A dead Marine was lying on the Italian beach, his crimson blood staining the sand he was lying in. His mouth was left open, while his eyes were wide and glassy, staring unfocused above him. Aside from the blood surrounding the poor man's heart, his uniform was pristine, clearly freshly washed, as all the others had been. His hair was combed, and tucked neatly into his cap. His shoes were freshly shined, and his pants held no creases. Nothing separated this man from the other eight murders that had occurred in the past year.

Nothing except for the single word, carved into the bare flesh of his left arm.

Anthony DiNozzo stood over the body, coffee in hand, early morning stubble still on his face. The sun was rising over the beach, casting the body in an eerie light. His team's Medical Examiner was spouting off his prognosis, but the team leader wasn't listening to him. Instead, he was focused on the single word, written in flesh.

Mockingbird

Tony turned away from the body, and stared out to the horizon at the rising sun. It was blazing in all its burning glory, only shining light on his horrid mood. This was not the most gruesome body that Tony had seen in his time; he used to be a homicide detective in Baltimore. However, the single word was reverberating in his head, bouncing off the walls of his cranium.

The voices of his team had faded into a dull roar in the back of his mind. He had more things on his mind than just this case. He had been working on this case relentlessly for a year. He had quickly built up a reputation as being as ruthless as a pit bull, refusing to let go. He had kept his team up many a night, attempting to pursue each and every lead. Not that there were many leads.

The murderer was a serial killer, who acted with cruelty, and was methodical in everything he did. He had originally reminded Tony of the Port-To-Port Killer. Though it brought back painful memories of his old team, Tony had forced himself to call Ducky, to ensure that Cobb truly was dead. After triple checking, he had then gone through many old case files, trying to find a culprit among the deceased cases.

However, with that one word, Tony now knew who he was dealing with, or rather, what, he was dealing with. It was far over his head, and it made his stomach turn to ice. That word was trouble. That word had robbed him, stripped him, and had the potential to destroy the life he had built for himself. His life was now at stake, but there were other lives he had to worry about.

"Anthony?"

The young man turned and met the soft blue eyes of his junior agent Francesca Russo. Her whole demeanor oozed comfort, but even her soft voice was not enough to assuage Tony's terror, and inner angst.

"Get me Director Manichi."

A paper ball flew across the bullpen and landed on the desk of Leroy Jethro Gibbs. Immediately three heads popped up, however, Gibbs was not one of them. He knew that only one person would dare toss a paper ball at him.

"What do you got Abbs?"

"Well Gibbs, if you would look at the paper I just tossed your way, you would see that our killer is apparently a serial killer."

Gibbs finally looked up; Abby's words had gotten everyone's attention. All eyes were focused on her now, and Timothy McGee spoke to his on again, off again romantic interest, his curiosity piqued.

"But Abby, how is that possible? We've checked, the killer hasn't killed anyone else!"

"Au contraire, McDoubtful!" For a moment, everyone paused, as they were reminded of who tended to wield McGee's many nicknames the most. "Excluding our Petty Officer, he has killed nine other Marines as of today."

Ziva's eyebrows rose to her hairline. "He has killed nine people? How did we miss that?"

Abby ignored Ziva's question; her relationship with the Israeli native had never really been repaired after the 'Incident'. She had even harbored a grudge against Gibbs, but eventually he managed to bring down her walls; Ziva had not been quite so successful.

Realizing that Abby would never answer Ziva's logical question, Probationary Field Agent, Cameron McCormick turned towards the happy Goth, and repeated the question, his Irish accent making Abby grin.

"Well Red, that is because we have been widely ignoring the events in foreign countries."

"He is an international criminal?" McGee asked in surprise.

"Not until he murdered Petty Officer Taylor he wasn't. For the most part his murders were located exclusively in Italy. Their top MCRT has been working on it for a year. For some reason though, he decided to kill someone in D.C."

