Chapter 3

ooo

Tony was really beginning to hope the vague memories darting through his mind were actually just fragments of an extremely weird, nightmarish dream. The throbbing in his skull wasn't conducive to thought, or encouraging his attempts to persuade himself, however.

He remembered having the idiotic notion to stop for a quick drink on his way home. He remembered going into the pub, and he definitely remembered the sick feeling that had come over him after a few minutes in the suddenly too-small interior of the pub, with its deficient lighting and over-abundance of smells. After that, it began to blur. He'd paid—more like tossed what was probably far too much money on the counter in front of the waitress—and stumbled out of Tunnicliffs, he supposed originally with the intent to return to his car. Once outside, however, he'd been struck full-force by the glare of the lights, combined with the noises, the rain, the thunder… He'd just wanted to get away from it all, at any cost. It had truly been terrifying when, even in the darkness of the alley, curled into himself, the sensation of the rain on his skin and the noise of the city had still seemed to be attacking him from every angle.

That had all been bad enough. Then, his mind taunted him with a new memory. He'd had his cell phone along—he'd fumbled for it blindly, knowing he needed help of some kind. And without thinking, he'd called Gibbs. Your boss, DiNozzo? You were panicked, all but hyperventilating, and during this major crisis you called your boss? How pathetic is that? What was really pathetic was that, if faced with the choice again, he knew he'd still wind up calling Gibbs.

Tony shook the thought off. Maybe that part had been his imagination. He might still be in the alley. Sketchy as his memory was, for all he knew he might've found his way back to his own place. Well, get with the program and find out, for crying out loud…

So he tried to. Even without opening his eyes, which he felt oddly averse to doing, he could gather that he was warm, and dry, and laying on something soft. As pleasant as that was, again, it offered little support for the nightmare theory. He'd never have had the lucidity to take such good care of himself in the state of mind he last remembered being in.

"Do sit down, Jethro. Your pacing isn't going to help anything."

That was a voice he recognized, even quiet though it was. Hearing Ducky gave him an instant sense of well-being. Of course, it sounded as if Gibbs was close by as well, and, currently, there was something about facing his boss that made Tony feel awkward. His presence pretty much answered his questions, though. Or, Gibbs being here could just be coincidence. Give it up. It was all pure, one-hundred-percent nightmare-worthy reality. Joy.

"Ah, I do believe young Anthony has finally decided to join us."

How did doctors always know? Oh, Right, he'd just cracked his eyes open. That was how he could tell… Tony smiled weakly at Ducky as the older man's face came into view over him, features dimly lit by a nearby lamp. Thankfully, the rest of the room seemed to be mercifully dark, and the small amount of light didn't unduly increase the throbbing in his skull, though his eyes took a moment to adjust.

"How are you feeling, dear boy? You've had us all well and truly concerned for you."

"Killer headache. I think I'll survive, though." The way he croaked it out, Tony doubted the assertion sounded entirely believable. He smiled more widely, though, and Ducky gave him an indulgent pat on the shoulder.

"That was rather what I figured. When Jethro brought you back here some hours ago, and called me to come have a look at you, you were hardly conscious. How much do you remember?"

Tony glanced around Ducky at Gibbs, who stood close by, observing "Uh…It's a little blurry."

"It's no wonder. You seemed to be in a great deal of pain. A very good thing Gibbs managed to find you quickly—you should be grateful for it. If he hadn't gotten you indoors and out of those sopping clothes, you might not be doing quite so well right now."

Tony examined the robe he was wearing, and felt his awkwardness rise another notch. It wasn't like he was exactly uncomfortable with idea of a friend helping him out, it was just…this was Gibbs. Not that he wouldn't count Gibbs as friend, or think the man wasn't willing to take care of his team, but he was still his boss, too. True, for Tony, the word "boss" didn't have the same stigma that it had for most people. But it was the opposite fact—the fact the Gibbs could often seem so invincible and was so worthy of respect—that made this whole ordeal feel strange and… awkward. Tony told himself to suck it up. It wasn't like it was the first time he'd made an idiot out of himself in front of Gibbs. It might well be the weirdest way he'd managed to do so, though.

"Oh good, you're awake."

Abby joined them, bright-sounding as ever, but a few decibels quieter.

