Chapter 2

ooo

Gibbs had a routine for entering the office. Pausing before coming into view was the perfect way to get a brief preview of what his agents were up to. It wasn't unusual for that preview to be amusing, and involving yet another stunt of DiNozzo's that he would never have pulled if he knew his boss was just around the corner. Gibbs waited just long enough to get the gist of the conversation. It wasn't as if he chose, purposefully, to stride in just at the exact moment when his unexpected arrival would cause a general fluster. He just had good timing. But he had to admit, seeing the three of them jump and scramble was the perfect way to start out most days.

"…freaky."

The first word, spoken by McGee, caused Gibbs to raise an eyebrow. Ziva spoke next.

"It does not look…natural. I think maybe we should do something?"

"Like what?" McGee, again. "He's not responding to anything I say. If you want to try socking him…"

Gibbs decided that was his cue to enter. He had a good guess what the "freaky" problem was.

"Uh…Tony? Snap out of it. You can come back to the land of the living any time now…"

McGee was just snapping his fingers in Tony's face. Gibbs could hear the edge of concern beneath the sarcasm, but the junior agent still received a glare, and a, "Back off, McGee." Harsh, probably, but it seemed instinctive—reflexive—and right then his focus was on DiNozzo. He planned on letting the rest of the team in on their problem, but they didn't know now, and Gibbs knew Tony wouldn't appreciate either of them seeing him like this, even with an explanation. He undoubtedly wouldn't appreciate Gibbs seeing him like this either, but that couldn't be helped.

The other agent was looked abnormally vulnerable, staring off into space, head titled slightly to one side. Gibbs blocked Ziva's view by standing directly in her line of sight; McGee had suddenly become single-mindedly absorbed in something on his computer.

Now that he'd secured the right to deal with the problem, Gibbs wasn't entirely sure how to go about it. It was apparent from McGee's actions that Tony had thus far been unresponsive to any verbal attempts to rouse him. Gibbs tried anyway.

"DiNozzo."

No response.

Automatically, Gibbs raised a hand to mete out a gentle swat. Instead, he ended up squeezing Tony's shoulder. He hadn't expected the response to be quite so immediate.

Tony blinked, winced, blinked more specifically at Gibbs, and his wince deepened. In a voice too low for McGee or Ziva to hear, he murmured sheepishly, "Did it again, huh?"

Gibbs nodded, once.

Tony was as good at reading Gibbs, and he interpreted his set expression now.

"Uh, Boss, I don't really think that's necessary… Ducky's already given me a clean bill of health. I just need some Tylenol for the headache."

Gibbs guessed that the grin Tony gave him was supposed to look indomitable and cheerful. He couldn't be sure, because it failed to do anything but look thin. Gibbs ignored his objections, and addressed the rest of the team.

"Ziva, wrap up, and meet us in ten, down in autopsy. McGee, get Abby, and do the same. DiNozzo—with me."

Tony looked like he wanted to argue, but rose instead.

"Right, Boss."

ooo

"I don't know what to tell you, Jethro." Ducky sighed. "I cannot find anything physically wrong with him. Save for a headache, it would seem he's in perfect health."

The MD had run all the tests he had the resources to do in-house. Gibbs hadn't been pleased with the required waiting time for results, and he wasn't too happy with the results now that he'd gotten them. He didn't want anything to be wrong with Tony, obviously, but there was something wrong, lack of positive results notwithstanding. He knew Tony wanted a name to put on the problem as much as he did.

The rest of the team had yet to arrive, a fact for which Gibbs knew Tony was grateful. If he were in his agent's place, he knew he'd be wishing he could find a way to fix things quickly, and privately, with as little broadcasting and fuss being made as possible.

Tony smiled at Ducky's pronouncement, and enthusiastically slid off the metal table. He motioned broadly, palms up, in a ta-da gesture. "See? Perfect health."

Gibbs let Tony have his moment of triumph unopposed, but continued to press Ducky. "Any ideas? Theories?"

