A/N: So sorry for the lack of updates, but I've got no excuse for it today. Things might get better when I have a break, but I've got a lot of other stories going on at the moment. I've got 3 Psych stories and 2 Criminal Minds stories to finish besides this one.

I hope I portrayed everyone accurately!

PS: Congrats to everyone who guessed right! Those of you who didn't... well, your time to be right might come soon ;)

DISCLAIMER: I don't own NCIS. Though, I am quite fond of Eamon right now... What can I say? It's the crazies that are the most interesting ;)



They watched in horrified fascination as the scene played out. It seemed to happen in slow motion. One minute, Eamon was asking Tony if he'd ever slept with a woman named Katherine. The next, Eamon was standing before them.

"Wrong answer."

And then he turned and, with Ziva's knife, stabbed Timothy McGee in the thigh.

McGee cried out; the pain was so sudden, so unexpected. Though, in truth, the initial stab he could've handled. It was when Eamon twisted the knife that true agony ruled his being.

Eamon pulled the blade out of the agent's flesh slowly, relishing the intense pleasure the attack had brought him. He watched as the tip of the knife finally slipped from the man's leg and the blood was pumped out. Excitement glowed in his brown eyes as he continued to watch. For a moment, his world was silent, blissful. But then, as the minutes ticked by and the blood flow slowed, the pleasure diminished.

He turned to face the others, pleased with the expressions on their faces. Finally, they realized just how much power Eamon truly possessed. A sunny smile crossed his face, "Now that I have demonstrated the consequences you may face, we can continue with the game!" A good-humored chuckle escaped his throat.

Ziva didn't hear Eamon as he spoke, not really. Right then, her whole world comprised of McGee. Her friend, who was currently bleeding from a wound to his leg. A wound caused by her own blade. The guilt was unbearable. If she hadn't thrown the knife, Eamon wouldn't have stabbed McGee with it, and Ziva wouldn't be feeling McGee's pain as if it were her own. The thought, the "what-if", made her think. What would Eamon have done in absence of her knife?

Tony, on the other hand, heard Eamon's words all to clearly. Even over the beat of his own hear, which whispered "Your fault your fault your fault" to him with every thump. He couldn't tear his eyes away from his colleague. McGee, who was now suffering on account of Tony's idiotic answer. He reprimanded himself every time McGee dew another, shuddering breath. The poor guy tried not to show it, but it was painfully obvious to everyone else how much he was suffering.

So, until Eamon asked his next question, Tony and Ziva suffered along with McGee. All the while, they prayed that Gibbs would come soon.


The group outside had gone back to bickering with one another. Abby and Ducky argued against Vance and Fornell. The former wanted to get someone inside the building while Vance and Fornell were insisting that they needed to figure out whom this guy really was. Gibbs just watched in stony silence.

Then, the agent from before, Braxton, approached once again. The others didn't notice at first, even as the young FBI agent stood there nervously, waiting to speak.

"Hey!" Gibbs barked, garnering the attention of the others. Ducky was inquisitive, Abby contrite, Vance annoyed, and Fornell was just tired. They all looked expectantly at the young man before them.

"Uh-um," Braxton began. "W-we tra-traced the c-ca-call to a... a c-cell phone i-inside NCIS. H-he-here's the n-name." He handed Gibbs a crumpled piece of notebook paper. On it was a phone number and a name scrawled underneath it. Gibbs couldn't help but notice that he'd been right. He wouldn't be getting his phone back any time soon.

"Tobias," Gibbs shoved the paper at him. He looked at him expectantly, holding out his hand, "Phone?"

Fornell grumbled something along the lines of "arrogant son of a bitch", but still handed over his old Nokia to the NCIS agent. He held Gibbs' gaze for a moment, silently telling him not to ruin their chances of making any progress. Gibbs seemed to understand this.

He punched in a series of numbers, though he hadn't even looked at the number written on the paper, and held the phone to his ear as it rang. Of course he wouldn't be so kind as to put it on speakerphone. Abby cocked her head slightly, "Whose number was it, Gibbs?"

After receiving no answer from him, Abby turned to Fornell. He held out the paper willingly, a grim look in his eyes. What was written on the paper certainly didn't bode well in his opinion. She had no idea yet, and snatched the paper eagerly.

Abby took one glance at the paper and her eyes widened. One of her arms wrapped around her middle, holding tight, while the other hand came up to cover her mouth. She let out a strangled sound of distress. The paper fluttered down to meet the pavement.

"Abigail," Ducky's eyes held concern for the young woman, he put a hand on her back and patted her comfortingly. "Who was it?"

