Charcoal can't help but grin as he relishes the knowledge that the hard work is done; the fun is just beginning AND his list of accomplices is both short and clean. It's almost funny that both of the idiots from his neck of the woods back home thought they'd all three been answering to 'them'. He'd wanted it that way, but, what a joke! Apparently, they weren't as smart as he'd given them credit for or they would have figured out that this kind of agenda was intensely personal and not something the group as a whole would concern themselves with - or pay to have done. So personal, in fact, that every decision was his to make, something he rather enjoyed.

That is, until Dark Green had gone and made himself a loose end that needed to be taken care of. Such a shame, really. He hadn't wanted any of his help to get hurt; much less have to be disposed of. It's a relief that Black has been the smart one - and done what he was supposed to do - go back home where he could be tracked and reacquainted with this masterpiece if necessary, that he so willingly participated in, that he'll be a piece of cake to keep in line. Hell, it might even prove to be fun! His own little puppet; not to mention the guy's wife. She'll make a pretty puppet.

Speaking of pretty...he's still got one more target to pick up before the big fish can be reeled in. And since she's a feisty little fire-cracker but completely clueless as to how to properly defend herself against situations like this; she'll be easy pickin's. Unfortunately, the timing has to be perfect and that means waiting. Sighing impatiently, he sets those thoughts aside for now and returns his thoughts to savoring his victory so far- and being able to sit back and watch the drama as it unfolds - a silent spectator who'll enjoy every minute of it - because, after all, they have it coming after what they did.

He glances at the sight before him; waves of satisfaction rolling through him, making him almost drunk with pleasure. Even though he's not done yet - the hardest part - the trickiest part - has been pulled off without a single hitch. Taking a moment now, he slowly walks down the aisle, looking at each target - still unconscious, still clueless - still not going anywhere - looking like checkers on a very large checkerboard, six feet away from the next target across from them and-six feet between each set. Ah, the sweet smell of victory!

But it won't be much of a victory if something happens to one of them before he's through with them. With that mental reminder flashing in front of him, he deftly whips out what he needs to tend to the one his research and tracking has taught him, has medical issues that need looking after if he doesn't want this to go south. A careful prick, a double check and a carefully measured injection later and his worries are over on that score

Covertly getting to know them during the course of planning this has definitely worked in his favor or he never would have known to do that. Then again, it has obviously also worked in the recipient's favor, as well, right? After all, it's not his fault the moron didn't take better care of himself up to the point he'd become part of the plan, right? Maybe he'll thank Charcoal before this is over? Yeah, probably not. No matter. The show must go on. Speaking of...

He smiles knowingly even as he puts the kit away and once more, walks between the rows of his targets, this time, checking pockets for weapons and phones. The table that sits a good three feet behind the row of them closest to the wall soon becomes home to the array of both. He knows that there's no way any of them will be able to reach any of this but they'll be able to see the flashing of their phones when the calls begin to get missed. Another added bonus to this multi-layered plan that's going oh, so well.

With only one last thing to do, he sighs contentedly as he sets the lighting timer - wanting the room to be lit at just the right time and only for a short time - before the room will be plunged back into darkness so thick, there'll be no chance of seeing anything. The thought of those few minutes of light - where each target will be able to completely take in exactly what's become of not only themselves, but their team member, almost brings a wave of laughter to Charcoal - but he suppresses it into a Cheshire Cat grin that doesn't disappear.

"You were only after two of them and one of them wasn't even part of this plan."

The words of the now deceased idiot brings back the remainder of the plan in his head, while casting his eyes towards the one empty place ready for his next capture and the second one at the end of the row - as if in the place of prestige -for the big fish. Everything's set and waiting. Nothing more needs to be done here - until tomorrow, anyway. Walking to the door of the warehouse, he prepares to leave, satisfied that nothing will happen until morning, probably at first light - hah, not that they'll be able to see that.

Taking one last look over his shoulder, his ego inflates even further as his heart swells with the feeling he's finally fulfilling his promise of revenge - being served cold yet right on time. No; not revenge -vengeance!

Pulling the small medallion that he's never taken off since it had been given to him, five years ago, away from his neck, while holding the chain it's on - he kisses it and murmurs. "For you, my love."

*****NCIS*******

Saturday morning Sept 17, 2011

His movements slow and sluggish as consciousness begins to return, Tim feels weighed down everywhere as the fog begins to dissipate from his mind.. Even his eyes feel too warm and glued shut. Working at opening his eyes, he finds himself blinking repeatedly instead- or at least trying to, in an attempt to adjust to the darkness that's so real, he can feel it. A wave of anxiety grabs hold of him with a tenacity that alarms him as he tries to look around and sees nothing but inky darkness that's unrelenting and overpowering. Finally it hits him as his mind comprehends the physical textures of the weight on his head. The reason he can't open his eyes; the reason they feel too warm is because he's been blindfolded with - a thick, black, heavy fabric! Damn it to hell!

