Friday, 2214, Anthony DiNozzo's apartment

McGee opened another drawer of neatly folded clothes. "I never would have guessed Tony was this meticulous," he said loudly.

Ziva came into the room from the bathroom. "About his clothes? Seriously?"

McGee shrugged. "Okay, you have a point. But there's nothing hiding in these drawers except a box of condoms."

"I doubt that is hidden, McGee. He does not have a mother or a girlfriend peeking into his drawers for contraband."

He glowered sideways at her and closed the drawer. She left the bedroom as he attacked the bedside table. In that drawer he found the mess he'd expected. Leftover medicine from various illnesses, unfinished antibiotics prescriptions. A grin quirked McGee's lips. He could get Tony into serious trouble with Gibbs by letting that fact drop in conversation. A half full bag of throat lozenges rubbed shoulders with a bottle of massage oil on top of an issue of Playpen. McGee pulled out the magazine and flipped through. Tony did have good taste, and there weren't any secret letters hiding between the pages. Ziva let out a laugh. McGee jumped, and, half-expecting to find her behind him when he turned, he shoved the magazine out of sight from the door. She wasn't there, of course, and McGee felt himself flushing as he tucked it back into the drawer.

He lifted the mattress to check for hiding places, but there was nothing. He went out into the living room. "What made you laugh?"

"All he has in his refrigerator is leftover pizza, beer and bread."

"He keeps his bread in the fridge?" McGee said.

Her brows wrinkled. "I think you miss the point."

"No, I got it. He's a bachelor. Guys don't keep food around the house the way girls do."

"Is that all you have in your fridge?"

"No, but I just made a grocery run," McGee said. "I've got hot dogs and ground beef." It was an exaggeration, but Ziva was a harder target than Kate had ever been, so he had to take his opportunities when they came.

She rolled her eyes and walked over to a secretary desk in the corner. "He has some lovely antiques," she remarked.

"Yeah, he does," McGee said, pulling down DVDs and opening the boxes. "Handy having a wealthy family."

"How do you know he did not buy them himself?" she asked as she seated herself and started looking through the papers and cubbyholes.

"Because he spends all his money on clothes and movies."

"And a maid," Ziva said. "And a laundry service."

"Which explains the uniformly folded clothes," McGee said.

"And he's been getting notes from someone who does not sign his name and does not leave fingerprints."

McGee stopped with Hang 'em High open in his hand. "What?"

"Very lurid notes, and since they are not tied with a red ribbon, and each one is slotted into its own evidence bag, I do not think he's holding onto them as keepsakes."

"Lurid how?" McGee asked, walking over.

"Frank descriptions of sex acts the writer would like to perform on Tony's body," she said. Holding one of them up in its evidence bag, she read aloud. "'I want to thrust myself into your hot –"

"That's enough," McGee said hastily. Reading them would be bad enough. Hearing them read aloud would be excruciating. "How many notes?"

"Five." She shook her head. "Tony has clearly checked them for prints, he has put them in evidence bags. What did he hope to gain from that if he did not plan on telling anyone?"

McGee shrugged. The words were written heavily on the paper in pencil, creating an inverse relief of the letters on the back side, and they were printed in all caps. The bold lines were intense and disturbing. "Not going to be easy to match handwriting on those," he said.

"Almost impossible," Ziva agreed. She dropped the whole collection into an evidence bag. "Now I suppose we should check his mail."

"How?"

She held out a little key on a tab. "Here is the key to his mailbox."

McGee shook his head and gestured at the wall. "You get the mail, I'm going to keep looking through DVDs."

She shrugged and left the apartment. He kept opening boxes. This could take hours. Tony had enough DVDs to stock a store. Ziva returned after a few minutes and sat down at Tony's desk, going through the mail methodically. She turned finally and said, "There is nothing –"

The box McGee opened at that moment released a small slip of white paper which wafted to the floor. McGee glanced at Ziva and their eyes met. The paper landed with the blank side up, but McGee could see the indentations the writing had left. He squatted and picked it up with his gloved fingers.

"'I know you still want me,'" he read aloud. "'You are still mine, and always will be.'"

Both he and Ziva were silent for a moment. "I do not believe Tony put that there," Ziva said.

McGee dug out an evidence bag and dropped the note inside. The movie box he placed into another evidence bag. Holding it up, he looked at it. "I wonder what significance The Untouchables has in this context."

"Someone will have to ask Tony."

