A/N: Please do not take this personally, Christians, Catholics, Priests, and door-to-door salesmen! I do not mean to offend anyone, all I'm doing is depicting some of the more… interesting reactions I've received. I'm so sorry if I offend anyone! I do not mean it, I promise! I'm Christian myself, and I have nothing against various religions!

I don't know the real procedure for this, or who does it, so if I get it wrong, I'm sorry.

The restaurants' name is 'I don't speak French' in French.

Disclaimer: I do not own 'Friends', Joey, a turkey, or a chick and a duck. I felt the need to put in an extra disclaimer since I mention it…

Ducky looked at Gibbs, frowning.

"Oh, dear. That can't be good."

Gibbs scowled. He wanted to say that it was all his own fault, anyway, and that he had no-one to blame but himself. But he didn't. He'll handle Tony directly.

"Well, what do you expect? Shaking so much you can't stand up – it's no wonder he won't be allowed to do some things anymore."

"Well, the times I know of had triggers. He had overworked himself and was tired as well as over heated causing the first one, then it was Abby's plasma screen in the lab, the glare of the reflected light moving and flashing in the car, as well as heat, as it was extremely hot that day – what possessed him to go out in a black car – and then the most recent seizure…" Ducky trailed off, knowing that stress had no small amount to play in Tony's condition. Stress induced by Jethro Gibbs. He looked at Jethro, concerned. "I understand that these precautions must be made, but still, maybe if he was careful…" He knew he was fighting for a lost cause, and sighed defeated. Rules were rules. "He must be very upset."

"I wouldn't know." He didn't want to know.

This confused Ducky.

"How come? You did talk him through it? Explain why this is happening?"

Now, Special Agent Leroy Jethro Gibbs usually wasn't one to refrain from lying. Well, not lying, but 'omitting certain truths deemed unnecessary by his person'. This form of censorship had served him well for several years, getting him out of tight spots, and helping in investigations.

However, he wasn't sure about this method being used on Ducky. He was friendly, tended to wax nostalgic, but he was smart. And one of his best friends. He could see right through him.

"He knows." Short, non-specific, still truthful answers. That's the way to maneuver out of this.

Ducky narrowed his eyes, a sight to behold on the aging doctor's face. Gibbs was giving short, non-specific answers. That meant he was hiding something.

"But you talked to him, right?"

This was important. Tony needed support.

"…yes."

Ducky sighed, and smiled at his friend. He wanted to make sure Tony got the help he needed, and Gibbs wasn't exactly the talking type. However, if he said he did it… he trusted him.

"Alright. That's all I wanted to know. I'm going to bring some blood samples to Abby. I'll see you in a bit."

Then he was gone.

Gibbs sighed. He felt bad about censoring his conversation with Ducky. He hadn't done it before, and he felt like he had betrayed his trust.

He didn't lie, exactly. He had spoken to Tony about it.

He had said, "Here".

Tony flopped down on his cozy, beige, couch, and heaved a sigh. Today had been tougher than usual. He had prepared himself for questions, comments, and the jolt of returning to work after an extended leave of absence. But he was in no way prepared for the actual behavior that came his way.

He picked up the television remote and switched it on, idly flicking through the channels. He eventually settled on the 'Friends' marathon, tuning in during the middle of 'The One With The Chick and the Duck'. He wasn't really paying attention to the antics of said 'Friends', though. For him, they were more like thinking music, so he could concentrate on exactly what had transpired between him and his colleagues that day. He couldn't think when it was too quiet.

Abby, Ducky and McGee were fine. He had talked to them when he arrived, and they had, of course, been happy to see him up and about again. He even gave Abby one of those foul-tasting white pills he had to take, for her to analyze. Partly because she was bored, and partly because they were both morbidly curious as to exactly what chemicals he was pumping into his body – and how much. He guessed it wasn't good by it's taste – and the fact that Abby wrinkled her nose and widened her eyes when he showed her the box. Her exact words, if he remembered correctly, were, "They can do that!"

Although Abby hadn't exactly been reassuring, she was a whole lot better than Kate and Gibbs. This was where it got confusing. He had worked with them both for ages. They had saved his life, he had saved theirs. They weren't just colleagues, they were friends.

So why were they ignoring him?

