Author's Note: Thanks again for all the wonderful support! It gives me encouragement to keep working on the story and make it better. For anyone who is curious, a few more chapters where the pieces are coming together, and then it all falls in place by around chapter five or six. If you have any specific questions about where its going, feel free to ask in a private message. I tried to do a few different things with the genre -it'll be interesting to see what you think of the spin I put on the traditional story. Lots of good Gibbs/Tony moments coming up.

My broken elbow and I are going out of town this weekend so I won't get to update until Sunday. See you then, and remember if you are enjoying, drop me a note!

TLH

Tony could feel the pavement as it pounded through the soles of his shoes. He worked to keep his breathing even, taking in enough oxygen to fill his lungs but not overburden them. Each stride was measured and even, there was no break in pace as he stretched his legs and ran. He could see his breath puff out into the chill of the night air like tiny clouds of smoke.

It had taken several months for him to gradually build up to this tempo, and he loved that his body was still capable of the stamina. He hadn't taken his physical ability this seriously since joining NCIS, and he was proud of the fact he had finally accepted the challenge of getting back into peak condition. He thrilled with each strong step, each careful breath.

There was no way he was going to sit at his desk every day eating donuts while McGee, his lifetime probie, turned into the skinny one. Absolutely no freaking way. His streak of vanity couldn't handle it. It might not be the most altruistic reason to get in shape, but he guessed it was as good as any. Besides, he was getting older and it was time to face the fact that his body no longer had the natural metabolism it once did. If he was going to stay on the job for another twenty years or so it was going to require a little bit of effort on his part.

When he was being honest with himself, which he was doing more often than he used to, he had to admit that the last few years had been rough. Since Jeanne, Jenny…..Ziva; it might be a stretch to say he'd been floundering, but life definitely hadn't been easy. He was ready to get back on track, in true Tony DiNozzo style.

So he had started working out again; light weight-lifting and a lot of running. Once he started, he couldn't figure out why he ever stopped. He loved to run. It cleared his mind and gave him a feeling of control that he so often lacked. It wasn't always easy to find the time with his crazy work schedule, and he hated running on a treadmill; staying in one place was the height of monotony and bored him senseless.

Instead he ran at night, often very late after Gibbs finally decided to set them free for a few hours. But that was ok with him, because it meant he had the paths to himself and no one got in his way. He could think about cases and turn them over in his mind, often putting together pieces he never would have connected in the light of day. Or he just let his thoughts roam aimlessly, shuffling through random conversations or bits of memory. He came up with some of his best practical jokes this way. It was relaxing, and, after a quick shower and a little television, helped him fall into a deep and restful sleep.

Of course, right now he was trying to avoid sleep, so he spent the time reviewing the case and Gibbs' strange behavior. The phone call to check on Tony had been really out of character, even if Gibbs had gone off on him without cause earlier. It simply wasn't Gibbs' style to care that much. Maybe a conciliatory coffee on his desk in the morning, but a phone call? Absolutely unprecedented. This case had the older man more rattled than Tony had seen him in a long time, which left Tony rattled, too, since nothing was supposed to get to Gibbs.

Tonight the moon was peaking over the tops of trees, and it combined with the scattered lampposts to allow just enough light to keep the path clear in front of him. The day had been warm for early winter, however the temperature had dropped quickly after nightfall, creating a slight mist that curled along the ground. It was an eerie effect, Tony had to admit, but he was a trained federal agent, and he wouldn't allow a little creepy ambiance to impede his new regimen. The gun strapped to his ankle, discretely hidden by his sweats, didn't hurt any either.

Up ahead the path curved to the right; he had traveled this way so many times his body knew the twists and turns by heart. He was aware that on the other side of the curve stood a large maple tree and a bench. As the curve straightened out, what he didn't expect to see was a man and a woman sitting on the bench. At this hour, he rarely encountered anyone else.

