A/N: Hey everyone! Sorry it has taken me so long to update, but here is a long-ish (well, for me anyway) chapter for you. Hope you guys enjoy! BTW, keep up the great reviews and thanks for reading.

** * ** * ** * **

Good grief, Moira, get a hold of yourself! Agent Summers internally chastised herself, but it had no effect on her nervous fidgeting.

It was dark outside and the bullpen was nearly empty. Everyone that didn't have some pressing concern or over-due triplicate had gone home to their own unique stress-free environment.

In fact, only those somehow connected with Agent DiNozzo were still there. Jimmy was down in autopsy, waiting much more patiently than Summers, for 'Tony' to get back. The young doctor had taken the news surprisingly well – apparently being stalked by a serial killer wasn't too far outside of the realm of the ordinary for Special Agent DiNozzo.

Then, of course, the Director was up in her office waiting for both her agent's return and Mackey's report. She was probably practicing a special chewing out speech for the Boss. Summers wondered morbidly whether or not Hollider would be able to make the Boss's left eye twitch. Summers, herself, had only ever seen the right one spasm.

Summers squirmed in her chair, tapping her fingers nervously on the metal drawers on the front of her desk.

Bowen, who had been going through a stack of reports on the Assassin Case, cleared his throat reprovingly and shot her an annoyed glance. Summers consciously stilled her hands, and tried to look apologetic, but her eyes slid down to the phone sitting innocently on the corner of her desk.

She consciously did not reach for it and hit speed dial #2.

"Summers." Now Bowen was chastising her. Lovely. "He'll be fine. We don't even know if the letter is genuine. Any wacko can write in block letters and sign 'The Letter Writer' at the bottom."

Summers nodded – this was true. But she still had a very bad feeling about this whole mess. She just really, really wanted the Boss to yell at her for being stupid and fretting like some character in some movie.

"Besides, knowledge of the Writer's intentions hasn't helped any of his victims thus far."

"Oh, thanks, Bowen. That was reassuring." Summers made sure her sarcasm dial was turned all the way to overload. It wasn't like she liked the idea of worrying over a complete bastard – Bowen didn't have to make it worse by pointing out that there really wasn't much hope anyway.

"Summers, you were complaining just this morning, after our stimulating morning exercise, about how much you hated DiNozzo. You even offered to pay Forrester two grand to 'accidentally' lock him in the men's room over night."

"Yeah, well…" Summers sighed. She knew that would come back to bite her in the butt. "I still think he's a bastard, but…" He's a rather decent bastard, if there is such a thing.

"I don't believe it." Bowen scowled and shuffled some papers around in irritation. "You're turncoat, like Forrester. I suppose I should have expected this." He sighed. "Still, the man is – beyond contempt. Not ten minutes after he waltzed in – no introduction or anything – the man starts handing out orders like he owns the place. Then he black mails us into ridiculous "training" exercises that wouldn't be legitimate at a psych ward."

"Oh?" Summers raised one eyebrow mockingly. Bowen was one to talk. "This morning you defended his good name rather gallantly. I was under the impression that you were 'willing to tolerate his juvenile quirks in exchange for the flashes of astonishing competence almost regularly displayed'." Summers slowed her speech and tried to imitate the Bowen's flat, Bostonian a's as she quoted him.

"I.." The blonde agent sighed and gave up the paper shuffling. "The man is going to get himself killed. You expect me to be tolerant?"

Summers gaped. Bowen was expressing concern – Bowen never expressed anything close to raw emotion. It was unheard of.

Now, though, she supposed the man's usual dry sarcasm made more sense. It was a shield of sorts.

Forrester wore his scars like a cloak and used only a dark scowl to push people away. Bowen had never bothered to explain his excessively stand-offish, professional demeanor even that much. But now Summers realized that he was protecting himself – he feared abandonment.

That actually made sense, considering what she knew about his parents. Abusive alcoholics to the end, although she really only suspected the 'abusive' part.

