Tim's head was cloudy and his mouth and throat felt dry. He tried to open his eyes, but the eyelids were so heavy he could only open them to slits before they collapsed back down. Where am I? In his mind he tried to push through the haze and assess what he could of the situation. First, he recognized that his hands were bound above his head. His arms and shoulder sockets ached, likely from the weight of his body which pulled at them as he slumped forward. Second, he recognized that he couldn't open his mouth. Tape. Third, he recognized that he was seated in a chair and a rope was looped around his torso, tying him to it.

He slowly began running through his mind, trying to remember the last thing that had happened. He had gone home. Gibbs had said they had weekend duty. He was angry…he was angry at Abby and Ziva…but why? Kimberly. Kimberly was the reason. She had been there when he'd gotten home. She had been there and he had invited her in…then what? Then she had poured him a glass of wine. She said he looked tense and could use one. He'd practically downed the glass…he wanted to go to bed with her…and she had wanted to as well…hadn't she? Yes…they were in the middle of kissing and caressing…and…what? A noise? Yes, a noise behind him. He'd turned around to see a man…a fist coming at him. He ducked. He hit the man in the chest. He told Kimberly to run…get help. The bottle of wine was knocked over…shattered in pieces. His body was pushed against the bookcase…he grabbed books from it as ammunition and began throwing. Had he hit the man?

Tim's face felt sore. His head was throbbing and he felt a sticky, damp substance on the right of his forehead. He knew something must have gone wrong for him at some point in the evening considering he was here, bound and gagged, and not safe at home. The fight, though, began to growing hazy in his mind. He remembered that he had started to get woozy…then his head had been hit…or had hit something. Then it was all black.

As Tim replayed the events in his head his mind began to grow clearer. He recognized the situation he was in. Now what did he do? What time was it? Where was he? Why was he here? Was Kimberly safe?

"I think he's waking up," a voice said. The voice sounded so far away. "Should we begin?"

"No," another voice, this one nearer, countered. "Let him get his bearings. We'll need him fully alert."

"Bad news," a third voice interrupted. "It seems one of the other agents has discovered he is missing. They are already on their way to his apartment."

"Dammit!" the second voice cursed.

"I guess they saw the mess," the first voice suggested.

"You think?" the second voice retorted sarcastically. "Who knew the little geek was going to fight back? Are you sure you dropped the roofie in there?"

"Positive," the first voice replied with a tone that indicated the person did not appreciate being doubted.

"You careful not to leave behind any fingerprints, weren't you?" the second voice inquired.

"Yes," the first voice assured curtly, "I was very careful, just like you said." Pause. "So what do we do next? Should I go to the headquarters?" The voice sounded strangely familiar to Tim.

"You said the two women there seemed suspicious of you."

"They were, but I've got the other agent wrapped around my finger, I think." There was a pause as the three voices considered how to proceed. "They will be launching an investigation and we may not have as much time as we had hoped. If I can distract them long enough…"

"You'll go," the second voice agreed. "Drop her off a block away, Morris."

Tim finally pried his eyes open. Kimberly?


"Ziva, interview the neighbors and anyone who is at the front desk. Tony, start dusting for prints," Gibbs barked out when he entered the apartment of his missing team member. His other team members shot each other worried looks before scurrying off to carry out his orders. Gibbs knew they were worried. He too was worried for Tim, but they needed to get right to work on finding him. This wasn't the time to stand around and worry. Tim was counting on them.

Gibbs assessed the apartment. There were obvious signs of a struggle and, judging by the blood stain on the work table, at least one person had been injured. Gibbs silently hoped it was one of the assailants as he took a sample of the blood for Abby. He winced as he thought about her. She was likely asleep right now, unaware of what had happened. He knew he'd have to call her soon and have her get to work, running fingerprints and blood samples.

Gibbs looked at the open front door. It hadn't been kicked in, of that he was sure. Did Tim know his assailant or assailants? Had he let them in willingly? Possibly. It was equally possible that the assailants had picked the lock of the door. Gibbs crouched down beside the door. He pulled out his pocket flashlight and shone it into the door's lock. "The lock was picked," he affirmed.

"Ziva picked it, boss," Tony reminded him. "She had to get inside."

Gibbs shook his head as he examined the lock. "It's been picked twice. One time was with professional tools and one time was with something like a hairpin."

