Sunday, 0915, Parking lot, Bethesda Naval Medical Center

Gibbs got DiNozzo into the car first. He was barefoot and it wasn't warm out. He shut the door and called McGee. As soon as the younger agent answered, Gibbs said, "I want you waiting in front of headquarters with the shoes DiNozzo keeps under his desk. There should be socks inside. Grab a jacket, too. Got that?"

"Yeah Boss. How close are you?"

"Check my phone's GPS," Gibbs snapped and hung up. He climbed in on the driver's side and started the car, cranking the heater up immediately and shunting most of it into the footwells. "DiNozzo?" Gibbs said, and Tony looked at him. He seemed slightly shell-shocked. "Seatbelt."

"Right." DiNozzo secured the seatbelt around himself and sat back. Gibbs got moving, but they were well on the way before DiNozzo spoke again. "She let him in," he said.

"Who let . . ." Gibbs glanced over at his agent, anger stirring beneath his concern. "Manton?"

"She canceled the ban you put on him," DiNozzo said. "He said the marines looked pissed when they had to let him through."

Gibbs made a mental note to find out just why those angry marines hadn't bothered to call him and let him know. "She'll get hers, DiNozzo," Gibbs said.

"He admitted it. Everything you said about hiring those bastards, he admitted it. He almost seemed proud of it. Like he thought I'd understand why he had to do it."

"I thought we'd established that he was nuts," Gibbs said. "So, are you going to give Fornell a frank statement now?"

DiNozzo was silent for a moment, then he said, "Could we talk about something else? Like maybe seasonally appropriate sports teams?"

"DiNozzo, you know how much attention I pay to sports," Gibbs said. DiNozzo didn't respond, and Gibbs decided to let it go. He kept glancing at his agent, though, more than a little worried about anything that could render him this silent without also rendering him unconscious. "You want a shower when we get to the office?" DiNozzo nodded. "Before or after seeing Ducky?"

"Can we skip Ducky, Boss?" DiNozzo said pathetically. "He didn't do anything to me, not really."

"What does not really anything encompass, DiNozzo?"

DiNozzo shrugged. "Nothing with a medical impact. I mean, there'll be few new bruises, but nothing dangerous."

"You have to see a doctor, DiNozzo, every bruise gets added to his tally."

"Isn't rape enough?" Tony asked wearily.

"I'd like his coffin to have as many nails in it as possible."

DiNozzo sighed and went silent again. Gibbs pulled past the entrance to the parking lot, and he stirred. "Boss, didn't we just –" He broke off when Gibbs pulled up in front of McGee, who, per orders, was waiting with shoes in hand and jacket over his arm. DiNozzo didn't pop his door open immediately, and McGee seemed stymied.

Rolling his eyes, Gibbs got out of the truck and went around to open DiNozzo's door. "Get your shoes on and go inside, DiNozzo." DiNozzo fell to unwillingly. Obviously this was going to be harder than he'd thought. He handed McGee the keys and got DiNozzo moving. McGee stared at them leaving for a moment, and Gibbs thought he was actually going to have to put the obvious order into words, but then he got in the truck and drove away.

No one was waiting for them when the elevator doors opened, for which Gibbs was grateful. Dr. Benoit and Ziva were sitting in the bullpen, Benoit at his desk and Ziva at her own. He walked DiNozzo through the squad room, shaking his head at both women when they made to get up. When he and DiNozzo entered autopsy, Palmer was wiping down one of the tables while Ducky sat at his desk. The medical examiner looked exhausted, but he was clearly working on his reports. They both looked up when Gibbs steered DiNozzo in, and Ducky came to his feet.

"Is something wrong, Jethro?"

Gibbs didn't answer immediately. He led Tony over to one of the tables and said, "Get up."

"Boss, these are not the most comfortable seats in the world."

"I'm aware of that, DiNozzo. I've slept on them."

"Abby has a futon, Boss."

"Get up, DiNozzo." When DiNozzo finally followed his instructions and got up, Gibbs turned and walked Ducky to the other end of the room. "DiNozzo's been attacked again," he said quietly.

"What?" Ducky exclaimed, and then moderated his volume at a scowl from Gibbs. "In hospital?" Gibbs just grimaced. "But how did the bastard get in?"

"He reported me for sexual harassment and claimed I was intimidating DiNozzo into reporting him, and managed to convince an idiot FBI agent that he was the injured party."

"He did what?" Ducky asked, brow furrowed.

"She somehow ordered the gate guards to lift my ban, and Harris got into the hospital," Gibbs said. "He got past me and into DiNozzo's room." His eyes traveled of their own accord to DiNozzo. Palmer was talking quietly to him, but DiNozzo didn't seem to be responding much. "He's being kind of volatile," Gibbs said. "Look him over, get his story out of him if you can, and call me pronto if he needs me."

