Disclaimer: I don't own anything. Except the mistakes those are mine.

A/N: I am slightly ashamed to say that this hasn't been proof read or even edited, I only just finished writing it and wanted to get it up as soon as possible. To those who followed and added it to you favorites, thank you very much. As most of you know I tend to write long chapters, so thank you for actually reading them and then of course reviewing them, it always makes my day ;)

I realize this isn't really everyone's type of story, so I'll try and not to be discouraged by the lack of interest. For those of you who do like this – the best parts are yet to come.

Enjoy*

The silence was tangible as they all watched Gibbs disappear into the darkness.

Tony pulled his cap off his head, throwing it on the hood of the Dodge, running a hand through his hair he looked over at Ziva as she stood patiently in the blue hue of moonlight. Tim was further to his left, talking quietly with one of the other tech agents. None of them really knew what to expect, taking a deep breath he felt himself wanting to charge after his boss.

There was a warning cough beside him. Narrowing his eyes, he glared at Balboa as he shook his head, an indication that he was actually pulling rank. DiNozzo scoffed snidely and sauntered to the squad car where Ziva had perched on the bonnet. Hoisting himself onto the car effortlessly, he watched his partner out the corner of his eye.

They were all just waiting – for what he wasn't exactly sure, but he felt like he should have defied his boss' orders and gone after him. There was a soft rustling behind him and he looked over his shoulder. He grit his teeth in annoyance with himself, he didn't even want to begin to understand what Miss Shepard was going through.

Pushing against the cool steel of the car he heard the dull clunk!, as it dented underneath the force he had applied. Cringing a little, he pulled himself to his full height and made his way to where the woman was now standing in front of him, waiting for something to happen with bated breath.

Jenny felt someone behind her, she turned to look at the young Italian as he trudged towards her through the tall grass. Years of working with people – and ample amount of research – had given her vast knowledge in reading people's nerve responses – and judging by the man's twitching fingers she knew he was just as anxious as she was.

Lifting the bulletproof vest slightly she moved her shoulders around a little, trying to get them to stop aching, she couldn't fathom how the agents wore them without so much as flinching. She listened to the quiet murmurs that were either about her or agent Gibbs who had stormed into the cave.

"The weight takes a while to get used to." Tony spoke quietly next to her – adjusting his own vest as he placed his hands on his hips. He moved to help her take it off, knowing she didn't actually need it.

"I don't think you can." She gave him a slight smile as he stood next to her. Her gaze momentarily flicked to the pistol holstered at his hip before she looked back at the dark cave. She didn't believe in violence, and after her husband had told her one of the few stories that had stayed with him while being stationed in a war zone, she absolutely hated it. Now, however, since Roy had been taken from her she had to stop herself from killing the men with her bare hands.

"Actually, you're right, mine always makes me look bigger than usual." Tony lifted the vest almost self-consciously. Seeing the small smile, he felt only a tinge of relief that he'd lightened the mood somehow, he ignored Ziva's sarcastic snort behind him. Turing his watchful gaze back to the cave, he waited, like everyone else.

"Agent DiNozzo?" Jenny asked quietly, watching him out of the corner of her eye.

"Yes, ma'am?"

"In the squad room, when I had asked agent Gibbs about whether he had any children, I got the distinct feeling that there was something more behind his rather abrupt 'no'." Jenny turned her large green eyes on the young agent, watching with interest as he shifted around.

"You're gonna have to ask him about it once he's brought Roy back. I have a feeling you two would be able to relate." The seriousness in his voice sounded strange even to him. It wasn't his place to divulge sensitive information, and he could feel the head slap from a mile away when his boss found out he had told the woman about the older man's past.

Jenny raised a perfect eyebrow at the young agent, he hadn't said much, but he did let enough slip to make her curious.

Looking down at her watch she let out a calming breath. It felt as if they had been waiting for hours, but it had only been a few minutes. There was a sense of uncertainty in the air that surrounded her, she could tell that the agents were as out of their depths as she was. Looking up she watched yet another outline of a cloud drift in front of the moon before blowing away as well.

The pale blue light sent a shiver down her spine, she wasn't a superstitious woman, but there was something eerie if not creepy in the air tonight.

"What is taking so long?" The accented voice sounded next to her and she had to stop herself from jumping out of fright when Ziva appeared next to her. Jenny relaxed slightly as she looked into the young woman's dark and concerned eyes.

Further along the row of cars someone else voiced their concern, but Tony snapped at them to keep their mouth shut. Jenny ran her hands up and down her arms, trying to keep herself warm as a slicing wind swept through the trees, she could see Tony shiver slightly as well.

"DiNozzo," A familiar voice growled next to them, causing all three to turn and look. Balboa gave the mother of the young boy a tight smile before turning his attention back towards Tony. He motioned for him to step aside, out of earshot from the redhead.

"What the hell was Gibbs thinking, Tony?" Balboa snapped quietly, clearly impatient about what was going on.

"Give me a break, okay," Tony responded snidely, "You know Gibbs, he's got his own plans, and if he said wait – we wait, he knows what he's doing." Tony slapped Balboa on the arm lightly and sauntered back to where Ziva and Jenny were waiting. He wasn't going to tell Balboa that he was even more panicked than he was.

A sense of silence fell over everyone. They were all just waiting for Gibbs to emerge, dragging the two men behind him – or to see him held at gunpoint while they made their demands.

The loud gunshot echoed around them, the sound deafening as it thundered inside the cave.

Jenny gasped, the colder night air burning all the way down to her lungs. Rational thought had stopped running through her mind a long time ago. "Roy!"

Adrenalin pumped through her veins as she raced across the clearing, her murderous shoes long since discarded. She could feel the sharp edges of rocks and sticks imbed themselves in her feet as she tried to get to the cave. She could barely hear the shouts of panic of the agents as they tried to wrap their minds around what the hell had just gone wrong.

Strong arms wrapped around her waist, causing her to tumble almost head first to the ground, but whoever grabbed her held her tightly until she could find her footing again.

"Let me go!" Jenny smacked the arm that held her, not caring who it was.

"Miss Shepard, please calm down!" Tony DiNozzo snapped roughly, he could feel his heart hammer in his throat as various scenarios ran through his mind. He knew that there was no way that his boss' Sig sounded like that, years around guns had taught him that it was only a shotgun that sounded like that.

"I want my son!," Jenny tried prying Tony's grip loose, but he held on. "Roy!" Tears had sprung to her eyes again, blurring her vision.

"Jenny!" Tony snapped, "You have to stay here, it's protocol. Ziva and I, along with agent Balboa's team will go in and see what happened. Agent McGee will stay with you, is that clear?"

Tony didn't wait for a reply, he made sure Tim had a firm grip on Jenny before letting go and rushing, along with a group of agents, towards the cave – his gut churning with what he could only describe as a bad feeling.

"Something is wrong, Tony." Ziva muttered as she jogged alongside her partner.

Whatever he had wanted to say never made it past his lips. The ground beneath his feet started shaking. There was a confused look shared amongst them as they slowed to a stop. Tony placed his hands over his ears to block out whatever was causing the painful ringing in his ears. He could feel himself starting to lose his balance, he could just make out that the others were experiencing the same things he was.

There was a flash of blinding light before something knocked him to the ground.

He was weightless, as if he was floating. He didn't know where he was, all he knew was that he felt better than he had in years. Warmth surrounded him, spreading through his muscles and veins, warming him on the inside.

The last five minutes of his life flickered through his mind.

The hatred he felt towards the two men as he watched them cower slightly as he came into view. The four buckshot pellets ripping through him and then the pain and agony he'd spent the last few seconds of his life in. Then the warmth that spread through him as he felt his ears ring. He couldn't remember much else after that. He didn't know if this was what death felt like and if someone was trying to bring him back to the living world.

He'd seen the large pellet rip through his ribs and straight through his heart. A shot like that would have killed anyone instantly, he was just lucky enough to be able to cover Roy from being shot.

Roy.

Jethro tried to move but nothing seemed to respond. He willed his body to move, even if he could just twitch his fingers. Panic rose in his chest, choking him slightly. He didn't know what had happened to Roy, whether the kid had suffered the same fate or if he had been successful in covering the boy. Frustration boiled in his body, he wanted to move, to open his eyes – but he couldn't.

The warmth suddenly started to dissipate, seeping out of his muscles again allowing the pain to shoot through him. The tangy copper taste of his own blood was back, making him gag. He could feel his own sticky blood as it still dripped down his throat out of his mouth. He determined that he was drifting in and out of consciousness, because there was no way he could survive – not this time.

He could feel his skin tingle as the moonlight fell across him, he still couldn't open his eyes, but the darkness behind his eyelids weren't as repressing as before.

A sharp intense pain shot through him, drawing a strangled shout from his lips.

It felt like someone had stuck their fingers inside his gaping wounds, prodding around to find something. He groaned in pain as he felt one of the pellets being pulled out of his thigh where it had imbedded itself. He heard the dull thump as it dropped to the floor of the cave. The pain was momentarily gone before there was the same sharp pain in his shoulder.

He was confused, not sure who had found them and why they had deemed it fit to extract the pellets from his body. He tried speaking but all he could get out was a gurgle and then a groan of pain as the same mind numbing pain thrust through his abdomen at two different angles from where the bullet had ripped through him. He couldn't remember ever experiencing something as painful as this.

The prodding stopped for a moment. He tried moving, but his heart gave a struggling thump at the movement.

Jethro grit his teeth as the prodding found its way into his chest. He could hear himself scream inside his head as the bullet was being pulled back through his spluttering heart. It registered somewhere in the conscious part of his brain that this was impossible, he wasn't supposed to be feeling this or even still be alive.

His back arched in pain when there was a violent tug. He slumped against the cold rock wall, feeling the heat disappear from his body again.

The pain felt almost bearable as he lay, still catatonic, on the cold earth. He was slowly starting to become aware of his surroundings again and of the warm weight resting against his side. Somewhere he could hear voices shouting, but he was in too much of a daze to actually hear what they were saying.

He felt his sore muscles tense at the thought of the two men who had taken Roy. The familiar surge of anger rushed through him again, sending his heart pounding. Mustering enough energy to move, he opened his eyes, a little slower than usual.

Jethro blinked a few times trying to get his vision to focus on something. Looking down at himself he felt the urge to throw up. He could see his muscles knit back together perfectly before his skin did the same. He tried telling himself that he was either dreaming or the force with which he hit his head was causing him to hallucinate. Ignoring the various rips and holes in his clothing he pushed himself up.

Looking around he saw that the opening to the cave had been blown almost wide open, creating an even bigger entrance. He felt the weight against him stir and he looked down almost in panic.

Roy looked up at him with watery green eyes, his lower lip quivering. Jethro wrapped an arm around the boy, hugging him to his side. He was still confused about what had happened the few seconds before he had lost consciousness.