He probably felt like he'd goofed up, giving DiNozzo a half-stamp of approval so early in the game. Now this happens.

Summers had no idea what the Boss did to win Bowen over so easily or quickly – nor why Bowen was being so open with her – but she swore that DiNozzo wasn't going to let any of them down.

And it was rather simple, really.

She just wouldn't let him die.

She shoved the phone farther into the corner of her desk. Calling DiNozzo wouldn't help him any at all.

Catching the Writer would.

"C'mon, Bowen." Summers flexed her fingers, getting ready to google the issue to death. "You know it's our job to make sure that he doesn't."

Bowen's slight smirk let her know that she wasn't alone. And Summers knew that Forrester was already fiercely protective of the new boss, although, again, she had no idea why.

Forrester would keep the idiot playboy alive and Summers and Bowen would catch the creep.

End of story.

** * ** * ** * **

NCIS, Washington, D.C.

Dr. Donald Mallard watched Jethro growl angrily under his breath and pace around autopsy.

His heart hurt for his friend. Ducky wished he could say that he had never seen the younger man like this – or even this bad – before, but he had. Sadly, these fits of intermittent rage and helpless seemed to come with the job.

It had been awhile, however, since Jethro had seemed so out of control. Ducky cocked his head slightly, thinking. Yes, the last time Gibbs had gotten so worked up was when Ari – Ducky cringed. He was not going to think about.

Dr. Mallard liked to consider himself a fairly self-aware man. He knew that, generally, what he thought about, he spoke about. Well, rambled about, really.

Still…Ducky remembered obsessed Gibbs had been with catching Ari – and how out of control. Ducky hadn't been able to snap him out of it then, and he doubted he would be able to do it now.

The M.E. toyed with calling Anthony – that was how the last fit had been ended, although Ducky still didn't know exactly what words had been exchanged.

"Duck."

"Hmm?" Ducky forced himself to be nonchalant. "Oh, yes, Jethro?"

"You got anything?"

Ducky sighed. Jethro rarely ever looked helpless, but the desperation rolling off of him now was thicker than the fog in Edinburgh. It had been ever since the writer's mysterious 'disappearance'.

"Jethro," ducky began gently, compassionately, "you know that neither Abby nor I have anything new for you. Maybe you should call him."

Gibbs winced.

"And say what?" His voice was demanding, hard. "Tony would demand to be brought down here if he knew."

"And would that be such a bad thing? He is a capable investigator, you know."

"I know that, Duck," Gibbs retorted immediately, sounding offended that Ducky could have ever thought otherwise. "But that's what he wants. He never loses a kill Duck – like he lost Tony."

"You think he'll try again." Ducky's heart sunk to his stomach, possibly all the way down to his liver.

Gibbs would never bring DiNozzo back into this type of danger – not if he could help it. He would do what he had always done before – protection detail, safe house if he had to. Jethro would not lose another family – he would not lose his son.

Growling, Gibbs went back to pacing and Ducky stared desolately at his empty autopsy tables.

** * ** * ** * **

NCIS San Diego, CA

Kate Hollinder looked down her nose at her newly transferred agent.

What had ever possessed her to hire such a stubborn man?

A brief flash of a memory – snow in Moscow, and red at the very edge of her vision – assaulted her, leaving behind a strong, visceral impression of heart wrenching panic.

1…2…3…4… Kate breathed, emptying her mind of everything but the numbers. Somehow – perhaps necessity had taught her – she managed to keep her face straight. With a practiced mental shrug, she refocused on the task at hand.

DiNozzo. Right.

Hired because she owed Jenny a favor.

The San Diego director watched the Italian-American wave his hands in the air, going on – and on and on – about how The Letter wasn't, couldn't be real.

Because The Letter Writer was in D.C. Where DiNozzo should be, but wasn't because, hey, he had two cases here and could certainly solve a third long-distance.

He'd just charge collect.