Tony was surprised, but didn't slow his pace. His senses jumped to alert; he didn't want the couple to think he was in any way intimidated by their presence despite the fact it was nearly midnight. Drawing closer, he realized there was probably reason for him to be concerned. They weren't out for a midnight run, and the woman —shit, she was the last person he'd expected to see.

The man was tall, well over six feet, with dark black hair that was long for current styles, swept back off his forehead and flipping gently at the nape of his long neck. It gave him an elegant appearance that was from an era long past. His eyes were as black as his hair, nearly a strange shade of purple. The man's skin reminded Tony of Abby's, pale and smooth, with a subtle luminescence. A long supple black leather trench coat draped over his lithe body, and Tony caught a glimpse of skin-tight black pants and a black silk shirt when the man stood up and moved directly onto the path in front of him. Well, fuck. The agent had no choice but to stop running or he would barrel right over the man.

After coming to an abrupt halt, Tony placed his hands on his hips and tried to control his gulps of air. "Excuse me," he said. "Just trying to finish my run. I didn't expect to see anybody else out here tonight." He straightened. "Hello, Maria."

The woman stood and moved behind the man. She was almost as tall as her companion, and equally as compelling. Her hair was the same jet black, but much longer, falling in luxuriant waves down her back. The coal black of her eyes was accentuated by her porcelain skin, and she was wrapped in a red coat trimmed with a lush fur collar and cuffs. Tall black leather boots with impossibly high stiletto heels covered her feet and calves.

"You didn't return my calls," she said simply, with a hint of a pout.

"I told you, we have a big case at work and I don't have time to socialize right now. It comes with the territory." His eyes moved over to the man, who was standing unnaturally still and watching him with unveiled interest. "Who's your friend?" Maria was turning out to be one kinky chick, and he had no interest in a threesome in the park or anywhere else.

"I am here to give you a message, Anthony DiNozzo," the man stated in a crisp, formal tone.

"Excuse me?" Tony asked, immediately taken aback, concern tingling up his spine. Now that he realized this wasn't just a couple of random people, they were actually here for him, the entire scenario changed. His eyes darted discreetly to the side as he tried to decide where to duck for cover if he had to pull his weapon. In all honesty, neither Maria nor her friend were probably armed, and they didn't seem the type to put up much of a fight.

Despite that, there was something about both of them that was… predatory. Maybe it was their relaxed nature, the way the man moved like a lazy cat and Maria seemed coiled to spring like a rattlesnake. Neither appeared at all concerned to be out in the middle of the night having a conversation with him. Mist continued to roll and congeal around their feet, caressing their bodies in a hazy fog.

The man smiled broadly, and Tony found himself mesmerized by the stranger's bright crimson lips. He tried not to stare at the ruby red mouth as he worked to figure out the best response to the situation. His flight or fight reaction kicked into gear, and he considered turning around and dashing off in the opposite direction, finding his car, jumping inside, and locking the doors. But for some reason his body remained rooted to the spot, and he realized that he was, to some extent, unable to move. His heart sped up while his body relaxed and tingled.

Maria stepped closer to him. "You are friends with Special Agent Leroy Jethro Gibbs. We need you to take a message to him, Anthony."

Gibbs? How could Maria possibly know Gibbs? She never mentioned knowing him before. Tony considered reaching for his gun, but his limbs suddenly felt heavy and impossible to control. Maria's eyes were entrancing; the longer she stared at him the more he could feel himself getting lost in their ebony depths. Her tongue darted out and licked her lips seductively. He forgot about moving and trying to get away. He forgot about his gun and his cell phone. All he could think about were her lips and the hungry expressions on the faces of both Maria and her companion. He unconsciously licked his own lips as well.

Tony felt alarmingly vulnerable and exposed. "What do you want me to tell Gibbs?" he asked, caught off guard by the dreamy quality of his voice. What is wrong with me? Tony thought frantically. I'm a damn federal agent, not some kid caught in the park after dark. Why am I just standing here doing nothing?