McGee's eyes widened. "Not me."

"Nor me, I suspect. I believe Gibbs will be asking Tony most of the questions on this occasion."

McGee nodded and he looked up at the wall of DVDs. "Ziva, does it seem to you that these notes sort of imply that this guy and Tony had an actual relationship?" He glanced over at her and she was giving him a wide-eyed look. "I know it's common for a stalker to imagine that kind of relationship, but this seems like a little more than imagination."

Ziva shook her head. "McGee . . . is it not obvious that is the case?" she exclaimed. "And I doubt very much this is the first time he has been attacked."

"What makes you say that?"

"He has been wearing turtlenecks for more than a week now," she said, and McGee knit his brows, trying to puzzle out the connection. "And this desire to be alone, I think it is less that he wants to be alone than that he does not want to be seen."

"What are you saying?"

"The last time I wore turtlenecks every day for a week, it was because I had a hickey on my neck, and I did not want Tony to see it."

McGee's brows went up. "You think he has a hickey?"

"I think he has a bite mark or a bruise on his neck," Ziva said.

None of this made sense. "But Tony's not gay!"

She gave him one of those sympathetic smiles that always felt enormously condescending. "Not all men who have sex with other men are gay, McGee."

"But why would Tony get involved with . . . with a guy?"

"I do not know, but I believe that is another question that Gibbs must ask him."

McGee nodded uneasily and returned to opening movie boxes.

Friday, 2242, Bethesda Naval Medical Center

Tony listened to Ducky with half an ear so he'd know when to grunt or say something like "Really?" Mostly, though, he just floated on the pleasant babble of Ducky's voice. Apart from a remark about his being the 'best of a bad lot' as far as Tony was concerned, Ducky hadn't made any reference to his reason for being the hospital, his injuries or anything sensitive at all. He was currently telling a story about an incident in Palestine that involved a camel, a Billy goat and two dogs. The constant stream of chatter made it easy not to think.

That's why he'd wanted Ducky rather than someone else. Abby could do the same thing sometimes, but in this situation she'd fuss too much to talk about bowling nuns. Not only would she fuss, but she'd try to get him to talk about his feelings, which was the furthest thing from what he wanted at the moment.

The door opened, and Tony looked up, expecting a nurse to come around the curtain. Instead it was Jenny, and he looked up at her, feeling his whole body tense with anger and humiliation. It was one thing to be seen in this state by Gibbs and Ducky. Gibbs didn't judge, and Ducky was his doctor. Jenny was another matter altogether. The last time she'd been in, he hadn't been as aware of how much of his body was uncovered by the hospital gown. "What part of 'I want to be alone' did you fail to understand?" he demanded. "Or did Gibbs fail to pass that along to you?"

"I'm leaving," she said, her expression troubled. "I just wanted to let you know that."

"Okay. I know. Thank you very much."

"Tony, I –"

Tony closed his eyes. "Director, I really really don't want you here. I don't even want Ducky here, but Gibbs doesn't want to leave me alone for some reason." He clenched his teeth and let out a breath. "No offence, Ducky," he said in an undertone.

"None taken," the medical examiner said in an unruffled tone.

"We'll take care of things, Tony, don't worry," Jenny said.

"Take care of what?" Tony asked, alarmed. "I don't want anything taken care of. I told Gibbs there was nothing he could do, and I meant it."

"Good night, Tony," Jenny said, her brows drawn together in a worried expression, and she left.

"Ducky, what's Gibbs doing?"

Ducky shook his head. "I'm here with you, Anthony, I have no idea what he's doing."

"He didn't tell you what he was doing?"

"No, he did not," Ducky said. "Stop worrying and relax, dear boy."

Tony shook his head. He really didn't need this. "Where's the phone?"

Ducky handed it to him, and Tony dialed Gibbs' cell number. Gibbs picked up after three rings, and Tony knew he had to be in the middle of something, otherwise it would have been the first. "Gibbs," said the voice in his ear.

"Gibbs, what are you doing?"

"At the moment, I'm talking with Dr. Benoit."

Tony ground his teeth. "Gibbs, I told you there was nothing you could do."

"I'm not standing by while you're stalked, beaten and sexually assaulted, DiNozzo," Gibbs said in his mild voice, the one that told perps and convicts that he meant business. "It kind of goes against the grain."

"Gibbs, I need you to let it go," Tony said. "Please?"