"They've been working on this for a year with no leads?" Gibbs asked, letting his frustration seep into his tone. He would have had this killer behind bars by now. Then again, the case had been on their desks for the past two weeks, and they still hadn't come close. In fact, Abby's information was the first breakthrough that the team had received.

"Oh they've had leads. But this guy is a pro. I'm not sure if I can figure this one out Gibbs."

Abby very rarely had such moments of self-doubt, but this case was striking a nerve. There had to be a method to such cruel madness. It was up to her to figure it out, but she wasn't sure if she could do it. She had never dealt with a case quite like that before.

Before Gibbs had time to reassure his favorite team member, Leon 'Toothpick' Vance called from above his head,

"Gibbs! I need to see you in MTAC."

Sighing, the former Marine rose to his feet, and left the Bullpen, kissing Abby's cheek as he went. He climbed the stairs, feeling the critical gaze of the NCIS Director on his approaching form. He just hoped that Vance knew something about the case, and was preparing to let him in on the loop.

Smiling tightly Ziva spoke to Abby. "Good work. I'm sure that will lead to a breakthrough Abby. Do not doubt your abilities."

However, if the dark haired agent was expecting a warm response, she was sorely disappointed with the 'harrumph' she received, followed by a dramatic twirl that led to Abby stalking off back to her lab.

Ziva placed her head in her hands and sighed. It seemed that Abby would never forgive her for her mistakes. She knew that she had to be held accountable, and could never forget, but Abby's shunning hurt her. She had thought that the Gothic scientist was a true friend. But she knew how loyal Abby was, and she should have known which side Abby would take.

Cameron gave her a sympathetic smile from across her desk. The redheaded Irishman was Tony's third replacement, as Gibbs had scared off the other two. But Cameron hadn't been swayed so easily. With his easy charm and his adorable accent, he had managed to make a spot for himself on Gibbs' team. Yet there was always something missing.

Tim, who had been promoted to Senior Field Agent, and had a lot more respect for Tony now that he had, spoke to Ziva.

"She'll come around. Eventually, Zi, but she will come around."

"Five years, McGee! It has been five years! I know that I screwed up. I know, and I will never forget it! I must live with my mistakes for the rest of my life; I am faced with the consequences of my actions every day! But I need a friend. Not a juror."

McGee sighed. This was becoming a more frequent argument, and he knew that Ziva was starting to feel the pressure. He had tried to change Abby's mind, but the tattooed scientist was stubborn as a mule.

"It took her two years to forgive Gibbs, Ziva." McGee reminded his partner. "She's thought of him as a father figure for years, so that was a big deal. Abby was just hurt Zi, I'm sure she'll come around any day now."

"I had once thought Abby was incapable of holding a grudge." Ziva said sadly.

"We all thought we were incapable of certain things, but I guess we proved each other wrong."

Chided, Ziva returned to her work silently, tears burning in the backs of her eyes, her heart heavy with sadness and regret.

"What do you need Director?"

"Miss Scuito found evidence then, that our killer is really a serial killer?"

"You knew?"

"Not until I was contacted by the Italian Supervising Director, Dominic Manichi. Apparently his top MCRT in Naples has been working on this case for the past year. They haven't had a breakthrough, until this morning. A dead Marine was found, but this time, the word 'Mockingbird' was carved into his arm."

Gibbs frowned. He had no idea if the word was supposed to mean anything to him, but it certainly meant something to someone; the killer.

"Will they be taking over the case then?"

"Well it has been their case, and they have the most Intel on this one. However, Manichi and I have decided that you and your team will fly out to Italy, and it will be a joint operation, with the Italian team taking the lead on this."

Gibbs sighed heavily; he hated when other teams took the lead. He was a self admitted control freak, and yes, he was arrogant enough to think that he did a better job most of the time. Whoever was in charge of the Naples team was probably some arrogant slick bastard who was convinced that he was God's gift to mankind.

Little did he know who it truly would be.