"If he . . ." Ducky's voice trailed off, but then he nodded. "Of course, Jethro."

Gibbs paused by the table where DiNozzo sat. "I'm going up – not leaving the building. You get Ducky to call me if you need me."

DiNozzo nodded dispiritedly, and Gibbs noticed that his hands were fisted. He squeezed the younger man's shoulder gently and went out. When he reached the bullpen, Ziva and Benoit were clustered together around McGee, who was holding a vaguely familiar carryall and denying any and all knowledge of what had happened to DiNozzo. "You just getting back, McGee?" he asked.

"No, Boss. I mean, yes, Boss. I mean, I remembered that I left Tony's go bag in the truck because I took it to the crime scene because I didn't know he was the –" He cut himself off with a flush. "And then I forgot to take it out. I thought Tony might want the clothes from it."

"Good thinking, McGee," Gibbs said, holding his hand out for the bag. Reluctantly, the younger man handed it over. Gibbs handed him the two samples DiNozzo had given him in the hospital. "Get these to Abby." McGee took them and, after a brief pause, hurried away. Gibbs turned as he went. "Stay out of autopsy."

McGee flashed him a frustrated look, but he didn't respond. Both Ziva and Benoit turned to him. "What has happened?" Ziva asked.

"Harris got into the hospital," Gibbs said irritably. Ignoring their questions, he made a quick phone call to ask Ducky to send Palmer up for DiNozzo's things, then he turned to Ziva. "Is the director here?"

"She is in her office." Gibbs turned and started towards the stairs. "How did he get in?" Ziva asked, following behind him as far as the first step.

"FBI," Gibbs said, jogging up the stairs. He could almost feel Ziva's angry reaction. A mutter he heard compelled him to add, "Not Fornell."

Sunday, 0953, NCIS Headquarters

Jeanne stared up at the man climbing the stairs. "How could he possibly have heard you?" she asked. "I could barely hear you, and I'm right next to you."

"That is Gibbs," Ziva said. "He has exceptional hearing."

"That must be fun. How often is Tony in trouble for saying the wrong thing?"

"Often," Ziva said, but then her face closed down. Jeanne thought they were developing a very odd relationship. She couldn't call it a friendship, but despite awkward moments like this, they were certainly easier with each other than they had been the previous day. It was evident to her that Ziva had a proprietary interest in Tony, and it was equally obvious that she had never done anything about it. Jeanne didn't know why. Tony wasn't precisely a nice Jewish boy, which might make a difference to Ziva's family, but Jeanne wasn't sure if it would make a difference to Ziva herself. "I had better get back to work," Ziva said, turning back to her desk.

"You know," Jeanne said softly, "he didn't tell you to stay out of autopsy."

Ziva's eyes widened, and she grinned. "You have a –"

"Ziva?" Jeanne looked up with the other woman to where Gibbs stood against the railing of the mezzanine. "Stay out of autopsy." Those intense blue eyes seemed to skewer Jeanne as well before he turned away and disappeared.

"Did he hear me?" she asked.

Ziva gazed up at the mezzanine through narrowed eyes. "I do not know, but it does not matter." She returned to her desk.

Jeanne sighed. "No, I guess not." She started to go back to Gibbs' desk, but then Jimmy Palmer emerged from the elevator. She tapped lightly on Ziva's desk and nodded towards him.

Ziva rose hastily. "How is Tony?" she asked.

"Pretty freaked out, actually," Jimmy said. "Where's the bag I'm supposed to take him?"

"What happened to him?" Jeanne asked.

Jimmy blinked at her and shook his head. "If Agent Gibbs hasn't said anything, I don't think I'd better. Not that I really know anything. Dr. Mallard sent me to inventory the storeroom."

Jeanne sighed and picked up the overnight bag. "Here, this is what you're supposed to take. Tell Tony . . ." She couldn't find words that she'd want to be passed on through an intermediary.

"I'll tell him you asked after him." Ziva tilted her head slightly, narrowing her eyes, and Jimmy gulped. "I'll tell him you both asked after him." With that, he turned and hurried away. Jeanne went and sat down. She kept trying to read her journals, but the knowledge that Tony was so close, so distraught, and she was powerless to help was interfering again. She didn't even have clearance to follow to where he was.

"Tony is strong," Ziva said suddenly. "He will be fine."

Jeanne nodded. She had no doubts on that score, but she wasn't sure that Ziva was really talking to her.

"Well?" Jen asked. "Where's DiNozzo?"