"Hey, buddy, you okay? Are you hurt?" Jethro coaxed the little boy to look at him.

"No, I just want my mommy." Roy struggled through his tears, still gripping the man's arm against him. Jethro nodded, he wanted to get out of this place as well. Ruffling the boy's hair he helped him to his feet and struggled to his own as well, sliding his Sig back in its holster.

Reaching down he picked the five year old up with ease. He felt a wave of protectiveness towards the boy as Roy tightened his grip. He placed a hand on his head and looked around the ruins of what had been left of the cave.

Under a ruble of rocks, he could see two charred bodies. He couldn't remember seeing a bomb or anything remotely close to what might have caused the explosion. The voices drew nearer behind them and he felt his body tense all over again.

The bright beam of a flash light landed on his face and he could hear a collected sigh of relief. Glaring at whoever was on the other side of the flashlight, he adjusted Roy on his hip.

"Please don't go, Gibbs." Roy tightened his grip on the man who had saved him. It was clear that he was still disoriented and confused about everything that had happened.

"Don't worry, kiddo." Jethro placed a comforting hand on his back and hushed him. "DiNozzo, get that thing out of my face."

The beam of light dropped to the floor and he could make out the various concerned faces of his team and other agents as well. Ignoring the strange looks from everyone he pushed past them, eager to get out of the strange place he had found himself in.

Tony looked at Ziva once their boss had disappeared along with another agent. "How the hell didn't they survive that blast?"

Jethro rolled his eyes at his senior field agent's poor attempt at whispering. Thinking better of it to snap at him, he navigated his way through the dark path to where he could see various portable lights illuminating the way towards the exit.

\/

Jenny bit her nail anxiously. It had been two hours since the explosion, two hours of nothing but mind numbing fear that she had lost her little boy in that explosion. All the agents had acted quickly, clearing the rocks away in order to find their agent and her son. In the meantime an ambulance had arrived along with NCIS' Medical Examiner.

The old doctor had been equally worried when he'd heard what had happened, and she could see in the almost sad down turn of the corners of his mouth that he didn't think they had survived. The young man accompanying him had silently readied a few body bags, and she could see that the thought of their agent dead saddened him.

"We found them! They're alive!" A young man, who she had heard also being referred to as Probie, came rushing towards agent Balboa, a look of shock on his face.

This time no one stopped her from running.

Jenny rushed towards the figure trudging towards her down the path that everyone had created over the last two hours. She could almost hear his growl of irritation as the young EMT fussed about checking him over. She stumbled to a stop right in front of him, her eyes already tearing up again.

"Roy?" She choked out.

"Mommy!"

Jenny fell to her knees, wrapping her arms tightly around her son as he crashed into her, almost knocking her over. She felt his tiny body shake with each relieved sob he let slip, his tears soaking right through her shirt. She stroked his long hair tenderly, hoping to calm him down. "Shh, baby, you're safe, I promise."

Roy pulled away, wiping at the tears that still rolled down his cheeks. "He saved me, Mommy, Gibbs saved me like Superman."

She could hear the tinge of awe in her son's voice as he smiled at her through his tears. She nodded almost blindly as she pulled Roy against her chest again, wanting to hold onto him forever. Gibbs was in every sense of the word their hero. Opening her mouth to thank him, she realized that he wasn't there anymore.

Jenny struggled to her feet, holding Roy as tightly as she could before someone took him from her again. There were things racing through her mind that she preferred to push away for the moment. Jenny looked around the flood of blue and red lights that surrounded her. A few of the squad cars had their blue lights flicking along with local police and a few ambulances.

She scanned the clearing for Gibbs, she knew that nothing she'd say or do would ever be enough to thank him for bringing back her boy. Above the quiet bustle of agents and medical personnel she heard the tired snap followed by the old doctor's firm scold.

"Roy?" Jenny ran her fingers through her son's hair, looking into his large green eyes, "What do you say we go thank agent Gibbs for helping us."

The five year old gave a determined nod as he clung to his mother, terrified of letting her go.

Jethro glared at Ducky darkly as his old friend crossed his arms over his chest, an indication that he wasn't going to take no for an answer. He knew how it looked, his jacket, slacks and polo were soaked with blood – but there was no indication of where it had come from. There were holes in his clothing that he couldn't explain and his mind was still reeling with what he had seen. He could see Palmer cross his arms as well, taking a firm stand behind his friend. Jethro rolled his eyes, running a hand through his hair he tried to get the dirt out of the silver strands.

"I agree with him, agent Gibbs, at least from a doctor's point of view." Jenny interjected as she took in the silent stand off between the two men.

Jethro glared at her, but it lacked its usual dark cold effect. He looked at Ducky who was still glaring at him. He looked at the redhead again, noting for the first time the slight smile on her face. His eyes flicked to the little boy who was still holding onto his mother.

"Check him first, Duck." Jethro looked at the little boy with concern. He didn't want to begin to think about the emotional damage Roy had been through since he'd been abducted.

The conviction in the old man's eyes dimmed as he looked at the little boy with concern as well. Giving a silent nod he stepped aside for Jenny to take a seat on the back of the truck. Ducky pushed his glasses up on his nose and coaxed the little boy to look at him.

Jethro grit his teeth as he looked at Roy. The cream shorts he had on was caked with dirt from where he'd been sitting in a pool of mud, his red t-shirt looking pretty much the same. He had light scrapes on his knees and his arms were bruised from where they had grabbed him. Jethro felt his blood boil all over again, and he felt a brief flare of satisfaction knowing they were burnt beyond recognition.

But, how had they survived? He could distinctly remember the bright light around them. Then again he'd been shot and he was still able to walk out of there. He'd seen his own body heel itself within seconds, something he knew was impossible under any circumstances, he was hallucinating that's all. Ignoring the chill that ran down his spine, he looked at the two people sitting on the back of the truck.

"Well, young man, with a good bath and a decent amount of sleep – you'd be as good as new." Ducky smiled at the young boy warmly.

Jenny smiled as she felt Roy shy away. She had a lot of concerns about the impact everything had had on him, she was hoping that Gibbs would be able to help since her son thought of him as Superman – she suspected he'd be more open to talk to him. A small grin steeled over her lips as she watched the agent glare at the old doctor until the old man threw his arms in the air in defeat.

Jethro shifted around, suddenly uncomfortable with the way the woman was looking at him. He needed to get away, at least until he could wrap his head around everything that had happened. He could see the questions burning in her eyes as she stared at the four holes in his clothing and the blood that seemed to cover him from head to toe.

"Agent Gibbs, I-"

"Jethro," He interrupted, giving her a slight smirk.

"Jethro." Jenny said with a kind smile, "I don't know if I'd ever be able to thank you for bringing Roy back to me, but if there's ever anything I could do..."

"Nah, important part is that he's safe. Seeing him safe is the only thing that counts."

"The men who took him, are they..." She trailed off again.

"Dead." Jethro said with a slight growl as he felt his blood start pumping again.

Jenny nodded pulling her son against her chest. Running her fingers through his hair, she watched his eyes occasionally flick to the man standing in front of them. Jenny placed a soft kiss to his temple, winking at him when he looked at her with identical pools of emerald green. He slid off her lap and scampered towards Jethro as he looked at the teams moving around in the distance.

A slight tug on his trousers had him looking down. Kneeling down he gave the boy a genuine smile as he ruffled his long hair that just covered his ears. It took him by surprise when the boy lunged towards him, wrapping him in a tight hug.

"I told you everything was going to be okay, Gibbs." Roy whispered in his ear as he hugged him.

Jethro tensed for a moment, knowing that the kid had seen everything. He gave him a hug back, wondering if his mother would write it off as a coping mechanism or if she'd try and find him some help with a psychiatrist. The little boy pulled away and he ruffled the kid's hair.

Standing back to his feet he met the redhead's gaze as she looked at the tares in his clothing. Raising a silver eyebrow at her, she quickly dropped her gaze to look at her son who had rushed back to her. Jethro scratched the back of his neck. He didn't feel like answering everyone's questions and he was in desperate need of a shower.

"I'll take you home." Jethro spoke after a moment of silence, "McGee can swing by tomorrow to get your statement."

He watched in silence as Jenny made her way to the squad car, struggling to keep the five year old on her hip. Making sure no one was watching, he rummaged through the back of the M.E. truck to find himself a clean shirt and a spare jacket.

The residential street was quiet when he eased the Dodge to a stop outside the large Georgetown mansion. He looked up at the large three story building, admiring the old house for a moment. He felt Jenny shift next to him, anxious to get her son safely inside. Opening his door, he stepped into the night air, taking in the fresh smell of nature that surrounded him.

Ever since he'd woken up in that cave, all he could smell was burnt bodies and something that had been distinctly bitter, he couldn't remember something ever smelling bitter but he could taste it. Scrubbing a hand over his face roughly he tilted his face towards the moonlight, appreciating the blades of pale light as it fell across his face.

Opening the rear door, he picked the little boy up, giving his tired mother a break. There was no doubt that the events of the day had taken their toll on her as well. Now that everything was over and behind them, he could see the slight slump of her shoulders and the way she fumbled to pull her shoes on were indication enough.

The click of her tongue had him turning to look at her with a raised eyebrow.

"Everything's in my car." Jenny let out an almost defeated sigh as she kept feeling around in her pockets.

"I can pick it." Jethro grumbled softly as he adjusted Roy in his arms, he twitched his nose slightly as the boy's hair tickled his nose. Smoothing the boy's dark hair out of his face he met the woman's slightly guarded green gaze as she watched them.

"I guess it's better than you crashing through my door." There was the slightest hint of humor in her voice as she looked at him over the roof of the car. When she saw him get ready to hand Roy to her she held up a hand. "I was joking. There's a spare key under one of the potted plants."

Jethro navigated his way up the small redbrick path, tightening his grip on Roy as he tensed momentarily. Placing a hand on his head, he stroked his hair until he calmed down. He didn't know why he felt the need to make sure these two people got home safe, he could have asked Tim or one of the other agents to take them home. He'd worked cases like these more times than he would have liked to admit, yet there was something different.

You're still alive! Jethro rolled his eyes, he should have let Ducky check him for any head injuries before leaving. Clearing his throat almost uncomfortably, he adjusted Roy and climbed the stairs quickly. Swallowing against the sickening feeling he suddenly felt, he waited for Jenny to open the door.

The front door's lock clicked, creaking quietly as it swung open. Jenny hurried inside flicking on lights as she went. Throwing the spare key on the table haphazardly, she spun around just in time to watch the gruff agent look at Roy with something aching towards pain. As if he'd been in her situation but the outcome hadn't been the same.

"Do you want me to take him?" Jenny asked quietly, feeling even worse about her comment in the squad room.