"I've just gotten off the line with Director Vance."

Tony had been working under Dominic Manichi for the past five years. He was the Supervising Director of the European and African division, and was well on his way up the progressive ladder. Not that he was much one for politics.

Tony had started out with his own team in Naples, and within the next two years, he had been promoted to Special Agent in Charge. However, Tony had refused to give up his own team, or give up field work, instead he worked with Dominic to create a second MCRT, run by Tabitha Colley. Tony's team handled major cases, such as the Heartbreaker, as their serial killer had been named.

His work was hard. Tony couldn't deny it, the work was damn hard. He was in charge of overseeing all MCRTs, in Naples, in Rome, Aviano, and in Sigonella. There was a hell of a lot more paperwork involved than there ever had been as a Senior Field Agent. However, as SAC, he received plenty of opportunities to go undercover, which he loved. It was hard work, but it was worth it at the end of the day.

However there were days like this when Tony wanted to just hit his head against a wall.

Repeatedly.

"And how did that conversation go?" Tony asked wryly. While he would be eternally grateful for Vance for getting him out of D.C. and into Italy, he still did not like the old Toothpick. He had never believed in Tony, but Dominic did, and Tony had flourished under his supervision.

Dominic dragged his hand down his face. He was still in his early forties like Tony, but cases like these made him seem years older. He certainly was wise beyond his years.

"As well as could be expected. Apparently the Heartbreaker struck in Washington D.C. Petty Officer Avery Taylor was killed. Same cause of death, same MO, same everything. Except for location."

Tony groaned. Washington D.C. meant only one thing. Well, it meant only one team, and it was the one team that Tony most certainly did not want to deal with. But he sincerely doubted that there would be any alternative.

"Don't tell me they're taking over my case. Dom, I've been working on this for a year! Everything about this case is here, we have all the evidence here. They won't be able to take it over because of one murder, will they?" Tony's tone was razor sharp. He may have been talking about his old family, but he had been betrayed by them once before. He wouldn't let them take the case he had been working on for the past year.

"No, but this is becoming a joint operation. The D.C. MCRT is flying out here, and they'll be working with you on this case. You'll be taking lead, but this was the best I could do under the circumstances. I'm sorry Tony, I know about your history with them, but you're going to have to put aside the past to deal with them."

Tony's mind was whirling, moving at a thousand miles per hour. He would see them again. Soon, he would be staring at them again, working with them again. Not just them, but her. He would have to face their betrayal once more. He hadn't seen them since that day, and he didn't know how he would be able to deal with seeing them again. But he would have to find some way to handle it, because he would not let himself be pulled from the case.

"Fine. When are they flying in?"

"They'll be here tomorrow. They're taking the priority flight. Now, Francesca told me that you reacted interestingly this morning. Anything you care to share with me?"

Tony sighed. He hadn't planned on telling anyone. He knew that it was folly to keep such an important part of the case to his self, but he didn't want to drag anyone else into the mess this was quickly becoming.

"The word, carved into the arm."

Dominic frowned, and leaned forward.

"Yeah, Mockingbird. Do you know what it means?"

Tony nodded curtly.

"It means that something has come back to haunt us."

Dominic's frown deepened, and he leaned over, pressing the button to place the office on security lockdown. He had a feeling that what Tony was about to tell him should be said in utter secrecy.

"And what is that something?"

"Operation Nightingale."

Gibbs left MTAC feeling disgruntled. He hadn't been planning on working on this case overseas, but things evidently weren't working out for him. He had to haul his team's asses onto a priority flight to make it to Italy by the next day, only to be lead by someone they had never worked with before.

He had insisted on bringing the whole team, Ducky, Abby, and Palmer included. Vance had argued that Italy had their own team, but Gibbs insisted that his team was the best. They were the people he would use, if he was going to be forced to play by the rules.