With that terrifying realization, the rational part of his brain abruptly awakens and immediately shifts into gear and begins to catalog the rest of his physical situation even as the impulsive side of his mind fills with disbelief before that changes over to confusion and uncertainty still wrapped in panic. How did he get here? Why? Who would do this to him? Tim struggles to keep calm, deliberately taking measured breaths and slowly letting them back out. Finding the sliver of silver lining, he mentally holds on to the relief that he's not gagged, though he can't help but wonder why.

Now his focus turns to why the rest of his body isn't cooperating with the commands to move. It's a demoralizing and dehumanizing moment when he realizes he's completely bound from his upper chest on down to his upper thighs with thick, heavy chains that seem as endless as they do heavy. Questions flood his mind amidst the plethora of emotions storming through. Who has taken him like this and why?

****NCIS****

Blinding light awakens Tony from behind his nearly glued eye lids. As if stuck in quick sand, he struggles to move both his arms and legs, only to come completely awake in shock, confusion and something else that sharply resembles fear. What the hell?

His eyes snap open, immediately slamming shut against the light that seems to be as bright as the morning sun should be. Trying again, Tony turns his head away from the overhead light and finds that now his eyes are beginning to focus. What they see would have dropped him to his knees - if he could have moved.

****NCIS****

Gibbs awakens to the peace and quiet of a morning without having to go in to work. As he gets up without worrying about the time, he showers and pours himself into his comfort clothes, sweatpants and a Marine sweatshirt. Padding barefoot down the stairs, he can't help but acknowledge the twinge in his gut that tells him all is not well.

Pouring his coffee, he mentally runs through what he knows of his team members' weekend plans that would possible get them into trouble. Realizing he's already gone through this - as he does every weekend they have off - he shuts off that thought process long enough to finish pouring his coffee and setting it down on the table while he goes out to retrieve the morning paper off his front porch.

Settling back down at the table, he opens the paper and peruses his favorite sections while savoring his coffee. Once he's done that, he's up to refill his coffee and his mind is back on why his gut is bothering him so. Tony hadn't mentioned any plans that sounded any alarms and neither had the others.

Not yet satisfied, Gibbs gives each of his team members a call; getting their voicemails. Glancing at the time, he realizes it's still too on a morning they don't have to go in to work. Its barely eight and he knows that in the case of McGee and DiNozzo, at least, that could very well mean they're still in bed. He doubts that Abby or Ziva are but he knows that any message left by him will be returned before too long.

He's barely closed his phone on the last call when it rings. With a twitch of worry he answers it quickly

"Yeah. Gibbs."

"Gibbs. Somebody wishes for you to spend the day with her." Mike's daughter-in-law, Leyla announces quietly. "Are you free today? I can not even get her to eat her breakfast because she wishes for you to eat with us."

"For Amira? Anytime I'm not working. You know that. I'll be right over."

"You are so good to us, Gibbs."

"You're family. Why wouldn't I be?" He replies without hesitation as he heads to the door.

"I will tell her. Maybe she will eat now." She laughs quietly.

"Tell her I said I won't take her to the park if she doesn't." He advises as he scoops up his keys and wallet off the side table by the front door.

"Ooh. Now, that will work!"

Opening his front door, he replies with a smile in his voice. "I'll be there in ten."

****NCIS****

Before Tony can even find his voice, one question screams through his mind. How the hell did this happen? How the hell did four of us wind up kidnapped and chained to support columns as big as barns completely out of reach of each other, yet near enough to see just how bad we each look?

"Anthony?" Ducky's shocked voice breaks through his muddled thoughts -from just six feet in front of him . It's obvious the good doctor is trying to process the truth of their predicament even as he attempts to ascertain the degree of possible injuries or problems they might be facing as well.

"Ducky! Are you hurt?" Tony's quick to ask as he carefully looks the elderly man over as much as he can from where he's at.

"Nothing a nice hot cup of Earl Grey Tea wouldn't fix, dear boy." The M.E.'s attempt to alleviate Tony's worry doesn't go unnoticed as the two of them look each other over. "However did we find ourselves here and bound in such a horrendous manner?"

"What's the last thing you remember?" Tony automatically falls to the first question often asked in cases like this - with other victims.

"Why, Mr. Palmer and I were rushing to assist that ...oh, dear. Mr. Palmer was right, wasn't he?" Ducky's eyes quickly look around. "Carelessly lured into a dreadful trap! Where is...?. Oh, dear! Jimmy!"