"I've got him." He reassured her as he adjusted Roy in his grip.

She could see that he was still covered in blood despite his clean t-shirt and too small jacket he'd pulled on over the shirt. The situation wasn't adding up in her mind, and she wasn't willing to admit that she actually knew why. Giving him a lingering look she motioned for him to follow her up the stairs.

Jethro tried to avoid the various action figures laying around in the dark hallway as he trudged behind Jenny. He heard a soft crunch but tried to play it off as nothing when Jenny looked at with a knowing smirk on her face, he gave her a lighthearted glare and looked and something other than her.

Jenny opened the door to her son's room and stepped inside, trying to find something for him to wear and a washcloth to wipe the dirt off of him.

Jethro looked around the large room, admiring the posters of various muscle cars plastered against the walls. He suspected that DiNozzo would have a melt down if he saw the various Marvel and DC Comics posters that accompanied the cars. Placing the boy on his Superman duvet, he inspected the various posters. He could hear Jenny move around behind him.

Jenny blew a wisp of hair out of her face, she'd forgotten how much of struggle it was to get her son dressed for bed – reminding her why it had been such a relief when he started dressing himself. Tucking Roy in under his comforter she brushed his hair out of his face and kissed his forehead protectively.

Standing back up, she stared at Jethro's bloodied hair on the back of his head. Placing a hand on his shoulder she steered him out of the room and into the hallway, closing the door only halfway so that she could hear her son if he called her.

"Would you like some coffee?" She asked quietly as they made their way back to the foyer. All she received was a nod.

Jethro stood near the kitchen counter, looking out over the large backyard. Jenny had disappeared once the percolator was whirring quietly in the background, leaving him alone with his thoughts. He should have said no to the coffee, he just wanted to get home and sleep off whatever had happened. There was a soft curse and he spun around.

He raised an eyebrow at the redhead when she sauntered into the kitchen, with something in her hands. She stopped in front of him, even shorter than before without her heels on. She pulled out one of the bar stools and gave him and the chair a pointed look.

"What?" He hoped the cold almost barking quality to his voice would be enough for her to chase him away.

"You might glare Ducky into submission, but that doesn't work with me. I've fought bigger and scarier men, your glare doesn't work." The tone of voice she used suggested that she didn't take BS from anyone.

Jethro bit back the slight smirk. Seeing the unwavering look on her face and knowing that the quicker he did this the sooner he could leave, he took a seat and looked up at her.

A soft hand cupped his cheek and he fought the urge to close his eyes against the gentleness with which she touched him. The bright light in his eyes caught him off guard and he tensed momentarily. The light clicked off and he felt her fingers slide through his hair, feeling around on the back of his head. She was close, a little too close for his liking, because her expensive perfume wafted in his face as she looked at him with a frown.

"So what's the verdict, Doc, am I good?" Jethro asked jokingly, trying to hide the fact that he'd liked having her touch him. Previous circumstances hadn't really allowed him to take in the woman before him, she had been a terrified mother who wanted her child back. Despite everything that had happened – he was still just a man.

Now in the soft lighting of her kitchen, he looked at her – really looked at her.

Long red locks cascaded around her, reaching just below the middle of her back – they were the deep crimson colour that would always draw his attention and make him want to touch the soft strands. Large emerald pools looked back at him, and he wondered whether it was the knowledge that they almost shared the same pain that attracted him to her.

"Your fine." Jenny pulled her fingers out of his hair. Biting the inside of her lip as she watched his blue eyes go from bright blue to a darker shade of icy rings. She knew that there were a lot of things factoring into her attraction towards him. He'd saved her son and he was the epitome of male power, something that all women were attracted to whether they admitted it or not – it was in short instinct.

Who was she kidding, he was handsome and she found him attractive. It wasn't like it was a sin, at least she didn't think it was.

"As Ducky said, a good night's rest and you'd be as good as new." She turned away from him, missing the slight grimace her words had drawn from him. "Roy will probably want to say hi tomorrow when I go to pick up my car. Would that be okay with you?"

Jethro cleared his throat, "Yeah sure, Abby will probably want to meet him, I'll take him down while you give your side of what happened."

"I have a feeling Roy might like her more than he likes you." Jenny smiled to herself as she took two mugs from the cupboard. The few moments Abby had been around she knew her son would want to meet the bubbly goth since they shared the same love for science despite his young age.

"Roy," Jethro started scraping his throat, "is that his given name or is it a nickname?"

"Leroy Andrew Daniel Shepard. Why do you ask?" Jenny placed the mug of coffee in front of him, intrigued by his sudden question.

Jethro took a long drink from his cup, appreciating the taste, "My grandfather used to call me Roy, short for Leroy."

"Leroy Jethro Gibbs." She said his name to herself, meeting his eyes she swallowed heavily. "It was fate." She mumbled, even if it was just to herself.

What were the odds that the man saving her son would share his name?

She felt the air shift between them, each sorting through the bizarre events of the last few hours. She felt her heart rate pickup as she looked at the man across from her – the blood, the gunshot, the explosion. It was as if the universe was shouting right in her face to open her eyes, but she wanted to cling to whatever evidence there might be that what she had been told wasn't true.

There was a soft thump as Pebbles came in through one of the open windows and landed on the floor. The large gray Maine Coon cat sauntered into the kitchen, his pale green eyes scanning a high surface where he could jump up. Jenny shook her head as the cat meowed, double checking to make sure whether she'd seen him or not. Taking the milk carton from the fridge she filled one of his bowl's, she glared as the cat gave the milk a simple glance and walked away.

Jethro watched the cat out the corner of his eye, tensing when it sauntered towards him. He liked animals, but cats always seemed to have something against him. Drinking the rest of his coffee, he watched as it jumped onto the kitchen island, his tail swishing behind him casually.

Pebbles meowed again as Jenny looked at him with scowl, she wasn't too fond of him prowling around on her kitchen counters. She left him, knowing he'd want to see who had entered his home. He halted in his tracks the moment he got close to Jethro.

Pebbles looked at him for a few seconds before his back arched and his tail flicked from side to side in warning, he pulled back his ears and hissed threateningly at Jethro.

"Pebbles!" Jenny scolded, grabbing the cat gently before he decided to attack. She gave the large cat a strange look as she placed him on the floor and shooed him away. "Sorry, he's usually nice to strangers."

Jethro finished his coffee the least bit phased by the cat's reaction. "Nah, don't worry about it. Cats never really liked me."

"It's still weird." Jenny glared at Pebbles as he planted himself in the middle of the small area that led into the hall.

Jethro checked his watch, he was burning to get back home even if it just meant he could take a shower before he had to go back to work and start his report on whatever the hell had happened inside that cave. Clearing his throat he tugged at the small t-shirt and jacket before he stood to his feet. "It's been a long day, get some sleep, you'll need it."

Jenny nodded as she followed behind him quietly back into the foyer. Pebbles gave one last hiss before heading to his bowl with milk. Jenny rolled her eyes, wondering whether Roy had scared the cat again when she had told him not to.

"Jethro," Jenny said quickly when she realized that he was almost halfway out the front door, "if… when Roy asks questions, or if he needs someone to talk to do you think..."

"You just give me a call." Jethro gave her a smile. It rang in his ears that he had to walk away no matter what had happened. He just couldn't get himself to say it, something inside him just needed the assurance that Roy would be okay once everything had calmed down.

Jenny bit her lip, looking at the man that stood a few feet away from her. She was moving before it could register what she was doing. Her arms wrapped around Jethro's strong torso, hugging him. It took a moment for him to respond but he rested a large and comforting palm on the middle of her back.

Jethro felt his muscles jump and quiver as her lithe fingers rested on his spine. He tightened his arms briefly before stepping away as she let go of him.

Jenny watched as the Dodge's taillights disappeared down the deserted street. Looking up at the moon she felt her stomach lurch with everything that had happened. Closing the door behind her she leaned against it, feeling the ache in her feet creeping further up her muscles. Ignoring the pain she, locked the door behind her and sauntered towards her dark study.

She wanted to check up on Roy, but there was something she had to do first. The old light flickered on slowly, the old bulb dimmed before it brightened up again. Jenny gave it a suspicious look, waiting for the filament to pop. Pebbles waltzed into the room, meowing contentedly as he curled up in one of the leather chairs. Pale green eyes looked at her for a moment before he rested his head on the chair and closed his eyes.

Jenny ran a hand over the sore muscles in her neck, kneading them until she felt some form of relief. Running the tips of her fingers over the spines of all the books, she sneezed at all the dust that had collected on them over time. She couldn't even remember the last time she had read one of the leather bound books. They were snippets of fiction, all of them in languages she doubted even still existed. When her mother had passed away she had felt bad about throwing everything away.

The tip of her finger glided over the spines, tracing the strange gold lettering, her hand stilled on the last book. The dark leather blending in perfectly with the wood it resided on – taking a hold of the thick book she pulled it off the bookshelf carefully. The once smooth leather was rough under her palms as she placed it on her desk.

Jenny ran her eyes over the handmade leather bound book. It had been sitting on the bookshelf pretty much since she could remember, she'd never seen anyone go through it. The collection of old leather books had been her mother's most prized possessions – and that only added to her guilt when she had wanted to throw it away. Her mother never told her what they were about, whenever she asked she got the same answer. One day when you have children, you'll understand. She never got the chance to ask her mother about them again, she had passed away a year before Roy had been born.

There were strange patterns in the leather, it looked like a family crest, but none she could recognize. She knew what waited for her on the old weathered pages. Just after her mother had passed away she had paged through the book, reading bits and pieces of what was inside.

Lycanthropes, Revenants, Wizards, Guardians, Elders – it had appeared like someone's failed attempt at writing a mythical novel.

Opening the book, she looked down at the scribbled words. The ancient paper protested as she slid a finger underneath it, trying to get a closer look at the strange pictures and lines that made up what she assumed were words. The first two-hundred odd pages made no sense.

Jenny let out a sigh of frustration. Stories had been told on her mother's side of the family, stories that dated as far back as the 12th century. She never believed them, they were old wives tales that her grandparents told her and her cousins just to scare them. Stories of men as white as snow and a beast – although according to her grandparents it was no bigger than a Husky – that prowled around at night, praying on little children.

She remembered being terrified, scared that either one of the creatures would snatch her while she slept. Her father had quelled her fears, reassuring her that nothing would be able to sneak past a well trained Army soldier. She'd written it off as she grew up, but they always stayed with her in the recess of her mind, sneaking into her nightmares and terrorizing her.

Few nights back she had dreamt of the same faceless pale men taking her son, she should have listened to her instincts back then. Paging to where she knew she'd be able to make sense of what was going on, she left the book open on her desk and padded towards the liquor cabinet.