Tony could tell it wasn't the playful sort of ignoring he was subjected to when he had come back after having the plague. Then, they had totally ignored him – even when he was dancing in their faces. Now, they acknowledged him – but only as much as necessary, to be civil. Sort of. The conversations were short and to the point, Kate always finding an excuse to hurry off, and Gibbs just walking off after uttering a "Here", "Get to work", "Hurry up" or "Shut it".

They hadn't visited him when he was sick – a fact he had been willing to overlook, seeing as though they probably had a big case. But now that he was back, no recent cases seemed to take up the amount of manpower that would keep them from visiting him. In fact, the last week had just been paperwork.

And they didn't even ask whether he was feeling better, or call, or even leave a note!

Tony glared at the television screen (which currently depicted an Italian man with his head up a turkey's bum), anger resembling that of a woman scorned beginning to build up in his chest.

He was there for them, despite all his pranks and jokes! Why weren't they there for him? And then there was the file Gibbs gave him…

He quickly got up and went to the kitchen to brew himself some herbal tea. Anger didn't solve anything, he reminded himself. Unless you're Gibbs, and you have the uncanny ability to fashion your anger into a white-hot arrow pointed directly at your enemy.

He put the kettle on and sighed. Unfortunately, he didn't know who his enemy was.

He didn't look up at the first knock – he thought it was the TV. The second knock was louder and sounded more real, however, so he decided to answer, just in case someone was there.

The door swung open to reveal a tall, brown haired man in a smart black suit without a tie. Instead, a silver cross hung around his neck. He carried a briefcase, and wearing a disturbingly serene look on his face.

"Hello Mr. Dinozzo. My Name is Father Adams – I'm here to help you."

Tony – like all people who are confronted by similar spectacles on their doorstep – smiled uncomfortably and said, "I'm sorry, Sir-Father, but I have no intention of joining a religious group now or anytime in the future."

Father Adams just smiled. "May I come in?"

"No."

He was kind of annoyed. He had just been through the mother of bad days, and the last thing he needed was a pushy door-to-door salesman.

"Tony, let us in."

Tony jumped and craned his neck to see behind Father Adams.

Standing there was Kate, fidgeting and sweating nervously, still refusing to look him in the eye.

"What the – "

Father Adams quickly obscured his view of Kate. As if he were protecting her.

"We'd like to come in, if you please."

He had prepared for some swearing, slamming of doors and overall violence. So he was a little bit surprised when Tony, partly out of shock and partly because he wanted to talk to Kate, stammered a "Yeah, sure, come on in", opened the door, and proceeded to offer them some herbal tea he had apparently just been in the middle of brewing. They sat on the couch, after quickly refusing the tea, and waited for him to return from the kitchen.

Father Adams turned to Kate and whispered in her ear.

"Are you sure he's the one?"

"Positive!"

"He's not showing any signs – he doesn't look as if he's possessed."

"Not now he isn't. Believe me, I saw it. He was shaking on the ground and frothing at the mouth and biting his tongue and he was screaming!"

Kate's memory of the event was slightly exaggerated – due to the speed of which it happened, the darkness, flashing lights and distraction of holding a criminal at gunpoint. Plus the fact that the entire club had been screaming at the spectacle.

He looked intently at her for a moment.

"Maybe he was possessed, but I think it has passed, or left him."

Kate saw where this was going and immediately began to object, but he quickly quieted her.

"I do not sense any bad spirits here. We can't do anything – unless he is in the middle of a fit. Or immediately after one."

Kate nodded mutely, disappointed and scared.

"If he should have a fit when you are present," he pressed a silver cross into her hand, "you know what to do. It doesn't matter if it's big or small. I'm only a few minutes away."

She nodded resolutely.

Father Adams stood up, and spoke loudly in the direction of the kitchen.

"Well, it was nice meeting you Mr. Dinozzo, but I'm afraid we have to leave now. I have reservations at that new restaurant – Je Ne Parle Francais. It's supposed to be quite good – authentic French food. Apparently the owners recently moved here from France. Well, goodbye!"

He quickly left, Kate in tow.

"Hey, wait, what? Uh… Bye!"

Tony was left standing in the doorway of his kitchen, a pot of herbal tea in one hand, wondering what on earth had just happened in his living room.

A/N: There you go! Hope you liked it! Please don't kill me!