Author's note: OK I had the idea for this before the episode 'Sharif Returns' was aired and although there are clear plot similarities I decided it was different enough to still go ahead and write this version. I hope you like it.

Spoilers: not really but as I said similarities in plot to 'Sharif Returns'

Synopsis: A sailor is found dead from horrific injuries and the impact on the NCIS team could be devastating.

Disclaimer: This story is written as an homage to the writers and creators of a series that I love in the hope that nobody minds.

Shift

Everything was so normal the team was almost working on automatic pilot. The body lay in the centre of the cabin floor and the room itself was a wreck. It was an unusually messy crime scene; they had seen worse, but not often. Whoever had killed this sailor had smashed the place to pieces before starting in on him, the chronology obvious because the broken edges of smashed porcelain and splintered furniture were splattered with blood.

Each of the Agents worked around the other, effortlessly recording and cataloging the brutal end of a life, the light banter belying the strong emotions of simultaneous pity and revulsion, that the scene evoked. It was a skill developed through long practice, an ability to detach from the emotion so that they could do their jobs. Somehow they had learned block out the brutality, or at least not react to it, and focus on the minutia of detail that would help them find who had done this. The goal of justice for the victim, of perhaps preventing this from happening again, was enough to keep that focus and allow the detachment. Although being with others who could do the same definitely helped.

It was Tony who first noticed Gibbs absence. "I've finished the sketches boss. Do you want me. . . ?" He turned to the spot where Gibbs had been, not sure why he hadn't noticed that he'd left. Gibbs had the sort of presence that left a vacuum when he departed, almost as if the space he had occupied was more empty than its surroundings because he had left it, but then he also had an ability to turn it on and off that probably defied several laws of science. He could arrive, and you wouldn't know he was there until he wanted you to, so Tony reasoned, he must have the ability to leave and make you think he was still there, except. . .when he left Tony usually noticed.

Tony glanced round a little self-consciously but neither Ziva nor McGee had noticed him start a conversation with empty space. He was relieved about that, no need for face saving excuses. He glanced around again. Where was Gibbs? For no apparent reason a cold icicle of fear stabbed in the pit of his stomach. He tried to rationalize it, but he couldn't. There was no reason that he should think anything was wrong, just because Gibbs had stepped outside and yet. . . He closed his sketchpad and slipped his pencil through the rings at the top, taking a step back towards the door as he did so. He was vaguely aware of Ducky's musings in the background.

"So my dear boy let's try to see what led to your unusually violent end." Ducky knelt down and began his examination. It wasn't unusual for him to be the last of the team to arrive. Notwithstanding navigation errors, sometimes his wasn't the sort of work you could just drop halfway through. Some jobs had to be finished, clearing away had to be done before he could head out into the field. "Oh my!"

Tony had taken another step towards the door before the loud exclamation drew his attention.

"Oh dear, now whatever would possess you to. . ?" Ducky addressed the corpse in his usual manner, as though he almost expected an answer.

"What you got Doc?" Tony interrupted, moving nearer to where the medical examiner knelt as he temporarily dismissed his unease at Gibbs' absence.

"Well," The Doctor turned and angled his head to look up at Tony as he spoke. "It appears that some, if not all of this young man's wounds were self inflicted."

Tony glanced at the maimed corpse, at the cuts, the blood, the large bloody knife that still lay on the floor. "Are you sure?" he asked, "because they look. . ." his attention drifted back to the doctor and he had his answer before continuing. "Of, course you're sure doc, I'm sorry. It's just. . .well what would possess a person. . . "

"Possession? Of course you could be right. Many ancient cultures believed that all illness, particularly mental ones, were the result of possession by some sort of demon or devil. In fact even in the bible there are descriptions. . "

"You think he did this to himself?" Ziva asked, joining the conversation and the semi-crouched huddle around the body.

Ducky glanced back down. "Well of course I can't be a hundred percent sure until I get the body back and carry out a full autopsy, but that would be my preliminary finding, yes." There was a moment's silence as he looked expectantly at Tony and Ziva in turn.

It was Tony who asked. "What?"

"Nothing," Ducky replied. "I was merely wondering, in Gibbs absence, which one of you was going to start hassling me for something more definite, and a time of death." He glanced around again. "Speaking of Gibbs, where is he? I'm sure that he was here when I arrived."

The comment finally alerted Tony to what was wrong, the reason why Gibbs lack of presence in the room suddenly made him feel uneasy. It was Ducky's arrival. Gibbs wouldn't have left without getting at least these preliminary comments from the medical examiner and, although it wouldn't have been out of character for him to go off and leave Tony, Ziva and McGee without a word, he would have said something to Ducky. Tony felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand to attention, his gut churning uneasily, but still it could be nothing. No need to worry the others. "He went outside," Tony stated with a confidence he didn't feel. "I'll go get him."

NCISNCIS

Tony wasn't sure how long he stood and watched Gibbs for, a few seconds, a few minutes? Time had that strange elastic quality that it always adopted when things weren't quite right. Now that Tony had his boss and mentor in view, his gut instinct was taking on the form more of fact than feeling. There was something wrong. Although if you'd asked him to say exactly what, he couldn't have given a coherent answer.

Gibbs had an air of agitation, of eraticism. His normal stoic demeanour replaced by something. . .something different. It occurred to Tony that he should probably try to find out what was wrong, but still he didn't move, not straight away, not until Gibbs started walking away from him. Then his mind screamed that he really needed to do something. He jogged forward in order to catch up. "Hey boss," he shouted, after him. "Ducky's looking. ." he was only a handful of steps behind now, ". .for you. . "now barely a stride. "He's got a preliminary. . ." he caught up, close enough to touch, debated reaching out. "rep. . ." the rest of the word was cut short as Gibbs whirled round in a blur of motion. The first blow caught his solar plexus, cutting off his air supply and causing him to gag. Then Gibbs' forearm and elbow slammed up into his nose, snapping his head back with its ferocity and Tony dropped senseless to the floor.

Gibbs watched him fall, barely breathing heavily from the violent assault. He stared at the crumpled form and then turned to walk slowly into the forest.

TO BE CONTINUED. . .