Tony shrugged. "Makes sense. Someone picked the lock and snuck up on McGee while he was asleep. He was pretty tired when he left the office," Tony pointed out. "I wouldn't be surprised if he crashed as soon as he got in."

"But if he had been subdued in his bedroom there would be a mess in there, not out here." The agents glanced in the bedroom for any sign that part of the struggle had taken place in there. It was almost pristine.

"So then he was in this area when they broke in? Wouldn't he have noticed them picking his lock?" Tony asked. He ran the situation through his head, trying to better understand what had happened. "Maybe he was in the bedroom or bathroom when they picked the lock and caught them in the act of…well, whatever it was they were doing."

"I don't think so, DiNozzo. If Tim had heard them out here he would have either armed himself with his gun before coming out or he would have called someone."

"Or both," Tony said. There were no bullet holes anywhere nor was there any sign of a gun having gone off, so it was unlikely that Tim was armed when he was attacked. As for calling for help, none of them had received a call from him, and there was no doubt that, if he was in trouble, they would be the ones he called. "So they picked the lock, and Tim didn't hear it, but he wasn't in the bedroom or bathroom when it happened. That must mean…" Tony trailed off, not quite sure what it meant.

"It means they picked the lock while he was gone. They were already here waiting when he got in." Gibbs pushed past Tony into Tim's bedroom. Nothing looked out of the ordinary. He opened the door into the bathroom. "Aha," he muttered, catching sight of a muddy shoe print on the ground. It was faint and only partial, but it was a start.

"Gibbs," Ziva called from the doorway between Tim's bedroom and the rest of his apartment, "I talked to the neighbors. The man who lives to the left of McGee has been out of town for the past two days. The woman who lives to the right claims she did not hear anything, but that she also did not get home until after 11:00pm."

"McGee must have gotten home at around 9:00pm or so," Tony chimed in, "so assuming the neighbor didn't just sleep through the struggle there's a likely two hour period during which this took place."

"The woman who lives across the hall claims she heard glass breaking at around 9:15pm or so, but did not think anything of it."

Gibbs nodded. "That sounds about right. If they were already waiting for him they would have attacked almost immediately after he got home. What about the front desk? Did they notice anyone suspicious come in?"

"The man said a little before 9:00pm a woman who he had not seen before came in alone, but he did not see her leave. The description he gave of her is very similar to the way Kimberly looks."

"McGee's new girlfriend?"

"Not that surprising, boss. She probably dropped by to see him. When they came in the men attacked. Maybe they threatened to hurt her if McGee didn't cooperate."

"Or perhaps she is not a victim," Ziva said coolly, her previous suspicions of Kimberly flaring up. "Do you not find it odd that after knowing each other for less than a week this woman has become so attached to McGee? Now McGee is missing and a woman fitting her description was seen here almost at the exact time it happened."

"Come off it, Ziva!" Tony insisted. "First of all, the door's lock was picked. Why would she have to pick the lock? McGee would have let her in. Hell, he may have already given her a key. Second, I don't think Kimberly has the strength to take on McGee. He may not be He-Man, but he'd have no problem taking on a woman who probably weighs less than 100 pounds."

"McGee is a gentleman, Tony. It is not in his nature to roughly handle women, even in defense. He would have hesitated, perhaps even have doubted himself."

"So then why the mess, Ziva?" Gibbs asked. "McGee fought someone here. This woman may be involved, but right now we have to harbor under the assumption that she is a victim, not a co-conspirator."

Ziva crossed her arms, obviously not in agreement with either of the men. Still, she nodded, willing to put away the proverbial pitchfork for the time being. She was just about to exit the bedroom when something caught her eye. She leaned in and examined.

"This window was opened recently." Both men turned to see Ziva standing near the bedroom window, studying it.

"How can you tell?" Tony asked.

"It was lightly snowing this evening and the inside of the window sill is wet along with the floor surrounding it."

Gibbs nodded in agreement. "Makes sense. They couldn't push him out the front door, especially not if he had been knocked unconscious. They dragged him out this way."

"Hard to imagine a slim woman dragging McGee out of a window, isn't it Ziva?" Tony commented, smiling in satisfaction as the woman glared at him. A head slap knocked the smile right off his face. "Sorry, boss."

Gibbs didn't have time for this petty rivalry between Tony and Ziva, especially not with Tim's life on the line. He gave Tony a level stare and jerked his thumb back toward the window. "Fingerprints."