Jenny pulled a crystal tumbler towards her, uncapping one of the bourbon bottles she poured a generous amount into her glass. Taking a large gulp of the burning whiskey she grimaced slightly. She'd hardly had a drink in the last six years since Roy had been born, but tonight was an exception.

She doubted the others had heard it, but she'd heard Roy scream just before they had all fallen to the ground. She knew just like every last person who had been present there at the cave tonight that it wasn't an explosion. Swallowing the rest of her bourbon she refilled her tumbler and went back to her desk.

Settling in the chair, she pulled it towards her, her large green eyes running over the faded ink inscriptions that sent claws of cold shivering tingles up and down her spine.

A boy shall be born from purity, giving him the power of light.

It would only be the beginning.

With light – darkness will come.

Jenny felt her throat constrict, "Roy." she placed a hand over her mouth, wondering what the hell was about to come.

The elevator jarred to a halt, the old pulleys and cables whaling in protest at the abrupt stop. The doors slowly starting sliding open with an annoying clack-clack-clack. The glimmering black walkway appeared almost like a shimmering ocean, inviting whoever had arrived to make their way across it. The elevator gave an almost annoyed ding, indicating that it was on it's way back up.

Just before the two golden doors could slide shut, he stepped off the elevator, his dark eyes pools of black. Plucking at his suit jacket, he listened to the steady thud of his shoes as he walked across the glittering bridge. He inhaled deeply as he walked, taking in the rich smell of minerals that filtered into the air as the water frothed three-hundred feet below him. The room never ceased to amaze him, the dark rich rock-walled room had fascinated him since the day they had stumbled upon it.

It was at least as old as time, with the mineral infused water running through it equally long. He didn't have the time to marvel, there were pressing matters at hand that needed to be dealt with. The steady thud picked up again as he continued.

There was a whirring somewhere further along the bridge – sounding exactly like the tumbler on a vault, the dials spun rhythmically as the approaching figure drew near.

He stopped, watching the lever on the door spin automatically as it opened. There was a loud clunk!, as the heavy door started swinging open. He could hear the raised voices as they argued amongst each other and he felt his own fury build inside him. Buttoning his jacket he squared his shoulders, millenniums of doing this and he still couldn't find the patience to deal with them when they all had their own theories.

"Silence!" He boomed aggressively.

Their anger and frustration rolled off them in waves, threatening an almost deadly eruption between them. Calming the raging fire inside him, he commanded them all silently to take a seat and shut up.

He could hear the irritated scoffs coming from others, men and women older than him who never let the chance surpass them to remind him that he was not fit for the role. Taking his seat, he met large olive eyes looking at him with something aching towards sympathy. The silent murmurs still hummed around him.

"I said silence!" The room shook slightly as he bellowed, promptly leading everyone to keep quiet.

Leon rubbed a hand across his forehead, resting his elbow on the marble armrest of his chair. Some of the Elders looked at him with annoyance – he knew they didn't liked being called here, and neither did he because he still didn't trust half of them.

"What the hell happened tonight, I thought it was made perfectly clear that no one was to interfere!" Leon's voice grumbled through the room again and he could see that there were some who still hadn't received the news.

"Leon," One of the other Elders growled from where he sat. He was one of the few Elders who had survived under the previous reign. Apollyon had either persuaded them or killed them when they had refused to join his side. Bjarke stroked his long gray beard thoughtfully, the lines etched into the tanned skin on his face spoke volumes.

"Some of our brethren might not like you, but you can't possibly think that we'd defy the law that has been given." Bjarke looked at Leon with a bushy eyebrow that was raised into his hairline, his usually loose white hair pulled into a tight bun at the back of his head.

"Then explain what half of NCIS saw this evening. Apollyon's men are vampires, they don't have that kind of power, Bjarke. It was something that I haven't seen in my thousand years of walking this earth." Leon slammed his hand down on the marble armrest. They were all condemned from using their power out side of Riocht Naofa – and since the Apollyon's rise to power none of them had been as strong as before.

"Then you're too young to be in the position that you are." The snide remark came from somewhere in the ring of Elders, but the rough voice could only belong to a man who rivaled Bjarke in age. Gunner looked up from brushing something off the frayed jeans that he wore – his tick curly hair hanging well past his shoulders.

Leon tightened his grip on the armrest, teetering on the edge of cracking the marble. He could feel his eyes turn to liquid gold. He'd hated the old man since the day he'd been appointed the father of the Elders.

"Oh stop it you two, if you want to behave like girls I suggest you take this elsewhere. I mean no disrespect, Leon, but there are more serious matters at hand." The two Elders broke their heated glaring, instead turning their golden eyes on the only person who wasn't an Elder in the room.

Donald Mallard looked at everyone around him, his old blue eyes regarding them with a look one would give to a naughty child. He had listened to the same arguments over and over again since quiet possibly the dawn of man. One bloodline always thought themselves more superior than the other, and while they occasionally looked down upon mortals their behavior wasn't far different than theirs.

The two Elders gave each other a dark look before turning their attention back to the old man.

"The power you sensed earlier tonight came from the boy." Ducky looked at them with a smile.

There was a quiet gasp next to him and he smiled at the young woman. He could see the excitement glow in her olive green eyes as everything started making sense in her mind.

"Yes, and?" Bjarke growled from where he sat, "The same thing happened eight-hundred years ago and the boy still didn't make it and neither did his protector. In fact if memory serves me right, the damn thing died well before the boy's sixth birthday."

"Hey!" Abby snapped, irritation tinting her usually bubbly voice. "He's not a thing, he's a man and he's more powerful than any of us here."

"No he isn't." Gunner growled, the anger clearly showing in his voice. When everything had fallen apart he hadn't held back on showing his hatred towards the two people who had been the reason for their suffering.

Abby frowned, a thousand years and she still couldn't be as ruthless and cold as some of the other Elders. She'd seen both people go from one hell to another.

"He's stronger this time." Ducky interjected, "So is the boy, something like that would have killed him. Ladies and gentlemen," Ducky looked between the Elders. "The time has come, we are on the brink of war."

There was an uproar amongst everyone.

"Quiet," Leon snapped again. Children, that's what the ancient men and women reminded him of. The raised voices dropped slightly, but there was still an excited buzz of voices exchanging their relief and growing anticipation of finally ending everything.

"Until Coimirceoir survives the first full moon, only then can we start taking action, otherwise we are not allowed to intervene, do I make myself clear. No matter how much we want this to end, fate has to play it's part." Leon heard the growls amongst everyone, he tried to ignore it, he was just as anxious as them for the protector to survive.

"What if he doesn't?" Bjarke asked and he watched everyone turn their golden eyes on him.

Abby scowled, "He will."

Bjarke shook his head, giving the young woman a patronizing look. She was the youngest of them all, no more than a hundred years old when everything had fallen apart beneath their feet. "Girl, when will you learn."

"He's stronger." Abby's green eyes flashed golden, glaring at the older man.

There were various snorts of disbelief amongst them and she felt the heat rise in her cheeks. She dug her platformed boot into the marble floor beneath her feet, causing small cracks to appear. A gentle hand on hers had her stop. Ducky looked at her almost pleadingly, she could see in his eyes that he was holding something back.

"No interference, until Coimirceoir has changed. Do I make myself clear?" Leon watched as half the room rolled their eyes again.

Leon made a motion with his hand that indicated that their impromptu meeting was over. He watched all the Elders filter out of the room, each voicing their own annoyance about hearing the same thing over and over again. Looking up he saw Ducky and Abby approach him almost nervously.

"Ducky," Leon inclined his head respectfully towards the old Wizard – his eyes flicked to the woman beside him. He could see the young goth fidget nervously with the hem of her shirt, she was always edgy when they had meetings, but something in her eyes told him she was worried.

"Is it Jethro?" Leon sat forward in his chair, he dreaded hearing that Jethro hadn't made it.

"He is perfectly fine, at least he is for now." Ducky straightened his bow tie not sure how he was going to handle this.

"Do you think that him being with the boy has altered his chances of survival?" Leon looked at Ducky hopefully.

"Gibbs is stronger than he's ever been. I felt it the day I met him." Abby looked at Leon with a slight glow in her eyes. They all new that she had cared for both people deeply when they had been thrown into this mess.

Leon pushed himself out of his chair, "Then what is this about?"

Ducky took his glasses off his nose, running a tired hand over his eyes. Placing his spectacles back on the bridge of his nose he turned to regard his two friends with a concerned look. "When mister Palmer and I went to collect the bodies, they were gone."

"Thanatos and Kearne?" Leon ground between his teeth, their names leaving a bitter taste in his mouth. At Ducky's nod, Leon cursed. "We can't tell him, not yet at least."

Leon gave the two people in front of him a grave look. "This is going to be a war, my friends."

Damascus watched with growing disgust at the scene playing out before him. He swallowed heavily against the smell of death that hung in the air above him. Apollyon's men seemed so enthralled with killing the innocent that they didn't notice that he wasn't taking part in their celebration. Unlike the others he didn't feast on human blood, he simply ate the things he had before he had been condemned to this hell.

Reaching for the leaver behind him almost blindly, he opened the door and stepped into the never ending hall. He couldn't watch them rip yet another body apart. Taking a deep breath he pushed off of the heavy door and started towards the opposite wing of the castle where his quarters were.

He could still remember the days when the Roghnaithe family had ruled. He had only been a boy when they had taken them in, by the time he was a man everything he'd grown up to believe and trust in had been ripped away. After that Apollyon had turned him into this animal, waking in him the lust for human blood, something he hadn't been able to control in those first few days.

Ever since the curse that had been cast over Riocht Naofa, he had spent years marveling at the strange myths and theories that had started about who and what his kind were. Jogging down the staircase, he looked around the vast foyer, making sure no one was lurking around. Reaching for the old door, he pulled it open and stepped into the sunlight. The warm rays of light touched his pale face, warming his usually cold body.

He was one of the few vampires that could still come in direct sunlight without catching fire. The others either had spells or magic potions that could only protect them for a certain amount of time. The more blood they drank the more of their human abilities were taken away from them. Apollyon prided himself in the fact that he was a real brutal animal underneath his ghost white skin. Damascus shivered slightly at the thought of his master.

Apollyon had been damned to the shadows, he was the only vampire who couldn't set foot in sunlight. No matter how many magic potions or ancient spells he tried, each time he set foot in the sun he burst into white hot flames.

Before Apollyon and before the curse had condemned them all, Riocht Naofa had been the greatest kingdom in all the realms. He missed the way it had been all those years ago, when the young girl had visited him at night, her olive green eyes enchanting and kind. He'd been fortunate enough to see her a few times when he'd been sent to the mortal world – Abby – that's what she called herself these days.

Damascus took a deep breath, smelling the roses that he'd planted around the castle when the dark oppressive walls had become too much. The rest of Riocht Naofa was dark and cruel, beasts and monsters terrorized and killed the villagers that still clung to the hope that one day the child of light will come to set them free. If only they knew that they were doomed.

