

"Yeah, but the print is… uh, small."

"Small?"

"It’s definitely Kenny’s print, it’s a ten point match. But it’s from when he was a lot younger."

"Where is Kenny now?" Gibbs asked stonily.

"He called in sick," Abby sighed. "No one’s seen him since yesterday."

McGee checked his watch again. It had already been twelve minutes but the last time he’d peeked in the nurse had politely asked him to get lost. He wondered if he was really hovering or if DiNozzo had prompted her. Admittedly, Tony didn’t seem as happy about the actual bed bath as he had been at the idea of one. Just as he was working up the nerve to open the door the elevator at the end of the hall dinged.

Tim gulped apprehensively and held his breath as he prayed Gibbs wouldn’t be the one to step out when the door opened. "Kenny," he sighed in short-lived relief that waned as soon as he got a good look at the young man.

The kid’s usual fly-away blonde hair was matted to his head with sweat and his ruddy complexion appeared pasty and pale. The long coat he wore was out of place but Kenny seemed to be shivering in spite of it as he stumbled out of the elevator. He breathing was labored as he used the wall to support himself and make his way down the hall towards Tony’s room.

"Kenny?"

"Agent McGee," Kenny greeted somewhere between a wheeze and a slur. "How is Agent DiNozzo?"

"He’s uh, he’s getting better," McGee said warily. "On the other hand, you don’t look so hot."

Kenny stopped a few feet away and smacked his lips as he leaned his forehead against the wall. "Not again," he whispered as he clutched his abdomen with his left hand. He moaned pitifully and began to pant slightly.

"Are you going to be sick?" McGee asked with concern as he approached, receiving another moan in response. As he got closer he smelled urine and realized Kenny’s pants were soiled. "Kenny, did you drink hazelnut creamer in your coffee yesterday?"

"Felt bad," Kenny managed.

"You felt bad after you drank it," McGee surmised. "We’ve got to get you down to the emergency room." He tried to slip an arm around Kenny’s waist but the other man balked and pushed him away, almost falling in the process.

"I felt bad about poisoning all those people," Kenny spat out between ragged breaths as he began to cry.

"Oh Kenny," McGee said as he pulled out his cell phone. "Why?"

As the tears began to flow Kenny wiped his nose with his sleeve. "Tony was always nice to me," he sniffled. "He always took the time to speak to me, you know?"

"Sure," McGee appeased as he hit speed dial.

"A joke or… or a story."

"I know. That’s DiNozzo, always talking."

"Sir! You can’t use that in here," the nurse scolded as she came out of Tony’s room. "It interferes with the cardiac monitors."

"Oh that’s right," McGee swore as he hung up. "Sorry. Look, this man has been poisoned. We need to get him to the ER right away."

The nurse took one look at Kenny and ran for the nurses’ station. "I’ll call for a stretcher."

Kenny used the distraction to lunge for the door behind McGee, clumsily trying to pull a large handgun from his pocket as he did. Tim grabbed his arm and easily put him down. Once he hit the ground Kenny rolled to his side and began to dry heave.

McGee quickly pulled out a handkerchief and used it to secure the weapon, stuffing it into the back of his pants under his suit coat.

"Shoot him," Kenny begged McGee as the nurse got back and knelt at his side using one hand to push his hair out of his eyes and the other to check his pulse.

"Why, Kenny? Why do you want to kill Tony?"

"I dream of angels," Kenny whispered, suddenly quiet and still, "but I live with demons. I heard that on TV once."

"What does that mean?" McGee questioned anxiously as he watched the dull eyes lose focus. "Kenny?"

"I lost his pulse," the nurse uttered frantically. "Code one hundred!" she shouted over her shoulder.

McGee got to his feet and stumbled out of the way as hospital staff came running. He stared for another second before pushing open the door and retreating inside to check on Tony.

"What’s going on?" DiNozzo asked worriedly from the chair at the side of the bed.

"Should you be up?" McGee countered as he hastily made his way to the bedside phone.

"It’s okay," Tony assured sounding more alert than before. "She took out the torture device. She also took away my morphine pump but I gotta tell you it was a fair trade. So what’s all the commotion out there?"

