Tony frowned as Abby walked into the main office area with some files, holding them  out to Gibbs a short distance away. Something was different… Tony’s eyes widened as he bolted from his desk and rushed over to Abby. He grabbed her by the arms and spun her around.

“Hey! Ow, Tony! Leggo!” she exclaimed, stomping at his foot.

Just barely dodging the blow, Tony demanded, “Where are your tattoos?”

Abby snorted. “Is that what this is about? Jeeze. You either need a lot more caffeine, or a lot less. I got them removed. Been talking about that for months now.”

“You have not!” Tony denied.

“Yes she has,” Gibbs stated. “And since when do you think mauling is an acceptable form of public behavior, DiNozzo?”

Tony let her go and stepped back a pace, frowning more. “Okay. So, maybe I missed the tat chats, but what’s with the clothes?”

Abby looked down at the gray slacks, pale blue blouse, and 2-inch pumps she wore. “What about them?”

“That’s not what you wear. You wear shiny things that squeak,” Tony pointed out.

Shaking her head, Abby replied, “Not that I need to explain myself to you, but I felt like a change. Kate and I went shopping. If you don’t mind, I have work to do.”

Tony watched her go, mouth agape, then turned to look at Gibbs only to realize that he wasn’t there. He instinctively flinched, anticipating a smack to the back of his head, but it didn’t come. Squinting over at where Gibbs was now filing, he frowned. “Uh, Boss?”

“What is it, DiNozzo?”

“You’re not going to smack me?”

“No.”

“Oh, right. You’re going to wait until I’m not expecting it.”

Gibbs shook his head. “No, not that either. It was a bad habit to get into. You’re an excellent agent and you don’t need me harassing you to get the work done right. As a matter of fact, I was going to ask if you wanted to get lunch today so we can go over more productive ways to encourage your growth as an agent, and my own faults, things that need improvement. My treat, of course, since you’d be helping me out.”

Tony felt his stomach clench at the sudden shift in his universe. Gibbs did not ask people to lunch. Gibbs didn’t ask people their opinion of him. And he damn sure didn’t offer to treat. “Ah, Boss, you okay?”

“I’m fine, Tony. Thanks for the concern though,” Gibbs replied.

Then he smiled.

Backing away, Tony stammered, “Uh, m-maybe another time. I’m, I need to, uh…Ducky! I have to go see Ducky about something.”

Gibbs continued to smile pleasantly and gave him a wave. “Okie-dokie. I’ll see you when you get back.”

Tony fled to the elevator, thinking, Something is seriously wrong here! It’s like, it’s like, Stepford-NCIS or something! What the hell!?

The elevator doors opened on Kate and he nearly sighed in relief at her scowl. Finally. Something that was normal. Smiling, he greeted, “Hey, Kate. What’s wrong?”

“Can you believe it? I got a run in my pantyhose this morning, so I couldn’t wear that nice new dress that Abby and I picked out! I had to wear this! It doesn’t suit me at all! I’m much more of an autumn, but…”

Tony ran to the stairs, leaving her talk about color schemes behind in a wind-blown panic. Was there something in the water? Had they all been brainwashed?

“Get a grip, DiNozzo! Just get a grip!” he muttered to himself, coming to a stop by the bottom step.

Taking a breath, Tony forced himself to calm down. There was a logical explanation for everything that was going on. Abby could just have decided that she’d outgrown the Goth thing. No real problem with that. And Kate, well, it wasn’t like she didn’t have her feminine moments, because she did. Had even worn dresses to work before, even if she’d never started spouting things from magazines like that. They were probably just messing with him. It was almost Halloween, after all.

But Gibbs had smiled. And offered to buy lunch.

Tony shuddered.

Pushing the door open, he walked into the hall and discovered that McGee was standing there, staring into space. Hesitant, Tony waved a hand in front of the other man’s face. He jumped when McGee did, heart thumping heaving in his chest.

“McGee, you okay?” Tony asked cautiously.

McGee nodded and smiled at him, the usual, genial smile, nothing weird about it, and answered, “Yeah. Just got lost in thought for a moment, thinking about Abby.”

Still normal. Tony relaxed a little. “So do you like her with or without the tats?”

“Oh without, definitely,” McGee answered. “She’s been talking about it for a while, but I didn’t really think she’d do it.”

“I thought it took a long time to heal? Shouldn’t there be bandages or something?”

McGee nodded. “Yeah, it used to. They’ve got all kinds of new ways of doing it though. It’s just a simple office procedure now.”

“Well that’s good.”

The elevator arrived and McGee turned to get on it, saying, “See you later, Tony.”