Shaking her head, Hollinder sighed. She'd met men like this – men that thought they hid everything from the world. They worked damn hard at hiding 'everything' (read: self perceived weakness or anything of value) and mostly were damn good at it, too.

For example, Hollinder didn't know what DiNozzo was hiding. She did know that he wasn't the half-cocked juvenile crazy that he (very skillfully) pretended to be. He was doing good work with the Terrible Threesome, even if he wasn't actually working, as in on rotation. Kate suppressed a growl at that thought. That wasn't important now.

DiNozzo, arrogant ass that he was – she was pretty sure he couldn't fake that convincingly – was still yammering about only being so lucky as to having the real Letter Writer after his blood. A fake one seemed to involve so many disappointing complications.

She was no psychiatrist, but Hollinder sensed some repressed guilt issues here. Kate fought not to close her eyes against a flash-back of DiNozzo wearing a haunted look that had no place on a face so young. Damnit, she wasn't supposed to care – not after only two weeks!

"Director, I've got a lead on that cold-case I told you about yesterday." DiNozzo had stopped ranting. Hollinder glanced at the time. Hmm, his rants were getting shorter and shorter – maybe ignoring his outbursts actually worked. She'd have to thank Jimmy for suggesting it.

"DiNozzo –" Hollinder had been about to tell him off for changing the subject. Her agents didn't get to ignore their own safety.

But Mackey stumbled in, making the point moot.

"Yes, Mr. Mackey."

"Erm." Mackey gulped and adjusted his thick framed glasses, casting a nervous glance at DiNozzo. "It – it's genuine."

DiNozzo's eyebrow rose and he smirked as if at some unseen joke, but Hollinder wondered if he wasn't startled or frightened or both.

"You don't say?" Tony waggled his eyebrows. "Please tell me you're talking about that holster with John Wayne's autograph that is being auctioned on E-bay. You know it closes tomorrow at midnight."

Mackey's mouth opened, but no sound escaped. DiNozzo frowned in disapproval, sparing Kate a… strange, unidentifiable glance… before advancing on the gobsmacked computer geek.

"You forgot to check, didn't you? You-"

"The Letter!" Mackey squeaked excitedly, daring to interrupt the scary senior agent. "You – he – it…."

DiNozzo sighed.

"You sure?"

Evan nodded, looking like his puppy had just been ran over.

"I'll check on the holster for you." Swallow. "And – and, it was good while it lasted. Farewell."

Tony clamped down an amused smile.

"Mackey, I'm not going anywhere." He winked. "I can't leave the kids without a babysitter, and Jimmy just doesn't know how to be firm with them."

"Hu-erm" Hollinder cleared her throat. The hell he isn't going anywhere. "You mean, Agent DiNozzo, that the only place you are going is to a safe house, with a full protection detail."

Her tone brooked no argument.

The damn man argued anyway – and with a smile so sweet it made her teeth itch.

"Director, I'm sure that's not what you want me to do."

Damn it he was infuriating. She glared. Mackey was quivering like a bowl of Jello in an earthquake. DiNozzo didn't bat an eyelash.

"What you really want is to catch this bastard before he hurts someone else. Director, we know who he's coming for – and as long as we let him know where I am, we'll at least have an idea of where he is. It'll be like -"

Hollinder raised a hand to forestall the forthcoming movie reference.

"No, it won't. It will be like you following my order or like you being shipped back to D.C." This time she mustered her very best glare. "Either way, you are going somewhere."

"Ha." He scoffed, scoffed.

** * ** * ** * **

Half an hour later the haggard-looking agent stumbled out of her office, followed by a mute and shaking Mr. Mackey. Kate was sure she looked just as jaded as the first and (in the privacy of her own office) just as shaken as the second.

They had, after a quite vociferous dispute, reached an agreement.