"It’s Kenny Black," McGee said as he dialed NCIS. "He came to kill you."

"You mean the kid from the mailroom?" Tony asked in confusion. "No way. Kenny likes me… in a hero-worship kind of way."

McGee cut his eyes back to Tony as he punched in the extension and wasn’t surprised when it was picked up on the first ring. "Gibbs, I think I’ve got the murder weapon."

"Kenny’s dead," McGee announced as he entered the bullpen late in the afternoon.

Abby looked up from where she sat on the edge of Tony’s desk while she waited for Kate to get off the phone. "I don’t suppose you’re talking about South Park," she said sadly.

"What’s South Park?" Gibbs asked as McGee shook his head.

"You know, ‘You killed Kenny, you bastard’," Abby elaborated in a high voice while she made ‘quote’ marks in the air.

Gibbs raised an eyebrow and looked even more confused.

"Ah, it’s an animated TV show, Boss. The character Kenny somehow manages to get killed in almost every episode."

"And children find that funny?" Gibbs questioned in disgust.

"It’s not actually a kiddy show, Gibbs," Abby rolled her eyes. "But somehow I don’t think you would enjoy it either. How’s Tony?" she asked as she turned back to McGee.

"Physically he’s fine. The doctor said they’re going to let him go home in a couple of days. I don’t know about emotionally though, he wanted to be alone for awhile. Let’s just say he was surprised to find out Kenny Black was actually Kenneth Godwin."

"I wonder how that fact slipped by the personnel office," Gibbs retorted. "How the hell did he even get a security clearance in the first place with a serial killer for a father?"

"I did a little checking up on that. To push the mail cart he only needed a confidential clearance," McGee explained. "While it’s true he had a limited amount of access to some sealed classified stuff he wasn’t supposed to be opening it. Did you find anything when you searched his apartment?"

"You mean aside from the fact that he lived in the same duplex as Junior Silva?"

McGee cringed at how close they’d been. "Yeah, aside from that. Did he kill Perez inside and then just dump the body out back? That doesn’t make any sense."

"Nope, not a drop of blood anywhere," Gibbs replied as Abby got up and located the remote to the big monitor. "We still don’t have our original crime scene."

"They did find this in the back of the closet," Abby said as she punched up a picture of a well worn, flat cardboard container. "There’s still an angel in it but it’s smashed into a million little pieces. It only holds six so we have to assume he discarded the first box after six years. But doesn’t sending the angels seem like an awfully grown up thing for a little kid to do?"

"Well he didn’t start it, he was only nine at the time of the murders," Kate put in as she hung up the phone. "I just talked to his sister and got the whole story."

Gibbs smirked. "Kate, we never get the whole story."

"Do you want to hear it or not?"

"Enlighten us," Gibbs invited as he sat back and put his hands behind his head. "The short version," he added tiredly.

"Okay, I can do short. Godwin’s widow became somewhat enamored of the picture in the paper of the young man who caught her cheating, murdering husband and tried to strike up a correspondence with him."

"Who wouldn’t be enamored?" Abby asked, earning a hurt look from McGee. "What? Tony’s hot."

"Tony sent her a one-time note of condolence and it was enough to encourage her. But after almost a year of sending him letters she finally realized it wasn’t going to get her anywhere so she moved the kids back to Utah to live with her mother. After they settled in she was afraid Tony would forget how important he was to her so she started the angel ritual as a way to keep in touch with him. Kenny and his sister promised to continue sending them after her death four years later. She treasured the note from Tony so much they buried her with it."

"Aw, that’s so sweet," Abby interrupted again with a lump in her throat. "Tragic, but sweet."

"Well Grandma Black didn’t think so. In fact she was so against the whole thing she once threw one of the boxes against the wall breaking two of the angels."

Abby jumped up and clicked the remote again. "Thus the super glue," she proclaimed as a picture of the angel came up. "Please note the hairline fracture along the left wing. The glass had recently been cleaned with alcohol but it couldn’t remove the adolescent’s fingerprint embedded in the glue from years before."

