A/N: I'm studying Poe in English right now, and while I was reading "The Fall of the House of Usher" I got this idea. I know, it's really vague and doesn't make a lot of sense. I was pretty unsure about it, and still am, but my awesome beta McAbbyAddict was amazing enough to read it for me and give me the official seal of approval, so up it goes. I would really appreciate hearng what you have to say, as I have never attempted anything like this before. Thanks :)

Disclaimer: I don't own NCIS or any of the characters therein, and I don't own The Fall of the House of Usher by Edgar Allen Poe. No lawsuit necessary.

'To an anomalous species of terror I found him a bounden slave. "I shall perish," said he, "I must perish in this deplorable folly. Thus, thus, and not otherwise, shall I be lost. I dread the events of the future, not in themselves, but in their results…I have, indeed, no abhorrence of danger, except in its absolute effect – in terror. In this unnerved – in this pitiable condition – I feel that the period will sooner or later arrive when I must abandon life and reason together, in some struggle with the grim phantasm, FEAR.'

-Edgar Allen Poe, The Fall of the House of Usher

The trees were black silhouettes covered in stark white snow, but he didn't see them. He didn't feel the cold, either, or the wet leaves slipping under his feet. He could smell his own fear, hear his ragged breaths accompanied only by those of his pursuer. He knew it was faster, stronger, smarter, but desperation fueled him.

He wanted to stop for a moment and rest, but he couldn't. No one was coming to help him. No one was left.

As he ran, images flashed before his eyes. The explosion at Gibbs' house; Tony being hit in a firefight; Ziva being in a store at the time of a robbery, the knife protruding from her abdomen; Ducky falling into his arms from a heart attack; even Abby, hit by a car across the street from her apartment.

What he had tried to tell the Director, Fornell, Sarah, anyone who would listen, was that they hadn't been accidents.

Psychiatry had been the most recommended option. He laughed bitterly as he ran, a sound edged with panic and insanity. No psychiatrist could help him now.

It was gaining on him. He could hear it behind him. He couldn't escape it, but he would fight it as long as he could.

But weeks of insomnia were catching up to him, and he could feel himself slowing. Countless nights since the first occurrence he had spent laying in bed, in the dark, eyes wide open, feeling as though he was being watched by unfriendly eyes. Thinking that if he closed his own, he would be next. Knowing that Gibbs didn't die of an unlucky explosion from a gas leak, and Tony wasn't hit by a random stray bullet, and Ziva didn't just happen to be in that store that day. Aware that Ducky didn't have heart problems, and drunk drivers can't even think about running after they hit someone.

He knew the truth, even and especially now, running from that which destroyed his team and, soon, himself. He knew he was right, although no one else could accept it.

After a moment, he realized that the steps behind him had broken off. He slowed, grabbing onto a nearby tree for support. Light snow began to fall. He listened intently for any sign of it: he knew it wouldn't give up that easily.

Then he felt it. Cold, calculating eyes. He turned his head halfway to the side, seeing it only in his peripheral vision.

That was all it took.

He closed his eyes and turned away, feeling the snow on his face and breathing in the fresh wood smell once more. He didn't open his eyes to see the creature tearing into him, destroying him, just like it destroyed everything else.

The creature was fear.