Turning his head to look in the direction the M.E.'s eyes have now locked, Tony's heart sinks.

****NCIS****

Shifting in the chair - what little of it Tim can do while bound this way, brings the two different brainwaves back together to a more painful comprehension about his predicament. Being six feet tall and confined to this way of sitting as well as having recently lost fifteen pounds with no more fat left on his body means every inch of the chain is pressing onto, not only tender flesh, but bone and sinew as well - causing him pain.

Every point of contact between the heavy chain and his skin seers with a burning throb that makes Tim's teeth clench. His body aches everywhere; even places he didn't know could feel pain. With his arms bound to his sides, his hands are uselessly dangling just below his upper thighs. His neck is incredibly painful and stiff, as well, where it's held his head at that uncomfortable angle for hours.

One more terrifying fact floods his mind: neither his degrees will be of any help to him now. It's not even clear if his experience earned on the job will be of any help to him now. Speaking of help; where is the rest of the team that had gone out to dinner with? Are they alright or are they in this same predicament? What the hell happened? Focus McGee!

What's the first thing we ask captive victims? Oh, right. What's the last thing they remember? Trying to think back on the last thing he remembers, Tim recalls feeling very sick after drinking half of his water down at the restaurant. He remembers running to the men's room in hopes of making it there before he lost his lunch. Nothing else comes to mind since his head is still hurting from the knock it took.

Wait. He'd been knocked out! He remembers now - and just before the lights went out, he saw...damn it, what was it he saw? God, it's cold in here! As he begins to shiver from the cold, Tim thinks back to leaving work and what he was wearing then. Mentally, he curses as he recalls that he's wearing only a thin button-up work shirt tucked inside his jeans with the standard socks and work shoes on his feet. A cold chill runs up his spine more when he feels the goose bumps on his skin as the cold air permeates the room.

Is this his destiny? Is he supposed to die from cold, chained to a chair and blindfolded for some reason he doesn't comprehend by someone he doesn't know and a reason he may never discover; if there even is one?

****NCIS****

Ducky's mind hammers on the horrible picture he's woken up to; himself and three of the younger people he cherishes bound in place where they stand,- each strapped to a three foot round ceiling-to-floor steel pole in several places in such a way that no escape is possible; their arms stretched up over their heads with no slack, each tied securely at a slightly different angle than their other arm - both with nautical rope - not just at the wrists where it would leave their fingers free to move - but across the fingers as well. The rope - in each place is a separate piece and is strapped and twisted tightly around the beam and tied securely to the thick chain held hooks at the top of each beam. The poles are spaced exactly six feet away from each other, with three on each side of the room - exactly six feet away.

What diabolical mind contrived this nightmare? For what purpose? And good heavens, why all of us?

*****NCIS*****

Abby awakens to a day of excitement as she quickly gets up, showers and dresses. Leaving out on a mission, she's soon at the mall, with countless stores to choose from for her new wardrobe she has to have for this class. A day of shopping. What could be better?

A day of shopping with a friend? With a sigh, she pulls out her phone and tries to call first Ziva and then McGee. When both calls go immediately to voicemail, she resigns herself to the fact that they're sleeping in, well, at least Tim is; and she's slated to do this solo.

No matter, she has a class to dress for and she must look her best. With that goal in mind, she puts her best foot forward and enters the mall, soon, lost in a sea of people, wandering from store to store, and waiting for something to catch her eye.

****NCIS****

"Mr. Palmer!" Ducky entreats his protégée to wake up, to no avail.

Tony discovers from where he's positioned, directly to the left of the pole next to him, he can't completely see the face of the Medical Assistant's. Seeing the younger man still not actively answering the M.E.'s call, worries Tony so he joins in the efforts to rouse him. "Hey! Palmer!"

Across from the younger man, bound to the beam next to Ducky, Ziva begins to come awake as the voices reverberate through the large room. Silently, she exchanges concerned glances with both Tony and Ducky, but still refrains from speaking even then. Instead, she takes the time to painstakingly inspect the room, as carefully as she can from her position; searching not only for clues, but also a way out.

Now, Tony's attention turns from helping Ducky to looking Ziva over before silently joining her efforts to case the place. He knows Ducky will keep up the efforts to wake Jimmy and that it won't be long before the youngest man here is finally awake. But, for now, the agents are multi-tasking; stubbornly re-searching while silently communicating with each other that indeed, there is no way out. They don't want to alarm either of the non - agents being held this way but Ducky is keen to their efforts and agenda; addressing it before they realize it's coming.

"Did you locate a way out?"