"You don't have to tell him anything," Maria said with a purr, as she took his arm in her hands and pushed back the sleeve of his sweat shirt to reveal his wrist. "Just trust me, my love." Tony didn't resist her. The touch of her skin against his was electrifying. Instead of just tingling, his entire body started to hum. She licked his wrist with her tongue, and then smiled at Tony again. "Just show him this. He'll understand."

Tony watched as Maria lifted his arm and held it out to the man. He wanted to jerk away, but everything had become so fluid and languid, he didn't have the strength to do it. A small part of his brain found this fascinating, and it wanted to know what would happen next. Feeling detached from the situation, he observed when the man bent over his arm and reached up to grip it in his icy hands. Long, thin fingers held onto Tony loosely, as if he had no concern that Tony would try to pull away. The red lips drew back revealing impressively white teeth and two sharply pointed fangs. With a growl the man looked directly into Tony's eyes before driving those teeth into Tony's wrist, slicing open the flesh like a sharp edged knife. Tony gasped, white hot pain shooting through his arm, and his knees buckled, but he could feel Maria's arms around his waist, holding him up.

For a few seconds he had the strangest sensation of blood being drawn from his body, and he couldn't decide if it felt good or bad, but then the feeling was gone, along with the couple.

Tony stood there for a few moments, dazed and uncertain about what had happened, before crumpling to the path, tiny droplets of blood left standing on his skin.

NCISNCISNCIS

Scratching absently at his wrist, Tony entered the elevator and headed for the bullpen, wondering just how much trouble he was in. He was thirty minutes late, and Gibbs was not going to be happy. His boss wouldn't care that Tony had been forced to peel himself out of bed that morning. He was achy and exhausted, and had no idea why.

No amount of showering, shaving, and hair products had been able to distract from the dark circles and haggard lines in his face. At first Tony thought that he might have a cold, but he didn't have a fever and he wasn't coughing. His stomach felt fine. So the most obvious illnesses were ruled out.

The only symptoms were overwhelming fatigue and a weird, itching rash on his wrist. Oh, and the nightmares. He had woken up screaming several times the night before, unable to recall exactly what his mind was conjuring up to scare him so much. He couldn't even remember driving home from his run in the park; his only clear memory was waking up in his bed fully clothed and shivering with no idea how he'd gotten there. He'd stripped off his sweaty workout gear and climbed under the blankets without a second thought. Unfortunately, by morning he hadn't been feeling much better.

Ziva and McGee gave him looks of pity as he exited the elevator and made his way to his desk. "So how bad is it?" Tony asked, settling into his chair and turning on his computer.

"Since I do not see that you are missing an appendage, I think you are definitely in hot soup," Ziva commented.

"Water, Ziva, it's hot water." Tony didn't try to hide his weariness.

"I haven't seen Gibbs this pissed in a long time, Tony. He said if you didn't show in another fifteen minutes he was putting a BOLO out on you," McGee added. "Why didn't you answer your phone?"

Tony fished the cell phone out of his pocket and tossed it on his desk. "It isn't working. I'm guessing something's gone wrong with the battery thingy. I planned on having you look it at it today, McFixIt."

"That's not going to save you from the wrath of Gibbs," McGee commented sympathetically. "After yesterday, you should've known not to pull a stunt like this."

"Great," Tony muttered, rubbing his head. "Where is he now?"

Ziva pursed her lips and tilted her head compassionately.

"He's right behind me, isn't he? Hi, boss." Tony looked over his shoulder at the silver-haired man who was eyeing him disdainfully while he sipped a cup of coffee.

"Sorry about being late. I overslept; didn't feel too great last night. But I'm ok now, so what's going on? Any new dead marines? Cold cases? Want me to gas the truck? How about I go check on Abby?" He stood, but swayed a little and had to grab the edge of his desk for support.

Gibbs quickly moved in front of him. "Sit down before you fall down, DiNozzo. What the hell is wrong with you?"

