Hey Everyone! So this just came to me and I wanted to see what you thought. Let me know. Thanks!


Disclaimer: Yep, still don't own them. Dagnabit!

Protect her...is the thought that circulates his brain as he and his team investigate an old, abandoned house in the dark. He stands beside her, gun in hand, poised to shoot. Quietly, he and the team make their way throughout the large house, calling out "Clear" once each room is found empty.

He falters at the top of the second level, shaking the insistent phrase out of his head. The masculine voice is unfamiliar and somewhat creepy. Protect her it urges again, making him pull back and shake his head as he wipes his face.

"Tony, what is the matter?" His partner asks, concern written on her face as she holsters her gun and tends to him. By now, he is profusely sweating.

"I..."He trails off, uncertain. "I don't know." He finally tells her, perking up immediately when he sees something making its way to them. Immediately, he knows it isn't any of his teammates because their voices are in the distance, coming down the steps from above.

Alarmed, he stands straighter, instinctively standing in harm's way, although it should be evident by now that his partner can take care of herself. Still, whatever it is is rushing straight at them, not giving them any time to shoot.

Protect her! The unfamiliar voice screams in his head, making him brace for the intruder.

"Tony!" He hears her scream as he takes down the intruder, falling down the stairs with it. He is given no chance to call out for his other two teammates, but she does. Her screams for him have joined with his other teammates' voices as he falls unconscious – the intruder's strength outmatching his own.

He opens his eyes to find a face to the unfamiliar voice. An elderly Middle Eastern man sits beside the bed he lays on, wet cloth soaked in his hand.

It's good to see you awake. The voice says in his mind. He looks at him in confusion and disbelief. I have many things to show you, Anthony. The man places the soaked cloth back in the bowl and stands, helping him to sit up.

He decides that if he goes along with this man, he'll discover what the man is talking about. Standing with some help, the two men make their way down a wooden corridor that opens up to a lounge area where many other people are gathered, busily talking or reading.

"What is this place?" He questions vocally as they make their way to the other corridor on the opposite side. Once again, they walk until they reach the end of the corridor, entering through the doorway on the right.

To train you. You're different now, Anthony. The man tells him, leading him to one of the chairs in front of a desk. He scans the room, deducing it's some sort of an office. Landing his hazel eyes on the Middle Eastern man, he's not surprised when the man has sit in the chair beside him. The man looks at his hands, fiddling with them as if he's waiting on someone.

They don't have to wait long. A breeze starts up and the sudden appearance of a very restless man – one he most definitely recognizes – is behind the desk, setting a folder on a small pile of file folders.

"Welcome back, Agent DiNozzo." The voice of Mossad Director Eli David greeted without sarcasm.

He gulped with widened eyes. Oh boy!