As much as Hollinder wanted to kick herself for letting a subordinate negotiate with her, she doubted very much that there was any other way to respond to her newest agent's audacity. She would much rather have him on her side, however tenuous his alliance, than to be some rouge entity.

Vigilante justice. Kate snorted. DiNozzo was definitely that type. If she were a few years younger she might be trying to decide which superhero's tights he'd look best in. She shook her head slightly. That was not a good, productive line of thought.

She went back to their agreement. The Pact, as DiNozzo had referred to it, ensured that the damn stubborn man would be taking at least the minimum safety precautions at all times.

Including regular check-ins with her, personally. Also, the man was not to be left alone, ever, unless he was in the NCIS building. Both she and at least one of his agents would know his whereabouts at all times.

Also, and this had turned out to be the toughest battle, the lead investigating agent on the Letter Writer's case would be called – she'd agreed to let DiNozzo do it – and informed of the recent development. He hadn't said anything, but she was sensing history resurfacing. Of course, the lead team was from Washington – DiNozzo probably did have a history with whoever was lead. Still, DiNozzo would make the call before tomorrow morning.

Heavens knows what he planned to get himself into between now and then.

DiNozzo could still go out, provided one of his armed agents was with him. Apparently, DiNozzo had a solid lead on a fresh case he'd nicked from the FBI. Hollinder couldn't find it in her to be reproving like convention dictated.

She just hoped her leniency wasn't about to get her newest agent killed.

** * ** * ** * **

Mackey shuddered.

He'd been doing this on and off since he'd inadvertently stumbled into the Battle of the Titans with news of his test results. The letter was the real deal. He was certain.

And DiNozzo acted like it was a purposeful imposition rather than a threat on his life.

And Mackey was going to miss him. Despite the older man's nonchalance about the whole thing, Mackey had followed the Letter Writer's career closely. He knew the man was dangerous.

Just think! The last time someone had tried to net the killer had ended in a near tragedy. They'd tried to out-fox the fox by dangling a lure.

The 'lure', a young undercover agent – identity classified – had nearly died. Mackey would be surprised, after reading the censored injury report, if the agent hadn't received medical discharge. Evan sighed.

He really, really didn't want to see that happen to DiNozzo.

He liked DiNozzo. Sure, the man was harsh sometimes, but most often he acted like an indulgent older brother. Sometimes he would even talk shop with the 'forensics' geek'. Tony was quite knowledgeable when it came to ballistics, fingerprinting techniques, and even knew a fair bit about chemistry. He was pretty much a lost cause when it came to computers, though.

Mackey sighed again as he reached out to punch the elevator 'down' button. He was really going to miss DiNozzo.

"For Pete's Sake!" Mackey started at the agent's outburst, missing the plastic square. "I am not going to get myself killed!"

Evan jerked again. It was scary how often DiNozzo seemed to know what he was thinking.

"Look, I know you're worried, but I'm a big boy – I can handle myself. Besides, I have a top notch team to watch my back, ya'know?"

Mackey cracked a grin.

"You know the worst thing you can do is trap me in some safe house where no one knows where I am and I can't go anywhere when he finds me."

Mackey gulped. Because Tony was right – the killer would find him. After all, the standard safety procedures hadn't saved any of his past victims. Maybe a new approach would work. His genius IQ level brain whirled off in a new direction.

"As long as we get him first, I'll be fine. That's the only way, you know." DiNozzo shifted his weight and slapped the down button. "I'm the fastest draw in the west. We'll get him."

Mackey nodded – then a thought occurred to him.

"But that other team – Griggs? – is coming. Won't he insist that you go into hiding?" His stomach tightened. DiNozzo had him convinced that going to a safe house was a really, really bad idea.

DiNozzo nodded grimly.

They boarded the elevator, riding in silence.

"I'll come up with something."

Suddenly confident, Evan cleared his throat.

"I'll help. And Moira and Bowen and Dean. They don't hate you as much as you think." Evan winced. Moira would kill him if she found out he said that.

"Don't forget Jimmy!"