Clasping his hands behind his back, he stood in the sunlight, enjoying the moment away from the lust filled murdering that was going on inside.

In the distance he could hear the horses move around restlessly, as if they had been spooked. Damascus stiffened, wondering whether it was one of Apollyon's men retuning from finding fresh souls to be sucked dry. His instincts weren't far off when he saw Moldark struggle down the cobblestone path, two white linen bound bodies slung over his shoulder. The man looked at him almost pleadingly as he watched him from where he stood on the steps.

"Moldark, what happened?" Damascus surprised himself with the amount of false worry he had injected into his own voice.

"The boy, he..." Moldark trailed off, panting with the amount of exertion he had used. Placing the bound bodies on the ground, he rested his hands on his knees trying to catch his breath.

Damascus stopped himself from snarling in frustration. Allowing Moldark to catch his breath from passing from the other world to theirs and then running to the castle, he pulled the rope apart with his bare hands and ripped the cloth open.

"Good heavens, Moldark." Damascus took a step back when he saw the charred bodies of the two men he hated with everything he had. Gritting his teeth he picked the two bodies up and slung them over his shoulders. "Go inside before you burst into flames." He didn't necessarily like Moldark, but he was as trapped in this world the same way he himself was.

Damascus laid the two bodies on the alabaster floor. Moving quicker than the eye could see he drew the drapes over the windows, trying to block the sun from filtering into the room. He knew Apollyon would be down before he had a chance to even smooth down his hair from his quick movements.

"What!"

Apollyon's voice thundered through the castle. Damascus steeled himself, knowing that his master's anger would only result in the plundering of nearby villages in order for him to calm his anger. He heard the soft swish as the monster flew through the air, coming to land right in front of him, causing the floor around his bare feet to crack.

Apollyon's eyes were as black as night as he stared at the two bodies of his men. The dark mane of hair – that made him look even paler – was pulled back from his face, his chin dripping with crimson liquid from his feasting. Damascus dropped his own gray eyes to the floor, not daring to look his master in the eye.

"What happened?" Apollyon looked at Moldark where he was cowering near the large staircase.

"The boy," Moldark stepped forward, "they had him. Something was wrong, my King. At the last moment they hesitated, I could smell it."

"It?" Apollyon growled dangerously. When the man didn't say anything he raised his voice, "What could you smell you useless fool?!"

"Salt." Moldark choked out, the fear in his voice glaringly obvious.

Apollyon's top lip curled in distaste, his fangs glinting in the light coming from the chandelier that hung above their heads. "Coimirceoir." He spat the word as if it left a bad taste in his mouth. He felt his veins pulse with the fresh blood he had consumed blissfully before he'd received the bad news. Licking the blood off his chin, he allowed a cruel and dark smile to curl his lips. "Let's see if he has the strength to survive. If anything is for certain, he'll fail like he had that very first night and in every lifetime that had followed."

Apollyon ripped the sleeve of his shirt clean off, wiping his face. "Damascus, take them down to the baths, I shall join you shortly."

"Yes master." Damascus hauled the two bodies on his shoulders again, doing as he had been told.

\/

Steam rose and swirled in the hot room, the heavy coppery smell of blood hung in the air. Gagging anyone who wasn't used to the smell or didn't feed on the crimson fluid. The room had several clawfoot tubs that lined the walls, two of them were currently occupied with burnt remains.

Apollyon pushed the doors open to the bathing room, his hair almost floating with the amount of force he exerted in opening the door. The sudden rush of air sent the steam curling through the air. Clasping his hands behind his back he walked to where his two men lay, their bodies submerged in blood, his bare feet hardly making a sound.

Reaching into one of the tubs, he cradled Thanatos' head in his hand, lifting him so he could look at him. Wiping away the rest of the blood, his most loyal servant opened his eyes. He smiled at the young man, his perfectly white teeth glinting in the light. "My son, what happened?"

"The boy," Thanatos rasped, his vocal chords still far from healed. "He is stronger than before," He took a wheezing breath. "He burst into light, we tried..." He coughed violently, blood pouring from his mouth, "Salt, my King, the man who found him smelt like salt."

"Rest, my son. We'll talk when you are healed." Apollyon pushed Thanatos' head back under the blood.

Rising to his feet, he spun towards Damascus who was waiting dutifully in the corner for his next instructions. "Call me when they are awake, the rest of us are going hunting." Apollyon licked his finger clean as he walked toward the doors leading out of the bathing room.

"Master, the boy, what are we going to do?" Damascus asked hesitantly, knowing that he might be able to do something to warn the others.

"Fear not, servant, for the games have just begun." Apollyon laughed, the hollow emptiness in his voice echoing around the room.

Tony bit the end of his pencil in frustration, he was growing increasingly frustrated with everyone's casual attitude towards what had happened last night. He knew that it wasn't the first time his boss had survived an explosion, it was in fact, the third time. Yet, he knew as well as he knew his own name that there was no way that he and Roy could survive and not the other two. Digging his teeth into the pencil, he watched his boss.

The older man shifted around, his face almost contorted in pain as he read through whatever it was that lay open on his desk. Tony gulped as the man's blue eyes suddenly snapped to his, he felt his entire body stiffen all at once. "Something wrong, Boss?"

"Stop it." Jethro snapped.

"Uh..." Tony looked at Tim with an utterly bewildered look, not entirely sure what it was he had to stop doing.

Jethro's eyes darkened, "Your foot, stop bouncing your damn foot." He could hear the irritating tap-tap from where he sat and it was driving him insane – the entire squad room was driving him insane. When his agent's foot stopped he looked back down at his file and carried on with what he was doing.

He cracked his neck, the sound of his joints popping echoed inside his skull, letting out a soft hiss of breath he scratched at the back of his neck. There was a constant feel of something crawling underneath his skin followed by an intense burning sensation. Dropping his hand on the desk, he clutched his pen tightly, wondering if he was starting to go insane.

Two sets of eyes watched his every move, making it feel as if their pupils were burning holes in his body. Jethro's head snapped up, both agents dropped their gazes acting as if nothing was out of place. It's just a lack of sleep, or something you ate. Jethro rolled his eyes at himself, he hadn't had anything to eat in days and sleep wasn't going to find him anytime soon.

The crawling moved down his neck and he could feel it ripping and clawing at his muscles as it progressed. Slamming his hand down on the desk, he caused both men opposite him to jump in their chairs and attracting the attention of the entire squad room. He felt his chest strain against the material of his polo shirt, the exact same spot that was supposed to be a gaping hole.

Jethro tried to swallow but everything seemed to get stuck in his throat. Struggling to his feet he could feel his muscles wail in protest, they ached and cramped all at once and he was suddenly faced with the difficulty to place one foot in front of the other.

"Boss?" Tony's voice broke through the rushing in his ears, "Are you sure you're okay?"

"Fine." Jethro snapped, he could barely open his jaw to speak. He could see the worry practically roll of his agent's face, but he flipped him off as neutrally as possible.

The sound of his teeth grinding on one another sent a shiver down his spine – it reminded him too much of the sound his own skull made when it had cracked open. Forcing all his strength into his muscles, he managed to place one foot in front of the other. He bit the inside of his cheek to muffle the amount of pain he was in – his vision started to blur at the edges and he prayed that he'd make it to the men's room before he fell flat on his face.

The bathroom door burst open and swung shut almost simultaneously behind him. He could hear everyone talking, whispering about his behavior. Stumbling forward he tumbled into the first stall and just managed to close the door behind him before his muscles contracted, rendering him motionless.

Jethro scratched at his chest, gritting his teeth against the simmering fire that spread through his body. Yanking at the collar of his shirt he heard the threads snap as he pulled it over his head, the cool metal of the stall door soothing the irritation of his skin as he pressed his back against it. Whatever breath he had left in his lungs disappeared as he stared down at his naked torso.

Various red welts marred his tanned chest in ancient patterns.

He swallowed down the urge to throw up as he watched the red welts walk over his skin idly. He scratched at the welts, his eyes blinking shut in a moment of relief. He shuddered as the welts crawled onto his hand and up his arm. He felt his eyes grow in size as they made their way to his face.

Struggling to his feet, he wrenched the stall door open and headed for the basin. The hiss of water seemed to sooth the buzz in his ears. Scooping water in his large palms he splashed copious amounts of crystal clear liquid in his face. The droplets ran down his neck and over his chest, soothing the angry marks that blemished his skin. Jethro splashed more water on his skin, watching the welts diminish and then fade away.

If anyone saw him right now he doubted he'd ever be able to explain what the hell he was doing. Looking up he stared at himself in the large mirror. Delicate swirls of steam rose from where the welts had moved on his skin. He frowned as he looked at the four welts that seemed to fade slower than the rest. It looked like something had clawed at his chest.

Jethro's back stiffened as he heard Tony's voice drift through the door. Pulling both his polo and undershirt over his head, he opened the tap again splashing some more cold water in his face.

The bathroom door swung open slowly, cautiously. Tony's head popped around the door, his green eyes narrowed sceptically as he waited for something to jump at him. The Italian looked at his boss suspiciously as he eased the door open. Seeing nothing amiss he straightened, the tension ebbing away fractionally.

"Uh… Hey, Boss, I wasn't checking up on you or anything."

"Your point, DiNozzo?" Jethro snapped as he wiped his face with a paper towel.

Tony raised an eyebrow slightly, "There a situation in interrogation, Agent Marx was knocked out, Director wants you to continue."

The young agent stepped away from the door quickly before his boss knocked him out of the way. Across the squad room he gave Tim a wide eyed look as the older agent burst through the door and thundered down the hall. He waited until he disappeared around the corner before motioning McGee over.

The young geek looked at him reluctantly. He preferred to stay on his boss' good side, not rile him up like Tony occasionally did. Looking around the bullpen attentively he slowly rose from his chair, trying to look as inconspicuous as possible.

"McGee!" Tony snapped from across the room. He didn't want to miss Gibbs storming into the room and effectively scaring the punk who thought he could cold-cock an agent. "Hurry up, McSlowpoke, I don't want to miss the good part."

Tim shuffled along, giving Tony a glare as he pulled him down the corridor towards interrogation.

Tony tried to keep the giddiness out of his step, the last thing he wanted was for Gibbs to send him back to his desk. Sliding his hands in his pockets, they rounded the corner where they heard quiet voices. Ducky and Jimmy were silently busy checking over Agent Marx as he started coming to.

He smiled at Ziva as she came into view, her dark eyes as guarded as usual. He had to stop his smile from creasing his face too much since he knew she was as anxious as him to see what Gibbs would do. She sidestepped the small group of people and slipped into observation with them following closely behind her.