"With Ducky," Gibbs said. "Harris attacked him again."

"In Bethesda?" Jen exclaimed. "How? How is he?"

"That Manton woman cancelled my ban on him, and the marines let him in. Without telling me. I still don't know how he got past me, but –"

"He got into the room," she finished for him, and he nodded curtly. "How long were they alone together?"

"I'm not really sure. I'm hoping he'll talk to Ducky."

"Can you make a guess?"

"Five minutes, maybe less, not much more. The nurses were going in and out. I'll get McGee to pull the security camera footage."

"So, how is he?"

"How do you think, Jen?"

"I don't know, or I wouldn't ask."

Gibbs shrugged. "Hell, I don't know. He's sort of yo-yoing."

"That's to be expected."

Gibbs rolled his eyes. "Platitudes aren't much use, Jen. Did you get any satisfaction from the FBI?"

She scowled, but then a light of mischief entered her eyes. "No, but now I have better ammunition. I take it she hadn't talked to DiNozzo before she made this move?"

"Nope, DiNozzo refused to talk to them without an unbiased witness, so no matter when she did it, she couldn't claim to have talked to DiNozzo first."

"Good. I'm afraid, though, that this makes it very awkward for you – or the rest of your team – to be involved in investigating the case."

"Abby's looking at some hair and nail samples," Gibbs said. "But if it comes to that, there's more where those came from. If she finds something, we can always take more and send them to an FBI lab." He didn't mention how little DiNozzo would like giving those samples up, but he didn't figure he needed to.

"That works." She pursed her lips. "You think he drugged him? Do you have any evidence?"

Gibbs blinked. "I haven't told you about the pictures yet, have I?"

"Pictures?"

Gibbs sat down. This was going to take some telling.

Sunday, 1007, NCIS Headquarters

"You're going to have to tell me where he grabbed you at the very least, so I know where to look," Ducky said with an air of exasperation.

Tony closed his eyes. "He grabbed my wrists, and he covered my mouth with his hand."

"That much I can see," Ducky said. Tony's eyes flipped open in surprise, and he saw Ducky squinting at his face. "Anything else, dear boy?"

Grimacing, Tony shrugged. "He grabbed me by the neck, too, the back of the neck." Ducky came around and looked at Tony's neck. "Take off the shirt, why don't you?"

If he hadn't known he'd have to take it off eventually because he had something to change into, he would have balked. He dragged the scrub shirt off over his head and held it in his lap. "There probably won't be any bruises from that. He was trying to persuade me that he cares."

"I see some finger marks here," Ducky said, looking at the right side of Tony's neck, and Tony remembered the way Brody had tightened his grip when he'd heard Gibbs' voice, and the way he'd used that grip to turn Tony around to try and get him to tell Gibbs 'how he felt.' "Does it hurt?"

Tony let out an involuntary snort. At the moment he couldn't really single one source of pain out from the overall ache. "Nope."

"Anthony," Ducky said remonstratively. "You don't have to be so stoic."

"When have you ever known me to be stoic?" Tony asked, reaching for his usual blithe demeanor. Judging by Ducky's expression, it was less than successful. "I yowl if I get a stubbed toe."

Ducky gave him a dour look, but he moved off. "Didn't the doctors give you any medication?"

"They might have if I'd left in a normal sort of way," Tony said, suddenly regretting the lack.

The rear doors of the room opened suddenly, and Tony clutched the shirt up in front of his chest briefly before dropping it to his lap again. He'd look like a fool if someone came in and found him trying to cover himself like that. No one entered for a moment.

"Hello?" Ducky called. "Can I help you?"

Brad walked in, looking around. "Sorry, I wasn't sure this was the right door. My escort left me outside."

"You're very welcome, Dr. Pitt," Ducky said. "Please come in."

"Tony, are you okay?"

Tony shrugged. "Peachy," he said.

Brad walked over to the table and put a plastic bag down next to Tony. "Tom stopped me on my way out to give me your drugs. You know how to manage all this stuff, right?"

Tony reached into the bag and rummaged. "I do," he said with a sigh. "Ducky, you got a –"

Ducky held out a bottle of water and Tony broke off. He opened the giant sized bottle of Motrin and took one. Ducky snorted. "For someone who's not in pain, you certainly took that quickly enough."

"Doctor's orders," Tony said defensively.

"Tony, you're talking to your two doctors," Brad said. "We both know just how well you follow doctor's orders."

