A/N! Thanks to all the wonderful reviews (I cannot get enough of them! *slightly addicted...*) And a special shoutout to Combatcrazy, who's followed all three of my stories and reviewed, as well. :D IT MEANS A LOT! So seriously, thank you. :) Okay, onto the story! I decided to leave Tony a teen for a while longer (now that the plot of the story is better set in my head) and it'll progress from there! Alright, here it is, hope you guys like it! Begining is slow, but it gets better!

Two.

"NO WAY."

Ziva had called her on their way to the building and Abby had laughed. Gibbs had swiped Zivas' phone, said "This is serious." and Abby had gaped. Because Gibbs never joked around, like, ever, so yeah, they were serious. Oh my. Abby felt all kinds of ways about this.

She'd always wanted a little brother, after all. She shook her head, so not the time for that. She'd get her hands on whatever chemical substances that wacko doctor had used and find a way to reverse the whole effect. Oh, but she just had to wonder, what did her favorite boytoy look like? She could only imagine-although not for long, as the elevator to her Sanctuary dinged, announcing her psuedo familys' arrival.

And as soon as she saw him, tiny little thing that he was, Abby pounced on Tony with the biggest hug she'd ever dished out. "Oh Baby-boy look at you!" she pulled him back, at arms length and brushed more soot from his face. "Somebody get him some decent clothing to walk around in! And a shower! He's covered in ashes, look at his hair!" she hugged him again despite the fact that her white lab coat was now sporting grey smudges.

"Abbs, we need to get him to Ducky-we need you to analyze the sample McGee collected." Gibbs cut in, taking Tony back from her by the shoulders, finding it so odd that he could manevuere his second in command so easily-he was so tiny, he wondered if maybe they'd gotten his age wrong and he was younger than eighteen? "Kate, go find something suitable for him to wear, something that'll fit." he ordered, realizing Abby was right on that note; oversized boxers and an Armani top didn't exactly scream inconspicuous. "McGee, take Tony to the showers, stay with him; Ziva, you stay outside the shower room and make sure no one else enters." Everyone set out to do what they'd been told by their superior in a frenzy of activity.

"Are you sure you're alright in there?" Tim asked for the millionth time since they'd entered the showering facilities.

Tony had stripped inside the stall and slipped his dirty clothes underneath, for McGee to put in an evidence bag. "Yeees Mooom." he drawled, rolling his eyes, although he knew the probie couldn't see the action. Tony knew the only reason Gibbs had wanted Tim in there was because Tony had looked like Bambi when he'd first started walking back at the scene with the paramedics; but he felt fine now, if a little weak.

Well, as fine as anybody who'd just been chemically altered into a much younger, less legal version of themselves with like, zero consent on the matter, he amended in his head. Right now, his main concern was getting back to his proper age; things like 'Will I be able to keep my job?' and 'Could I explain to the cops I'm actually 28 if they catch me drinking if I do lose my job?' would have to wait for a while, still.

Down at autopsy, Ducky had been briefed by Gibbs about his senior field agents' current condition. He couldn't help but marvel at the medical and scientific prospects of what the drugs down in Dr. Simones' basement had done to Anthony.

McGee had given Tony the clothes Kate had bought him, an NCIS t-shirt, and a pair of shorts. When he stepped foot out of the changing room, Tony looked akin to a teen who'd just changed in the locker room for P.E class. Admittedly, Tony had been a handsome youth, with vibrant emerald green eyes, he wasn't as tall or muscled or well, jocky as Tim had expected him to be, but more slim, more teen model, less jock on steriods, Tim decided. He thought back to his own high school years. He'd been such a geek, and good-looking popular kids like Tony were the ones who'd primarily made his days a living hell. McGee tried not to let petty old things like that get to him anymore.

"Gibbs told me to take you down to see Ducky now." he announced, once he saw that Tony had put on his sneakers.