"Take a look for yourself," Vance said, handing over the paper he had just previously retrieved from the ground.

Ducky took it, wondering why no one ever said anything out loud anymore. He was shocked to find that written on the dirty, crumpled piece of paper, were two words they all knew so well. A very familiar name, and they knew it was no coincidence that person's phone had called Gibbs' home.

Written clear as day on that paper, was the name Anthony DiNozzo.


The ringing came from Eamon's pocket. The incessant noise intruded upon Tony's guilt-stricken thoughts. Tony glanced up, glaring at the man who had handcuffed him to his own desk. Eamon smiled back at him and pulled from his pocket a cell phone. Tony's eyes widened as he realized that it was his own phone Eamon was holding.

The Bastard, a nickname Tony had just given Eamon, grinned like he'd been waiting for it to happen. He was practically bouncing on his toes. He quickly answered the call, "Jethro! I've just been dying to speak with you again!"

At the mention of their boss, two of the MCRT members perked up. The other however, just sat there breathing deeply, trying to regulate his pain. They tried to be quiet, listening for their leader's voice. Seeing this, Eamon decided to indulge them and turned it on speaker.

"What do you want?" Gibbs got right down to it. His already gruff voice had an edge to it, one the team had heard often enough. They heard it when Gibbs was interrogating a particularly irritating, arrogant suspect.

"Why, I only want to get to know you better! You and your team." Eamon looked at the assembled people pointedly. "Speaking of, how is my dear Abigail? Did she get my note?"

Upon hearing Abby's name, McGee's head snapped up. And even though his eyes were glazed with pain, he managed to add some sort of menace in the glare he sent Eamon. Then the psycho smirked, as if he had anticipated the reaction and elicited it for that exact reason. To McGee's credit, he never backed down.

"Well," Gibbs drawled, ignoring Eamon's last questions, "that would be a whole lot easier if you let me into the building." Clearly Gibbs was trying to find a way inside the building. A way that wouldn't risk anyone's life but his own.

"Silly, Jethro," Eamon chuckled, which put everyone on edge. "I couldn't do that without disarming the bombs!" He laughed maniacally after that.

Tony and Ziva exchanged glances. If Eamon had taken the time to secure bombs in the building, he certainly wasn't going to let anyone leave. Or live, for that matter.

"Although," Eamon said slowly, making sure he had Gibbs' attention before continuing, "we soon may be in need of someone with medical experience."

"What did you do?" Gibbs snapped. The three teammates in the room could practically see their boss's glare. Tony and Ziva even felt it, as if Gibbs really were there and blaming them for what happened to McGee.

"Tell you what," Eamon skirted around the truth with practiced ease. "You send in your medical examiner, Dr. Mallard, I believe, and I will refrain from causing Agent McGee any further pain at my hands."


Gibbs had turned the phone on speaker, at Fornell's insistence, almost as soon as the call had been picked up. When she heard Eamon reveal that McGee had been injured, Abby let out a choked sob, fear and worry for McGee written plainly on her face. She breathed deeply, trying to calm herself, as Gibbs actually considered Eamon's proposal.

"No," Vance ordered. His mouth was set in a tight frown. There was no way he was letting one of his people go in there, even if an agent was injured. He couldn't risk it. Especially now that it had been confirmed who the hostages are. There was protocol to follow, and he wouldn't let anyone breach protocol. Not when lives were on the line.

Gibbs continued to contemplate the offer. He didn't like what Eamon was demanding, but he didn't see any other way of getting eyes inside the building. He needed to assess the situation, and if McGee really was hurt something needed to be done. He looked to Ducky for permission. There was no way he'd send his old friend in there without his consent. Screw Vance, it was Ducky's decision that mattered.

The ME nodded, "I have to help Timothy."

Fornell didn't even bother to protest. He knew that Gibbs would do whatever he thought was best for his people, and oftentimes what he thought was best actually was best after all. Though at this point, it was too soon to tell.

"Alright," Gibbs relented.

"Good!" Eamon's excited voice chirped through the phone, "I want Dr. Mallard to come through the front door only, and he will then proceed to take the elevator up to where I am. Only the elevator. I believe you know the floor, right Jethro?"

Gibbs grunted in response. Just because he was going along with this guy's plan didn't mean he liked it. It went against his grain to put his friend in harm's way, but it had to be done.

"He will bring only a basic first aid kit, nothing else," Eamon instructed. "No cameras, earwigs, or anything of the variety will be permitted. If I find such things, one of your agents will be shot."

"Anything else?" Gibbs asked sarcastically. It felt wrong to be taking orders from a psychopath, but there was no way around it.