"Good work, Abs."

"Hey, that was a gimme."

"Lisa, that’s the sister, said she left the rite up to Kenny after she went away to college," Kate went on to explain. "She said he was a little obsessed by it anyway."

"Why the secrecy?" Gibbs asked.

"They didn’t want Grandma to find out. According to Lisa she was a tyrant who made their lives a living hell. After their mother died and she had sole custody she had their last names legally changed to Black. Both kids left home as soon as they finished high school. Lisa says she’s sorry she lost touch with her brother, but he always seemed out of reach anyway."

"Where is Lisa now? Is there any chance she’s involved in Perez’s murder."

"No chance. She lives in Kyoto Japan with her businessman husband and hasn’t been to the states in several years."

"There are too many lose ends," McGee said to himself.

"What was that McGee?"

"Ah, what was the significance of the uniform? And why did Kenny try to lure us out to the docks in the first place if he already thought Tony was taken care of? And why after all these years did he decide Tony needed to die anyway?"

"He was out of angels?" Abby suggested.

"Gibbs was right," Kate sighed reluctantly. "With Kenny dead we never will know the whole story. Are you about ready?" she asked Abby as she gathered her things.

"Hey, I’ve been waiting on you."

"Where are you guys off to?" McGee asked hopefully as they waved and started to the elevator.

"We’re going to drop in on Tony before visiting hours are over," Abby grinned. "Wanna come with?"

"Pass," McGee laughed. "I think Tony and I have reached our tolerance levels of each other for one day."

"Kate, work up a profile on Kenny for me," Gibbs called after them. "And write up the specifics on the sister."

"It’ll be on your desk first thing Monday morning," Kate promised as they got into the elevator.

"So," Gibbs asked as he turned back to McGee. "How long were you out of the room?"

Sunday turned out overcast and breezy with a threat of rain, perfect weather for the afternoon agenda Tony thought morosely as he stepped away from the hospital window. He allowed Kate to help him slip his good arm into the jacket of his ‘funeral’ suit. Since his injured arm rested in a sling with the upper portion bound tightly to his torso by a wide elastic and Velcro contraption, the other sleeve hung empty by his side.

"Hold still," Kate scolded as she pulled out a safety pin and attempted to stick it into the elegant fabric.

"Ow," Tony complained with a wince as he shrugged away from her. "That’s silk, ya know. That pin’ll leave holes."

"Well you don’t want the sleeve flapping in the wind do you?"

"No. Why do I have to wear this stupid bondage gear to the service anyway? I can put it back on when I get home."

"That was the deal, DiNozzo," Kate sighed in exasperation, finally losing patience with his constant fidgeting and increasingly sour disposition. "The only reason they’re letting you go is because you promised to keep the sling and swathe in place. I guarantee they’re not gonna let you walk out of here without it."

"Just tuck the sleeve into the pocket," Abby suggested as a compromise from her perch on the bed where she’d watched Kate practically dress their uncharacteristically somber friend in the clothes they’d brought him from home. "It’s a cool look. It gives you a certain one-armed-man/James Bond mystic."

"Yeah?" Tony asked, straightening his shoulders as he studied his reflection in the bathroom mirror through the open door. Abby and Kate took the opportunity to roll their eyes and exchange knowing grins.

"Oh yeah," Abby assured with a playful leer. "I’d do ya."

"I wouldn’t," Kate put in with a wicked grin as she turned him back around and tucked the sleeve in before adjusting his tie. "But that’s only because I know you. You do look nice."

"Thank you, Abby," Tony said, pointedly ignoring Kate’s mockery.

Satisfied with her work Kate looked around as she moved towards the door. "Well you’re all packed. I’ll see about putting a rush on your discharge papers."

"Try to sneak me out without the wheelchair," Tony instructed as he stepped into the bathroom to examine his tie up close in the mirror, unhappy with the knot but unable to do anything about it with only one hand.

"Yeah, right," Kate scoffed, opening the door. "Good luck with that… oh, hello," she interrupted herself as she nearly ran into the raised fist preparing to knock.

