As he regained consciousness, Gibbs cringed away from the light he could see through his eyelids. Bright - really bright - and by the feel of it he'd hit his head hard.

Or someone had hit it for him. An attempt to bring his hand up to shade his eyes revealed that he had been tied up. Never a good sign.

If it had been handcuffs, he might have been able to find something to hand and pick the lock, but the restraints were snug and unyielding. Duct tape, he guessed, and applied by someone who knew what they were doing. Experimenting with limbs and body, he discovered his ankles were also bound together, and he was firmly attached to the chair at the waist as well. He still had feeling in his extremities - a small mercy - so the taper had been considerate enough not to cut off circulation in his hands or feet. Not much comfort, but he'd take it. He would use any tangible advantage he could get.

He forced his eyes open, wincing away from the too-bright light, and looking around him to try and figure out where he was, and why. And maybe how he'd got there, too. The last thing he remembered, he was waiting for the elevator, ready to go home at last after a long, long day. He'd been looking forward to his boat and his bourbon. Damnit.

The lights surrounding him were just simple desk lamps, but a lot of them. This felt decidedly like an interrogation, and not a particularly humane one. There was little visibility beyond the ring of lights, no sign of life, and no clues to what had happened.

It was slightly reassuring that the chair he was sitting on was well made and reasonably comfortable. He suspected that if he was tied into it for long enough, his butt would start complaining anyway, but if his captors were really intent on making him suffer, surely they'd have tied him to something rather less cozy.

For a long while (it was hard to keep track of time passing with the constant bright light and his lingering headache) he simply sat, waiting for something to happen, trying to figure out possible means of escape or where he was, or really anything that might make sense of this situation. No one assaulted and abducted a federal agent without a good reason. Unless they were insane, of course. Admittedly, in his line of work, being kidnapped by a crazy person wasn't particularly unlikely.

Eventually he was too bored and too frustrated to just sit there any more. "Hey! Anyone there?" Making noise and hoping to be noticed was way down on his list of preferred options, but it seemed to be the only one left. "DiNozzo, is this meant to be a joke?" He didn't really think it was Tony, the man was a joker but he didn't have a death wish. It would make the situation much easier if it was his senior agent, though. "If I'm here much longer I'm gonna start to get really pissed. And you do not want that. Whoever you are."

No response, no answers, no movement, no noise. "Damnit, will someone just get me the hell out of here?"

"Admitting you need help is a good first step, Agent Gibbs."

He hadn't heard any footsteps, but the voice came from nearby - he guessed just outside the ring of lights. Had its owner been there all along? Watching, listening? It took a lot to creep him out, but this was working.

"Who's there?" The voice was familiar, but between his headache and the lights and his general disorientation, he couldn't immediately place it.

"You don't remember me? I'm disappointed, Agent Gibbs." She sounded more amused than disappointed, with a note of snark in her voice that reminded him of someone...

"Doctor Cranston?" He was incredulous, finding it hard to believe what his ears were telling him. It was her - it was definitely her - but that made no sense. Kate's sister had seemed so normal, so balanced. So why the hell was he duct taped to a chair?

"Oh, so you do remember me. That's sweet. And helpful, since we have some... unfinished business."

Now she started walking back and forth, round and round, in front of him and behind him, prowling in the darkness beyond his field of vision.

"Unfinished business?" He'd often wondered if Kate's family blamed him for her death as much as he blamed himself. Cranston had seemed empathetic, not one to lay blame, but maybe she was just a good actress. Maybe she'd just been reconnoitring so she could exact her revenge at a later date.

"You should have realised you couldn't avoid it forever."

"Huh?" He was getting more confused by the moment.

"Vance told you this was mandatory, Agent Gibbs."

That threw him. What the hell did Vance have to do with Kate's death? The case was long since closed - even the last case review had happened well before Vance's time. Gibbs wasn't even sure the director had been in the country back then.

"You should've made it easy on yourself. Got it over with when you had the chance."

This was sounding more and more sinister. "Doctor, what're you talkin' about?"

She slipped between two lights and was in his face in a matter of moments. "Too late to try and get away, Agent Gibbs. This is happening, and you can't stop it."

He felt dread rise up in him like vomit as he realised suddenly why he was here, why she'd kidnapped him. "No! No, please... not..."

A manic grin crossed her face as he pleaded with her, and she laughed. He shuddered at the sound.

"Yessss..." Her triumph was tangible. "Yes, Agent Gibbs. You're here, you're my prisoner, and you can no longer avoid it. No excuses... No rescue."

"Oh God," he whimpered, as she drew a dictaphone from her suit pocket. "Please, no..."

"It's too late, Gibbs. You're mine now." Her voice was low and menacing. "You have no choice, you can't escape. This psych eval starts... now."

He screamed.


The prompt was Gibbs / Rachel Cranston / duct tape

hope it gave you a giggle :)