"Nothing!" Tony countered, silently refusing Gibbs' order to sit back down. He slipped his jacket off and hung it on the back of his chair before absentmindedly scratching at his wrist. "I'm perfectly fine."

"What is wrong with your arm?" Ziva asked, eyes narrowed.

Gibbs reached out and flipped Tony's arm over to reveal the soft underside of his wrist. A large multicolored bruise stood out against his skin. In the center of the bruise was the angry red outline of teeth.

Ziva was now standing over him as well. "That is a bite mark, Tony! A human bite mark! What have you been doing?" She folded her arms and glared at him. "I did not know you were into such…" She struggled to find the right word.

"Kink?" McGee supplied helpfully.

"Yes! Kinky! This is very dangerous behavior, Tony," she chided. "You promised to stay away from that girl; I told you she was trouble."

"I haven't done anything!" Tony protested. "I have no idea where that came from. I think I would remember getting bit by someone last night; I didn't even have a date with Maria. And I am not kinky!"

Tony tried to pull his arm out of Gibbs' grasp, but the older man's grip was unrelenting. The lead agent's blue eyes had turned to tiny pinpricks and were staring at Tony's wrist intently, as if trying to determine if what he was seeing was real or not.

Without warning, Tony was drug out from behind his desk and toward the elevator. "McGee, call Ducky and tell him we're on our way down!" Gibbs barked. Tony was pushed into the elevator before he even had time to lodge a protest.

"Listen, boss," Tony said, gathering his senses. "This isn't a big deal. That's probably not even a bite mark. It's more like a weird pattern of bumps. Honestly, I don't have any idea how they got there. Don't make such a fuss about it, ok?"

Gibbs was still holding tight to Tony's wrist and seemed to have no intention of letting it go. Instead, he waited a few more seconds for the elevator doors to open and pulled Tony out and toward autopsy.

Ducky looked up as they entered. "Ah, Jethro! Timothy just called and said you were on your way down with Anthony. What can I do for you this morning?"

Without speaking, Gibbs propelled Tony over to Ducky and thrust his wrist out for the older man to see. Dr. Mallard adjusted his glasses and bent over slightly, visually examining the wound. Making eye contact with Gibbs, he said, "Oh, my."

Gibbs set his mouth into a grim line and nodded.

Tony looked back and forth between them. "You guys are making me uncomfortable."

The ME didn't answer, but called out to his assistant. "Mr. Palmer, could you be so kind as to excuse us for a few minutes? Why don't you run out and get some coffee while I speak to Jethro and Anthony?"

Jimmy appeared perplexed. "Wouldn't you rather make your own tea here? You just got that new brand of Earl Grey I thought you wanted to try."

Ducky and Gibbs both glared at the young man.

Palmer got the message and quickly peeled off his gloves. "Of course, Dr. Mallard. I'll get extra cream and sugar, just how you like it." The young man made his way to the door, but not before trying to catch a glimpse of DiNozzo's wrist. Ducky had no doubt his assistant would be upstairs gossiping with Ziva and McGee in a matter of minutes.

Once they were alone, Ducky guided Tony toward an autopsy table. "How are you feeling, Anthony? Lightheaded or nauseous?"

DiNozzo let them seat him on the table. "A little of both, I guess. What's going on with you two? You act like I have the plague or something." Neither man responded. "Get it? The plague?" He sighed when there was no laughter at what he thought was a perfectly acceptable joke.

Gibbs finally spoke. "Do you remember how this injury occurred?"

Tony turned serious, met the blue gaze dead on, and shook his head no.

"What's the last thing you remember?"

"I was running in the park around midnight. Then nothing. I don't even know how I got home." He looked back at Gibbs, fidgeting. It scared him a little to admit his lapse of memory.

Gibbs immediately fumed, and Tony shrank back on the table slightly.