"I'll be back to talk to you in person later tonight, and I won't do anything concrete till I've spoken with you. Okay?"

Tony guessed he'd have to settle for that. "Okay. See you, Boss."

Friday, 2253, NCIS Headquarters

Gibbs shook his head, more than a little disturbed by DiNozzo's unwillingness to see anything done about his problem. Was it just that he blamed himself and wanted to solve it alone, or was it something deeper that dated back to the incredibly neglectful childhood he'd suffered? Gibbs didn't know, but he was not going to let DiNozzo follow this downward spiral any further if he could help it.

"What's wrong?" Dr. Benoit asked urgently. "Is Tony okay?"

"Why would you think he was worse now?" Gibbs asked. "He was fine two hours ago."

Benoit shook her head. "Head traumas can be deceptive," she said. "It's possible to have what looks like a minor injury and die of it hours later. Is he okay?"

"I just spoke to him," Gibbs said. "He's fit enough to argue, so I think he's fine." She relaxed back into her chair, closing her eyes. "I think I've got enough from you for now," he said. "I have a couple of things to check on before I go back. Would you like to wait here, or –"

"Actually, I need the restroom," Dr. Benoit said.

Gibbs nodded. He pulled out his phone and called Ziva. When she answered, he said, "Where are you?"

"In the observation room," she said in an amused tone. "McGee and I got back about ten minutes ago."

"Where's McGee?"

"In Abby's lab. They are attempting to trace a packet, why, I do not know."

Gibbs shook his head. There was no knowing with computer geeks. A perfectly ordinary word like packet could have a dozen different meanings for all he knew. "Fine. I need you to get over here and escort Dr. Benoit to the restroom, then bring her to the lab."

"Very well. Shall I take a moment so that it does not appear that I was next door?"

"Now, Ziva!" Gibbs growled and snapped his phone shut.

A moment later, the door opened and she walked in. "Dr. Benoit, this is Officer Ziva David. She will be your escort."

"Thank you," Dr. Benoit said.

Gibbs left them to it. When he got to the lab, Abby and McGee were typing madly, but seconds later McGee stopped and stepped away. Abby stopped, too, staring at her screen. McGee shook his head. "That's heavy encryption, Abby. It's going to take longer than twenty minutes to crack it."

Abby sighed. "I know. But I'm pretty sure that puts it in Spooksville."

"The CIA?" McGee asked.

"Or NSA," Abby said, shrugging. "There's a couple other As it could be, but those are the most likely."

"What would the CIA or the NSA want with a DC cop, though?" McGee asked.

"Excellent question, McGee," Gibbs said, striding forward. "What did you find at DiNozzo's apartment?"

McGee turned towards the table. "These notes, Boss." Gibbs walked over and looked down at the little slips of paper. There were seven of them, and five of them had DiNozzo's handwriting on the evidence bags. "These five were in his desk," McGee said, gesturing to them. "These other two we don't think Tony ever saw."

"Based on what?"

"Based on the fact that they were tucked into DVD cases, and he hadn't put them in evidence bags."

"Or checked them for prints," Gibbs added, nodding. Taken together, the notes were disturbing in the extreme, but DiNozzo still hadn't brought them in and shown them to him. He wasn't sure whether it denoted a lack of trust or an unwillingness to involve anyone else in his personal problems. He looked at the movies. "The Untouchables and The Fugitive, huh?"

"We wanted to ask Tony what the significance of those movies was in the . . . the relationship."

Gibbs nodded. "Anything else?"

"Not really," McGee said, and then he grinned like he was about to say something funny. "Aside from a lack of real food in his fridge, that is."

"That's not like Tony," Abby said.

"No, it's not," Gibbs replied thoughtfully.

"It's not?" McGee said, glancing back and forth between them. "I almost didn't mention it, it just seems so like Tony to me."

"No, no, no," Abby said anxiously. "He does eat a lot of junk, but he also eats good food. "He cooks sometimes, barbecues on his balcony and stuff."

"Have you shown McGee a picture of our guy?" Gibbs asked.

"Not yet." Abby did her magic with the computer and the photo appeared on the screen.

"Can you pull his driver's license?"

"Sure," Abby said, and she began typing again.

"That's him." Gibbs turned to see Dr. Benoit entering the room with Ziva. "That's the man who had Tony pinned to a wall."

