Disclaimer: These things are annoying, aren't they? One would think with certainty I don't own NCIS.

"Okay, so, it says the clue is in the letter." McGee tried to stay professional. "What does he mean by that? That the clue is in the text or that the letter is the clue?"

Tony had gained some semblance of calmness which had quickly started to wane after his contemplation of all the 'what-if' scenarios. What if he didn't make it in time? What if he pissed of the lunatic? What if the kidnapper killed her anyway just to live out some sick fantasy? What if she…died?

No. Get a grip, he firmly told himself. He couldn't think like that. If he did then he would probably have a complete nervous break-down. But trying to think rationally didn't come easily to him at the moment.

"I don't freaking know okay?!" he practically shouted. Abby cowered and McGee was struggling with his desire to take a small step back.

"Tony." Gibbs tried gently.

"No, okay? No. I do not know. I can barely stand up, let alone think straight." He felt the panic in his throat rise. "I don't have time to play Cluedo with this nutjob. All I want to do is find Ziva, fly her off to a remote island, kill this-this freaking sadist in the most unimaginably painful way and join her in the fortress I will build for her with dragons guarding it." He rambled.

Abby went to put her arms on his shoulders. "Tony. I know you are worried. We are all worried. But we need you right now. Ziva needs you. So take a deep zen breath" she imitated, "and tell us what you can deduct."

Tony ran fingers through his hair and let out a sigh. "I'm not Sherlock Holmes, Abby. I don't know how to deduct obvious facts from virtually invisible thin-." He suddenly clamped his mouth shut. Invisible. Of course! Why didn't he realize that sooner?

"Abby." He quickly turned on his heels. "You said the envelope was from parchment, right?"

"Yeah, that's right. Which is really weird, because I mean, who uses parchment these days? Especially for a letter. A bit pretentious don't you-" Tony raised his voice. "Abs!"

"Right, sorry." She quickly apologized. "What are you thinking?"

"Well, this psycho is obviously a movie fan, isn't he? So, it would make sense some of his clues are from movies. And the thing with the parchment reminds me of National Treasure."

"Ooh. I saw that one!" Abby exclaimed. "Oh I see. You're thinking the thing with the lemon, right?"

Tony winked. "Exactly."

Gibbs frowned. "What are you talking about?"

Tony explained. "Well, in the movie they discovered a hidden clue from the parchment when they smeared it with lemon juice and heated it. Thus, revealing the concealed text. I'm hoping that's the case here as well."

They all waited in anticipation whilst Abby was working on the letter. And behold, it worked, exposing 3 sentences.

Well done. I knew you could do it.

158 Queen Street.

Tony felt a bit woozy again. "That's my place." He whispered.

Abby gasped. McGee and Gibbs exchanged looks when Tony all of a sudden realized, he finally had a lead to chase down, storming off towards the elevator.

"Well what are you waiting for?" he yelled across the hallway.

Tony all but broke eight traffic laws, trying to get to his apartment, almost taking the door off its hinges while he burst in, gun drawn.

He took in his living space, but everything was normal.

"Well?" Gibbs and McGee followed.

Tony went to the other rooms. "I don't…I don't know. Everything seems the same as when I left this morning."

"She's not here." Tony let out a frustrated sigh.

"Well, he sent us here for a reason. There must be something here. Another clue, perhaps." Gibbs tried to stay level-headed.

"What if she's dead, guys?" he whispered with his back on them. "What if this is just a wild goose chase we're on and it's already too late? That it has been too late this whole time?" His thoughts were once again spiraling out of control. He went down to sit on the couch because this was becoming all too much for him to handle sanely.

Gibbs came beside him and put a hand on his shoulder while McGee tried to look everything over once again. "Tony. You can't think like that." He sighed. "If you think she's already gone, then you won't be able to give your everything. And the possibility of her being alive is still there. Therefore, she needs your faith, Tony."

Tony leaned back on his sofa that he had shared with Ziva countless of nights and closed his eyes. He knew his boss was right, but it was just really hard for him to do. Worst case scenarios were spinning around his head, providing his mind with the most horrible images his tortured mind could come up with. He knew he should be able to put that aside and bring out the federal agent side in him, but when the one person you loved more than your own life was possibly dead, then being able to do that was a bit problematical.

But for once, he needed to stop thinking about himself and his problems, and solely focus on Ziva. It was time to be cold and calculating, showing this deranged manic that you don't simply wreck Tony DiNozzo's whole life and get away with it without dire consequences.

Tony gave himself a moment and opened his eyes. He was about to get up to do another sweep of the apartment when he saw a light on his DVD player blinking. He bent down to make out what it was showing and saw that it had a movie in it. He took his remote and turned on his TV.

"What is it?" Gibbs and McGee wondered.

"It's the player. It has a DVD in it, but I took it out last night when we finished watching The Usual Suspects with Ziva." He frowned and pressed play.

Ziva woke up somewhere dark. Her head was pounding and she could feel herself lying flat on something cold and hard. She tried to move but her hands were bound together with rope.

She tried to calm down her erratic breathing and think of the last thing she remembered. She could recall leaving Tony's place around 12 but she doesn't think she got to her apartment before someone stabbed her with something sharp to knock her out. Probably an injection of some kind. Her head still felt fuzzy and buzzing from just waking up.

If only she could get her hands free. She wished to God, she still had her knife in the inner small pocket of her jeans, hoping her attacker was too dumb to rid her of things. Ziva tried to grope her back pockets and feel the knife's existence. Her wrists hurt from having been twisted in such an unnatural way, but luckily, the sharp object was still present. She grabbed the knife with her fingertips and started cutting away at the rope. It probably would have been difficult for anyone else, but her years in Mossad, had taught her to resist pain and assess the situation.

The rope finally gave way and she was able to rid her rists of it. She soothed her wrists when she suddenly realized that if her attacker didn't take the knife, her phone might also be still with her.

She went through her pockets and felt a surge of hope going through her, but she could feel it was completely smashed to pieces. Guess her attacker had enough smarts to cut her off from communication.

Her head started to clear up a bit and she decided to start groping around when all of a sudden, she became aware of the fact that she hardly had enough room to move. She tried to sit up but she could barely lift her head. She could move to the sides only a bit and there was not nearly enough room above her head.

That is when she was finally able to take in the situation.

She was buried.

Dun dun.

So, this story is actually going in a different way than I had originally imagined, but I hope you still like it.

Thanks again for the reviews and follows :)