Abby ran through the squad room as fast as she could in her platform boots. She couldn't figure out why no one was around. It was late, but someone should have brought her evidence from the crime scene. McGee had left hours ago. She stopped just outside the elevator, wondering if her mind was playing tricks on her. She'd gotten very little sleep in the past few days; it was entirely possible she'd dreamed him being called to a scene. Of course, that would mean she hadn't just cracked the case and there was no reason for her to be excited. And she liked being excited.

She leaped out of the elevator when she spotted Ducky outside Autopsy. "Ducky! Finally! I can't find anyone, and I mean anyone! No one's in the squad room and everybody's phones are going straight to voicemail. I couldn't even get Gibbs. Isn't never being out of touch rule number five or something?"

"I believe it's three." Ducky surveyed her seriously, inducing her to stop bouncing. "Abigail, has no one told you?"

"Told me what?" He was leading her by the hand, pressing her into the chair by his desk.

"Ziva was shot at the scene."

"No!" She was instantly on her feet. "Ducky, no! Is she okay?"

"Well, she's…"

Abby cut him off with an ear-piercing scream. Palmer and three assistants had just come through the automatic doors into the morgue, pushing gurneys with black body bags on top. She dug her nails into Ducky's shoulders as she squeezed him tightly. "No, no, no! This can't be happening again, Ducky! Not again!"

"Abby, Ziva is in the hospital."

She relaxed her hold, but didn't let go. "You're sure?"

"Yes, I bandaged her up a bit myself and saw her go into the ambulance."

"So it isn't serious if you fixed her at the scene." Abby settled down even more. "And you're sure she's not dead?" She glanced suspiciously at the body bags being lifted onto autopsy tables.

He frowned slightly, but quickly altered his expression. "You can meet my two new patients if you'd like."

"I trust you, Ducky."

He looked at her over the rims of his glasses and smiled benevolently. "Why don't I show you anyway?"

"I might feel better if you did." She smiled back and took the arm he gallantly offered.

"Mr. Palmer, if you would…" Jimmy unzipped the first bag, revealing a middle-aged man. "This is Dr. Marvin Franklin."

"He looks better in person. Aside from being dead. I recognize him from the security video of the shooting."

"Yes, he was found in his own kitchen when Gibbs went to bring him in for questioning regarding that very incident." Ducky led her to the second table, nodding to Jimmy again. "And this is…"

Abby's eyes got very wide. "Retired Lieutenant Commander Brian Evans!"

He gaped at her in amazement. "I was going to say Naval Officer John Doe. He didn't have any identification on his body, with the notable exception of an Academy ring. How do you know who he is?"

"He's in the video we got of the murders! Well, his hand is. But the class ring is the important thing. He's from the US Naval Academy, class of 1978. I just had to look up the class photo and look really, really hard at everybody's hands. I'd narrowed it down to him or Marine Captain Jacob McFadden, but McFadden has a really good alibi – killed in action in Desert Storm."

"I'm sure Gibbs will be pleased to hear that when he gets back. That you've identified the man, I mean, not about that other poor boy."

"Gibbs will be thrilled because I've got even more! Evans is currently employed as a middle management type at Zangent Research Labs, who have reportedly been working on their own Parkinson's drug. Maybe Zangent killed Dr. Neal and Dr. Frank to stop them from getting their drug out!"

"I suppose it's possible."

Abby continued inspecting the dead man's body. "Wow. Three rounds in his chest and they all went through the breast pocket of his shirt! Who's been practicing on the pistol range?"

"I believe it was Ziva."

Hearing her name reminded Abby that Ziva had been sent to the hospital. "So did she get grazed by a bullet or something?"

"No." He paused ominously. "It was more serious."

"How much more serious? Ducky, you said you bandaged her up!"

"I did what I could to staunch the blood flow. We really won't know much about her condition until she gets out of surgery. Director Shepard is at the hospital and…"

"Surgery? How bad was she?"

He sighed, sitting in his chair. "She was shot in the lower back, a through and through, leaving a large exit wound. With the amount of blood loss…"

The intonation he was using was too familiar for Abby to endure. "Stop, Ducky. Stop talking like you're performing an autopsy!"

"I apologize, my dear." He stood, wrapped an arm around her shoulders and kissed her cheek. "I suppose we all have our own ways of dealing with trauma."

They both looked left as the doors whooshed open and Tony stepped into the morgue. His eyes focused on the open body bag containing Evans before sweeping the rest of the room. "Abby, McGee's got stuff for you in the lab." He turned to leave.

Abby ran after him before he could get away, grabbing his arm. He allowed her to spin him but wouldn't return the hug she confined him in. "Are you okay?"

"Fine." He tried to pull away but she maintained her hold.

When she finally released him she realized that his appearance did nothing to support his assertion that he was fine. His jeans were stained with large red blotches and a slash of red marred his jaw-line. "Oh, Tony, you're bleeding!" She attempted to touch his face.

"I'm not." He brushed her off. "It's not mine. I have to go. Gibbs is waiting for me and I have to change."

"Tony, wait. Tony!" Abby shouted, still concerned by the amount of blood she'd seen on him. "Ziva's gonna be fine. It's not the same. It's not like Kate."

He whirled and faced her with an expression she'd never seen him wear. "No, no it's not the same, because this guy wasn't five-hundred yards away, he was ten feet away. He hid under the stairs and listened to us talking and when our backs were turned he shot her," he shouted, slamming his hand on the nearest autopsy table, the one occupied by the body of the shooter.

"This is not your fault, Tony." She tried to hug him again.

He shied away from the contact, bumping against a portable table in his retreat. He forcefully flipped the metal tray on top and sent it crashing to the floor. No one spoke as the instruments clattered to a stop halfway across the room. His right hand clenched and unclenched; an object trailing a delicate gold chain remained clasped in his left. He eventually turned and said, "I'd just told her I'd protect her." A brooding expression came over his face. "And the bastard heard me. He shot her because he figured I wouldn't follow him if I was concerned about her." He gave a desolate laugh. "It's not the same because it's my fault. I could have stopped this, and not just in some slow motion action movie scene way. I really could have stopped this."

Ducky seized his shoulders and shook him roughly. "Anthony DiNozzo, you listen to me. The man lying on that autopsy table is the only person responsible for shooting Ziva, and you have already given him what he deserves. And Ziva is going to survive because you were there to look after her. You did take care of her. You have nothing to feel guilty about."

"Yeah," he replied, his gaze drifting from Ducky to the dead man. "Lemme know how many rounds from my gun you get out of him." He swept Ducky's hands from his shoulders. "Gibbs is waiting for me to go with him to Callaghan. McGee's waiting in your lab, Abby."

"I have to talk to Gibbs before you go. I've got an ID on the dead guy."

He had stopped in the door to listen to her. He didn't turn around. "He's in the squad room." The doors hissed closed behind him.

Abby turned to Ducky. "He's freaking out. She must be bad."

"Chin up, Abby. When Ziva recovers, so will he."

She didn't have the heart to question him with an 'if.'