"Hi," the dark haired man greeted with an embarrassed smile as he lowered his hand. "I remember you. Kate, right?"

"That’s right," Kate confirmed flirtatiously as she smoothed her skirt then held her hand out to him. "You’re the guy who saved Tony."

"I wouldn’t that say I saved him," the paramedic stammered self-consciously as he shook her hand. "I’m uh, Mike. Michael Redding actually but everyone calls me..."

"Doc!" Tony called out with a genuine smile as he came out of the bathroom and ushered his visitor further into the room.

"Hey, Tony, I’ve been meaning to come by and see how you were doing. I guess the dress code got really strict around here," Doc teased as he squeezed Tony’s left elbow and checked out the formal suit.

"They’re springing me a little early so I can go to the funeral of a colleague," Tony explained, his smile fading as he fingered his tie again.

"Oh yeah, I heard about that when they told me you’d been poisoned. You guys live dangerously I guess."

"Hello," Abby butted in as she got off the bed and joined them, her simple black dress blending in a little more than usual with Kate and Tony’s dark clothing. She sidled up next to Doc and gave him a hug. "I’m Abby. Thanks for taking care of Tony for us. Under fire no less."

"Just doin’ my job, ma’am," Doc grinned shyly.

"Ma’am," Abby giggled as she lowered her arm to rest around his back. "He called me ma’am. That’s so cute."

"Yeah," Kate agreed with an adoring grin at the handsome newcomer until Tony reached up to loosen his tie. "Leave it alone," she warned as she swatted his hand away. "It’s fine."

"No, it’s not fine. It’s crap. And I thought you were going to get my discharge papers," Tony prompted irritably. "We’re gonna be late."

"Why you ungrateful…" Kate stopped mid-rant and spared a smile for Doc. "I’ll just be a minute," she assured sweetly, cutting her eyes at Tony one last time before slipping out the door.

Tony stared after her for a minute before excusing himself to the bathroom to remove the tie in peace in front of the mirror.

"So you’re Tony’s girlfriend?" Doc inquired, politely extricating himself from Abby’s lingering clutches.

"God no," Abby exclaimed as she reluctantly released him. "Tony’s not real big on monogamy. Come to think of it, neither am I. We work together."

"Oh," Doc replied thoughtfully. "So. He seems a little uptight. Is everything okay?"

"I think he’s feeling a little survivor’s guilt," Abby guessed ruefully. "Especially today."

"He can still hear you," Tony grumbled from the bathroom.

"Let me," Doc told Abby quietly as he followed Tony into the small lavatory. "Need a hand?" he asked, meeting Tony’s inquisitive gaze in the mirror.

With a sigh of frustration Tony dropped his hand to rest on the sink and nodded. "Yeah," he admitted. "I do. Kate’s not that great with ties and Abby’s earlier attempt… frankly, it looked a lot like a noose."

Doc laughed as he reached over Tony’s shoulders and took the ends of the silky material in hand and used the reflection to guide his fingers. "Around the tree once, twice, and into the rabbit hole," he muttered to himself before gently tightening the new knot into a perfect square. "There. I’m surprised your boss didn’t show up to help."

"Gibbs? Nah, Gibbs doesn’t do funerals," Tony explained offhandedly as he smoothed down the tie and awkwardly buttoned his jacket. "Thanks."

"No problem. Hey listen, I gotta go but I’d really like to buy you a beer sometime, one hero to another."

Tony bit back a harrumph as he turned around to face Doc in the cramped room. "I’m nobody’s hero," he said thickly.

"That’s not the way I heard it," Doc insisted as he pulled out a card and stuck it into Tony’s breast pocket. "Besides, you owe me one, right? Call me."

"I will," Tony agreed with a sincere nod. "Thanks again." He turned back to the mirror to study his own sad features, only half listening as Abby and then Kate said their farewells to Doc. When he returned to the room he sighed when he spotted the wheelchair.

"Come on Romeo," Kate teased. "The nurses are lining up to kiss you good-bye."

As he lowered himself into the chair he managed a cocky smile. "What? Again?" he joked. "Don’t these women ever get enough?"