Ziva tightened her ponytail and crossed her arms over her chest. She watched the man on the other side as he paced around the bare room, his broken trainers dragging on the floor and a mean smile curling his lips. She bristled with anger, hoping Gibbs would let her have some fun with him.

"What do you think his tactic will be?" Tony leaned against the wall near the glass, giving the druggie a disgusted look.

"Compliment him on what he did to Agent Marx." Tim smiled confidently, although the feeling evaporated quickly when his team mates glared at him. "It was just a thought."

Tony snorted and rolled his eyes. Scratching his chin slightly he narrowed his eyes, "I'm going with full on, in-your-face, shouting."

The door to interrogation flew open coming perilously close to flying of its hinges as Gibbs prowled into the room. Tony shivered, the hair on the back of his neck and arms once again standing on end. He squinted, hoping to get a better look of what was going on with Gibbs' neck. Tension rippled down his spine as he watched the door bang shut and his boss clench his fists.

"What's with his neck?" The question came out before he could catch himself. He saw Ziva's eyes narrow and her fists clench. "Ziver, what is it?"

Ziva gave him a blinding smile, "I feel sorry for our suspect."

Tony felt his own smile curl his lips, nodding his head in agreement, completely forgetting about her reaction.

"That was pretty good punch."

Tim smiled arrogantly as he met Tony's outraged look. "You owe me twenty, DiNozzo."

"What?! No, I don't." Tony pulled his face in consternation trying to figure out when he had started a pool.

The three agents watched as Gibbs took a seat at the table, the druggie across from him. They listened as he drew the man into talking more and more, asking him questions to throw him off his story – all the while the redness in his neck started to spread.

Jethro felt the tiny claws of the welts crawl up his throat slowly. He pushed stinging out of his mind and focused on the man across from him. He could smell the alcohol on his breath from where he sat and the stench wasn't helping with his difficulty breathing. Digging his nails into his thighs, he tried stopping himself from grabbing the man across from him.

"You know, assaulting a federal agent didn't really help your case, so either you confess to the murder of our Marine, or face serious consequences." Jethro gnarled through his teeth.

"I didn't do anything, man." The druggie crossed his arms over his chest, giving the federal agent a patronizing look.

It happened before anyone had blinked.

A large palm slammed down on the table, splitting it in half – with speed faster than any of them had seen – Jethro was out of his chair and had the druggie pinned against the wall with one hand laced around his throat, his feet dangling in the air helplessly.

Someone banged on the glass behind them, drawing his attention for a moment. Jethro tightened his grip, his vision blurred in swirls of red.

"Gibbs!" Ziva's voice broke through his befuddled mind.

"I'll tell you everything! Just get him away from me!" The man shouted pleadingly as he stared at the three agents helplessly.

Tony stepped forward, placing a hand on his boss' arm. Electricity traveled through his fingers, causing him to pull his hand away quickly.

Jethro felt his throat constrict. He didn't know where he was or how he had ended up in the position that he was in. All he had seen was his family and then the man who had been responsible for their deaths. He loosened his grip on the man's throat and heard him struggle to get away. He grit his teeth, staring at his team's concerned faces.

He could feel the uneasy feeling between them as they just stared at him. He met the Israeli's dark eyes and saw she wasn't the least bit taken aback about his behavior. The need to get away from everyone became overwhelming – clenching his fists he stormed past them, the clawing feeling in his muscles returning with a vengeance.

\/

The steady beat of the music spilled out into the hall. The elevator's metal door vibrated almost in time with the music – it was hardly noticeable but it was there. The metal box dinged announcing its arrival and the doors slid open with a quiet hiss.

She heard the heavy combat boots before they even stepped off of the elevator. Spinning around on her own platform boots – her pigtails bouncing – she turned the music down and skipped towards her workstation in front of the large plasma screen, waiting for her friend to venture into her lab.

She sensed the other woman's hesitation immediately, her back stiffened and her eyes flashed liquid gold for a second. After last night's confrontation and her rather brave statement that Coimirceoir was strong enough this time round, had placed a damper on her spirit – causing her to now fear the worst. Plastering the fake smile on her face she whipped around just as Ziva found her way into the lab.

The Israeli was visibly caught off guard but she masked it quickly, giving the goth a genuine smile although it faltered after a moment. Ziva's brow creased as she took carefully steps towards Abby. It had been almost been two hours since Gibbs had lost his composure and had disappeared. Given how quickly Tony had ducked tail and raced off to tell first the Director and then the entire Navy Yard what had happened, she doubted Abby hadn't heard the news.

"What brings you down to Abby's labby?" The goth giggle at her own joke and placed her pale white hands on her hips, an open smile on her face.

Ziva looked momentarily confused, tilting her head slightly she finally caught on and smiled at her friend. "I'm surprised you haven't heard."

"Heard what?" The statement sent the forensic scientist over the edge. "Did that pretty blond girl from HR slap Tony in the face? No wait, Timmy finally found the guts to tell Tony to stop teasing him? Or-"

"Abby!" Ziva said with a smile, cutting her friend off as politely as she could manage.

Abby pursed her lips and gave the other woman a calculated look, an embarrassed smile spread over her dark lips. "Sorry."

Ziva looked over her shoulder, expecting to find Tony lurking behind the door just so he could catch her gossiping when she had blatantly denied doing such things only a few weeks ago. Straightening she gave Abby a concerned look. "It's Gibbs, something happened in interrogation that pretty much freaked everyone out."

Abby felt the cold fist of fear in her stomach, causing her to almost gasp in pain. "What happened?" The words were barely a whisper as she asked.

"You can see the footage later, but Abby..." Ziva trailed off, her dark brown eyes darting all over the place as she searched for what to say. "He didn't know where he was."

The young goth clenched her fists, knowing that there was no way she could help. "Where is he, is he okay?"

"I do not know where he is, but I will tell you as soon as I find him." Ziva hoped the smile she had managed was enough to stop her friend from sending out a search team, but her rather calm reaction had taken her off guard.

Abby watched as Ziva spun on her heel and marched purposefully out of her lab and back to the elevator. Turning back to the dormant plasma screen she ran her finger over the smiley tattoo on her finger. There was nothing she could do about what was happening, she just hoped that things would finally change – for all of them.

\/

In, out, in, out – it was the only thing that was keeping the agonizing pain at bay. The whispering was still floating over his head, sending his blood pressure climbing and bringing with it the feel of needles repeatedly being stuck in his skin. The itching had faded, instead every pore on his skin felt like it was being blocked by needles. Jethro dug his nails into his thighs, knowing that if he went any further he'd start piercing the skin.

Tony's constant chattering was slowly causing his breathing to falter as he grew irritated with the Italian. The incident in interrogation had spread like a wild fire across the Navy Yard – when he had finally emerged around a corner looking positively out of it, he'd seen the footage on the plasma. He was surprised that the Director hadn't called him up to his office, since everyone was speculating about what would happen next.

He felt the four welts that scarred his chest – right over his heart – press against his shirt and pulse sporadically. The feeling caught him of guard, momentarily taking his mind off of everything that had happened over the last twenty-four hours.

Closing his eyes he saw large emerald eyes staring at him.

His own eyes snapped open. Roy had been on his mind the entire day, wondering if he was safe, whether he was coping with everything that had happened and if he was experiencing the same things he were. Frowning, he wondered if he should consult Ducky about the things he'd been experiencing – but he was too hard headed to admit that something was seriously wrong, he was just tired.

In the background he heard the familiar ding of the elevator and was expecting Abby to rush towards him.

The pain in his body slowly started seeping out of his skin, as if it had never been there before. For a moment he was expecting himself to wake up in the cave again with Roy there with him and his team looking at him. Maybe he'd knocked himself unconscious and had hallucinated everything.

Unfortunately that wasn't the case.

There was a pitter-patter of feet and it caused his head to snap up. Everything evaporated out of his mind the moment he met two large pools of green. He felt his own smile curl his lips as he saw the perfect row of little teeth flash his way. Pushing away from his desk, he got to his feet with ease and met his guests near the entrance of the bullpen.

Jenny Shepard watched with silent fascination as her, usually introverted, son wrapped his arms around the man who had brought him back to her. She could see that the agent had been taken aback by the sudden sign of affection. She watched Jethro closely, her mind raising with questions that were absolutely absurd – and there was no way she could be sure it was him.

Jethro looked up and stared right at her with those intense blue eyes. She felt herself blush and dropped her gaze. Roy was still clutching her hands, he hadn't let go of her since he had opened his eyes. She was hoping that Jethro would be able to explain to him that he was safe while she gave her statement.

"How you doing, kiddo?" Jethro knelt in front of the little boy, giving him a smile.

Roy simply shrugged his shoulders and returned the smile.

Jenny tucked a strand of hair behind her ear as she looked at Jethro, her stomach fluttered as she met those intense cobalt eyes. Get a grip woman. She offered him a smile and held out her hand as professionally as she could. "Jethro."

He took her hand in his – once again he realized how beautiful she looked with her hair down and her eyes warm. Licking his lips he greeted her as casually as he could muster.

"Sorry, we're a little late, but someone didn't want to get out of bed this morning." Jenny smiled down at Roy as he blushed and hid his face against her thigh.

Jethro laughed quietly, "McGee had a chance to catch up on some work so don't worry about it."

"Honey, I want you to stay with Agent Gibbs for a while, is that okay?" Jenny asked quietly, it was hard enough to gauge his emotions in general, the last thing she wanted was for him to shut down completely.

Roy looked at Jethro with a raised eyebrow for a moment before nodding his head slowly. He reached his hand out and took the agent's offered hand before letting go of his mother's. Jenny pulled the designer handbag on her shoulder a little higher and gave Jethro a thankful smile, but her eyes quickly went to her son who was staring at everything around him a little wide eyed.

"Want me to talk to him?" Jethro asked quietly as he placed a protective hand on the little boy's shoulder.

He could see the conflict in her eyes as she watched her son, she was doing a good job at hiding the helplessness she felt but he had sensed it even before he'd known it was them.

"He's a quiet kid, doesn't really like to talk about his feelings. If you do get him to say something, I'll be more thankful than impressed." The concern in her voice was almost palpable.

Jethro smiled and looked down at Roy, "Yeah, I know where he's coming from."

Roy tightened his hold on Gibbs' hand as he watched his mother make her way up the stairs, he waved at her as she looked at him – his shoulders slumped slightly when she was out of sight. Looking down at his feet he leaned against Gibbs, wrapping an arm around his leg. He shied away when he saw the other man behind his desk look at him strangely.

Jethro glared at DiNozzo, "Go find somethin' to do, DiNozzo."

Tony looked at his boss with narrowed eyes. Pushing away from his desk he pulled his jacket on and looked between Roy and Gibbs, "I'll go get coffee." He gave the boy a smile and sauntered towards the elevator, wondering what it was about Jenny and Roy Shepard that had his boss acting strange.