"Pfft, McCan'tDoMath, I'm not five, I'm like, seventeen, I'm pretty sure I can make it all the way down to Autopsy by myself." Tony rolled his eyes-twice in less than an hours' time, yeah, he was definately seventeen again, he thought absently, as he made his way towards the elevator.

"My goodness, lad." Ducky uttered, upon seeing the teen. For a long time he just stared at the boy. The wonder of it all. He was examining Tony before he could even really step foot out of the elevator, his medical-know-how kicking into gear, before he realized they were still at the door, yet. "What mess have you gotten yourself into this time, dear Anthony? Come, sit up here." he motioned.

Tony grimaced. The metal table he sat at, usually after a concussion or some other type of case-related injury, was just a tiny bit higher than he was used to, and to be honest, he still wasn't feeling a hundred percent when it came to strength; he was more tired than he had been in years, in fact. After a failed attempt to hop up on the table, Gibbs bodily lifted him up there himself. Needless to say, Tony blushed.

Ducky started with the usual doctor patient checkup routine, hearing his heart, shining a light in his mouth, ears, and eyes. "How are you feeling?" he asked.

"My Boss just manhandled me onto a table where you open up corpses, and I'm under the legal drinking age, sooooo, like, bad?" Tony shrugged.

"Don't be a smartass DiNozzo." Gibbs said, despite his half-crooked smirk.

Down at her lab, Abbys' machines were still running various tests on the sample Tim had handed her earlier. She totally hadn't had enough time to fully grasp the fact that Tony was the size of a high school junior. This was the definition of hinky and beyond!

"Weird right?" McGee said, appearing next to her.

"Woah." she started. "Someone's been getting lessons in class Stealth 101 by Gibbs, huh?"

Tim grinned, "Or it could be that all that loud metal alternative music you listen to finally blew out your ear drums?" he suggested, instead.

She laughed, "No way, my music's thereputic Timmy." she said, all seriousness in tact. "But yeah, it is weird. At least, I hope you were talking about the same thing I was thinking about, otherwise we are on completely different pages." she babbled.

Tim nodded, "Tonys'...de-aging thing? God, it's like something out of a sci-fi novel!" he awed, shaking his head in disbelief. "He's even starting to act like a teen-well, more so than usual." he ammended.

"Mhmm, and my babies are still trying to configure what the seperate chemical substances are, and even then, I'm pretty sure we'd need Dr. Time-is-irrelevant to fix Tony." she grimaced.

Tim frowned, "Who do you think will get stuck with baby-sitting duty 'till we do get him back to normal? I'm really bad with kids."

Abby snorted, "Timmy, A. He's not a kid, he's a teenager, if he catches you calling him a kid, he might just have a fit. And B. Why Gibbs of course-not that Tony really needs, as you put it, "baby-sitting", but I really doubt people at Tonys' apartment would be all whatever about a tiny version of himself suddenly occupying his place. He'd be better off at Gibbs house."

"Why Gibbs?"

Abby smiled. "Why not Gibbs? If anyone can keep a teenaged Tony in control, he's your man."

"So what's the diagnosis Doc?" Tony asked jokingly, laying flat on his back on the metal table, kicking his feet up in the air. He'd been a pretty lean kid, up until his senior year, when he'd decided to go for football. Before then, he'd been in track and soccer-his physique better suited to the sports, wherein running was key.

Ducky stared in amusement as the young man stretched his new limbs and did other acrobatic tricks he was pretty certain he'd only been able to pull off at such a young age, when his bones had still been developing. "Anthony, about how old do you suppose you are right now?" he asked.

"Seventeen, probably. I mean, I hit my last real growth spurt the summer before my senior year od high school, it's when I turned eighteen, gained more weight, all that jazz." he concluded with a nod to himself.

Ducky nodded, "I see." he wrote notes on a piece of paper on his clipboard.

