Chapter 1

A virulent stomach flu had diminished the ambient hum of activity at NCIS on most every floor. The stench of hand sanitizer parfum du jour for those still present. The relative quiet was unnoticed at the moment by one Tony DiNozzo, standing behind his desk completely absorbed by the cell phone in his hands.

A loud whine had started in his ears as he read the words, becoming louder as he slowly sank into his seat. Everything except his hands and the phone in them was brightening to glaring intensity. The air seemed thinner, and why could he hear his pulse all the sudden?

The words just weren't making sense. "Just landed. Don't worry Junior, I'll return your investment 12 fold. With you not listening to reason, I had to step up. Maybe someday you'll be a parent and understand. I'll be back soon."

There seemed to be a thousand crickets adding to the whine now, and his fingers were tingly. When did this suit become so hot? The dry cleaning bill was already ridiculous… maybe as the weather turned warm this spring it was time to consider cooler layering options. Perhaps it was time to try linen suits, but there was the wrinkling problem…Federal Agents can't show up creased for heaven's sake.

Dad didn't…no, he wouldn't. Tony was not even conscious of putting the phone down or accessing his online banking… just of the numbers not making sense. The old trust fund account that should say $38 million said $15. Even his personal accounts said only $5 each. Wait, these tiny numbers are just the minimum holding amount to keep the accounts open. Latest transaction: 09:10 this morning, from the joint account that still had Dad's name on it; withdrawal amount $38,042,897.00. But that's impossible, I was at work, and Dad was flying out …this morning. What the hell...? Why is my heartbeat shaking my whole body?

Somewhere from the white zone he finally heard the repeated queries, "Tony?"

With eyebrows raising politely, he mask slid easily into place...despite the damned whining crickets and sweat trickling down his back, "Yes, Ziva?"

"Bad news?"

"Oh…," he said airily, "Only if you give your phone number to your drycleaners. Gibbs catches me dealing with spam on my phone during work hours I'm in trouble." Hopefully the smile he felt stretching across his face was appropriate.

"Is that different from any other time, DiNozzo?" as Gibbs walked in, stopping and looking back at a very pale SFA. "DiNozzo? You alright?"

Shooting up out of his chair, "Oh, of course Boss. Fine. I'm fine. As always. Just a little…ahh…off. Maybe..." nodding his head judiciously. Were his ears really red? They felt red. I'm a freaking victim standing right here…me…an identity theft victim, a fraud victim, a theft victim... my own Dad ripped me off. How could his face feel cold while his ears were hot?

McGee chimed in, looking both concerned and wary, "Boss, maybe he's coming down with the flu. He was talking to Shirley in accounting yesterday, and you heard what she did in the break room this morning?"

Turning gladly to McGee, Tony said, "Are you afraid of my potential vomit, Probie? Or deeply concerned for my well being?"

McGee, having noticed Tony's usual deflection methods after the curious shocky physical reaction, was actually concerned at the moment. So naturally he had to translate this to brother-speak, "Did I mention I was in the break room when it happened? I can't tell you how seriously I don't want to see or smell that twice today."

Tony realized his coping mechanism was fully engaged when he found himself enjoying talking about vomit instead of thinking about the contents of his phone, bank accounts...or the probable actions of his Father.

"DiNozzo, head out. It's only a 24hr bug, best to get home before it kicks in," Gibbs said, walking to his desk.

"Boss?" a startled Tony said. No, no, no...I'll have to think about it if I'm home.

"We're just doing paperwork, and you're only missing a few hours. Get," Gibbs said slightly louder as DiNozzo appeared to need prompting.

Tony gathered his gear and said good night much too quietly, and with no further protests. As Ziva and McGee exchanged looks across their desks, Gibbs watched Tony walk to the elevator, concern growing.

Driving home well before rush hour for once, trying to think about the lovely spring weather and absolutely nothing else, Tony realized he could stop by the grocery store to take advantage of the time off. Except absolutely nothing sounded good to eat, and the thought of seeing food sounded nauseating. And how the hell would he pay for it? He suddenly realized with a horrible lurch there was only $10 cash on him and his debit card was now useless. And his automatic payments through his bank...those had to be suspended immediately before he bounced checks. And Internal Affairs might think this was a huge blackmail payment if he didn't explain proactively. Shaking his head, he realized coping wasn't enough at the moment, he also had to deal with the fallout asap. In comparison, having the stomach flu sounded wildly appealing.