"There is no way." Tony mutters.

"Yes. However, it is completely... No, Ducky." She sighs. "I did not."

"What are you talking about, Zee?" Tony asks worriedly. It's not like her to hold something like an escape route back.

Silently, she nods in the direction of the back wall where she has detected the faint outline of the door that's otherwise completely camouflaged.

Before Tony can comment, Jimmy's head moves groggily, and his eyes open. Obviously, their voices have reached through his sleep-laden mind.

"Huh? What? Tony why are you waking me up? Today's Saturday." Jimmy asks tiredly as his eyes focus on the first person he sees.

"Mr. Palmer. Are you alright?" Ducky's voice coming from six diagonal feet away from him startles him.

"Doctor Mallard? Why...what's going on? Wait, why can't I move my...anything? What's going ON?"

"Jimmy, you need to calm down, alright?" Tony pushes with authority. "Freaking out isn't going to help, here."

"Oh, God!" Jimmy moans in protest as it hits him, the state he's in. Trying to calm his already labored breathing, he happens a glance at the others - his heart nearly stopping at the realization that they're all bound the way he is. "What the hell is going on here, Tony?"

"Wish I knew, Palmer. Let's everyone calm down. Let's take a sit rep, alright? Any injuries? Palmer, how's the sugar level?"

"I feel fine, Tony. Which, come to think of it, is wrong."

"What do you mean, Mr. Palmer? What do you recall from the events leading up to this that would lead you to say such a thing?"

"I was feeling dizzy...when we were in the alley... right before I blacked out... because I hadn't eaten in hours. But now, I feel fine?" Jimmy lets his head fall back just enough to touch the beam he's bound to. Closing his eyes, he sighs in frustration. "Without my insulin, how is that possible?"

"I hesitate to suggest such an act of kindness would have overcome whomever is behind this, but perhaps that is what happened. Do you feel anything that would clue you into what is possibly a fresh injection site?"

Now Jimmy focuses on mentally taking stock of his physical state, cataloging what he can notice and it's not long before he realizes the M.E. is right. "Actually, I do. Why would they do that?" The young man looks across to Ziva and then over at Tony; expecting them to answer his question. What he doesn't expect is the glance they share with each other while holding their silence in. He can see they know the answer but what scares him is their obvious reluctance to share that answer with him. That...can't be good.

****NCIS****

Almost as an after-thought, it hits Tim; the realization that his feet are not bound! His calves aren't either! Futilely he attempts to use his feet to feel out his surroundings in the area around the chair. Apparently, he's in the middle of an empty room of some sort because there's nothing there. Nothing that is, except the chain where it's been run down through the bottom rung of the chair he's sitting in. He's not going anywhere.

That little effort has worn him out, leaving him feeling winded since he hasn't eaten in hours and he's getting more chilled as time passes. He's very cold, very hungry and very pissed. But most of all, he's very scared. It's only a minute longer before his experienced gut grabs hold of his attention and reminds him of the biggest promise he can always count on. You belong to Gibbs! The man never leaves a man behind.

Allowing himself to put that on constant reply in his head, he feels himself calming down, little by little, despite the cold. The boss has never let him down yet. He knows he can count on him not doing it now. Boss will find me. Come to think of it, Tony and Ziva have never let him down when push came to shove, either. The team will find me. Never leave a man behind.

That's his mantra as exhaustion takes him away, his body shivering in the cold.

****NCIS****

"Okay, complete honesty! Now!" Tony directs to the other three for the sake of keeping them focused. He owes it to them; to Gibbs, to do what he can to get them through this- alive. "I wanna know what they did to you and how you're feelin'. Anything hurt or feels broken, I need to know. Focus. Even though we can't move much, we can each do a sit rep."

"Tony, I am fine. Nothing is broken. I believe we were drugged. Perhaps dosed with something further to keep us unconscious longer. It was not their intent to harm us beyond that." Ziva reassures him without hesitation.

"I agree with Ziva." Jimmy replies. "That is, about not being hurt, I mean. Even my ankle's been wrapped. I remember twisting it when I fell in the alley. But it feels like it's wrapped now and nothing else hurts, except maybe the back of my head?"

"I believe Ziva is correct, Anthony. Outside of a bump on the back of my head, I, too have no injuries."

"Yeah. Same here." Tony offers quietly. "Guess that cinches it. Ziva's right. Whatever's behind them - whoever 'them' is - their grabbing us...hasn't begun yet."

"What do you think they want with us?" Jimmy falteringly asks as worry and fear begin to set in.

From across the way, Ziva's voice quietly takes up the silence the young man's question has brought down on them.

"I have a better question. Where...is McGee?"