As he became more aware of his surroundings, Tony noticed now that he was on a couch, one which he recognized as belonging to Gibbs' living room. Abby sat down on the edge of it, and looked about to pat Tony's shoulder in the same manner as Ducky had, but hesitated.

"You're not still hurting, are you?"

Tony wasn't quite sure at first, but a quick stock of himself revealed that he felt, more or less, normal. Achy, exhausted, more than a little freaked out by what'd happened, but currently normal. Or at least what passed for normal when you were turning into some kind of freak of nature. Just because Abby wouldn't let anyone say it didn't make it any less true.

He tried to sound cheerful for Abby. "Nah. I'm good now." As a matter of fact, he felt good enough to try sitting up.

Abby's hand on his chest forestalled the action. "Tony, you've got to take this seriously."

"Oh, believe me, I'm freakin' just-kill-me-now serious about this, Abbs."

Her stern expression crumpled. "It must've been terrible." A sympathetic pause. "Oh!" she rose with classic Abby abruptness. "Just a sec."

She returned a minute later with a mug in one hand, and a spoon and a package of what looked like saltines in the other.

Ducky must have seen Tony's protest coming. Geez, but his coworkers knew him too well…

"Some food might not be a bad idea, I think. Just some chicken soup, Anthony."

More succinctly, Gibbs seconded him with a forceful, "Eat."

Usually, whether he felt like it or not, Tony would have caved, and at least made a pretence of eating, but right now eating was the last thing he felt like doing. It wasn't so much the fact that eating soup at a time like this felt, well, cliché—like he was some traumatized kid in need of coddling. It wasn't even the fact that having three people expectantly waiting for you eat was more than a little unnerving. Food didn't just not sound good, right now it sounded terrible. The memory of his senses spiking made him want to go crawl into the darkest, least stimulating hole he could find, and stay there until the tingling feeling left his nerve-endings. He'd been telling the truth when he said he wasn't in any pain, but the memory of the pain, and the dread he felt at the thought of a repeat, was almost worse.

"Come on, Tony, just a bit…" Abby urged, resuming her seat on the edge of the couch. "Gibbs was really worried about you—we all were."

Abby's ingenuously offered concern had the ability to persuade like just about nothing else. The way Gibbs let her get away with things no one else could was a testament to her power to charm. Tony still couldn't bring himself to accept the mug.

"Maybe just the crackers?" Abby attempted to negotiate. "I was in the middle of some really interesting research, so you'd better make this trip worth my while."

"Isn't it kinda late?" Tony asked. "I know why Gibbs called Ducky, and it's not that I'm not happy to see you, but… how'd you wind up here?"

"I was there when Gibbs called—and of course I came when I heard you were in trouble. Now no more diversion tactics. Eat." She proffered the crackers.

She was sounding more like Gibbs every day. Tony took them. "Yeah, thanks Abby."

Under Abby's watchful eye, he managed to eat some. He was grateful, though, when Gibbs discretely began to disperse the party. Ducky was reluctant to go, but agreed once Gibbs promised to call him should anything happen. When Abby refused point-blank, Gibbs gave up with minimal resistance, but told her to "Quit pampering DiNozzo." Abby, of course, disregarded that, making a face, and arguing that Tony deserved a little pampering after everything he'd been through. Nonetheless, she did give him some space, and not much later fell asleep in a nearby chair, feet curled up under her, body listing sideways, and head lolling on the arm.

As Gibbs draped a blanket over her, Tony recognized the faint quirk of his mouth as the fond look he so often wore when dealing with a rebellious Abby. It was still there when he acknowledged Tony with a gruff, "Get some sleep."

"Boss? I, uh…" Something was in order, but Tony wasn't sure exactly what. "I'm sorry" somehow didn't quite fit, though it probably wouldn't hurt. He knew Gibbs didn't begrudge him the help, but "thanks" also seemed somehow both insulting and lame, and not quite enough, either. He remembered Gibbs presence in the midst of the pain, his voice grounding him, breaking through the chaos.

"You called the right person, DiNozzo. Just try not to make this a habit."

Somehow, Tony knew very well he was referring to the getting in trouble part, rather than the calling someone to get him out of it. And somehow, at the moment, he didn't feel like pretending misunderstanding, either.

He smiled. "Gotcha, Boss."

ooo

They pursued cases, they did interrogations, they solved crimes. Gibbs barked orders, and the three of them hurried to obey. When field work was necessary, he always either subtly gave himself, McGee, or Ziva an excuse to stay at the office, or a reason for Tony to visit the morgue, or the lab. One way or another, Tony was rarely alone for long.