Ducky frowned in consideration. "It sounds almost as if he could be suffering from petit mal—or absence seizures. But too many pieces don't quite fit. For one thing, sufferers are primarily younger, usually children between six and twelve years old. For another, these episodes have been lasting for minutes at time, am I correct?"

"Over five minutes, once," Gibbs confirmed.

Reluctantly, Tony added, "And I've had longer ones than that before."

The doctor nodded. "That doesn't fit at all. In atypical cases absence seizures can last for a minute or so, but they're usually only a matter of seconds. There are other things that don't fit, either. These experiences you've been having with heightened sensory perception, they seem directly connected these temporarily lapses in awareness. But how, I don't know. I wish I could be of more help, but this is all rather out of my range of expertise. Perhaps you should see a neurologist?"

"No way," Tony protested quickly. "I trust you, Ducky. If you say I have perfect health…"

"He might do that, Ducky," Gibbs interrupted, with a look that dared Tony to contradict him. He knew the last thing DiNozzo wanted was to pour out his problems to a total stranger; the fact that he'd been prepared to quit without explaining it to any of his team was proof of that. But Gibbs had meant it when he said they were going to solve this, and that meant doing whatever it took. Even dragging Tony kicking and screaming to see ten neurologists if need be.

Further discussion was interrupted by the arrival of Abby, McGee, and Ziva.

"Tony, are you okay?" Abby was at Tony's side in an instant, in full hovering mothering hen mode. "McGee says you did that…thing again."

"Yeah, I did that…thing, again. But I'm fine now," Tony insisted, façade in full slipshod condition. "Just a headache."

"What were you doing?" Abby's concern was merging with exasperation. "I told you you shouldn't try and experiment around with—" Something in Tony's expression gave her the hint and made her pause. Gibbs saw her follow Tony's line of sight to McGee and Ziva, who remained in the background wearing nonplused expressions. Abby immediately changed her line of scolding. "You haven't told them, Tony?" She whacked his forearm, albeit more gently than she might have under other conditions. "They deserve to know. Besides, you need keepers."

Tony gave one of his classic snorts of derision that said "yeah right" as clear as anything.

Abby narrowed her eyes at him. "Well you do need help, Anthony DiNozzo, whether you admit it or not."

"Abby," Tony's voice was low for warning effect as much as to keep what he was saying from being heard by everyone in the room. "I did tell you about this in confidence, you know…"

"Gibbs," Abby half appealed, half demanded of him. "Can I tell them?"

Gibbs met Tony's look of betrayal evenly. This has got to come out sooner or later, DiNozzo. Tony's expression fell in resignation, and he gave a nearly imperceptible nod of permission.

"Shoot, Abbs." Despite the situation, Gibbs found himself smiling. He'd been wondering how he was going to explain—now he didn't have to find out.

"Tell us what?" McGee finally hazarded. He looked between Abby and Gibbs in confusion. "Do you guys know something that Ziva and I don't about this freaky stuff with Tony?"

Abby turned abruptly on McGee, looking ready to do much more than admonish him with a swat.

McGee's eyes widened. "What? What did I say?"

"Don't you ever use the word freak in connection with Tony, McGee."

"Well I actually said 'freaky', not 'freak'," McGee backpedaled.

"Tony is experiencing some unusual things. That does not make him some unnatural anomaly to be gawked at or treated differently."

Tony himself, Gibbs noted, was rolling his eyes and looking ready to remind the rest of them that he was right there listening. Ducky looked concerned, and Ziva both perturbed, and impatient.

As much as he enjoyed watching Abby on the rampage, especially on behalf of a worthy cause, Gibbs decided the conversation could use a little guidance. "Maybe you should get back to the explanation, Abby."

"Right—right," Abby agreed with a last stern look at McGee. "It's not just the zoning out stuff, guys, it's way bigger."

"Boy, it sounds so much better when you downplay it like that," Tony muttered.