"What the hell were you doing in the park that late at night? You told me you were going to bed!" Gibbs' anger was a red-hot flame, once again pointed directly at him.

"I had a bad dream, and couldn't get back to sleep. I thought a run might help. Sorry I didn't think I had to call and ask you for permission!" Tony defended his actions, unwilling to let even Gibbs back him into a corner without a fight.

"Jethro," the doctor said quietly. "Let's deal with the issue in front of us. You can yell at Anthony later."

Gibbs took a deep breath and calmed down slightly. "Ok. Ducky, is that what I think it is?"

The ME was already inspecting the area more closely with gloved fingers. Tony winced at the touch. "I apologize, Anthony. I know this type of wound can be quite sensitive." He opened a tube of antibiotic cream and began applying it to the small cuts.

"Yes, Jethro, I'm afraid it is." They shared another guarded exchange.

Tony shifted nervously. "You're starting to freak me out here. What is going on?"

Gibbs shook his head, an expression of murderous rage clouding his features, and for a second Tony thought the lead agent was going to unleash on him again. Instead, he started to pace. "I'm going to kill them, Ducky. I'm going to fucking kill them. This is my choice to make, not theirs!"

"Just calm down, Jethro. Maybe it's not as bad as it seems. It's only one bite, after all." He wrapped Tony's wrist in a clean, white bandage. "Maybe they want you to respond this way."

Gibbs considered the ME's suggestion, clenching his fists all the while. Ducky might be right, maybe they were trying to incite him by going after Tony.

It wasn't like I didn't know this was a possibility. Gibbs thought morosely. I never should have let him come back to DC. He would have been safer away from here, floating around on the damn ocean.

"You're probably right, Ducky, maybe I….."

"Could someone tell me what the fuck is going on?" Tony yelled, hopping off the silver table and nearly crashing the rest of the way to the floor. Two sets of hands grabbed him so quickly he didn't even see them move. In an instant he was back on the table.

Tony ran a shaky hand through his hair. "I have a right to know what you two are talking about. Don't I?" He searched between his friends for an answer.

Gibbs recognized the fear lurking behind the challenge in the green eyes and it made him feel like a complete fraud. He had never wanted to betray Tony like this, but now that everything had been set in motion, it would be difficult to stop. "I need to know exactly what happened last night, DiNozzo." Gibbs' tone was soft but firm.

Shaking his head in exasperation, Tony threw up his hands. "I already told you, I have no idea!" Gibbs was gazing at him closely, his eyes for some reason sharper and more blue than Tony could ever remember them being. Tony wanted to look away, but his head wouldn't turn. The eyes had him trapped, and he felt as if he were falling off the edge of a skyscraper or down into a bottomless well.

From far away, he heard Gibbs' voice. "Tell me." Whatever had been blocking Tony's memory opened up, and in the same dream-like tone from last night, he related the entire encounter to Gibbs and Ducky, without hesitation. As he recalled the events, Ducky grew more concerned and Gibbs' face darkened with anger. By the time Tony described how the man bit down on his wrist, the older agent was holding back barely controlled fury.

"They have no right to lay a claim on him. Not when he's under my protection," Gibbs protested, his words making no sense to Tony. He wanted to ask what Gibbs' meant, but he was suddenly too tired to speak.

Ducky laid a calming hand on his young friend's shoulder. "Let's get Anthony settled down for a rest and then we'll discuss this," he said quietly, his gentle manner stunting some of the rage Gibbs was desperately trying to reign in.

"Alright." Gibbs knew that exploding now wouldn't solve anything. He had to try and keep it together if there was going to be any chance of salvaging this mess.

Between the two of them, they helped Tony stretch out on the autopsy table; Ducky provided several rolled up sheets as a pillow. The ME found a blanket and draped it over the man who had nearly fallen asleep sitting up. Gibbs knelt next to Tony's head and spoke in barely a whisper. Tony was staring at him with slightly glazed eyes, but the lead agent could see that questions were trying to penetrate through the confusion.

