One week later...

Gibbs parked in front of his house and made his way toward the front door with a pizza box in-hand. Tony had gotten much better over the past week. His wound had nicely healed, and he'd worked successfully at getting his appetite back to normal. When Gibbs had left for work that morning, Tony had told him he was going to go for a short run. Gibbs thought he'd bring a pizza home in celebration, quite happy that the agent was quickly getting back to his normal self.

As he shut the front door, his eye caught movement at the top of the stairs and he looked up to see Tony sitting at the top; his back against the wall. "What're ya doin', DiNozzo?" he asked before setting the pizza down on the foyer table.

Tony met his eyes, "Contemplating my ability to ever return to work," he replied flatly.

Gibbs narrowed his eyes and decidedly climbed the stairs, sitting down on the top beside him. "Come to any conclusion?" he raised his brows. Tony let his head drop as he closed his eyes briefly, and Gibbs noticed the shirt he was wearing. "That my shirt?" he asked.

"Yep," he replied as he looked back up at him. "Ya know how I said I was gonna go for a run today?" Gibbs nodded. "Well, I was going through my clothes and realized I didn't have anything clean. So I threw in some laundry and decided I didn't wanna wait for them to get done. I came up here to borrow one of your shirts. Guess I didn't realize how much the climb took outta me till I got back out into the hall. By the time I reached the stairs, I couldn't even stand anymore," his head dropped again.

"When did you come up here?" Gibbs asked after a few moments.

"What time is it?" he asked.

"Almost six."

"Couple hours ago," he said with a weak smile. "Fairly pathetic that I've just been sitting up here all this time trying to find the strength to carry my ass back downstairs before you got home to find me like this."

"Are you in pain?" he asked with a furrowed brow; trying to contemplate what exactly was happening.

"Not...exactly," he replied. "My muscles ache. It's kinda like I've been swimming across the ocean...from Alcatraz Island to the shore. And once you get outta the water, you feel a hundred pounds heavier. Movement is suddenly impossible, and you ache from all that swimming..."

"Ducky said it'd be a while before you fully recover from the Dengue Fever," Gibbs tried to reassure him.

"How long, Boss? 'cause I gotta say, I'm really starting to lose hope here..." he took a few frustrated breaths through his nose. "I feel completely useless. I wanna rebuild my strength, and I can't even make it out the door..." his voice cracked. "And it's not even just physically," he confessed as he looked down. "I feel like I'm losing my mind. Yesterday, I was watchin' The Green Mile, and I literally cried like a little girl when they executed John Coffey," he laughed, despite the ache. "Today, right before I came up here, I was lookin' out the window at this little kid riding his tricycle up the street with a big grin on his face... and damned if I didn't start cryin' again! What...what the hell is wrong with me?" his voice cracked again and he cursed under his breath as he felt his eyes begin to sting with fresh tears. He covered his face with his hands, embarrassed, "Shit...sonofabitch..."

"Hey," Gibbs put an arm over his shoulders. "I know you've heard it before, but you've been through a lot. You lost your father. And you were stabbed; almost died. Then spent a sixteen-hour flight fighting a fever we really couldn't do much about, that could've killed you just as well. I'm surprised you've held it together as well as ya have."

"Till today, ya mean," he said through sniffles.

Gibbs smirked, "Everybody has their boiling points, Tony. You're frustrated about a lot of things right now. Mostly because you're impatient. I would be, too. But you'll get better. Just gotta give it time."

"What if it takes too much time, Boss? You'll have to replace me, eventually."

"You're not replaceable," he told him. "Even on your ass on my couch, there's no way I could replace you," he felt Tony shift closer to him and take in a shaky breath. "You helped us solve the Allison case, with one look into the file. Ya think you're useless? You're sooner outta your mind."

"I didn't solve the case, Boss. Just pointed out a couple things..."

"A couple things that it might've taken us a bit longer to find on our own. And by then, it mighta been too late to take down Jack McAllister before he took off. I'm not sayin' this to boost your ego, Tony. I'm sayin' it 'cause it's true. I think Ziva said it best a while back; our team is like a body, and when you're not there, it's like tryin' to work without its heart."

"Ziva said that?" Tony asked, seemingly surprised.