Gripping onto the railing he stared down at his team. McCormick's bright red hair caught his eye first, and he sighed. He liked McCormick. He was a good agent, with good instincts, and a light sense of humor. He had managed to fit into the team, and he was a great addition. But he wasn't Tony. If he had joined the team when DiNozzo was still around, Gibbs had no doubt that the two would have bonded instantly.

Spotting McGee from the corner of his eye, he sighed again. He had gone for three and a half years without a Senior Field Agent, refusing to truly accept that Tony was gone, and would stay that way. However, he had eventually had to face the music, and had promoted McGee last year. The computer whiz was still struggling with the workload adjustment. He had managed to move past the Incident, though he still missed Tony as much as the rest of the team.

Abby, was clearly still distraught, despite how much time had passed. Though she was indeed a happy Goth, rarely capable of holding a grudge, she was fiercely loyal, and far too intelligent to forget such a mistake. She had regarded him with cold fury for the better part of two years, before finally falling apart in his arms, questioning why.

That was the one question Gibbs himself could never answer. He could never figure out why they had done it. Why they had betrayed him, destroyed each other. It made no sense, but it was something that Gibbs would have to live with for the rest of his life.

Palmer was no longer afraid of the former Marine, in fact, he stood up to Gibbs frequently, defending his friendship with Tony, which Gibbs respected. His relationship with Ducky was greatly changed, though they were on the mend. He knew that Ducky took Tony's side, everyone did. Hell, Gibbs himself took Tony's side. He still remembered that look of complete and utter betrayal, the hurt in his agent's hazel eyes, when he realized what had happened, what they had done to him.

He bowed his head momentarily, letting the emotions wash over him. Ziva's announcement, followed by brief snatches of conversation here and there. It was all Tony needed, all anyone needed. They were professional, federal investigators for Christ's sake, he could put the pieces together. He was far more than an overgrown frat boy, his capabilities far outnumbered his failings. He had pieced the puzzle together, and had stared at Gibbs with such agony, it literally broke his heart. He saw DiNozzo as a surrogate son, and he witnessed, in Tony's eyes, his own fall from hero status, to the bug underneath his Italian shoes.

The saddest moment for anyone, was realizing that their hero wasn't perfect. Tony had already realized that about his father, but he had thought he had found something different in Gibbs. Yet he had only disappointed Tony.

Summoning up what little strength he had left, Gibbs pulled himself out of his pity party, which he lived through every day, through his thoughts, and every night with his bourbon and boat, and began his descent down the stairs.

"McGee, McCormick, D-Cruz. Go home and pack, we're taking a priority flight to Italy."

His team nodded without question, though for the brief flicker of a moment, in which his eyes had met Ziva's, he saw the questions in them. However they both quickly tore their eyes away, and Gibbs continued to make his way to the elevator, to let the rest of his team know that they were taking a bit of a vacation.

If only DiNozzo could see Italy with them.

"Talk to me Eddie."

Tony was exhausted, after filling Dominic in, for what seemed like hours, he had been ordered to go home. However, he wanted to check a few things first, clear up a few loose ends before the D.C. MCRT dropped in, and started invading on his case. He knew Gibbs, and he knew that Gibbs would assume that he and his team could do it better. And maybe they could. But Tony had spent the past five years working with his team, and he trusted them with his life. Which was why he was dropping by Autopsy and the Lab, before heading home.

The curly haired American with the cherub like face, and the twinkling mischievous eyes grinned widely at Tony, looking as always, as if he were up to something. He probably was, as the Boston native loved playing practical jokes. Tony enjoyed them too, though he no longer pulled them, instead just watched the havoc that Eddie tended to wreak amongst NCIS.

"You already know everything Bossy, so why ask me?"

Tony rolled his eyes, and shook his head. Eddie was laid back and casual, but he was good at his job, despite his young age. In fact, he was one of the best ME's Tony had ever worked with, which explained why he had a job on Tony's team.

"But I'm guessing you want to know about the word carved into his skin?"