"You look like one of the doctors from Scrubs." Tony noted, "People are always saying that show isn't funny, but I don't know, there's a certain charisma in there I like about it. I mean, Doctors Turk and JD? Bromance has never been more manly. And I like that they have one of those feel-good morals at the end of every episode, wraps it up real nice-"

He may have shrunk in size and age, but it was the mind-numbing rants like those that reminded everyone he was still their DiNozzo. "It's past eight, I'm relieving everyone for the night and taking him home; having DiNozzo at NCIS looking the way he does can't exactly help matters." Gibbs interrupted.

"Sleepover at your house?" Tony asked, perking up a little; he loved Gibbs' house. It was comfortable and homey, as to where his own home was more a storage place than anything. He was rarely ever there, and when he was, he couldn't help but feel lonely.

Gibbs ruffled the kids' hair, "Yeah, let's go, think it's past your bedtime." he deadpanned.

Tony glared at the older man, "Ha-ha, Boss, real funny."

"I thought so." he shrugged, taking hold of him as he climbed down from the table, just in case he was still too weak and fell on his way. Ducky had explained that a transgression such as Anthonys' had it's drawbacks, but as far as he could tell, after testing his muscles and reflexes, he'd probably be a little wobbly on his feet for another couple of hours or so, a bit tired as a result of the drastic change, but he'd be fine after a good-nights' rest, and Gibbs intended to give him that.

Tony had passed out cold in the car, on their way to Gibbs home, and Jethro practically dragged the semi-concious boy into the house once he'd parked the car in the driveway. "Should get a T.V in here Boss." he mummbled, as he was set down on the couch in the living room.

"Rots the brain." Gibbs responded without missing a beat.

Tony began to nod off again. Gibbs tapped at his head. "No sleeping here. Gotta' getcha' upstairs to the guest room." He explained to a grumpy DiNozzo, who groaned when he was hoisted up from the couch.

His head and most of his weight leaning against Jethro as they walked up the stairs, the pair made it to the guest room just in time for Tony to dive face-first into the matress.

Gibbs rolled his eyes at the sight of his senior field agent passed out on the bed. He kneeled down, untied the boys' shoes, took off his socks, and propped him further up on the bed, in a more comfortable position, putting a wool blanket over his smaller frame and-

"Jesus Christ." Gibbs muttered to himself. He was tucking the kid in, for shits' sake. He couldn't remember the last time he'd done so-that was a lie, he could remember it, quite clearly even. His little girl, Kelly. She'd never reached her teens, still only just a little girl when she'd...died. But he liked to imagine she would've grown up to be quite the exceptional adult; although he always would've thought of her as his little girl, no matter how old she'd gotten.

He sat at the egde of the bed, one hand combing through Tonys' ruffled light brown hair, as Tony slept more soundly than he'd ever seen him sleep before. Then again, that could be because the times he had seen him sleep were either at his desk in that God awful position he always managed to keep himself balanced in, or on an aircraft-not exactly ideal places to take a nap on.

Something had been bugging him all morning and all afternoon so far. Sharp, shooting pains in his stomach. They came and went at random times, as they pleased. Tony had wondered vaguely if it was some sort of symptom of the chemicals in the explosion, but, a stomach virus had been going around the office lately. In fact, he'd heard just yesterday agents Lisa and Margerie were at home nursing their illnesses. So why worry Duck and the team over something that was more than likely probably nothing?

Around late afternoon that day, the team had come up empty handed on their search for Dr. Simone and Abby was still seperating all the chemical substances and cataloguing and well-basically, they had gotten no where closer to findind a cure, if that's what one called something that reversed the affects of an age degressing drug?

But, having made zero progress meant Gibbs was . Abby could not have been more frustrated if she'd tried. McGee was in the same level of aggrivated, none of his computer programs working so that he could at least trace the guys cell phone-which had either been destroyed or turned off, because there was no signal he could follow whatsoever. Ziva was in the process of contacting her old contacts and she too was getting nowhere, which only managed to irritate her, if nearly breaking the phone on her last phone call when hanging up was any indication to her anger. And Kate, who was making a detailed profile of the man kept complaining about the lack of information she had to even really be able to predict where he'd gone!