"Yeah, she did," he confirmed. "And I think she was right. You can't replace the heart, Tony. You can try to use an artificial one, but it's never the same. And it wouldn't be the same if you weren't there." He felt Tony's arms around him for a moment before he pulled away from him.

"Thanks, Boss... Sorry I broke down on ya like that."

Gibbs ruffled the back of Tony's hair before standing, "C'mon. Let's get you downstairs before that pizza gets cold."

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Two days later...

McGee snapped pictures of the dead Marine who was found in a dumpster outside of a self-storage building. It was more like a mummy, than anything. How it got in the dumpster was anyone's guess. But, oddly enough, it wasn't the creepiest or grossest thing Tim had ever seen. He could even imagine the movie references Tony would be dishing out in this very moment, and it made him smirk.

"What's so funny?" Palmer asked as he stood beside McGee with a grin as he looked at the body.

"Oh uh...nothing. I was just thinkin' of Tony," he said as he snapped another picture. "I mean uh...well, that is...if he was here..."

"Yeah, I know," Palmer gave a small laugh. "Thebes, City of the Living. Crown jewel of Pharaoh Seti the First. Home of Imhotep, Pharaoh's high priest, keeper of the dead. Birthplace of Anck Su Namun, Pharaoh's mistress. No other man was allowed to touch her. But for their love, they were willing to risk life itself."

"What in the devil are you talking about, Mr. Palmer?" Ducky asked as he approached from the van.

"Oh uh...just a movie quote, Dr. Mallard. In honor of Agent DiNozzo..."

"From The Mummy," McGee elaborated. "But I guess it really doesn't fit, other than the obvious observation that this body seems to be mummified."

"What an odd bit to memorize," Ducky commented as he knelt beside the body.

"Well, it's just that I've seen it so many times..." Jimmy started, but abandoned it as Ducky looked up at him with a lack of patience. He knelt down next to the doctor.

"It does seem that the body has been through some sort of mummification process. Everything seems to be intact, including the lad's military uniform. I suppose that's why we were called..." Ducky looked up as Gibbs came from the storage office.

"Any idea on time of death, Duck?" he asked.

"Yes...long ago," he said. "I'll have to get him back to my cold table to determine anything further, Jethro. But I'd say he's been dead at least a year, if not two. And he's been kept somewhere sealed away; possibly wrapped in some kind of cloth, as it would seem, according to these patterns on his skin. You could probably attempt to get a fingerprint with that gadget of yours, Timothy," he said.

McGee dug into his bag to retrieve the device, and crouched down to carefully place one of the stiffened fingers onto the scanner. "Oh, wow...it actually read it," McGee seemed surprised as he stood and waited for results. Gibbs stood close to him, waiting for something to come up.

"The sanitation worker that found the body," Ziva said as she approached them, "Says that they pick up every Thursday morning. So it could not have been there for more than a week."

"Got something, Boss," McGee said. "Lieutenant Mitch Fretal; missing since June of 08," he looked up at his boss.

"Ziva, check and see if any of these storage units are being rented that date back at least that far. It's fairly safe to assume he wasn't killed right here. He was in a clear trash bag, so whatever was on him, is still on him. Go ahead and get him back to NCIS, Duck."

As the body was loaded into the van, Ziva came out with the manager, "There has not been any units rented that long, because this place has only been in business for eight months," Ziva began. "But, there was a new unit rented out four days ago. They needed the largest one available, and prepaid for the next three years."

"Can you open it?" Gibbs asked the manager.

"No problem," he said, and led them to the unit. "The guy that paid for the unit was kinda creepy. Had his face hidden with one of those scarf things...wore sunglasses and a hat. Kinda looked like Michael Jackson in a way, but he was a bigger dude."

"How did he pay you?" Gibbs asked.

"Cash. Signed a contract, but he was wearin' leather gloves, so I don't guess you'd be able to get a print from it." He stopped in front of the unit and unlocked it. "I don't know what all is in here, but if it's valuable, I hope you don't plan on breakin' anything. He might end up suing me..." He pulled open the door and the sun lit it up.

"Wow," McGee commented. "That's a lot of carpets." From wall to wall, the place was lined up with rolled carpets, standing up against each other. There were probably forty of them.

"A bit strange," Ziva said. "Why would someone want to store a bunch of carpets for three years?"