"Ya' think?" Tony asked, and then mentally head slapped himself for channeling Gibbs' mannerisms. And then once again, for still needing those head slaps, mental and physical. "Just start talking Eddie, Lord knows you love to hear yourself talk."

"Well, I can't tell you what the hell the word means, that's your department Bossdude. However, I can tell you that it was cut into his skin, postmortem. So, yeah, the poor guy got stabbed, but hey, at least the serial killer had the decency to wait until he was dead."

Tony glared at Eddie, and the young man quickly rephrased his statement.

"Okay, so maybe he isn't decent. But the word isn't cut deeply. It was cut on the surface, so the blood would add a creepy effect, but there wouldn't be so much that the word would be illegible. There's no sign of dirt or infection in the cut, so the knife was clean. But about the word- any idea what it means?"

However, Tony was already walking out of the Autopsy Lab, and heading straight for the Icebox. He walked in without prelude, and neither forensic scientist turned their heads, as they were used to his unceremonious entrances.

"I need to know about the knife. No, actually I need to know why we haven't caught this guy yet. Or who the hell he is. Or why he's killing these people. Pick a question and give me an answer, and do it quickly, because I'm already running late."

"Would you like some angst to go with that rant?"

Tony glared at the blonde South African scientist, and ignored her quip. Turning to her much easier to deal with twin brother, he simply arched an eyebrow, before Jeremy started spouting off statistics and numbers. Resisting the urge to clutch his head, in a vain attempt to ward off an incoming migraine, he simply cast a pleading look to Jemma, who rolled her eyes, and interrupted her brother.

"A Swiss Army Knife was what was used. Doesn't exactly narrow it down, but hey, check out the local Boy Scouts, and maybe you'll find something."

Rolling his eyes, he patted the snarky OCD scientist on her head, flicked Jeremy's arm, and walked out of the freezing cold lab, shouting behind him, "Turn up the heater!"

Ziva's body shook as the plane rattled and rolled. She saw McGee next to her, furiously writing away in a notebook, probably jotting down ideas for his next book. His sequel to Deep Six, Twelve Feet Under, had been even more successful than his debut novel, however Ziva hadn't been able to finish it. The novel had been published after Tony's disappearance, and when Tony's alter ego, Agent Tommy, had disappeared on a mission, Ziva had felt sick to her stomach, though she knew that her ink counterpart Lisa only felt a fraction of the illness that she she felt. Lisa hadn't driven Tommy away.

On her left, Cameron was already snoring, like…a drunken sailor with emphysema. Ziva sighed, and closed her eyes, leaning against the back of the plane, though she had absolutely no intentions of sleeping.

Every little thing she did or thought reminded her of him, of her mistake. She had learned the hard way that her actions had consequences, but she hadn't expected them to be so painful or long lasting. Ziva had lost Tony, because of what she did. She had lost her partner, her best friend, a man that she had loved.

She stared down at the golden band on her left hand, and the large, diamond encrusted piece of jewelry that also rested on her tanned finger. She hated that ring. She thought it was gaudy, and tasteless, and it reminded her every day, of what she had done. Not that Abby didn't do that for her. She felt the effects of what she had done with everything that she continued to do.

Gibbs sat across from her, somehow able to sleep on a priority flight. He always said it was practice, but Tony had always joked it was when he felt at his safest. Ziva understood that. There was something exhilarating, something comforting about being miles in the air, being rocked and shaken about. Tony had thought she was crazy for feeling that way, but Ziva could not explain it.

There was just something safe, about the edge of danger. They said that the line between love and hate was a fine, thin line, but so was the line between danger and safety. Ziva had danced upon that line her entire life, so it only made sense that she felt at her safest while on that line.

Closing her eyes once more, Ziva allowed herself to get lost in the memories. Everything seemed so vivid, so real in her dreams. Unlike Gibbs, who seemed to sleep even less, Ziva found herself sleeping more and more.