"I believe that is all," Eamon told him, taking his question literally. "Goodbye, Jethro. I do hope we chat again very soon!" With that the line went dead.

I've made my move, Gibbs quoted mentally, now it's your turn.

"Oh, Ducky!" Abby had come out of her shocked stupor, and now she had her arms wrapped around the elderly ME. "You can't go! What if you get hurt? Or shot?"

Ducky chuckled quietly, "I know, Abigail, but I have to do this."

Abby's only response was to hug him tighter and whisper, "Be careful."

Vance, on the other hand, was intending on saying any goodbyes. He was furious. "What do you think you're doing, Gibbs? You're going to get someone killed!"

Gibbs looked Vance straight in the eye, "We need eyes inside the building, but we can't get any in there. He's got bombs, and we don't have a clue where any of them are. This is the only surefire way inside."

Vance pinched the bridge of his nose between his index finger and thumb, appearing deep in thought. "Fine, but only because you already said we would do this. Next time," Vance paused, meeting Gibbs' eyes again, "you listen to me." Gibbs nodded once, but Vance was sure he didn't mean it. Gibbs never listened to anyone.

"Alright, Duck," Gibbs turned his attention to his friend. "Let's get you ready to go."

Fornell, taking this as his cue, called over the frat boy agent from before. He asked the kid to get them a first aid kit and a hidden camera.

This demand confused Ducky and Abby. The Goth had disentangled herself from her former embrace, she looked at Gibb's with confusion on her face and fear in her eyes. "He said no cameras," she stated.

"I know, Abbs." Gibbs turned his back to her as the Frat Boy approached with a big white case and a small button. Gibbs watched as Fornell retrieved them from the young agent.

"We need to see what's going on in there," Gibbs continued. "We have to do this."

Fornell handed the first aid kit to Ducky, and then he showed him the small button. "Replace the button on your pants with this, he shouldn't be able to tell it's there. Since you tuck your shirt into your pants nothing should get in it's way, and nothing will seem out of place."

"What if he finds that it really is a camera?" Ducky inquired.

"Don't let him," Gibbs said simply. "Be careful, Duck."


Worry consumed Tony DiNozzo at that moment. Ducky was coming up. He couldn't be responsible for yet another of his friends. He just couldn't. He wouldn't be able to stop Eamon if he decided to attack again, and that killed him. The helplessness was eating at Tony. He hadn't felt this way since Somalia, and even then he'd had some sort of a plan. Now, however, he had no such thing.

He counted the seconds, the minutes, as they went by. Ducky still hadn't arrived. It was comforting to him that he hadn't, yet at the same time it was worrisome. What would Eamon do if Ducky didn't show? Or worse, what would he do if he did show?

Just then the elevator doors dinged open. Tony and Ziva's heads snapped up, while McGee remained slumped where he sat. He wasn't unconscious, far from it. He was completely aware, but he just couldn't find the energy to look up. The knife had gone pretty deep into his thigh, and he'd lost quite a bit of blood. Not enough to be too worrisome, not yet. The wound itself ached dully with each pump of his heart, and from the sluggish blood flow and the fact that he wasn't dead yet, McGee deduced that the knife hadn't hit an artery.

"Dr. Mallard!" Eamon's cheery, nothing-is-wrong voice broke the silence. "How wonderful for you to join us!"

Ducky stepped out of the elevator warily, taking in the scene before him. As he moved closer to the where Jethro and his agents worked, he could see what had happened. Each agent was handcuffed to a leg of his or her desk, and there were two bullet holes in front of Ziva and Tony.

Having seen that the former were fine, Ducky hurried to reach McGee only to be stopped by Eamon. He looked up at the man to see the crazed eyes of a maniac. It didn't frighten him in the least, the only thing on his mind at that moment was concern for the young man slumped against his desk.

"You wouldn't happen to be wearing an earpiece or hidden camera, would you Doctor?" Eamon asked suspiciously.

Ducky didn't even blink. "No."

Eamon took a step back and looked him over with a critical eye. Apparently, he found nothing of any suspicion, because he then let the doctor tend to McGee.

"Timothy?" Ducky questioned softly. He was rewarded when McGee looked up at him. Ducky knelt on the floor beside him and opened the first aid kit he had been allowed to bring with him.

Ducky didn't need to ask what happened. He had seen the bloody knife in Eamon's hand, and McGee's wound. He examined the injury a bit closer, relieved to find that the blade hadn't hit an artery. His first aid supply was lacking in specific medical tools, but Ducky did what he could with what he had. Soon, McGee's injury was cleaned and bandaged. Ducky didn't have any painkillers, but he supposed the wound would become somewhat numb soon. He sat beside McGee, not handcuffed, but also not free to leave.