Tony was feeling a little crowded. He jumped off the table, and Brad stepped back several paces. "Look, I said I'm fine, and I meant it. I'm fine." He knew his tone was a little too loud, but he couldn't seem to control it. Anger and humiliation and a sharp feeling of betrayal were commingling to unsettle him. He felt restless, and he knew that it wouldn't take much more of this to make him explode. "Are you done yet?" The question came out accusatory, and Ducky's brows drew together in a startled and slightly hurt expression. Tony felt bad, but he didn't have the ability to address the issue at the moment.

"Yes, dear boy, I am," Ducky said, his expression clearing. "Your clothing is right here. Dr. Pitt and I will turn our backs if you like."

Tony nodded. He didn't trust either his voice or his word choice at the moment. Brad looked at him for a long moment, like he was trying to figure out what to say, but then he turned around with Ducky. Tony dug in his bag for his clothes and jerked them on, zipping and buttoning and tucking automatically. When he was done, he took advantage of their turned backs and left the room.

He heard Ducky's voice calling him, but he lucked out when he hit the elevator button. The doors opened immediately and he stepped inside and hit the Door Close button before pressing the button for the level of Abby's lab.

"Damn it!" Brad swore, repeatedly pressing the call button. "Where would he go?"

Ducky stepped back and watched the lights flicking on, one after the other. When it stopped, he nodded. "Abby," he said. He went back into his office, dimly aware of Dr. Pitt following him. He dialed Gibbs' cell phone quickly. Anthony's emotions were unusually close to the surface today. He could see why Gibbs was so concerned.

Sunday, 1013, NCIS Headquarters

Jen stared at him when he was done describing what he'd found at Harris's house, eyes wide and expression appalled, and Gibbs just gazed back at her. She took in a breath. "You think he drugged Tony, put his unconscious body into sexually explicit poses and took photographs?"

"DiNozzo didn't know anything about them. I asked." She grimaced, pursing her lips. Gibbs answered the obvious next question before she asked it. "And there's no way anyone could do what I saw to DiNozzo while he was normally asleep, or even drunk asleep. They'd wind up with bruises or worse, and a very awake DiNozzo."

She opened her mouth to reply, but before she could speak, Gibbs' phone began to ring. He reached down and grabbed it. "Ducky," he muttered for the director's benefit, then he answered it. "Gibbs."

"Anthony has left rather abruptly, Jethro. He went to Abby, I believe, or at least that's the floor the elevator stopped on."

"How is he?" Gibbs asked.

"No worse than before physically. Beyond that I won't commit myself."

Gibbs nodded grimly. "Thanks." He closed the phone. "Can you use some kind of computer thing to subtly find out if DiNozzo is in Abby's lab?" he asked.

"Don't want him to know you're checking up on him?" He rolled his eyes and gestured for her to answer the question. "I'll send her an instant message. It's possible he'll see it, but it's the best I can do."

Gibbs nodded and waited impatiently. Nothing happened for several long moments, then she said, "Abby says he's down there, and he's kind of agitated." Gibbs rose. "She also says she's got it covered for now." Gibbs paused, uncharacteristically indecisive. "Do you think there's a problem?" Jen asked. "Because if you do, we should address it now."

Gibbs sank back into his seat. "I think DiNozzo's been through hell and back, and just got freshly attacked by a man I told him he was safe from," he said with some heat.

"No one's denying that, Jethro –"

"The FBI?" Gibbs asked acidly.

"No one here is denying that," Jen amended. "But if you don't think he can handle twenty minutes alone with Abby in her lab, we need to talk about it."

"No. Actually, Abby will probably be good for him."

"They're close, aren't they?"

Gibbs shrugged. "So –" His phone rang again and he picked it up. "Fornell." He put it to his ear. "Yeah?"

"My God, Gibbs, was it these photos you were talking about?" the FBI agent said in a low voice.

"It was photos," Gibbs replied carefully.

"And DiNozzo doesn't know about them?"

"He didn't, I asked him earlier today. He still doesn't really know what's in them."

"Damn, do you mean I'm going to have to tell him?"

"Unless you're going to have Manton do it."

"She's been pulled," Fornell said. "They've put someone else on that side of the investigation. She's meeting with Harris right now, I guess."

"Is she sane?"

"I've never met her, so let's hope so. Regardless, she can't get him loose. I made it clear that NCIS would claim him for assault on a Navy doctor if someone tried to spring him."

Gibbs blinked. That hadn't occurred to him. Why hadn't it occurred to him? He shook his head. Now wasn't the time to wonder. "I'll tell the director. Will you be coming today to talk to DiNozzo?"

"Agent Glick and I will be there in a little over an hour. I'd rather not talk to him in an interview room, but you're still not allowed to be present."

Gibbs scowled. "What about Dr. Pitt?" he asked.