Although Gibbs was driven as ever in his operations, McGee noticed the slight shift of Gibbs' attention from the job, to concern for a certain member of their team. Ziva undoubtedly caught it as well. Knowing Gibbs, it wasn't hard to see, especially since the problem was first on all their minds.

They were all trying to help him, in small ways. Blander foods had slowly infiltrated the menu when anything was brought in, but Tony still did more playing with it than eating—until Gibbs noticed, or otherwise had it brought to his attention. Abby's music seemed to be blaring just a little less deafeningly these days, too. Tony undoubtedly noticed, but usually didn't comment, or even acknowledge the changes.

McGee wished he could think of some things to say to antagonize Tony into doing some of his usual hazing, which had lessened noticeably the last couple of days. "Gee, Tony, I know you're turning into a freak, but don't worry, we'll figure something out." Yeah, that would goad him, but it was too cruel-sounding even for their dysfunctional friendship. Besides, Abby would kill him if she ever heard him use that particular "f" word again in conjunction with her golden boy. "It's not so bad, Tony," "It's gotta just be temporary," and "Abby and Ducky are on it—they'll find something," were all three obvious, and sappy in a too-openly-caring way. Tony might've appreciated some of that from Gibbs, or Abby, or even Ziva, but McGee? No way.

They were all trying to act normal, Tony not least of all. But they were all failing miserably to fool each other. McGee just hoped their distraction wasn't so easily apparent to everyone outside the team. He had a feeling it was only a matter of time before Sheppard was on their case. Maybe the Director and Gibbs had already had a private face-off the rest of them were unaware of.

"McGee, lab. Now." Gibbs was, at the same time, acting brusquer than usual, but also, in minute ways, showing unusual patience. He actually elaborated at McGee's confused look, as he glanced around to find the other desk empty. Tony was often "needed" by Abby, but McGee had been too absorbed in thought and work to notice his departure if that was where he'd gone. Gibbs nodded back in the direction of the elevator. "Abby has something. Ziva's going to meet us there."

ooo

Peering at the computer screen, Tony was situated on a stool with Abby standing next to him. He greeted their arrival with a petulant, "Finally. She wouldn't let me see anything until you guys got here."

"She doesn't want to have to repeat herself a dozen times," Abby retorted smoothly. "Ducky couldn't get away, so I'm already going to be saying it all to him again, later. As soon as Ziva gets here…"

"Sorry, I came as quickly as I could," Ziva spoke as she entered, sounding out of breath.

Gibbs nodded to Abby. "What've you got for us?"

"Well, I'm actually pretty excited about all this…" Abby socked Tony lightly in the arm when he sighed. "Not the trouble you've been having, Tony. But this is cool." She gestured to the screen. "It took some searching…" No one begrudged her a little self-congratulation for success in her endeavors. "Finally, I found an article from a newspaper from a place called Cascade, in Washington state. Apparently, there was some pretty big controversy over a thesis written by an anthropologist from Rainier University. A company out of New York—a Berkshire Publishers—even offered him one hundred thousand dollars, just in advance…"

"Abby," Gibbs interrupted. "The point?"

"Right. Sorry, I told you I was excited." She cleared his throat. "The press got slipped some excerpts from the manuscript—" She held up a finger, speaking in rapid-fire. "Hold on a minute, I'm getting there. Just when everyone was getting all hyped up about this thesis being the next best-seller, the anthropologist makes an announcement in a press conference confessing that it was all a fraud."

"A fraud," Gibbs repeated. "So, let's hear what this thesis is about. I'm assuming you have a theory."

Abby smiled. "I do indeed. I don't think it was a fraud. Though, by saying so, I'm kind of associating myself with the UFO-type fanatics I found a few of, with their 'Sentinels live' websites, which actually isn't the worst thing I could think of to be associated with… "

"Sentinels?" Tony raised an eyebrow.