"If they were hiding a body in them," Gibbs said as he moved toward one. "McGee," he motioned for him to assist as he lowered one to lie flat on the ground. Then they slowly unraveled it. Inside, was a bagged, mummified body... The manager ran out of the unit to vomit, and McGee looked up at Gibbs. "We're gonna need a bigger van..."

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"Very puzzling indeed," Ducky said as he examined the fifth of forty-one bodies. "How on earth did all of you end up in such a state? I don't suppose you'd be able to give me any more clues than your predecessors?" he was interrupted in thought by the hissing of the morgue doors, and he turned to see Gibbs as he approached him.

"Got anything for me, Duck?" he asked.

"Other than a request for more storage space?" he joked. "From what I can tell in the bodies I've examined so far, is that they'd all been killed within a year's time span. But I have only gotten through an eighth of the bodies."

"Any idea how they died?"

"Exsanguination," he informed him. "And I'm almost certain they were still alive when the process started. Each of them shows blunt force trauma to the skull, but not a deadly blow. They were simply knocked unconscious, then punctured here," he pointed the double puncture mark on the side of the neck, "Where the blood was then drained."

"Why would someone do this?" Gibbs asked.

"The way in which they were kept after death, suggests that the people or person who did this, wasn't simply keeping trophies or mementos. The fact that they were kept in storage, leads me to believe that they were simply trying to hide them from the world. But also, afraid that burying them wouldn't be a better avenue. He needed to feel in control of whether they could stay hidden."

"Just put them in there four days ago, Ducky."

"Yes, well, the condition of the carpets they were kept in, suggests they were in some other storage unit before being moved. Perhaps someone was catching on... Or perhaps he was feeling cocky. Needed to upgrade for more room. Which doesn't really explain why one of them was in the dumpster."

"Maybe I should call Fornell," Gibbs suggested. "They could at least help out with the rest of the bodies."

"That would be a wise choice, as I've only so far seen the one Marine. The rest of them have come up civilians or John Doe's." Gibbs nodded in acknowledgment, but stood there still, seeming slightly preoccupied. "It's getting late, Jethro. You should call it a night; go home and check in on Anthony."

"Tony's fine. Just called him. But I'm worried about him. Doesn't seem to be getting any strength back at all. He's getting frustrated, and I can understand why."

"I'll stop in and take a look at him tonight. I can take some blood; have Abby run some tests to make sure everything is okay, physiologically. But from what you shared with me the other day, I'd have to say I do believe he may be suffering from a bit of depression."

"Ya think?" he said almost sarcastically.

"I know this is hardly a good time, but he needs you," he told him. Gibbs narrowed his eyes. "You're the closest thing to a father that he's ever really had, Jethro. And even if he doesn't outright admit it, he needs you to need him. And the one thing that he can do in that aspect, he can't be here for."

"Well, I can't let him come back to work. He's not ready."

"Of course not. But, just as he helped with the Allison case, perhaps he can occupy some of his thoughts on this one." Gibbs cocked his head from side to side, trying to wager that option. "He needs a sense of accomplishment, Jethro."

"He also happens to not be an idiot, Ducky. If I start bringin' work home, he's gonna think I'm just tryin' to humor him."

"Are you certain of that? I believe that being a fresh mind to the case can sometimes be of tremendous help. But that aside, do give Fornell a call. Then go home."

Gibbs raised his brows, "That an order?" he smirked.

"Just the part about you going home afterward," the doctor winked.

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Gibbs entered the bullpen where Ziva and Tim were going over snapshots of the missing persons reports on the big screen. "What do ya got?" he asked.

McGee looked over at him briefly, "All the victims are male," he began, "Between the ages of twenty-five and fifty. No apparent links between any of them. None of them lived in the same area."

"The western-most point is in Seattle," Ziva explained. "And there is an obvious trail ending in West Virginia."

"According to missing persons reports," Tim added, "The time-line shows that each victim was killed chronologically along the trail. No wavering. The line on the map is the path traveled. So he's been killing as he moves."

"Call storage facilities in each area; see if anyone noticed strange activity. I wanna know where this guy's been, and if there's a camera in any of those offices that may have captured his face."

"Uh well... it's after hours for storage facilities, Boss," McGee said.

"Well, do it in the morning, then," Gibbs said.

"We should stake out the storage unit," Ziva suggested. "He might come back."