Tony knew he was awake but the eccentric surroundings combined with the Percocet he’d taken just prior to the funeral gave the atmosphere a surreal air. Thankfully Kate and Abby had finally stopped hovering over him, although he could easily pick out their voices along with a few others he recognized amongst the din of conversations in the more crowded dining room and kitchen behind him. He smiled slightly as he caught the end of one of Ducky’s well-known tales.

Truthfully, the last place Tony ever thought he’d find himself was in Margo Camp’s sitting room. Still wearing his sunglasses, which he’d kept on in spite of the fine drizzle of rain throughout the graveside service, he glanced around at the overdone, flamboyant, and yet somehow classy digs. Margo’s décor proved to be a lot like the woman herself Tony decided as he sat the untouched paper plate of food Kate had insisted on fixing for him on the edge of the coffee table. He felt somewhat queasy and really just wanted to lie down somewhere.

An elderly woman snoozed on the other end of the overstuffed sofa in the relatively quiet corner and an obviously pampered Pomeranian occupied the middle cushion. Tony watched in fascination as the dog stretched its snout far enough to sniff Tony’s discarded food without actually bothering to get up.

"She liked you," a woman with a slimmer, younger version of Margo’s facial features and the same bottled-red hair said, appearing unexpectedly at Tony’s elbow.

"Sorry?" Tony asked, taken aback as he realized Margo’s daughter was speaking to him. He blinked and tried to focus his wandering attention from the malleable dog to her.

"I just wanted to thank you for coming today, Agent DiNozzo. My mother spoke of you often and fondly. She would have been so honored to have you here."

Grateful for the sunglasses as his eyes began to sting again Tony swallowed compulsively then cleared his throat. "I’m so sorry for your loss," he managed to say softly. "Margo was something else."

"Yep, God certainly broke the mold after he made Mom," the doppelganger laughed tearfully. She took Tony’s good hand in hers and leaned in to buss his cheek with the same pushy, overly-familiar manner that was so patently Margo.

"I wouldn’t quite say that," Tony smiled gently, squeezing her hand and thinking how dominant Margo’s genes must have been to produce such an exact copy of herself.

"Dee Dee, no," the daughter admonished the dog as it finally snatched a cocktail weenie from the abandoned plate and took off for parts unknown. "Excuse me, if I don’t catch her I’ll never get that barbeque sauce out of the white carpet."

"Sorry," Tony called after her culpably as he retrieved his plate a bit too late and held it safely in his lap. He thought of getting up to deposit the now ruined remains in the trash but decided to wait for Kate’s next pass through to check on him.

"Not hungry?" McGee asked a minute later when he joined Tony on the couch.

"Hey, McGee," Tony greeted tiredly. "Not really. You want it?"

McGee shrugged and accepted the plate before picking out a piece of cheese to nibble on. As he chewed he frowned slightly and studied Tony’s face.

"What?" Tony asked with a guilty glance at the food.

"You’ve got something on your cheek," McGee replied as he leaned forward and dabbed at the smear of red next to Tony’s mouth with a napkin. "Lipstick?"

Tony reached up and rubbed the area with his fingertips. "Yeah, well, you know how it is."

"Sure," McGee agreed dubiously as he cast his eyes towards the snuffling snores coming from the only other occupant of the couch. "You want to get out of here?"

"What?" Tony asked again dopily.

"I mean you’ve got the perfect excuse," McGee pointed out, following the cheese with a melon ball on a toothpick, "You just got out of the hospital, nobody expects you to hang around. If you want to go I’d be glad to take you home."

A slow, mischievous smile blossomed on Tony’s face. "Giving you the perfect out as well, of course. There’s hope for you yet, Probie," he approved.

"I learned from the best," McGee declared earnestly.

"That you did. Let’s blow this pop stand."

McGee frowned and put his fingers to his lips, pulling out a long, red dog hair. "Yuck," he declared in disgust.

"Tony? You okay?" Kate asked as she quickly came back into the room when Tony stood up, obviously having been watching him.

"Not feeling so hot," Tony told her honestly as he considered sitting back down but held on to McGee to steady himself instead until the lightheadedness passed.