In short, Team Gibbs was to be left alone, lest someone wanted their heads bitten off. Tony couldn't work at his desk as per usual, and Gibbs had informed the Director beforehand that he was taking a weeks vacation, as he wasn't feeling up to par. Ironically enough, he'd told the Director that Tony had caught the stomach virus.

So Tony sat in Ducks office, safely hidden from any prying eyes, following Dr. Simones' paper trail, also getting pretty much nowhere.

"Anthony, my boy, I am having Palmer go out and get us something to eat, what would you like?" Ducky inquired, peeking his head into the office, where Tony looked quite small in the robust leather cushiony chair, behind his large oak desk.

Tonys' stomach made an unpleasant flip as the mere thought of food entered his mind. Blegh. He'd eaten a bowl of cereal that morning at Gibbs house, had even skipped out on his usual sugary milky cup of coffee that morning, when his stomach had made its' displeasure known. "Umm, no thanks Duck, I'm not really that hungry."

Ducky arched a brow, "Now when was the last time Anthony DiNozzo turned down a meal?"

Tony gave a cheeky grin, "Well Ducky, probably since he gained this super awesome bod back and would like to keep it as such?" he jested, hoping it would distract his old friend from thinking something was wrong. Because really, nothing was wrong, nothing beyond the regressed age, anyway.

The doctor chuckled, "Are you quite certain you don't care for a bite to eat?" he offered one more time.

Tony shrugged, "I guess, I don't know, a slice would be good." he relented, knowing Ducky wouldn't give up 'till he'd gotten him to eat something.

"Ah, good then, you sit tight, I'll go give Mr. Palmer our orders and then we three can sit down and eat, yes?"

Tony smiled and nodded, as the doctor left his lab. He liked Ducky; he was always such a mother hen though, and particularly to him and Abby-they were the youngest members of Team Gibbs, afterall-that was officially now an understatement. Tony didn't mind it a lot of the time though, he hadn't exactly been coddled or anything as a kid by either of his parents, and it was nice sometimes-reminded him that it hadn't been his fault his parents had been so cold toward him, that he wasn't the bad variable in that messed up equation. He couldn't be, not if other people stopped in their tracks enough to give a damn.

"Urgh." Tonys' hand immediately flew up to his stomach, where the sharp pain was located. It was coming more frequently now, than it had been going. Maybe he ought to tell Ducky after all, he thought, as he reached for the desk, gripping at the oak furniture to keep himself balanced as he stood, the pain nearly making his knees give away. After a few moments, after he had regained his equilibrium, Tony made his way slowly to autopsy.

Where it was completely empty, sans an open corpse on a metal table, with a few tools splayed out next to it. So not the sight he needed right now. Where was Ducky? "Duck?" He called out, gripping at his side tighter when the pain continued, not letting up like the other times.

Realizing this was getting him nowhere, Tony got into the elevator-he'd tell Gibbs, and hopefully he wouldn't make a big deal of it. Maybe give him something for the pain, possibly get Ducky. He couldn't remembering ever feeling this bad from a simple stomach virus before.

When he stepped out of the elevator, his Boss had just hung up the phone and looked about ready to kill somebody. McGee wasn't at his desk, probably with Abby, Tony figured. Kate was lost in her profile, photos and files and papers spread all over her workstation-the world but a distant thing to her right then. And Ziva was just as frustrated, if not more, than Gibbs, talking in a foreign language to one of her contacts on the phone-and as it seemed from his point of view, the person on the other end of the line was getting a hell of a mouthfull from their little ninja agent.

In retrospect, had Tony not been forcing himself to focus on not doubling over in pain, he'd have known that now wasn't the greatest time to tell any of them he had a tummyache-urgh, just thinking about it made him want to go back to Ducks office and suck it up. He contemplated doing so for a moment, before deciding he'd rather get made fun of for whining about a silly virus than have to deal with the crippling pain any longer.