It was in her dreams that she was the happiest. In her dreams, she could relive her moments, she could change her actions, create a different outcome. She could feel, taste, smell, see, hear in her dreams. She could finally explore hidden feelings, because there was no one watching to judge. She could live how she wanted to, love how she wanted to. Her dreams were her escape from reality, because within them, she could change her own reality.

Of course, she still had the occasional nightmare. Her life had been a tumultuous one. Her experiences in Somalia had scarred her psychologically. When she had dreams of that, she would sometimes call McGee. He never told her, but sometimes Ziva felt his frustration, especially early in the morning. She couldn't help but think that if she still had the ability or privilege to call Tony, he would have been only kind and understanding.

As much as Ziva relished the ability to revisit her mistakes in her dreams, it was torture to wake up in another man's arms.

She loved Ray, she knew that. But she knew she had rushed with him. She had made a mistake, and she realized that she hadn't loved him enough. She wasn't the marrying type, and yet she had practically ran into a marriage with the CIA agent. It was only after Tony's disappearance that she realized just what it was that she was running from.

Ziva had no issues with admitting her feelings for Tony. It was painful, and heartbreaking, but it was oddly liberating. She never voiced them aloud, for she did not have that right. Besides, her marriage to Ray stopped her. She may not have loved him enough, but she respected him, and the marriage vow enough to at least pretend to be happy. Though she doubted she managed to ever truly fool anyone. She certainly would not have been able to fool Tony.

Sighing, she shifted against the plane, and attempted to get comfortable. She might as well attempt to sleep. Escaping her thoughts of Tony would clearly be impossible.

He had always aimed to be unforgettable.

Tony pulled up in the driveway, and parked his car. He paused for a moment, before stepping out of his blue Porsche, and made his way to his door. He was exhausted, and wanted nothing more than to simply collapse in his bed, and sleep through the next week. He had been woken up at four in the morning, simply to find that a dark time from his past had come back to haunt him. And it seemed that his old team would haunt him as well.

However, he had responsibilities to tend to before he could be lulled into the deep sleep that he wished to fall into.

Unlocking the door, he was greeted with a silent house, which immediately unnerved him. Quietly drawing his gun from his side, he crept through the house, and keeping his voice steady, called out, "Angelica? Angelica, where are you?"

Suddenly, his ears picked up the tell tale pounding of feet that had him quickly stuffing his gun back into his holster, and opening his arms wide, as his three year old daughter came rocketing straight into his embrace.

"Papà, Papà! You'll never guess what we did today!"

Tony laughed, and kissed her sparkly cheek, a smirk playing on his lips.

"Well, Principessa, I do believe it has something to do with glitter, hmm?"

The adorable little girl in his arms gasped, and her hazel eyes widened. "How did you know?"

Her sweet question was answered by the entrance of her brother, who was rolling his eyes at the antics of his younger sister. "Because Giulia, you still have glitter on your face! So much for a surprise!"

Giulianna cast her eyes downwards, jutting her lip out sadly. "I'm sorry Papà, I didn't mean to ruin the surprise."

Tony grinned at his daughter. "Well I still don't know what you were doing with the glitter, so no surprise has been ruined yet, right Michael?" He winked at his son, who grinned proudly, and blinked comically back at him, which only made Tony's smile wider. One of these days he really did have to teach his son how to wink, no matter how adorable that exaggerated blinking trick was.

"Oh Giulia, Michael, you are still so sporco!"

Tony smiled good naturedly, as Angelica, their live in nanny, and saving grace, came in and began fretting about the two children. The young Roman native had been looking for a job while she went to school to become a teacher. Tony had offered her a job taking care of his two children, and a place to stay, and ever since then, she had simply been part of the family, albeit a paid member.

"Well that's alright Angie, after all, getting messy is the best part about being a kid, isn't that right Mikey?"

His blonde son grinned up at him, his short flaxen hair a mess on his head, chocolate coating his mouth, and his hands dirty with some unknown substance, and looking so darn adorable, that he just wanted to hug him.