DiNozzo waved cheerfully as he exited the elevator, sauntering off in the direction of Autopsy.

** * ** * ** * **

Jimmy stared down at the McClane file rather moodily. He'd promised DiNozzo a second opinion in the form of a 'virtual' autopsy, but so far he had nothing new to report. He wasn't qualified to give his professional 'anything' about the killer's motives or state of mind.

He sighed.

Of course, Tony's current situation wasn't exactly conducive to a calm and rational focus on the proper issues. Drat the man!

Jimmy knew that DiNozzo really couldn't be blamed for this predicament, but he still wanted to, very badly. Really, it wasn't fair that the agent had to deal with something this stressful so soon after reporting to his new post.

If this had happened back in D.C. Jimmy wouldn't let himself get too worked up – after all, Tony had dealt with killers of this same caliber before. Heck, he'd been chained to one for a day – alone, and without back up. He hadn't even been armed with the knowledge that he was chained to a serial killer.

But, even thought he hadn't had back up then, he really had. He knew, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that his team was right behind him. All he had to do was stall for them – leave just enough bread crumbs behind for Gibbs to come to the rescue.

This time, Tony was the boss – and the backup. He was the end of the line, in the field. His agents, his new and uncertain agents, had to trust him to be their Gibbs.

Tony was being targeted by a ruthless and effective killer with three very cynical and wary agents as his back up.

Perhaps Jimmy was just a little bit cynical too, because he couldn't bring himself to believe that the letter wasn't genuine.

Again, he sighed despondently.

"Heard the news then, eh?"

Speak of the Devil.

"Why are you smiling?" The man is crazy.

"We-ell, it isn't everyday that we get such a great lead on that bastard." The tone was bright and cheerful, but DiNozzo's eyes were hard and haunted. Jimmy knew the history here – it had come up once before in one of Tony's crazed stress-induced confidences while Gibbs was gone.

"Uhm, Tony?" Jimmy watched as Tony paced somewhat unsteadily back and forth across autopsy. Of course, it was the maniacal grin that really concerned him. He was beginning to think his earlier assessment had been spot on – he really was dealing with a crazy man. "Being threatened by a notorious serial killer is a bad thing."

"Nope." Tony stopped pacing. "Now we know who his next victim is."

"You know it isn't really your case." If Jimmy knew how to be tactful, he would definitely be using that skill now.

Tony growled a little, listing to one side. The man really needed to sit down before he fell down.

"The lead investigator is going to fly out here, you know."

Tony just grunted.

"That means Gibbs."

Tony sighed and leaned against one of the autopsy tables.

"Jimmy," Tony's voice was hoarse and cracking with emotion. What kind of emotion, Jimmy wasn't sure, but he didn't really think it was a good kind. "Gibbs is gonna bulldoze right in here like he usually does. But he'll need me to help him solve this." Tony gulped, swallowing something. "I can't let him put me under protection detail."

And Jimmy understood.

As much as he worried about Tony – what with an angry serial killer out for his blood – Jimmy knew that Tony couldn't just sit by and let his old team hunt for a murder that got away on his watch.

Yeah, Jimmy understood – he just didn't know what to do about it.

He did, however, know what to do with the nasty, clotted cut over the stubborn man's eyebrow.

Start with what you can do, Jimmy he thought to himself, gauging the best way to approach the matter, deal with psycho killers and Gibbs later.

** * ** * ** * **

A/N: I wonder how many times I can call DiNozzo stubborn in one chapter? Well, ok, so now he's off to do something stupid and reckless. Whumping ahead!

Ohhhh, and who is your favorite OC? Vote on it --- winner gets to save a life (haven't decided who yet, but probably DiNozzo…maybe)

P.S. Guys, I know that Jimmy wasn't around for that particular episode with Jeffery White, but we'll pretend he was – or, if you'd rather, just convince yourself that someone gave Jimmy a very detailed account of the event.