Ziva's eyes widened. She glanced at Benoit, then glared up at the screen, her eyes narrowing murderously. Abby had just pulled up Harris's driver's license on her computer. "Oh my God, he's huge! Like ginormous!" Gibbs had expected both those reactions, but he was worried about McGee's. He looked more uncomfortable than angry, and Gibbs thought he might need to have a serious talk with his youngest agent fairly soon.

"He's at least three inches taller than Tony," Dr. Benoit said. "And broader."

"He's 6'6"," Abby said. "He's a behemoth!"

"I could take him," Ziva said confidently.

"Tony couldn't," Gibbs observed.

"Yes, well, I can take Tony," Ziva replied. "And he would underestimate me, I'll wager." She nodded towards the photo.

Benoit snorted. "He expected me to run away and hide the minute he said he was a cop, so I'd say you're right."

"Don't count on it," Gibbs said. "He's been watching Tony, which means he's been watching us."

"So he knows who we all are?" Abby asked. "Is he like Michael was, taking pictures all the time and building a website?"

"So far as I know there is no website idolizing DiNozzo," Gibbs said. "Though I suppose you should look." He shook his head. "All right, McGee, Ziva, go home. I'll want to see you –"

"Home!" Ziva exclaimed. "With Tony in the hospital and that cretin on the loose?"

"Boss, there's lots of stuff we could do even at this hour," McGee said.

"I told Tony I wouldn't take significant steps without talking to him first."

A silence followed this statement. McGee looked flabbergasted, Ziva alarmed and Dr. Benoit just looked confused.

"He's dying!" Abby burst out. "I knew it! You're all just protecting me."

"He's not dying, Abbs," Gibbs said.

"Then you're going to Mexico, or . . . or . . . or something!"

"Gibbs, why?" Ziva asked. "We cannot let him get away with this!"

"I have no intention of letting him get away with anything," Gibbs replied. "I only agreed to it because of Tony's emotional state."

"That's it," Abby announced. "I am going to the hospital now."

"No, you're not," Gibbs said, and Abby's spine straightened so sharply that she seemed to grow an inch taller.

"Oh, yes I am," she declared, and she started towards her office.

"Abbs?" Gibbs said.

"What?" He pointed towards the evidence. "Oh." Her brow wrinkled. "That's not fair," she said, shoulders slumping. "As soon as I'm done, I'm going to the hospital."

"You know that'll probably be around 4 am." She nodded. "He'll be asleep, Abbs."

"I don't care."

"And I'll be sitting with him."

"Then I'll bring coffee."

He shrugged. "You ready, Dr. Benoit?"

"For what?" she asked, seeming startled to be addressed so abruptly.

"To go back."

"To the hospital?"

"I said I'd take you back, and I'm going, whether you're ready or not. I don't guarantee he'll see you, but –"

"He should not!" Ziva said, her eyes flashing with anger. "She should not try."

"You wouldn't even know anything was wrong if it wasn't for me," Dr. Benoit retorted.

"There probably wouldn't be anything wrong if it wasn't for you!" Ziva shot back.

McGee looked plainly terrified. "Interviews . . . paperwork . . ." he muttered, pointing vaguely towards the elevator.

Gibbs took pity on him. "Go," he said in an undertone, and McGee made himself scarce. Abby was watching as though rooting from the sidelines.

"He does not need you here, opening up old wounds," Ziva said.

"I think –" Abby said, but neither woman paid her any attention.

"I'm attempting to heal them," Benoit replied sharply. "And it's not any of your business."

"He is my partner, it is very much my business."

"If you want my opinion –" Abby started to say.

Both women turned on her with an emphatic "No!"

Gibbs was about to put an end to it, but Abby lost her patience. Striding through the gap between them, she turned around and glared at them both. "I have known him longer than either of you . . . longer than both of you put together, in fact. He's my Tony, and nobody messes with my Tony and gets away with it."

"Your Tony?" Dr. Benoit said, blinking.

"Yes, my Tony," Abby said firmly.

"Abby, evidence," Gibbs ordered.

She glared at him. "It's a little difficult with all these people cluttering up my lab."

"I'm taking care of that," Gibbs said mildly, and, placated, she returned to work. "Ziva, home or hospital, I don't care which."

"I am going to the hospital," Ziva proclaimed.

"So am I," Dr. Benoit said just as decidedly.

"Not if you don't come with me now," Gibbs replied, and he headed out of the room. Dr. Benoit was right beside him when he reached the elevator, and he had to admit, she learned fast.