Ducky decided to step in with a little clarification. "What Abby is trying to say, here, is that Anthony has been experiencing some heightened sensory perception. Very heightened, from the sound of it."

Ziva spoke for the first time, testing the words, as if uncertain she'd understood. "Sensory perception?"

"Yes, my dear." Ducky elaborated, "Sight, hearing, taste…"

"Oh, you didn't mention taste to me," Abby interrupted, looking at Tony.

Tony had been looking more and more uncomfortable during the conversation. Gibbs could sympathize. He must've felt something like a lab rat being discussed like this. But uncomfortable or not, he apparently couldn't say no to Abby's enthusiasm.

"I thought it was just the rest. That, I could've handled." Plenty of sarcasm, there. "But today it looks like touch decided it didn't want to be left out of the fun." Tony's uncharacteristic somberness, which was beginning to list towards wryly born misery, finally seemed to register on his audience. "It looks like all five of 'em are going super sensitive. Lucky me." He'd been absently scratching at his right arm, and now switched over to the left.

Gibbs didn't even get the chance to pry. Trust Abby to boldly do what no one else dared to do. Gently, but firmly, she unbuttoned the cuff of his sleeve and rolled it back in one smooth gesture. She authoritatively ignored his "ouch", but then immediately gave a small gasp and quick, "Oh gee, Tony, I'm sorry…"

Gibbs had to wince in sympathy when he saw the long swath of irritated red skin that covered his forearm and…well, most of his arm, period. He'd have been willing to hazard a guess on the state of his other arm.

Tony looked surprised too. "Wow."

"Anthony," Ducky admonished. "You should have said something about this before."

"I didn't realize before…" Tony touched the angry-looking skin gingerly. "Wow."

"That's it, Mister, you're coming with me." When Tony began to protest, Abby appealed to Gibbs again, this time simply utilizing a pleading look.

"DiNozzo, go with Abby."

She tugged, this time with extreme caution, on his hand, and Tony resigned himself to her lead. They could all hear Abby's voice chattering off ideas as the two of them left—Gibbs thought he heard something about hydrocortisone and switching detergent.

Gibbs motioned to his remaining agents with one finger. "Ziva, McGee. We need to talk."

ooo

Usually, Gibbs found the familiar, monotonous job of working on his boat soothing. It still was, but it currently only served as a shallow distraction. He couldn't still his mind, or put aside the uneasy feeling in his gut. He didn't usually ignore that feeling—it had served him well before—but he was running out of excuses to pay attention to it.

Tony hadn't been being exactly resistant to his team's attention, but it was obvious he thought they were being paranoid. Ziva's offer to Tony of a ride home hadn't gone over well at all. That, of course, could be chalked up to Ziva's skill, or lack thereof, behind the wheel. No one, however, had made a second offer.

That left Gibbs with a bad feeling, and no plausible reason he could think of to do anything about it.

He was just considering going to bed when his cell phone rang. He set his tools down quickly, answering before the second ring. "Gibbs." He received no reply. The sounds on the other end were static and indistinct, but Gibbs could hear what sounded like rain and cars going by. Whoever it was, was either close to a door or window, or out in the mess that currently was Washington DC's weather.

"Who is this?"

"Boss?"

Tony's voice sounded hoarse and uncertain, as if he wasn't actually responding to Gibbs' queries, or hearing him at all.

"DiNozzo." When a reply was absent, he tried again. "Tony…"

"Sorry, Boss…" Tony simultaneously slurred, and grit out. "Was jus gonna have a couple drinks, dunno what happened. Thought was just one…"

From the sound of it, the last thing Tony needed right now for Gibbs to indulge in a few loud expletives, so he kept them un-broadcasted. It didn't sound so much like Tony was drunk, as shivering. Yup, definitely outside.