"I’m going to take him home," McGee told Kate as he tried to hand off the unwanted plate of spoiled goodies to her.

"Oh Tim, that’s so nice of you," Kate cooed as she levered Tony’s free arm up over her shoulders, easily avoiding taking possession of ‘the plate’, "But his stuff is already in my car. I’ll take him."

"That’s not necessary," McGee protested. "You should stay. We can move the stuff, right Tony? Tony?"

"It’s okay, I’ve got you," Kate assured as she maneuvered DiNozzo around the couch and toward the front door. "Give Abby a ride home, would you Tim? She should be ready to go in another hour or so," she called back to McGee.

Tony lolled his head back enough as he waited for Kate to open the door for McGee to catch the wink over the top of his shades. "Enjoy the buffet," Tony said with a grin.

McGee sighed as he looked back down at the overfilled plate, wondering how to get rid of it without appearing wasteful. He sat down and put the food on the coffee table as he examined it for anything else unsavory. As he resigned himself to eating it there was movement next to him.

"Oh. Weenies," the little old lady proclaimed, flashing him a hopeful, denture filled smile.

Kate drove with her usual care but couldn’t help sending frequent sidelong glances toward her uncommunicative passenger. As another mile passed without any wry comments or snide remarks she began to think she’d read Tony wrong at the wake. Maybe he hadn’t just been looking to duck out of the stilted social commitment; maybe he wasn’t as hale and hearty as he’d led everyone to believe. "Do you need another pain pill?" she finally asked solicitously.

"Huh? Oh. No, I’m fine. Besides, they make me feel funny."

"Funny strange? Or funny ha ha?" Kate teased. The lame joke elicited a short-lived smirk which made her feel tons better.

"Exactly," Tony replied with a touch of his usual playfulness before lapsing back into silence as he turned away from her enough to watch the passing scenery out the side window.

"Did you see Margo’s master bath?" Kate persisted, trying to prolong the dialog, thinking something superficial just might be the ticket. "I swear everything in there was fuzzy or hot pink."

"Didn’t they teach you in Catholic school not to speak ill of the dead?"

"I wasn’t speaking ill of the dead," Kate protested with a defensive huff, not quite sure if the rebuke was meant seriously or not. "I was speaking ill of the dead’s bathroom. There’s a huge difference."

Tony pursed his lips briefly but didn’t quite smile. "If you say so," he muttered, sounding unconvinced. He relaxed into the seat and closed his eyes effectively sending the message the conversation was over.

Annoyed at being put off yet again, Kate decided to stop walking on egg shells and take the bull by the horns. Mixed metaphors aside, she released a determined sigh and broached the subject DiNozzo had been evading for days. "None of this is your fault."

Several seconds passed before Tony sat up and looked at her. "I know."

"You know?" Kate asked, completely surprised by the softly spoken reply.

"Yeah," Tony admitted gruffly. "Intellectually I know that I didn’t really do anything wrong."

"But emotionally…"

It was Tony’s turn to sigh. "Margo’s dead. Kenny’s dead. Two of my co-workers are still in the hospital and one of them will probably be on dialysis for the rest of his life."

"You were poisoned, too, Tony. It all happened so fast. There wasn’t anything you could have done to protect the others."

"Twelve years is fast?" Tony argued, waving her reassurances away impatiently with his hand. "All that time I never saw this coming."

"Exactly," Kate echoed Tony’s earlier proclamation in a perfect imitation as she pulled into a parking spot in front of his apartment. "Nothing terrible happened in all that time. You had no reason to expect anything unpleasant to happen. Hindsight is 20/20; foresight isn’t unless you happen to be psychic."

Tony turned to her and managed a fairly convincing smile. "Thanks for the ride," he said, shutting the argument down once and for all.

"I’m not just kicking you out at the curb," Kate advised him as she put the car in park but left the engine running. "You’re going to need some help."

"Aw, Kate, I’d invite you up but the place is a mess."

"I’ve already seen it once today. I came with Abby to get your suit, remember?"

