Hey everyone! A special thanks is in order to everyone who has read and reviewed. The chapters are going to get more exciting after this one, I promise. And to those who are asking what Gibbs hunts- you'll soon find out!

The team arrived at their destination around noon, alighting from the plane and stepping into the gorgeous, breezy weather.

"Volare Notte," Tony said with a grin, grabbing his bag and looking around. "I like it."

The little air strip wasn't far from the water; in fact, not much of the city was far from water. Boats of various sizes drifted around, some belonging to local fishermen, some belonging to the extremely wealthy members of the community. The city started out as a fisherman's village, but as Venice became more popular during the Italian Gothic and Renaissance periods, some of the wealthy built residences in Volare Notte where there was more room.

"It is lovely," Ziva agreed as she and McGee joined their friend.

"What does the name mean? Volare Notte? Doesn't notte mean night?" Tim asked.

"Yes, and volare is the verb meaning 'to fly'," Ziva said.

"To fly at night," Ducky said, glancing at Gibbs.

A tall young man approached them with a smile. "Are you guys the major case response team from DC?" he asked, shaking everyone's hands. "I'm Agent Mallory. Welcome to Volare Notte!"

He led them to a waiting car, which took them to the naval station. "Thank you all for coming. I'm really glad of the help."

"How far along are you on the case?" Tony asked.

"Not far at all, I'm afraid. I questioned the woman who found First Sergeant Miller, but she wasn't much help."

"Did you know Miller personally?"

"I'd met him a couple of times, but no, I never knew him. He seemed nice enough, though."

When they pulled up to the small base, Mallory took them to a cleared-out office that was empty besides a desk, a small table, a few chairs and a phone. "This was mine, but I've already cleaned it out, so it's yours for as long as you need it."

Turning to Ducky, he smiled. "Our autopsy room isn't nearly as big as the one at the Navy Yard, Doctor Mallard."

"As long as I have a table to work on, I'll be happy," the ME assured the agent. "You know, once when I was working in..." his voice died out as he and Mallory walked towards the autopsy room together, leaving the MCRT to their small cubicle.

"So, do we flip for the desk, or...?" Tony began with a chuckle, but trailed off when Gibbs cocked an eyebrow at him. "Right. The desk is your, Boss."

Tim was content to sit at the smaller table with his laptop, already looking up information on First Sergeant Miller.

"So, where do we begin?" Ziva asked.

"We should probably go see the crime scene," Tony said. Gibbs nodded. Although they had the disadvantage of waiting over 24 hours since the crime occurred, it hadn't rained, and it was likely that no one had messed with any potential evidence.

In only a half an hour, the four were at the crime scene: an opening to a dark alley branching off from the main road.

"I read that most of Volare Notte had a labyrinth of alleyways winding in between the houses and buildings," Tim informed as he got a photograph of the scene. "Easy for criminals to move around."

The exact spot where Miller had been found still had a little bit of dried blood on the cobblestones. Ziva stepped around it and examined the alley. An strong but simple arch connected the two buildings that made up the alley walls. It would be a haunting and beautiful place by night.

"Look at this," McGee said, holding up a baseball bat that was hidden behind some trash. "It could be the blunt force object that caused all those...injuries in Miller's limbs."

Ziva took it from him and held it up so that he could take a picture of it. "He was beaten to death?" she suggested.

"Well, Miller didn't have a phone, watch, or wallet on him," DiNozzo put in. "Looks like a mugging gone wrong," he finished, snapping a pic of the blood still slightly stained onto the pavement.

"But wasn't he shot or something? There were those holes in his chest...Why a baseball bat and a gun? You think there might've been two muggers?" Tim asked.

"It makes sense," Ziva said, wrapping the bat for evidence.

Gibbs scanned the darker corners of the alley, looking for any sign that a non-human being had recently been on the premises. It was convenient, finding the bat, having a weapon as evidence, but it was a little too easy...given the state of the victim. This wouldn't be the first time that a murder scene was staged to look human-made.

"We'll find out if the bat was a part of it when Ducky finishes the autopsy," Tony said, looking up from his camera. "I think I've gotten all the photos we need, Boss."

"We've searched the place top to bottom, Gibbs," Ziva said. "We have found all the evidence here."

The team leader straightened, turning to look back at his agents. "Log the evidence and go over prints on the bat. Look up Miller's record, see if he could've made any enemies in Valero Notte." He noted the tired looks on his kids' faces. "And get some coffee."

About an hour later, Gibbs entered the little autopsy suite, finding Ducky poring over the wounds in Sergeant Millers's chest.

"What've ya got, Duck?"

"Hello, I was just about to call you."

Gibbs' chest tightened in apprehension. Ducky's 'diagnosis' would determine the path of the case, and potentially the lives of his agents.

"Jethro," Ducky began, somewhat disappointed and somewhat relieved. "This destruction was caused by a human." He gestured to the collapsed parts of the poor marine's legs, arms, and head. "See?" He picked up the bat and held them next to the breaks. "These are a perfect fit. I've seen many identical injuries in past cases."

The medical examiner then touched the odd puncture marks on the man's chest. "These weren't made by hands or teeth. They're bullets. Odd ones, definitely, but still bullets. I actually found one..." Ducky showed Gibbs the fragments he found in the man's lungs and heart. "These are meant to do damage, Jethro. Bullets like these would kill their victim almost instantly."

Gibbs shook his head slightly. "A human didn't do this, Duck."

"I realize what it looks like, Jethro, but honestly, the facts speak for themselves. I know you don't believe in coincidences, but this very well might be one big coincidence."