"Yup." Abby bit her lip. "This is where it gets kinda difficult to synopsize…" She turned to her computer, clicking a few times. "Just bear with me." She underlined a sentence with her finger as she scanned the pages contents. "Here's part of what I could find of the manuscript… According to a monograph, written over a hundred years ago by an explorer named Sir Richard Burton, in tribal cultures every village used to have what they called a Sentinel—a watchman, someone to patrol the borders. They would watch for enemies, changes in the weather, game movement—their tribes' survival was dependant on them. A Sentinel was chosen because of a genetic advantage. Their senses could be developed way beyond normal human development, and were honed primarily by time spent in the wilderness, or in difficult and primarily solitary situations." She looked up momentarily to gage there reactions. "Even though Burton's monograph is all but forgotten now, this anthropologist—a Blair Sandburg—held to the theory that there are still Sentinels alive today. Most, he thinks, only have one or two hyperactive senses, like taste or smell—people who work for coffee and perfume companies..." She looked pointedly at Tony as she said her next words, in her earnestness and enthusiasm both eyebrows raised to almost disappear under her bangs, "While others, true Sentinels, have all five."

"But just because some anthropologist theorized that Burton was correct doesn't mean he was correct. If this Sandburg says his thesis was a fake, maybe we should believe him."

Gibbs might've been playing the devil's advocate—gullibility and optimism weren't what made Gibbs good at what he did—but McGee could sense his interest.

Abby was prepared for debate, as usual. "I think he was protecting the subject of his thesis. You see, Sentinels need someone to watch their back, to keep them from focusing too much, zoning out—"

"This manuscript talks about 'zoning'?"

"Uses the very word." Abby grinned, and resumed, "In Sandburg's now supposedly fictitious account, he himself served in this role: as a Guide for a real-live Sentinel. I couldn't find anything about how the two of them met, but Sandburg claimed that one Detective James Ellison was a Sentinel, with all five senses hyper-active."

"I do not understand. Why would Sandburg deny years of work if it were true?" Ziva asked with a frown, moving closer.

"Think about it," Abby insisted. "A detective with super-powers like that…?"

"If every low-life in town was made aware of the fact, especially if he had trouble controlling it like Tony has been, he wouldn't have lasted very long," Gibbs supplied in a low voice. "Yeah, I get the picture." He sighed. "Still, you don't have any proof of any of this, so we can't assume any of it's legitimate."

Abby sighed as well, looking a touch sulky. "I know… It's just, it sounds so right. And I've just got this feeling… What do you think, Tony? It sounds like exactly what you're going through."

Tony shrugged. "I'm not sure." He smirked a little. "You really think these are like…super-powers?"

Abby jostled his shoulder with his own. "Oh, definitely."

"We're following all leads on this one," Gibbs continued. "See if you can contact this anthropologist, feel him out. In the meantime, any other theories?"

Abby looked decidedly hesitant. "Yeah…well, not really…"

"'Yeah, not really?'" Gibbs quoted dryly.

"Well, yes, if you want to count a few mental disorders and diseases. Only a few of the symptoms Tony's experiencing match with anything else I can find, though. I don't think any of them are good matches, but I'll have Ducky look them over, and see if he's come up with any other ideas," Abby said, voice tight with more than her garden variety of petulance. McGee got the sense she was really hoping Gibbs wasn't going to press for more, especially in front of Tony, but had known he would.

Gibbs expression softened. "Good work, Abbs."

Those two never contended long. Abby let out a breath, pursed her lips, and looked at Tony. McGee knew all of them were wishing Tony would lighten the situation with a wise-crack, now more than ever. When he didn't, it left Abby prodding him to say something, and the rest of them shifting uneasily from foot to foot. Well…apart from Gibbs, who rarely looked uneasy no matter the situation.

"Tony?" Abby proceeded to urge. "You think this is a good idea?"

"Yeah…yeah. I think it sounds fantastic. Thanks, Abbs."

Tony left with a bright smile that none of them bought.

ooo

TBC

A/N: You guys are awesome at sending in the feedback; it's so encouraging, I just can't say thank you enough. =) Sorry I couldn't respond to you, Bobbie and blarney-I really appreciated your comments.

For those of you who are wondering: yes, Jim and Blair will be coming on stage. In the very next chapter, as a matter of fact. ;-) Also, I've just updated my profile with a few links to Sentinel info. If you're unfamiliar with the fandom, you could take a look there and get a better idea of the characters, and the premise involved. The primary focus will remain on the characters of NCIS, and I've done my best to explain things along the way, so if you don't feel like exploring TS you should still be able to understand just fine.

I look forward to hearing everyone's thoughts!