A/N: So this will be a multi-chapter story, and all I'm asking for is for you guys to review and let me know if I really should continue. "My Little Game" is kind of a working title; I'm not yet sure if I want to keep it. It was inspired by a line in this chapter, by the way, so it's not completely random.

I'm sorry of the characters might seem a little OOC, but I'm working on it! And I like to think I'm pretty good at capturing who they are.

Oh, and updates might be a little scarce seeing as how I still have 3 Psych stories going at the moment, but 2 of them are close to ending, and when they do, updates for this story will be much more frequent.

DISCLAIMER: I don't own NCIS. If I did, I would've made Ziva a little more traumatized by her time in Somalia. I mean, it seems like she's just forgotten about it! We don't even know what happened to her there! Not really.

Anyway... ENJOY!

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If they had only looked a little closer...

Had they seen the shadow coming from the crack under the door...

Had they heard the sharp, mechanical sounds of a gun being loaded...

If they had only payed attention, none of it would be happening. They wouldn't have been in this situation. They wouldn't have to face the harsh reality that was rearing it's ugly head. They wouldn't have to come face to face with Death.

Or rather, someone who seemed to think he was Death personified.

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Leroy Jethro Gibbs lay awake in his bed, restless and unable to close his eyes for more than five seconds. He just couldn't seem to shake the unnerving feeling that something was wrong, and there was a good reason he couldn't.

He'd had this feeling before; many years ago. He'd had this exact same feeling when Shannon and Kelly were murdered.

Of course, he hadn't known what the feeling meant back then, but it was an old friend by now. While it had been an old acquaintance after the death of his wife and daughter, he'd slowly gotten to know it quite well over the years.

They'd met for the second time in his lifetime the day Kate Todd had died. A painful third meeting had taken place when Paula Cassidy was killed. Then there was the event when they'd really started to get to know each other: Jenny Sheppard's death.

The last time he'd felt the presence of what he called "The Warning" was when DiNozzo had started looking into Ziva David's apparent disappearance from the face of the Earth. At that point he and "The Warning" were old friends; he knew what it meant, and knew there was no stopping what was to come. That didn't mean he wouldn't try though.

So when his cell phone started ringing at three AM civilian time, he was out of his still-made bed like he hadn't even been lying down. He quickly walked over to his nightstand and opened the drawer. Inside were his gun and his cellphone, lying next to one another, both begging to be picked up and taken to work.

Gibbs ignored his gun for the time being and snatched the cellphone, "Gibbs."

"Hello, Gibbs," an unfamiliar voice crept through the speakers of the phone.

"Who the hell is this?" Gibbs demanded, leaking every ounce of his "take no shit" attitude into his voice.

The person on the other end chuckled, and that's how Gibbs knew he was dealing with a truly disturbed person. He could practically see the faceless person smile as he said, "Who I am is unimportant. What is important is that I've made my move, and now it's your turn."

"What are you talking about? Who are you?" This time when Gibbs reached into his nightstand drawer, he went for his gun.

"Welcome to my game, Special Agent Gibbs," was all that was said before the line went dead.

Gibbs holstered his gun and dashed out of his bedroom like it was on fire. Something was wrong, horribly wrong; he could feel it.

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A none too gentle prodding on his left shoulder annoyed Timothy McGee to no end. He was sure it was Tony, and that prompted him to stay asleep, even though as he became more aware, he also became more aware of the uncomfortable position he was in. He'd fallen asleep at his desk with his head resting on his hands, which were splayed on his desk. It all made for a lot of muscle cramps.

Wait a minute...

He'd fallen asleep...

Oh, shoot, Tim thought dazedly, I fell asleep at work. Gibbs is gonna kill me! That thought provided the necessary motivation to wake Tim completely. Still, when he opened his eyes he felt groggy and unfocused, but that soon changed. Because once he was fully awakened, he realized the position he was in.

Tim saw the gun first; positioned right beside his face and pointing at his shoulder, it must've been what he'd been poked with a few minutes ago. Then he noticed the man in front of him. Tall and muscular, with a full head of brown hair that Tony would've envied, and a mustache to complete the image of a sophisticated man. His eyes though, told an altogether different story. Tim realized, while assessing the man, that he was completely insane. It didn't take a lot of skill to see it; the man's eyes were bright and had a crazed look in them. His focus was everywhere at once, but he still managed to keep the gun still, and trained on Tim. That wasn't what really labeled him as crazy though, what gave him away was that he hadn't bothered to hide his face from them, from cameras. That made him truly insane. And made Tim realize that this man probably wasn't interested in letting anyone live.