"C'use a lil' help…"

Ya think? "Where are you?" Gibbs demanded. On the other end, he could hear Tony moan. More quietly, but with the same level of urgency Gibbs tried again: "Tell me where you are." Come on… What he heard in response sounded suspiciously like the cell phone hitting pavement.

His was in his car and on the way in a minute, cell phone still pressed to his ear, willing Tony to obey his intermittent demands for an answer. He considered calling Abby, and getting her to trace the GPS chip in Tony's phone, but then he realized he had a pretty good idea where Tony was. He headed towards the bars nearest the Navy Yard, knowing from past experience that Tunnicliffs was his most likely candidate.

It took him a moment to register the honking of the car behind him, as he slowed in front of the pub. With a jerk, he pulled over into a prime parking space, apparently too small for anyone else to have attempted to maneuver into. He made it work.

Gibbs didn't generally consider himself the imaginative type, but right now his mind was busy going in circles, constructing possibilities. And if all of this just ends up being about you getting yourself too drunk to walk a straight line or call a cab, you're going to regret it, DiNozzo. If he was honest with himself (which he wasn't exactly being, at the moment), he was hoping it would turn out to be so simple a problem. He might not be particularly happy with the other man if his trouble was of the careless and self-inflicted variety, but Tony would survive a hangover—and maybe even the concussion Gibbs would likely give him afterwards.

The rain outside wasn't so much pelting as steady, and accompanied by the occasional streak of lightening and crash of thunder. Gibbs felt instantly chilled upon exiting his car as a gust batted at him, the rain causing a pin-prick sensation across his skin. Pocketing his cell, he scanned the sidewalk, but in this weather nearly everyone was either inside, or hurrying along, head down against the elements. No DiNozzo in sight.

There was an alley in front of him, and another further to his left, past Tunnicliffs. When his search of the first proved fruitless, he strode quickly past the neon glow of the beer signs that lit up the front of the tavern, and tried the second alley.

It had been a gamble to assume Tony would be so close by—or at this bar, even if it was one frequented by the team—but he was, thankfully, correct. He found his missing agent sitting, knees drawn up and body hunched forward, in a miserable huddle against the brick wall of the building.

The noise of the wind and rain forced him to raise his voice to be heard as he crouched in front of Tony. "DiNozzo." Gibbs had expected Tony to look up, respond in relief… Instead, his hands, which had already been clapped over his ears, tightened in their position. If anything he seemed to be trying to ignore the new intrusion. When Gibbs impulsively reached out a hand to touch one of Tony's knees, Tony jerked back and made a small noise of surprise. Or pain?

Now Gibbs felt truly useless. He needed Ducky. Abby. Anyone. Knowing when to encourage Tony with a swat to the head, or an "atta' boy", were far cries from knowing what to do with…this. Whatever this was. He considered calling an ambulance, but something told him that would be a very, very bad idea at the moment. Flashing lights, prodding and poking, questions neither of them had the answers to, and a hospital full of unfamiliar smells. Nope. Whatever was happening to Tony, none of that was going to help.

But he had to get Tony's attention somehow. He did not want a repeat of Tony's pained reaction to his touch, but that pretty much left talking, which hadn't worked so well either. Well, if Tony's hearing was hypersensitive, maybe a whisper was all it would take, even if Gibbs couldn't hear his own voice.

"Tony, I need you to listen to me." Gibbs found himself slipping into the reassuring, gently authoritative tone he used with scared kids. He'd always thought he did pretty well with kids, and right now DiNozzo wasn't in command of himself enough to resent it if Gibbs sounded like he was treating him like a ten-year-old. As a matter of fact, Gibbs thought he saw Tony's hands loosen, just a fraction. Encouraged, he continued, "I don't know what you're going through..." And he didn't have the faintest idea how saying that would help. He just knew he had to keep up a flow of words, because it was the only thing he could think of to do. "You listening to me, DiNozzo? Because I didn't come out in this downpour just watch you sit in the mud." This time, he was certain he saw Tony's hands loosen. His head seemed to raise a fraction in Gibbs' direction, too.