"Good," Eamon spoke up, "now that the good doctor has finished his work we can get back to the game." Ducky saw Tony and Ziva stiffen. This "game" must be something bad, he thought.

"Seeing as Agent McGee is not fit to participate right now, we shall move on to Dr. Mallard." Eamon smiled again, sending chills down Ducky's spine.

"Dr. Mallard," Eamon began, "are you or are you not wearing a hidden camera?"

Ducky froze, he had thought Eamon believed he wasn't wearing anything. Apparently, the man hadn't bought his act. Well, Ducky thought, I suppose I'll have to be a bit better this time.

"No," Ducky insisted.

Eamon looked down at the knife in his hand. He ran the blade over his hand, smearing McGee's blood across his palm, building the tension in the room. He frowned slightly. "Really?" His tone was light, but the single word was heavy with meaning. He took a step closer to Ducky.

He knelt down beside him, just as Ducky had done with McGee. He put his lips just inches from the ME's ear.

"I don't believe you," he hissed.


Outside the building, the other group watched the video feed anxiously. They had lost sight of the man they assumed to be Eamon. After they'd gotten the initial first look they'd had someone run a facial recognition, but had gotten no results as of yet.

According to Gibbs, losing sight of Eamon was not good. "He knows," Gibbs growled. How could he know? Gibbs didn't know the answer to that question. There were dozens of theories in his mind, but he didn't have the patience to settle on one at the moment. The whole situation was just too frustrating.

Suddenly, the feed from the camera was jerky. It was being moved around, that much they could tell. Soon, they saw that Gibbs was right. Eamon did know, because just then they were shown an image of Ducky, looking shocked, sitting next to McGee, who had a bandage around his thigh. Then they were shown Tony and Ziva, both of whom were sitting in front of their own desks. Gibbs assumed they were being kept there somehow. Handcuffs most likely. The only reassuring thing they noticed was the lack of a gunshot victim. Earlier, when the shots were

The four watched in silence as the video feed was terminated and all they saw was snow.

Then, Abby started sniffling quietly. Gibbs turned to look at her. She was still focused on the computer screen, though nothing was being displayed. Gibbs moved and put his arms around her. Abby quickly did the same, her body trembling.

"It'll be okay, Abbs," Gibbs said, for once sugar-coating the truth. Enough had gone wrong tonight, and the truth, even if she already knew it, wouldn't help her one bit.

"No, no it won't, Gibbs." Abby's voice wavered when she spoke, "He's gonna shoot one of them. He said so."

The only thing Gibbs said in response was, "They can take care of themselves, Abbs."

Just then, yet another FBI agent scurried over. "Sir," the agent, a short woman with brown hair that had been pulled into a ponytail, addressed Fornell.

"Yes?" Apprehension coiled in Fornell's gut as he spoke.

"We heard another gunshot," the agent reported. The men in the group took the news stoically, though each one had a different scenario playing out in his mind. Each one involved a brutal, bloody death.

Abby's body trembled as intense sobs racked her body for a minute. Then she controlled herself. She moved away from Gibbs, and everyone could see the mascara tracks on her cheeks. She hiccupped as the tears somewhat subsided. She couldn't believe it. Another one of her close friends shot. What if someone died? The thought made tears threaten to spill over her lashes again. Instead she held them back, wanting to appear brave.

"Anything else?" Fornell questioned. The agent nodded, and with that simple movement gained the attention of everyone around her.

The agent didn't even blush. "Through the digital log of all NCIS employees, we were able to discover that one employee didn't leave the building last night."

"Who?" Gibbs barked before Vance could say anything, his patience wearing thin. Someone had just shot one of his agents, and he didn't have a clue which one it was.

"Jimmy Palmer," the agent said, this time blushing at the informal use of 'Jimmy'. It would seem that she knew the Medical Examiner's assistant. "He never left. He's still in there."

Vance exchanged conspiratorial glances with Fornell and Gibbs. "It looks like we may have found our new inside man."


Don't worry, guys! This story IS going somewhere!

Oh, and sorry for any OOC-ness in this chapter. I was tired when I wrote it, and I wrote it all in one sitting.

Don't forget to tell me what you guys think, any theories, or ideas, ANYTHING!

PS: I DO think Abby would react that way to McGee's injury, Ducky going in even though there's danger, and someone being shot.

Please REVIEW. Reviews give me encouragement to continue!