"Sleep, Tony. When you wake you will feel well-rested and content. You will no longer be curious about last night, or our conversation this morning. You will know that everything is fine and I am taking care of it." Gibbs' voice was silky, smooth, and matter-of-fact, leaving no opportunity for DiNozzo to debate his command.

"I don't understand," Tony mumbled; his eyes so heavy he had to fight to keep them open. He panicked a little, on some level realizing that Gibbs was having this effect on him but he didn't know why; it was something about his unnaturally blue irises. It reminded him of what had happened in the park when the dark-haired man had taken away his ability to move. A realization cut through his hazy mind. "You're like them."

Gibbs bit his lip at Tony's statement. "It's ok, DiNozzo. I've got your six on this. Just sleep."

Any fight that had been left in Tony drained out of him and he relaxed against the steel table. Once Tony's breath slowed down and it was obvious he was no longer awake, Gibbs stood.

"I didn't think they'd push it this far." Gibbs paced the room again, anger and frustration making him restless. "Gabriel assured me they would stop attacking people. I guess he didn't include Tony in his promise."

"If nothing else happens, Tony should be fine. He might feel tired for a few days, but after that he should return to normal."

"And if they come back again? What will I do then? What happened last night is just the start of this, Ducky, and you know it!" He ran a hand through his silver hair; he'd rather punch something instead. "I've explained to you how I feel about this-I wouldn't wish my burden on anyone else, let alone do it to someone on purpose. I can't!" To emphasize his point, he slammed his fist into one of the empty tables making a small dent. He squeezed his fingers tight, wishing it had given him more satisfaction.

In a quieter voice he added, "I don't give a damn what they want me to do. I refuse."

Ducky sighed heavily. "It is expected for a first-born like yourself, Jethro. How long did you think you could ignore the rules? There are some matters, whether we like it or not, in which we don't have a choice. Gabriel and Adrian are merely using this information to their advantage."

Gibbs turned on him, his lips drawn back in anger. "And what about Tony? Should he get some say in his own future? Maybe he doesn't want this any more than I did!"

A sad smile crossed the ME's lips. "I understand the way you feel, Jethro. You know that. But it doesn't change what is happening now. If you don't take this matter in hand and do something, I worry you will lose control of the situation and the results will be even worse than your greatest fear. It is obvious Tony is a target now and he will either be turned or used for something far worse. If that happens…well, you know the likely outcome. Given the options, I don't believe that is what Tony would want."

"I have to keep them away from him, Ducky. I need more time to think, see if there's any way out of this." He looked over at the man sleeping on the far side of the room, a knot of blame settling into his shoulders. "I thought if I ignored him, treated him like he didn't matter to me, maybe Gabriel and the Conclave would back off. I guess I was wrong."

"Once our old acquaintances had Tony in their sights, they were never going to back down, Jethro. He is quite a prize to them; young, handsome, intelligent, exuberant. And how could we forget his very special bloodline? They would take him for that reason alone." Ducky's eyes took on a pleading quality. "There is only one way to save him, Jethro."

"I know." There was a note of resignation in his voice.

"When are you going to explain all of this to him? He deserves to be told."

Gibbs let out a low growl and faced Ducky, his eyes once again resolute. "Never. Not if I can help it. Maybe I can make a deal."

"Jethro…"

The lead agent cut him off. "No, Ducky. No." Gibbs turned toward the door. "When he wakes, tell him and the rest of the team I had to go out on a case. If I'm not back by the end of the day, make Tony go home with you. I don't care how you have to get him there, but he is not to leave your sight. Do you understand?"

"Of course, Jethro, but where are you going?"

"To pay a visit to some old friends. It's time we had a talk."

"Be careful, Jethro! And don't do anything foolish!" Ducky yelled at the retreating back, his stomach tightening in a cold ball of fear. He didn't need Gibbs' gut instincts to know this was not going to turn out well at all.