"Fine. You and McGee, go down there until Fornell's men get there," he told them.

"Fornell?" McGee questioned. "You're bringing them into the case?"

"Only one of those bodies is our jurisdiction, McGee. And we're gonna need some help trackin' this guy down. So go watch for him, then when the FBI gets there, go home. Be here first thing in the morning."

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Tony successfully managed to make two fairly decent-sized sandwiches. He grinned to himself as he placed them on two plates and carried them to the table. As he turned to get a drink from the fridge, he heard the front door open, thinking to himself, perfect timing.

"Hey, Boss," he called as Gibbs made his way into the kitchen.

"You made dinner?" Gibbs cocked his head.

"Well, I made sandwiches," Tony smirked as he handed him a beer. "Didn't wanna risk cookin' somethin' and burnin' the house down if I suddenly couldn't make it back to the kitchen."

Gibbs looked at the stacked concoction; a good amount of roast-beef topped with cheese and all the works. "Looks good," he said as he pulled out a chair and sat in front of the plate.

"Well, I just used whatever was in the fridge," he said as he sat with his own plate.

"You do okay today?" he asked before taking a huge bite of the sandwich.

"Decided to sleep for most of it. Got up and took a shower. Tested out the stairs again; didn't seem to have much trouble this time. Then I crashed on the couch a while... Got up and decided to make somethin' to eat and realized you'd probably be home. Guess you don't have a big case?"

"Actually, we do," Gibbs said after swallowing. "Huge case."

"Really?" Tony said with his mouth full, and an inquiring look on his face.

"Forty-one bodies," he sad before taking another bite.

"Holy shit...was there a bomb or something?" he guessed.

Gibbs shook his head. "Serial killer," he managed through the mouthful of food. "From what we can tell so far, he's been killing randomly," he swallowed before continuing, "Over the past couple of years. Leads all the way from Seattle to West Virginia."

"Where'd you find the bodies?" Tony asked, setting the sandwich aside for the moment.

"Sanitation worker called in, finding a body in a dumpster at a storage building. Then we found out someone had recently rented a unit there; prepaid in cash for the next three years."

"Bodies were in the unit?" Tony guessed and Gibbs nodded. "Do they have security tapes?"

Gibbs shook his head, "And the manager said the guy had his face covered up with a scarf and sunglasses. Wore a hat and gloves, too."

"Do you have any leads?"

"No. We're gonna call every storage facility from here to Seattle and see if anyone's seen him. Maybe he didn't wear his costume every time."

"How were they killed?"

"Duck says they were knocked out and had all the blood drained from their bodies," he told him. "They were all mummified, bagged and rolled up in carpets."

"Is that how the sanitation worker found the body? Rolled in a carpet?"

"No, he was just in a bag," he said as he stuck the rest of the sandwich in his mouth.

Tony's eyes darted around the table-top surface. "Forty bodies in the unit, each wrapped in a carpet...and one in the dumpster..." he squinted as he thought. "He's driven by ritual," he commented; or perhaps thought aloud. His gaze didn't leave the table. "He kills them all in the same way...stores them all the same way. Why would he leave one out? Did he run out of carpets?"

Gibbs smirked, but decided not to interrupt his line of thought. "Did he run outta room? Or...was he leaving a..." his brow furrowed as he met Gibbs' eyes. "The body found was military, I take it...since you were investigating. Were any of the others?"

"No," Gibbs shook his head, "Just the one."

"You said he was mummified. Ducky get a TOD?"

"Almost two years."

"He put that one out to be found, Boss. He's daring you. And chances are, if he's planning on being around for the next three years, he thinks you're not gonna be able to figure it out."

"If he knew our team would be called in, specifically...why? Why would he dare me?"

"Because you're the best, Boss," he replied in all seriousness. "If you can't catch him, he knows he's home free."

He was about to respond, but was interrupted by the ringing of his cell. Fishing it from his pocket, he answered, "Yeah, Gibbs."

"We've got a problem, Jethro," Fornell sounded on the other line. "We just got here to take over the stake-out, and your agents' car is empty."

"You sure they didn't see the guy and go after him?"

"Would they leave their weapons, phones and behind?"

"What..." Gibbs felt a sinking feeling in his gut. "Sonofabitch...he's got them..."

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tbc...