That was when Tony noticed the bump on the back of McGee’s neck. It was almost skin-toned, but not quite. It looked like something had been put under the skin and then covered up with a prosthetic. He blinked in shock, but managed to keep a calm face and answered, “Yeah. Uh, I’ll see you up there, McGee.”

The doors closed and Tony backed up against the wall, panic thrumming through his veins. All the old, buried, childhood fears came shooting to the surface. His parents had warned him not to watch that movie when he was a kid, but he hadn’t listened. The nightmares after that had kept the whole household awake for almost a month straight.

And now, somehow, his second worst fear, vampires were still at the top, had come true. His teammates had been, well, changed by something. What could he do? Was it a pod thing? Was there even now a pod waiting for him to fall asleep? Or would someone be trying to poke a needle in the back of his neck? Or was it something that Hollywood had never glommed onto, over the years? Aliens were, after all, alien and didn’t think like humans. Or maybe it was human, a conspiracy, like the X-Files.

The only problem was, he was no Mulder.

Was Ducky infected? Tony glanced over at the Morgue door, dread that the older man had succumbed overtaking him. What the hell could he do?

“Okay. First things first. See if Ducky’s Ducky,” Tony muttered, screwing up his courage.

He moved slowly to the door and peeked inside. Ducky was examining a body, nothing unusual about that. Palmer was nowhere to be seen. All looked quiet and normal. Heart beating faster than it should, he opened the door and stepped inside. Ducky wasn’t talking to himself or the corpse, and that was very unusual. No chatter at all. Walking closer, he called out, “Hey, Ducky. What’s going on?”

Ducky looked up from the body with a smile. “Anthony. I’m glad you stopped by. I have some files to go up to Gibbs and didn’t want to take the time to deliver them myself. Be a good boy and bring them up for me?”

“Yeah, sure,” Tony agreed, moving closer. “What do you have there? Anything interesting?”

“Not really. Simple gunshot wound to the head. They wouldn’t have even brought him here except that he’s a former employee and Gibbs felt some sort of obligation. And even though the cause of death is obvious, I felt it best to be thorough.”

Tony frowned at the lack of caring in Ducky’s voice, dismay running through him that Ducky, too, had been touched by whatever the hell was going on. Then he got a good look at the body on the table and nearly threw up. “Jesus! Ducky!”

Ducky frowned at him, looking concerned. “Tony? Are you all right?”

Backing away from him, Tony shouted, “No! I’m not fucking all right! That’s Gerald on your table and you’re just, you’re just acting like it’s no big deal!”

Outright worry blossomed on Ducky’s face and he exclaimed, “Tony, wait, it’s not what you think…!”

But Tony was gone, running from the room to the stairwell. He went to the second floor, then crossed to the other side of it to get to the north stairwell, which would take him to the garage. He didn’t want to go anywhere near the office and chance running into any of those things masquerading as his friends.

But Gibbs was waiting for him at the car, naturally.

Tony pulled his gun and flicked off the safety, exclaiming, “Stay away from me!”

One of Gibbs hands moved behind his head and did something to his neck. It came away with what looked like a piece of skin and he said, “It’s a trick, Tony. We were playing a trick on you. That isn’t Gerald in the morgue, it’s a dummy that looks like him. And Abby still has her tattoos, she’s just wearing makeup.”

Tony didn’t lower the gun, but he put the safety back on, keeping his thumb on it. “A trick?”

“Yes,” Gibbs said firmly. “A trick. It was Abby’s idea, but I okayed it. We didn’t include Palmer, because we didn’t know if he could pull it off. Can you put the gun down?”

Shivering from the leftover adrenaline, Tony holstered his gun and ran a shaky hand through his hair. He kept a wary eye on Gibbs when the other man joined him.

“I’m sorry, Tony. I didn’t think you’d fall for it. At least, not this badly. I should have called it off when we saw how you reacted to McGee,” Gibbs apologized softly.

Anger flared through him and Tony snapped, “You were watching? Of course you were. What good’s a joke if you can’t see it through? Well this one backfired, Gibbs, because you know what? I’m sick of all the shit that you put me through, day after day. Smacking me upside the head. Insulting me. Giving me shit-work. Fuck you, Gibbs. I quit.”

He shouldered past the stunned man and got in his car, driving off without looking back. When he reached the gate, he grinned to himself and said, “Payback’s a bitch, lover. I’ll see you at home.”

Tony figured he had about five minutes before Gibbs shook himself free of the shock and ran to his car to go after him. Maybe less. If he hurried, he could get home and ‘locked in the bedroom’ before Gibbs got there. All he had to do was hold steady in the face of a guilty and apologetic Gibbs and he could milk this for weeks.

This, was going to be fun.