Before he could resume, a peal of thunder boomed. Tony cried out in unmistakable pain, and the hands covering ears jerked, tensing along with the rest of his body. Gibbs clenched his jaw, feeling ridiculously angry at weather, with its bad timing, and not caring that it was irrational. If all Tony's senses were as keyed up as his hearing obviously was, then the rain had to feel like honest-to-God, non-analogical pins and needles.

Now thinking from Tony's perspective, he noticed other things too. Cars going by, honking, or with their radios turned up loud enough that the beat could be heard a block away. The door to the bar opening for the admittance and departure of its patrons. The inebriated laughter of those leaving, along with subsequent opening and closing of car doors. And, of course, thunder, as Gibbs had just been made well aware of. Even the soft patter of raindrops might be contributing to the general wealth of things that could have triggered a reaction, and be overwhelming him. And that was just hearing. Gibbs surmised that Tony had sought out the alleyway as a refuge from the street lights and noises, but even here it was obviously still affecting him badly. Gibbs also became aware of the smell of trash from a nearby dumpster: irritating for him, but probably much, much worse for Tony.

Lightning flashed. Tony cringed.

"God, DiNozzo…" Gibbs sighed in a not-quite-whisper. It came close to being a prayer. He didn't want to consider the possibility that there was no way bring to Tony's senses back down. "You really do have all the luck, you know that?" A sarcastic come-back, a retort—I'll take either, any time now. "C'mon, just…listen to me. Try and block out everything else. Focus on me, alright? Got it? Good. That thunder's probably going to come any minute, and try to break your eardrums. Just ignore it. None of that matters—you're focusing. Those cars going by? That's normal city noise, DiNozzo, and you know it. It's nothing new, so let it go. That's all in the background."

"Boss?"

For a minute, Gibbs had gotten lost in his own endeavors to keep up a continuous rhythm of talking. He started, and found Tony regarding him with some confusion, eyes only opened a slit.

"Yeah," Gibbs confirmed, voice strained from the effort of keeping it cautiously low. "It's me. How's the hearing?"

"Better."

Gibbs wanted to be reassured. However, given Tony's record for downplaying his injuries, at least serious ones, he made of habit of distrusting DiNozzo's self-diagnoses. A silence lapsed, and Tony's eyes began to drift shut again. "Hey. Stay with me, here." Obediently, Tony's eyes remained squinted open, though barely. "We're going to get out of this rain, all right?" The task of actually getting Tony up and moving looked just short of impossible. However, the rain was a constant, icy reminder of why the impossible was growing increasingly necessary to achieve."You ready to move, DiNozzo?"

"M'fine."

He'd already decided DiNozzo opinion was moot when it came to his own health, so why was he asking? Experimentally, Gibbs reached out to lightly rest a hand on Tony's knee. It didn't seem to hurt him this time. Still, just to be safe: "That hurt you?" Tony responded with a slight shake of his head. "Good. Hold on a minute." He took a few seconds to hesitate mentally over a plan of action, but was sure to sound confident when he finally presented it. "All right. Now… We're going to get up when I say so. Keep your eyes closed if you have to. I'll make sure neither of us walks into any walls."

"'K Boss…m'ready."

Carefully taking one of Tony's arms, Gibbs wrapped it around his neck. Time for another one of your "miracles," kid. Loyal as a St. Bernard… "Let's get out of here, DiNozzo."

ooo

TBC

A/N: Sorry I failed to mention it right of the bat, guys: just to clarify, this story is not slash, and won't be turning into it later. Couldn't find any NCIS/TS stories that weren't, and I was craving one, so that's a large part of why I wrote this.

But wow. You guys just overwhelmed me with all the wonderful feedback—thank you! Thanks specifically to the reviewers I couldn't respond to: AIMAS, Kelly, Bobbie, and lulu. Be sure to sign in/leave me an address if you'd like a response (I'm very happy to). ;)