"What about his color?"

"Ah," Ducky said, turning to some notes on the side of the table. "I had Timothy run tox screens over First Sergeant Miller's blood. He had heavy traces of phenytoin in his system."

"Drugs?" Gibbs said aloud. There was no possible way...

"Yes, it's actually well known that misuse of phenytoin causes skin discoloration. It's meant to treat seizures, but Miller didn't have a history of them. It was most likely used for recreational purposes. Or they were slipped to him without his knowledge."

"So we're positive that a human being caused this?"

"I can say so with absolute certainty."

Gibbs almost laughed in relief. So his team didn't have to go after a monster. (A monster of the inhuman sort, anyway.) They could wrap this case up in a day or two, and he wouldn't have to tell them about the bastards he hunted. Tim wouldn't lose sleep at night, Tony wouldn't question his life, and Ziva's trust wouldn't be set back by years as the world around them remained secure.

"Jethro," Ducky began again. "I understand that this means you aren't required to tell them, but I think you should all the same. It does not mean that they have to become hunters and sacrifice their lives to the work, but knowing how to protect themselves could be vital...especially if you insist on continuing to hunt...don't look at me like that, I know you hunt in your spare time...you make many enemies that way, Jethro, and the people closest to you are in danger as well."

Ducky was the only living person who was entirely immune to the Gibbs-glare, so the team leader didn't even attempt it. Instead, he sighed and rubbed his hand along the back of his neck.

"I'll tell them after we catch the bastard who did this," he said, turning and leaving his friend with the victim.

Ducky sighed and looked at the body before him. "That did not go well, Mr. Miller, but I do think it's for the best. Don't you?"

...

"Boss," Tony started as the older man entered their office. "Any news on what killed Miller?"

"Looks like a mugging," Gibbs said, dropping the medical file onto the desk for them to read. "Ducky says his skin color has to do with drug overdose."

"Miller was a user?" Tim asked, reading through the file.

"Or it was given to him the night of his death," Ziva said.

"Did we get any fingerprint IDs on the bat?"

McGee turned to his computer, and answered Tony's question with a few key clicks. Turning the computer towards his team, Tim shook his head, "Yes and no. An Ian Shallow has his prints on it, but he's temporarily stationed in Berlin right now. I double checked, he apparently left it here three weeks ago and asked that it be kept safe until he returns."

"Well someone didn't listen to him," DiNozzo said grimly, reviewing the photos of Sergeant Miller. "It was definitely not taken care of."

Just then, Ziva's cell phone rang, and she stepped outside to take the call.

"What about the bullets?" Gibbs asked.

"They're pretty unique," Tony said. "Not practical for hunting, or even for gun-fighting because they're only compatible for one type of gun. And I checked, there's no gun merchant in the area that sells them."

"But they do a hell of a lot of damage," Tim said. "The bullets, I mean. They can tear straight through a person. If you get hit by one of these in a vital place, you're not going to last long."

Gibbs' eyebrows knitted. "So we've got nothing."

"Not nothing," Ziva said, reentering. "A friend of mine from the Valero Notte police just informed me that several muggings have happened in the area that Miller was found. No one has been killed until now, though."

"That was my theory!" DiNozzo said. "They took his wallet and he didn't have a phone or a watch. Did I not say this was a mugging gone wrong?"

"So what do we do?" Tim said, turning to Gibbs. "Watch the area until there's another mugging?"

McGee hadn't been serious, but it gave DiNozzo an idea.

"Why don't we?" he said. "We watch the area tonight, and as they go to mug someone, we catch them and bring them in for questioning."

Jethro had to admit, it sounded easy enough. "Tony, go see if we can get a van for tonight. Ziva, ask your friend what street the muggings are most common on. McGee, get a map of the city, especially of the street Ziva finds. I want back alleys mapped out as well."

"On it, Boss," the agents chimed as they went about their duties.

A couple hours later, the sun was on the verge of setting, and the agents were loading up the van DiNozzo had secured for them. Ducky was notified of their plans, and was already back at their hotel enjoying a genuine Italian meal. Everything was ready to leave, and the agents climbed in the car, prepared to face the night.

Gibbs watched them, and guilt filled his thoughts. He should have told them the truth already, instead of waiting until they were finished with the case. He fought with himself, arguing that such a bombshell would just distract them from their duties. No, he decided, it's better to wait.

...

McGee hesitated, a nagging feeling in his chest. Something was wrong, something was wrong. But what? He had no idea. A pressure was building on his ribs and his spine in the form of anxiety.

It was his gut, telling him to think twice. To talk to Gibbs.

Tim almost did voice his worries to his Boss, coming up to him as they were the last ones in the van. Tony and Ziva were already seated and buckled in, and since they were out of earshot, the youngest agent felt that this was his chance to say something without embarrassing himself.

"Boss?" he asked as he approached Gibbs. The team leader turned to his youngest. Tim had already opened his mouth to speak when he noticed the dark circles under his boss' eyes again. Gibbs was a surrogate father to all of his agents, even McGee, and Tim realized that the man was too tired, too stressed to worry about one of his agents getting the jitters.

"Yeah, McGee?" Gibbs asked, startling Tim out of his reverie. The young agent sighed.

"Nothing. Sorry, Boss."

What was he getting all worked up for? Just one stakeout. They just had to catch the guy, then it was over, and he could play tourist with Tony and Ziva for a few days. They had faced much bigger dangers before. There was absolutely nothing to worry about.

So why was his heart beating so fast?