"Still, why don't I get you two poco angioletti cleaned up before dinner? Tony, I made some spaghetti casserole-"

"I'll get the plates, and set the table. Thanks Ang, you're a saint."

The young woman smiled kindly at her employer, and ushered his two children out of the room. She had come to know Tony quite well, and he was a kind, hard working man who absolutely doted on his children. She knew though, that deep inside, he was lonely. He always proclaimed, when questioned by his children, that they were enough for him, and he didn't need anyone else. But Angelica knew better. She knew that he ached for someone to fill his heart, and she knew that the children needed a mother. But for now, the family that they had was good enough for them.

"Daddy, will you teach me how to play baseball?"

Tony frowned at Michael.

"Well sure, but where did this come from Mikey? I thought you wanted to play football and American football like your old man?" It broke his heart, but his son just wasn't interested in basketball. Apparently, though, football was good enough for him.

"Uncle Eddie said that only real men play baseball, and that I wanted to grow up to be a real man. Did you play baseball Daddy?"

Tony snorted over his glass of water. Leave it to Eddie to insist that baseball was the only sport worth any time. He would go to the grave rooting for the Boston Red Socks.

"No, I didn't play baseball, but I like to watch it. How about I teach you how to play this weekend?"

Michael looked excited at the prospect, while Giulianna was quick to speak her mind about her day.

"Papà, I learned how to play a new piece on the piano today!" Tony grinned widely at his daughter. She was something of a prodigy at the piano, of which he was immensely proud. He had done lessons for years, but that was mainly at his mother's, and later grandmother's insistence. There had been a time when he wanted to be the best, but he had lost the motivation for it, after his mother's death. But what he had worked so hard for came to his daughter naturally, which never failed to make him smile.

"Well I'm sure it sounds beautiful Principessa, you'll have to play it for me later. Angie, this is delicious. You are going to make your Paolo a very happy man some day." Angelica smiled shyly at Tony's compliment, regarding her longtime boyfriend. However, she knew what Tony was doing. He was turning up the charm, to deflect questions regarding his own day, which usually meant that it had been a bad day at work.

"So, did you finish all your schoolwork today i miei bambini?"

Both his children nodded, and Angelica also nodded in agreement. Both children were sweethearts, and complained little about doing work, as they actually seemed to enjoy learning. They seemed so different from their father's former personality, it was almost astonishing.

"Well it's a good thing that Angie can teach you, isn't it?" Both his children nodded in happy agreement, and continued eating their dinner, enjoying the time they got to spend with their father. As he ate his casserole and sipped his wine, all he could think of was how much this precious time he wanted to spend with them.

Later that evening, after reading to Michael, and singing to Giulianna, Tony laid in his bed, staring at the ceiling, thinking about the events of his day. He hadn't expected to see that word. Of course, it was just a word, and it could mean anything. Except for the fact that he knew that Tyler Payson had been involved in Operation Nightingale. He was the one who had briefed him on the whole Operation, after the death of-no. No, Tony wasn't thinking about that.

Rolling over, he sighed, and stared at the wall. He knew that attempting to sleep would be fruitless at this point; he was beyond such a state. His mind was creating multiple scenarios for how the rest of the week would turn out, none of them good. He was going to be seeing his old team, his old love again. He didn't know how he would be able to cope, but he would be able to somehow. He would make it through.

He could already forsee major problems, but there was no way to deal with them until they cropped up. His team and Gibbs' team were going to rub the wrong way, and he would be running around to try and keep World War III from breaking out, while battling his feelings, and trying to deal with the personal aspects of the case. But his number one priority would always be keeping his family safe.

With the happy thoughts of his son's brilliant smile, and his daughter's beautiful laughter, Tony managed to drift off into an uneasy sleep, where he was plauged by a dark haired beauty who had the power to destroy him in more ways than one.