"Sure, he can be there," Fornell said. "See you in an hour or so." Fornell clicked off as fast as Gibbs usually did.

"What about Agent Manton?" Jenny asked.

"She's been pulled from the case and a new agent assigned. Her name is Glick, but Fornell doesn't know her."

Jen leaned back in her chair. "Is there anything else I should know before the FBI descends on us?"

"Fornell doesn't want to talk to DiNozzo in an interview room."

"The conference room is available," Jen suggested.

Gibbs nodded and rose. "I'd better see where Ziva and McGee are in their research."

"Be careful. I'm not telling you to stop –"

"Good."

"– because I know you won't, but anything you or your team does could be construed as a vendetta against Harris."

"Last I checked, we don't let the criminals we investigate decide who can and who can't investigate a case," Gibbs growled.

"We don't – sometimes the courts do. I know you usually figure that's the other guy's job, but this is a different situation."

Gibbs nodded once and went out. The anger he felt was boiling over at the thought that Harris might, by accusing him, have contaminated all the evidence they'd found so far. The testimony of Hamlin and Simons might just get thrown out because Gibbs had been the interrogator. If so, Harris's admission probably wouldn't be enough to bring them back in. On the other hand, they hadn't located the third guy involved. If Fornell found him and his story matched, they'd be home free. Damn, but he hated counting on the bad guys.

Ziva, McGee and Benoit looked up as he headed through the squad room. Both McGee and Ziva turned back to their work immediately, but Dr. Benoit watched him approach. She started to get up, but he waved her back to the seat. He wasn't using it, and he wasn't in the mood for games.

He'd passed all the way through the bullpen on his way to the elevator when one of them got the courage to speak. "Boss?"

"Yeah, McGee?" he asked, turning his head but not pausing.

"What happened?" The question was simple, the tone was earnest and concerned, and it stopped him in his tracks. When Gibbs was in this mood, McGee rarely questioned him, so if he was asking, he really wanted to know. DiNozzo was with Abby. Abby was kind and caring. He really didn't need to rush to rescue DiNozzo from Abby's care.

He turned around and walked back into the bullpen. Now he had all three sets of eyes on him. "Harris approached the FBI late last night and informed them that I was harassing him and DiNozzo because I disapprove of the relationship, and that I was basically forcing DiNozzo to accuse him. Some crackpot in the FBI took this seriously enough that they sent out an investigator who – presumably because I gave the order not to admit Harris – lifted that order and told Harris." Ziva's eyes snapped angrily, and McGee's jaw dropped. "Harris got into DiNozzo's room – I'm not sure how, McGee, I want you on that." McGee nodded. "DiNozzo was alone, so Harris attacked him. I don't know any of the details, but it can't have been long and . . ." He pursed his lips. "He was clothed."

"The scrubs still?" Dr. Benoit asked. Gibbs nodded.

"Not a hospital gown, then?" Ziva asked, looking relieved. Gibbs nodded again, turning faintly sick at the thought that if DiNozzo hadn't made his break the night before, Harris would have caught him in a hospital gown, open at the back and covering next to nothing.

He shook himself. "We aren't stopping our investigation, but be discreet. There's a chance Harris can turn anything we do to favor himself."

"Right." McGee blinked at his computer screen. "How do I discreetly request footage from Bethesda, and what time am I looking for?"

"First, he attacked a Navy doctor who interfered with him, which is in our purview. Request the footage on that basis. The attack was at approximately 0900."

"Got it, Boss. Do we have a name for the doctor?"

"Dr. Brad Pitt."

"What was he doing there?" Ziva demanded, coming to her feet, her voice rising with alarm. "Is Tony having lung issues?"

"He was there as a friend," Gibbs said mildly, and both Ziva and McGee relaxed slightly. Dr. Benoit merely looked confused. "Now, I'm going to go talk to Abby." He pivoted on his heel and went to the elevator. This time no one tried to call him back.

After a moment, during which both McGee and Ziva commenced working like furies, Jeanne said, "Lung issues?"

Ziva looked up briefly, her face tense, and said, "It is nothing."

"That didn't sound like nothing to me," Jeanne replied.

McGee cleared his throat and then seemed to hesitate. "Tony had an illness a couple of years ago," he said. Ziva gave him a sharp look, but he continued after moistening his lips. "Complications crop up now and then, sometimes in connection with injuries to his torso."

"What illness?" Jeanne asked.

McGee pressed his lips together. "I'm sorry, I think the rest is still classified," he said.

"The illness is classified?" Jeanne asked, staring incredulously.

"Yes," Ziva said. "If we told you, we'd have to kill you."

Oddly enough, the familiar old saw didn't sound quite like a joke when Ziva said it.