Jethro steered Roy towards the back elevator, keeping him close as they stepped inside the metal box. He felt him tense as the doors slid shut and they started moving.

"You're safe, son, don't worry." Jethro reassured the little boy.

"Gibbs?" Roy frowned as he looked up at him, "Are those men going to take my mommy from me?"

"No." Jethro tried his best to keep the snarl from his voice as he squatted in front of the boy. "No one's going to come near you or your mommy, okay?"

Roy broke out in a smile and wrapped his arms around Gibbs, giving him a tight hug. The little boy pulled away after a moment and gave him a strange look. Reaching out he placed his small hand on the older man's chest, drawing a soft hiss from him.

Jethro grit his teeth against the pain that shot through his chest. He gave Roy a pained look and felt his breath being knocked out of him again. He dropped to one knee, looking into the boys swirling green eyes – seeing the pain he was experiencing being reflected in the emerald irises. His eyes blinked shut involuntarily and he could feel time stand still.

White hot warmth spread through him. His mind was racing with images, flashes of things he'd never seen before but somehow it felt familiar – the pain was there in the pit of his stomach pulsing in time with the images. Tears burned his cheeks as he watched whatever was flashing in his eyes.

Roy pulled his hand away from his chest and everything came crashing down around them. He felt the boy lean against him, his tears soaking through the material of his polo shirt. Jethro pulled him into a tight hug as they hovered in time, the elevator continuously counting the same floor.

Jethro clutched the boy for dear life – the pain, the suffering, everything seemed to disappear as the boy hugged him. Somehow he felt connected to him, as if he had shared his fears and pain. He saw the welts that had been on his own skin crawl over Roy's, slowly fading away as if it never existed. He took a deep breath, the scars on his chest were still there and the unexpected throb of his heart reminded him of that.

The night air was quiet as the wind blew through the trees, rustling the leaves softly. The house was dark as usual, a sad testament as to what his life was like. Jethro leaned against the tiled wall of the shower, hoping the cold water would sooth the burning of his skin. He'd turned down Jenny's invite to dinner as politely as possible, telling her that he had too much work to catch up on. He hadn't allowed himself to react to the disappointment he'd seen in her eyes – his mind was still reeling from what had happened in the elevator.

He felt his muscles contract as the welts walked over his skin, the water had stopped working pretty much since Jenny and Roy had left headquarters. Everything had disappeared when the boy was around, and the only connection he could make was that Roy was responsible for him still being alive.

Shutting off the water, he grit his teeth and pushed himself away from the wall, his head spun in every direction as he pushed the glass door open.

There was a dull ache in his joints as he placed one foot in front of the other. The droplets on his skin evaporated as it rolled over the angry red welts. He grit his teeth against the pain his muscles and joints and grabbed the fluffy white towel from the neat silver bar it was hanging from. He simply wrapped the towel around his hips loosely, the scars on his skin would only enforce more suffering if he dared touching them with the towel.

He didn't dare look at himself in the mirror, knowing that seeing the strange patterns the burning created would cause him to recoil. Flicking off the bathroom light he padded down the hall, the floorboards creaking quietly as he moved. Unconsciously he touched the back of his head where he knew his skull had been cracked open. He briefly remembered Jenny's fingers sliding through his hair, but pushed it away as he walked into the room that held his clothes.

The bedroom he had once shared with his wife was at the far end of the hall, the door always shut. The same with the soft pink coloured room that had once belonged to his little girl. The bulb flickered on in the room, casting a weak illumination of yellow light.

The plain and impersonal white sheets still covered the double bed in the room. It was the same room he'd shared with his ex-wives – never telling them the reason why the other two spacious rooms were off limits. The closet door's hinges screeched as it was pulled open almost violently. The contents were neatly stacked – as would be expected from anyone who had been in the military.

Jethro discarded his towel in a small heap and pulled on the pair of neatly folded black boxers. Out of habit his hand reached for an undershirt but he stilled. There was no way he'd be able to sleep with the soft material continuously rubbing his skin – in fact he doubted he'd even be able to sleep, but fatigue tugged at him violently he just needed to grit his teeth and wait until sleep over took him.

He caught a glimpse of himself in the shattered mirror that still clung to the closet door. He tried recalling how it had ended up like that. One of his wives had said something – Diane? Rebecca? Maybe Stephanie – but he doubted it. It most probably had been Diane who had caused such a reaction from him. Unlike Rebecca – who had been almost catatonic with alcohol for the duration of their marriage – Diane didn't care about what she said.

The swirls were all over his chest, raising the skin and making his other scars look like faint marks against his skin. The tips of his fingers danced over the four ripped scars, they were a little more prominent than the welts and they were always there – reminding him of something that he couldn't really place. He lifted his eyes to look at himself and saw the welts swirl around his neck almost tauntingly.

The closet door's hinges wailed as the door was slammed shut and the light was turned out. Jethro tossed the wet towel into the bathroom, not caring about where it landed. Turning the lights out upstairs, he took the stairs down to the living room, one at a time. Pain flared through his body as he tried making his way down the steps, it felt as if his bones were grinding on each other. Taking a deep breath and holding it, he thundered down the steps.

Jethro collapsed on the sofa, the cool sheets and cushion temporarily soothing the white hot heat that soared through his body. He could feel beads of sweat roll down his temple into his neck. Wiping the moisture away he shivered involuntarily – he was suddenly cold despite the fact that his body was overheating. His teeth chattered as he pulled the blanket over his burning body.

He laid still for a few minutes. Darkness was all around him and he was back in the cave, staring at the hole in his chest as his blood dripped from his mouth. He jolted slightly from the image, forcing his tired eyes open he stared through the spotless window at nothing in the night sky.

Wisps that looked like clouds drifted through the air, hiding the large silver sphere that glowed in the night sky.

Jethro felt his skin burn, as if it was catching fire. Kicking the blanket off him with great effort – he could feel the welts suddenly retreat as the sliver of moonlight fell across his body – the scratches however remained. He relaxed fractionally.

An agonizing scream fell from his lips as his body convulsed and all his muscles pulled taut. The breath was choked out of his lungs as he looked at the perfect sphere that now cast silver light over his body. Blood rushed in his ears, drowning out his plea for help. His body arched painfully as he looked directly at the moon.

Jethro felt his joints dislocate from their sockets, sending mind numbing pain straight to his brain. He still couldn't breath and the heat under his skin intensified as he felt his pupils grow impossibly large. His jugular bulged as he tried to breath, but the pain was squeezing his trachea shut.

A cloud drifted in front of the moon and the crushing weight lifted from his chest, allowing him to pull his lungs full of oxygen again. He couldn't move, the pain from his disjointed limbs rendered him immobile. The cloud blew away and the suffering started again.

Jethro listened to his own bones snap in half, drawing a strangled shout from him.

The pain became overwhelming and he felt his eyes slide shut as he passed out.

He was drifting again, a skull splitting pain hammering around in his head. He could still feel the painful tug on his limbs, but the pain had numbed him. He saw flashes of bright white light behind his eye lids. The heart wrenching pain he had experienced earlier in the day gripped his heart again.

There were flashes of someone in his mind. He didn't recognize the woman weeping, all he saw was her red hair spilling over her shoulder and hiding her face. He tried reaching out, to comfort her, but the movement drew a pained groan from him. He was suddenly breathless as the woman kept crying, he felt her pain slice through him – driving right through his heart.

Jethro drew a strangled breath as his eyes shot open.

He wheezed as he tried pulling oxygen into his deprived lungs. Something tugged his limbs and he screamed in pain, it yanked his fingers and he could feel the small bones pull away from each other. He heard the bones in his chest snap before the pain registered, the sounding making him gag on the little breath he had left.

The muscles in his jaws went slack as he tried gritting his teeth. He fought against the urge to let his eyes roll back in his skull, his bright blue pained eyes flicked to the silver moon looking down at him. His pupils dilated completely, leaving thin rings of ice around it.

Jethro let out a howl of pain just before his mind went dark.

\/

The soft strains of one of Giacomo Puccini's master pieces drifted through the old Georgetown mansion, wrapping around the old furniture and drifting through the quiet halls. The peaceful atmosphere was shattered when there was a quiet giggle followed by a meow from the large Maine Coon cat. Small feet pattered down the hall across the dark wood floors. Roy rushed past his open bedroom door towards the stairs leading down to the foyer. He skipped down the steps in his miss matched superhero pajamas with Pebbles hot on his heels.

Jenny blew the loose hair on her forehead away with a soft puff. Hanging the Spider-man towel on the small hook she switched off the bathroom light and followed her giggling son down the stairs and straight into the kitchen – her own smile on her lips.

Pebbles was sprawled on the tiled floor, his tail flicking across the floor lazily, the large cat lifted his head as Jenny came in. The redhead smiled as Roy hoisted himself onto the kitchen counter and pulled open the cupboard door to take down two bowls.

"Careful." Jenny warned as she saw him shift closer to the edge of the counter, the smooth material of his Superman bottoms didn't really help him with grip on the granite top. Roy simply nodded at her as he placed the bowls on the counter top with a loud clatter.

Roy jumped off of the counter and landed on his feet, leaving the bowls on the counter, he sauntered to where Pebbles was sleeping peacefully – his bare feet slapping softly on the tiled floor. Plopping himself on the floor, he stroked the cat softly as mischievous smile curled his lips, his emerald eyes dancing. Lifting his hands above the cat, he got ready to let out a soft growl that would cause the Maine Coon to jolt awake.

"Leroy Andrew Daniel Shepard, if you scare that cat you can forget about your ice cream." Jenny warned, not even looking over her shoulder to see what her son was up to. Roy was a quiet boy, but when he wasn't making all sorts of car noises or moving things around she knew he was contemplating scaring the poor cat.

"I wasn't." Roy whined quietly.

He watched his mother look over her shoulder and look at him with a raised eyebrow. His cheeks flushed with embarrassment and he dropped his gaze to the floor. He pushed himself off the floor and sauntered to one of the bar stools, climbing onto it with practiced ease.

Jenny looked over her shoulder and saw her son looking at her with a mask of innocence, showing off his baby teeth as he grinned at her. She narrowed her eyes at him playfully and he blushed once again, his raspy giggle drawing a smile from her.

The change in her son since he had spent time with Jethro was noticeable, she didn't know what he had said to Roy, but whatever it was it had worked. She was still unsure about his carefree spirit, he didn't seem terrified about having to go back to school come Monday.

Jenny placed the tub of ice cream back in the fridge and placed the X-men bowl in front of her son. She watched him as he shoveled spoon after spoon full of ice cream into his mouth.