"Oh, that’s right," Tony mused as he glanced up at the building.

"And I have to say I was pleasantly surprised. It wasn’t nearly the bachelor pad I was expecting."

"So you liked my genuine imitation tiger-skin bedspread. What’d you think of the mirror over the bathtub? Tell me the truth. Is the disco ball in the kitchen too much?"

Kate laughed and shook her head at the colorful exaggerations. "You’ve got a nice place, Tony. Come on, I’ll help you change."

"Not that I wouldn’t love to get naked with you again," Tony hedged as he opened his door. "It’s just not necessary. Some of my neighbors have already set up a schedule to look after me."

"Oh really," Kate inquired dubiously, getting out and grabbing Tony’s carryall from the backseat. "Let me guess, female neighbors?"

"Well, yeah. What can I say? They like having a ‘cop’ around. And the lady next door used to be a nurse’s aid so she can help me with dressing changes and the sling-from-hell."

Tony suppressed a grimace as he levered himself out of the car, timing the move while Kate was coming around the car so she wouldn’t see the effort it took. "I’ll be fine," he told her as he straightened his jacket then pulled his bag out of her grip.

"If you need anything…"

"I’ll call," Tony promised as he started up the walk, stopping half way to look back. "You could always go back to the wake. I know Abby’s still there, she loves those things. McGee will be lucky to get her out of there by midnight."

"Abby is kind of strange sometimes," Kate agreed.

"Sometimes? You’re not much of a profiler," Tony teased as he went up the steps and into the building.

Kate didn’t smile but she didn’t throw anything at Tony’s back before he disappeared inside either.

Tony frowned when he found his front door unlocked. He let himself in and set his carryall down next to the couch before moving to the kitchen, pausing only long enough to sniff the delicious aroma wafting in the air.

"Mrs. Bornemeier, what have I told you about locking the door?" he scolded gently as he slipped in behind the full-bodied woman to try to get a peek at what was in the oven.

"Anthony! You’re home," his neighbor greeted, turning to pull him to her ample bosom for a maternal hug.

"Yeah, what if I’d been a rapist and murderer?"

"Then I would have beaten you to death with this leg of lamb. Or Mister Bornemeier would run off with a sweet young thing until the insurance money ran out."

"Either way I’d never get the blood out of the carpet. So please," Tony said, making his oft repeated plea. "For my peace of mind, lock the door when you’re alone. The city is a dangerous place."

"Such a worry wart," Mrs. Bornemeier scoffed as she kissed his forehead then turned him toward the bedroom. "Now let’s get you out of this nice suit and into something more comfortable."

"Oh you romantic, you," Tony joked, earning a fond swat to the rear end.

"Don’t get fresh with me, young man. I’ll snap you in half."

"Yes ma’am," Tony smiled tiredly as he allowed himself to be propelled along.

Abby entered the bullpen with an air of exuberated exhaustion about her. Tired but still on a caffeine high after a particularly rough all-nighter, she smiled as she spotted three-fourths of her favorite team working diligently at their desks. "So Kate, how’s our injured boy?" she inquired as she plopped unceremoniously into Tony’s vacant chair.

"I don’t know," Kate admitted a little guiltily. "I haven’t seen him since I took him home after the funeral."

"But that was two days ago," Abby protested. "I would have looked in on him myself but I got slammed first thing yesterday morning and only caught up just now."

"I wanted to go over last night but he made it pretty clear he didn’t want me hanging around."

"Why?"

"I’m not sure. Either he didn’t want to talk and thought I might push him…"

"Now why would DiNozzo think that?" Gibbs interrupted sarcastically as he continued to type.

"Or," Kate went on, shooting an annoyed glance at the top of her boss’ head, "He didn’t want me interacting with his little harem. Maybe he thought I’d scare them off."

"Harem?" Gibbs actually laughed as he finally looked up.

"Yeah, apparently the ladies in his building have joined together to nurse him through his convalescence."

"And he called them his ‘harem’?"

"Well, no. That’s just what came to mind," Kate confessed sheepishly. "I just assumed he has a bevy of Barbie dolls waiting on him hand and f