Since the man still hadn't said a word, Tim found his attention had now wandered over to his coworkers. They'd stayed at work late, finishing up an easy case. A drug deal gone bad, and the dealer on the run. Tim guessed they'd just forgotten to go home, like himself.

Tim found himself becoming increasingly panicked, noticing the vulnerable states his colleagues were in. How easy it would be for the strange man to just turn around and shoot them. Tim was beginning to think of himself as filling the role of protector now, seeing as how both Tony and Ziva were still dead to the world, and he was the only one awake and aware of the situation.

Tony still sat at his desk, like Tim, but he looked much more relaxed, what with his feet propped up on his desk and his head lolling backward. His mouth was open and he was snoring, or at least Tim thought he was snoring. It was difficult to tell if it was Tony or Ziva, both of them were reported snorers. Thinking of the former assassin Tim's attention went to Ziva. She was sprawled on the floor, on her stomach and with her hands acting like a pillow for her head. Her dark hair had come loose from it's tight pony-tail, and for a moment Tim thought she looked like the old Ziva. But Tim knew that that Ziva didn't exist anymore, and any traces that emerged from time to time were overpowered by the lingering memories of Somalia.

"Well, Agent McGee, now that you've had time to assess the current situation, I think it's time to get down to business," The man said, and his words caused a fearful shiver to run down Tim's spine. "But first," the man continued, "I think it's time to wake your friends."

Tim's eyes widened unbelievably while he stared in horror as the the man turned to face his two sleeping friends and aimed his gun at Tony, then, with only one hand, pulled out another gun and aimed it at Ziva. Tim stared in sick fascination as the man prepared to shoot, and he discovered that it was impossible for him to look away. He waited apprehensively for what he knew was inevitable.

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Gibbs's car pulled to a screeching halt in the NCIS parking lot; he'd driven like Ziva would to get here, relying on only a gut feeling that told him to come here. It looked like the gut feeling had been right about where to come, too.

There were dozens of cars in the NCIS parking lot, even though it was after hours and very few people were ever there this late. Gibbs was out of his car in seconds, not even bothering to shut the door. He wanted -no- needed to know what was going on. On the way here he'd tried calling his team, and none of them had answered. Not DiNozzo. Not Ziva. Not even McGee had picked up his phone. Gibbs had then called Abby, just to make sure she was okay, and a disgruntled, half-asleep goth's voice had greeted him. It was a small comfort, knowing Abby was okay, but that still left the three members of the MCRT unaccounted for.

Gibbs strode over to a large group of people milling around one central car. He figured that whoever appeared to be in charge would be over there, and he was right. In the middle of the melee were Director Leon Vance and FBI agent Tobias Fornell. Neither man's appearance there surprised Gibbs, Vance being the director and the FBI being called in when government agents were the targets in a dangerous situation, but what did surprise Gibbs was the figure standing next to them.

Dr. Donald "Ducky" Mallard stood between Vance and Fornell, and he appeared to be giving them orders. Even in the midst of whatever situation he was in, Gibbs found that his friend still managed to make him smile.

"You must send a team in there, Director!" Ducky said to Vance.

"We don't know what's going on yet, Doctor, we can't risk-" Vance was cut off by the very same doctor he was addressing.

"But we do know what's going on in there! I've already told you what I-" Just then Ducky took in Gibbs' approaching form. "Jethro! Now that you've finally arrived we can start taking care of things like we should've done long ago," he gave pointed looks to Vance and Fornell, neither seemed to notice, or care.

"What 'things', Duck?" Gibbs asked.

Ducky looked to Vance and Fornell, challenging them to answer. For a moment no one spoke, but then Fornell stepped closer to Gibbs. The two men locked gazes, Fornell was the first to break contact, saying, "Your team's been taken hostage."

Gibbs had thought he'd prepared himself to hear something like this, but when the words reached him he still felt like a knife had penetrated his gut. He realized then that no matter how hardened you might be, you're still vulnerable.

Just then, before Gibbs could say anything, a young man wearing a navy blue jacket with "FBI" printed in yellow on the back scurried over to them. He was a scrawny boy, not much older than a college kid, but his voice didn't quaver when he addressed Fornell, "Sir, there's been a development."

"What?" Gibbs snapped before Fornell could say anything, fearing the worst. The kid looked at him quick, but thought better of replying directly to him.

He spoke to all four men when he reported this new "development", "The bugs we managed to plant within hearing range picked up on a noise."

"Well, what was it?" Gibbs was starting to get irritated, and, sensing this, the young man wasted no more time.

"The bugs picked up gunshots," he said, confirming Gibbs' suspicions. "We think someone might've been shot."

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So, read and review! The more reviews this story receives, the sooner I'll update!