Running a hand through her hair, Jenny looked out the window. Up until last night, she had refused to believe in anything that was classified as mythical or even strange in nature. She had studied medicine for years, knew that there were some things that weren't humanly possible. There was just something inside her that had believed every neat calligraphy word in the bundle she had read.

The script had been hard to read, especially since most of it had been written in gibberish. The languages were mixed and she suspected that she only had about a quarter of what everything meant. She didn't have the strength or even the mental stability to process everything she had read.

Jenny sighed, rubbing her temples. She rolled her eyes at herself, who was she kidding? It was only fiction, probably all written by some nutty great-great grandparent who had overdosed on their medication.

"Mommy?" Roy asked as he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, smearing melted chocolate ice cream all over.

"What's wrong, baby?" Jenny asked gently as she grabbed a damp cloth.

Roy frowned slightly as he looked at his mother with concerned green eyes, "Are you okay?"He looked at the washcloth in distaste as his mother wiped his face and hands.

Jenny tried keeping the shocked look out of her face. Shrugging her shoulders she ran a hand through Roy's dark brown hair, scrunching her nose at him. "You, young man," Jenny smiled and dropped a protective kiss on his forehead, "are too smart for your own age, you know that?"

Roy nodded his head blindly, not really sure what his mother meant.

"Roy?" Jenny cupped her son's face in her hands. He looked exactly like Henry when he looked her with his wrinkled brow.

She felt winded as she realized that someone had once looked at her exactly the same way – with raw unwavering trust – someone who hadn't been her husband or even her son. Blinking she looked at Roy, "Honey, what happened when those men had you?"

Roy's face suddenly fell as fear flickered in his eyes, looking at his mother earnestly he shrugged his shoulders. "Agent Gibbs saved me. He said he'll always keep us safe." The conviction in the five year old's face left no room for argument.

Jenny nodded, she had a feeling Roy was suppressing the incident up until Jethro had swooped in and had saved the day. Maybe it really was bomb that had gone off, maybe fate and luck had been on their side and had spared them.

Hugging Roy against her chest, she rested her cheek on top of his head. "I love you, Leroy."

"I love you too, Mommy." Roy hugged his mother back, fighting back the tears.

Jenny held her son tightly against her, it was only when she felt his weight growing heavier against her that she realized he had fallen asleep. Brushing his long fringe away from his forehead she watched his small handsome face relax.

Lifting him gently, she carried him up the stairs and into his room. Sinking down on his small bed, she cradled him tightly against her, terrified that someone might snatch him away from her again. Jenny smiled nostalgically, she remembered holding him each night when he was a baby for as long as possible. Her mother-in-law had moaned about it, telling her that she was spoiling him.

She shook her head as she heard the old woman's voice in her head. She and Roy had a special relationship and it was only strengthened when Henry had passed away. He was wise beyond his years, despite his young age and it always worried her that he struggled to fit in with the children his age. He twitched and curled into her, clutching her hand as it rested on his chest. Placing a kiss to his cheek she laid him down for the night.

Puccini was still playing in the background as she made her way into her study. The house was suddenly empty with her son asleep upstairs. The old leather book lay on her desk, its weathered pages fluttering gently in the warm breeze that swept in through the window.

With light – darkness will come.

What did that even mean? Jenny pushed her hair off her forehead and walked to the desk reluctantly. Plucking the book from where it lay she made her way back to the kitchen, leaving the opera music to play – since it had been her son's choice of music for the night.

Slamming the book on the kitchen island with a thump, she grabbed a mug and filled it with coffee. Sipping the bitter brew she gave the book an annoyed look and slapped it open. The pages fluttered again, but this time there was no breeze sweeping through the room.

Jenny swallowed heavily as the pages rustled, the pages flipped quicker than she could keep up with. The leather cover slammed against the surface as it fell open on a page. She watched with large emerald eyes as the calligraphy twirled and dipped – the ink flowed across the page, creating words she could understand as it glowed red on the old weathered page.

Your love is your curse.

Jenny placed her cup of coffee on the counter, leaning closer to see what else the ink had to say. The words faded into the page, curling back into the unrecognizable words. Jenny flipped the page over, trying to see if the rest of the words were doing the same. The pages were rough and yellowed under her finger tips as she paged through the rest of the book.

Starting from the beginning she scanned over each page, hoping to find the section in the book that would give her answers. She kept seeing the blinding light whenever she closed her eyes.

The words from last night were gone, as if it had never been written. Jenny let out a sigh of frustration as she paged through the leather bundle. It was impossible, she could have sworn the last section of the book had been written in English. She desperately wanted to read those pages again.

There was a loud crash in the backyard causing her to jump slightly.

Jenny wrapped her fingers around the baseball bat that stood in the corner near the backdoor. She felt her heart shoot to her throat as she pulled the door open. Dogs barked a few streets over. Tightening her grip on the bat she stepped into the darkness, every fiber in her being shouted for her to get back inside but she couldn't get herself to listen.

The night air carried with it a slight chill, sending a shiver down her spine. The moon was large in the night sky, almost enchanting, the silver blades of light made her take another step into the night air.

The grass felt like shards of glass under her bare feet. The crickets were quiet, not one singing. A rustle near the corner of the backyard had her spinning towards it and raising the bat higher, ready to swing at whatever jumped at her.

Incandescent blue eyes glowed as he looked straight at her from where he hid in the dark. She knew it was him, she'd recognize those blue eyes anywhere.

The baseball bat slipped from her fingers.

Jenny wanted to scream, to shout at whoever to come and help her, but she couldn't seem to utter the words. She grit her teeth painfully hard as pain soared through her brain, causing her thoughts to be crystal clear.

He'll be condemned to his true nature, beastly, suffering in pain as he guards the one who will save him.

Cold air rushed into her lungs as she gulped oxygen.

Jenny took an uncertain step towards the large shadow in her garden. She knew, somewhere in her heart she knew what the curly script had referred to. There was recognition, as if she'd seen him before as he was now but her mind felt blurred. Fear seeped out of her as she inched closer, her hand stretched out in front of her.

She heard it move away, a low growl rushing through it's teeth.

"It's okay." She hushed softly, knowing she couldn't take the chance to make any sudden movements. "You're safe." She paused, "We're safe."

Large blue eyes blinked at her, the expression in them clearly confused. There was recognition as the moonlight fell across her face. It moved closer to her and she took a step towards him. The creature recoiled and disappeared into the shadows again, but his eyes never left her face.

"Coimirceoir." The name felt familiar as she said it, despite the fact that she'd never heard it before.

The creature's blue eyes snapped to hers and she had to fight against the urge to take a step back. It moved a little closer, the moonlight casting his shadow across the lawn, engulfing her in it. Jenny held her hand out to him again.

It growled low in its throat, baring its sharp canine teeth.

Ignoring the fear inside her, Jenny stayed right where she was. She could sense its hesitation towards her, "I won't hurt you."

The creature's head tilted as she spoke. His low growl stopped and he moved towards her, although reluctantly. Jenny stepped back, allowing it to move towards her as he took loud thumping steps towards her. Behind the creature's large frame she could see the hole it had made it the brick wall when it had crashed into her backyard. Craning her head, she swallowed heavily as she stared at the beast in front of her.

Coimirceoir was huge as he towered above the woman. The beast had pointy ears and they constantly twitched as he listened to everything around him. He had the face of a wolf, except his snout was a little longer and his teeth sharper and more threatening. He stood on his hind legs, his blue eyes studying the small woman intently, cautiously.

Jenny stepped forward, fascinated with the creature. His massive chest heaved as he breathed through his wet nose. The muscles under his thick fur were well defined as he shifted around, still unsure. Jenny drew in a sharp breath as he reached out towards her, taken aback that he actually had hands. He touched a thick bony finger to her cheek, its sharp nail coming close to sinking into her skin.

The werewolf's hot breath blew in her face as he crouched down to look at her more closely. Holding her breath she looked it straight in the eye, not daring to show how scared she was. Coimirceoir stepped away from her, clearly satisfied that she wasn't a threat – his large nine foot frame loomed over her again.

Reaching out a hand, Jenny took a tiny step towards the werewolf. He tilted his head to the side, his large eyes boring into her as she moved. She didn't know what she was doing, it was as if her body was moving to its own free will.

Dark gray fur ran over from his ears all the way over his shoulders, blending into rich black fur the covered him from his chest down to his large feet. Her hand pressed against the werewolf's chest, running over the soft hair that covered him. He let out a quiet whine as his head dropped, his heavy breathing causing her hair to billow.

Sliding her fingers through the thick fur she felt heat emanate off him in waves. Her hand rested right over his heart and he let out a soft howl.

He whimpered as he looked down at her.

Jenny placed her hands on either side of the beast's head, pulling his face down so she could look him in the eye. She stroked the dark gray fur softly, calming him down. "Come back to me, Jethro."

The werewolf recoiled, throwing his head back, his back arching and his arms dangling at his sides. Coimirceoir let out an ear splitting howl as he looked up at the moon. He growled in pain as his body convulsed and tensed in the silver blades of moonlight.

Jenny took a step back suddenly terrified of what might happen next.

The werewolf slumped down to his knees, his body visibly trembling. He kept on howling as pain ricocheted through him. He let out a threatening growl towards the redhead before whimpering in pain, his head dropping in shame. The pain became unbearable and he crashed down on the cold damp earth, still shaking.

Coimirceoir struggled to his feet and stumbled towards the redhead.

Jenny held her breath as she watched the werewolf shrink in size. He was no longer howling, instead he let out a strangled scream as he advanced on her. She heard the sickening sound of his bones snapping back in place. The man inside the beast became more visible as the fur disappeared and the snout shrank back to reveal his gorgeous face.

Jethro stumbled over his feet, his body covered in sweat as he struggled to regain both his balance and his mind. Every last drop of energy had been drained from his body.

Jenny rushed towards Jethro, wrapping her arms around his naked body as he stumbled. He looked at her with hazy blue eyes. She groaned quietly as she struggled to support his heavy weight as the collapsed down on the cold and damp grass. Jethro was still convulsing as he clung to her, his eyes still wild, the only hint that he had been the werewolf.

Placing a soft hand over his chest, she felt the four scars press against the palm of her hand, almost burning her. She tried her utmost best to ignore the way his well defined muscles quivered and tensed under her touch. She felt herself blush as her eyes trailed down his naked torso almost to his waist but she caught herself.

Silently chastising herself she slid a hand in the soft silver strands of hair. She hushed him gently as he tried to speak, but all that came out was something that sounded like the howl he'd let out earlier.

His pupils slowly receded to their normal size, the rings of ice returning the their usual cobalt colour. He looked at her for a long moment before his eyes fluttered open and shut.

Jenny smoothed a few strands of hair out of his face as he stared up at her. She didn't have a choice anymore, she had to believe.

Something was coming.

My apologies for the mistakes (blushes).

Please let me know what you think ;)