"Gibbs-"

"What the hell are you doing out here, DiNozzo?" Gibbs stood up, looking quite menancing, jaw locked in place, glare set on High. Tony nearly took a step back; his own father had had that pissed off look in his eye many a times during his child hood and none of those situations had ever ended well for him. But this is Gibbs, he'd not like that, Tony reminded himself. "You're supposed to be in Ducks office right now, you could blow this whole thing! What if somebody recognizes you? I ask you to do one damn thing: Stay with Duck, out of sight. You can't even do that! What was so Goddamn important you had-"

Gibbs was just stressed about their current lack of leads, it didn't help that he was the reason they were trying so hard to find this guy. Tony though, felt his face heat up with embarrasment, when his Boss mentioned he couldn't even do the one thing he'd been asked by his superior. This had definately been a bad idea. "Sorry Boss." he muttered quickly, using what strength he had left to make a mad dash for the stairs. No way in hell was he getting caught in the elevator.

Ziva hung up her phone and glared at Gibbs. "Go apologize to Tony right now or I will tell on you to Abby; that was all not called."

"Uncalled for, Ziva." Kate corrected, also glaring at Gibbs, "And she's right, Gibbs, you didn't need to take out your frustration on Tony; we're all frustrated. Imagine how Tony feels? He's not even in his right age group anymore."

They were right. Gibbs had realized that much the second he'd uttered the words. "Damnit." he muttered to himself, as he ran for the stairs after his second in command. It was a good thing, though, that it was nearly eight, and a majority of the agents had left the building already, so no one really, besides him team was there, to hear him call a teenage boy by his senior field agents last name. That would've been something else entirely to attempt to explain.

When he made it to Ducks' office, he saw Tony sitting there, hunched over a file.

"Tony, I didn't mean to yell at you back there. I didn't mean any of that stuff I said. I'm just...stressed right now; you didn't deserve me blowing up at you like that." Gibbs bit his lip, he sucked at apologies.

"I didn't." Tony agreed stoicly, not looking up from the lapfull of papers he'd gathered.

"I'm sorry Tony."

"Rule six: Never Apolo-"

"-gize," Gibbs interrupted, "Unless, you're wrong, and you've hurt someone important to you, DiNozzo. In that case, grovel and beg for forgiveness."

Tony looked up briefly, saw his Bosses genuinity, smiled a little. "Didn't really see any groveling or begging but I guess I'll take it. Wait 'till Abby hears this; got an apology from the Bossman himself." he smirked playfully.

The relief Gibbs felt was immense. "Abby hears none of this; if she knew about this she'd have my head on a platter, ya' know." he walked further into Duckys office. "So, what was it that you wanted to tell me before?" he asked, now curious.

Tony looked back down, shuffling through his papers, "Oh, that, it was nothing important."

Gibbs put one finger under the boys' chin and tipped his head up so that they were staring eye to eye. "Don't lie to me DiNozzo."

"It's really nothing Boss." Tony assured. "I thought I'd caught something that would lead us to Jeffery Simone, but looking at these papers again, it was a dead end." he explained, remembering rule seven: Always be specific when you lie.

Gibbs scruternized his agent a moment more before nodding. "Alright; we're leaving in an hour or so, so meet me at the bullpen then, got it?"

"Yep." Tony nodded, as his Boss exited the office.

The ache was still present, but it wasn't nearly as bad as it had been; he was probably overreacting anyway, he thought, grimacing as he rubbed the side of his stomach, hoping to sooth the pain away.

He'd be fine.

A/N! Don't worry, he's not dying (although something is CLEARLY wrong!). I hate character death fics! But yeah, hope you guys liked it. And well...you know what to do...click that button right underneath. C'mon. Do it. Your mouse is just itching to click on the review button, so just give into that impulse!