"Yes, boss," Tony responded, quickly getting to work.

Ziva and Gibbs walked back into the main apartment area as Tony went about trying to lift fingerprints. Gibbs busied himself by bagging and tagging almost everything that looked like it may be evidence, including an almost empty wine glass, five text books that had been thrown to the ground, a screwdriver that was lying in the middle of the floor, and pages of Tim's next book that lay strewn about the floor.

Ziva had begun taking pictures. She could feel how tense everyone was, including Gibbs. It was different when it was someone you didn't know. You could concentrate on your job. When it was a friend, though, your mind would begin to wander as you imagined what horrible things must be happening. Though the man would never admit it, Ziva knew Gibbs was frightened for Tim's life and he was having trouble concentrating. "Are you afraid he is dead?"

"No," Gibbs said confidently. "If they were just interested in killing him they would have done it and left the body behind. They wouldn't have gone to all the trouble of sneaking him out of the building. They want something from him."

"The question is what."

"He's not only a federal agent, Ziva, but also a highly skilled computer expert. For all we know they want him to hack into the Pentagon."

Ziva was momentarily quiet. "If they do have the girl they will likely use her to make him cooperate."

"And if they don't have her?"

Ziva was again quiet. Her mind raced with images of interrogations she had done. Not the kind that she did for NCIS. These interrogations weren't quite legal, at least not in America. She knew how to cause pain so excruciating that the prisoner would pray for death. "If they do not have her...it will be a test of McGee's strength and endurance."


When she brought the fingerprints and blood down to the forensics lab, Ziva wasn't entirely surprised at the state Abby was in. Her face was completely free of make-up – no pale white foundation, no black eyeliner, no black lipstick – and completely tear stained. Her hair hung loosely around her face instead of in her trademark pigtails. "Abby…I have fingerprints and…blood," she told her, not wanting to even say the word.

Abby fled toward the other woman, grabbing her in a tight hug. "Ziva!" she sobbed out. "Tim…he's gone!"

"I know. Abby," Ziva replied, trying to stay calm.

"He's gone and we had that fight today…yesterday…" The woman was nearly hysterical. "Who would do this?"

Ziva pulled herself out of Abby's hug and gently took the Goth scientist's shoulders, holding her still. "I do not know yet. I understand you are upset, but if we are going to find him we need you to work on these. For McGee's sake," she added as an extra push.

Abby was still crying, but she nodded. "I-I know," she choked out. She gingerly took the fingerprints and blood. She placed the blood to the side, choosing instead to concentrate on the fingerprints. "Do you think…do you think she…?" Abby couldn't even finish the thought.

Ziva knew where she was going with it, though. "I do not know what to think. I do find it strange that she pops up so suddenly and now McGee is suddenly missing." Ziva wasn't sure if she should confide in Abby that a woman fitting Kimberly's description had been seen entering his apartment building that night. While she still had strong suspicions that the woman was up to no good, there was no sign so far that she had been involved in the abduction and Ziva did not like making accusations so liberally. Besides, Kimberly being at her new boyfriend's apartment did not mean she herself was guilty. If anything, it was possible she was a victim as well.

"Should we get in touch with her about the kidnapping? I mean, I still don't like her, but if Tim is in trouble and she really does like him, it would be only fair that she know, right?"

Ziva sighed. "She may already know, Abby. A woman fitting her description entered the building last night. At this point we are assuming that whatever McGee's abductors want they will use her to get it."

Abby's eyes flashed in anger. "Or she's a part of the plan!" she cried. "We should be tracking her down!"

"Abby, I do not disagree," Ziva assured her, "but we do not have evidence that this woman was involved in McGee's disappearance. We will most likely follow-up on her, but right now we must first figure out what we have proof of. If one of those fingerprints is Kimberly's perhaps she has a record."

"And if she does," Abby said, now defiant and certain that she would bring down the people responsible for this, "I will track her down! She will not be able to hide from me! I'm…I'm…" she paused, trying to think of the scariest and most ominous assassin name she could think of. "I'm…The Bloodsucker!"

For the first time since she had set foot inside Tim's apartment earlier that morning, Ziva found herself smiling. "I believe you, Abby. And I believe in you." The Mossad officer turned to leave, but was stopped by a small voice behind her.

"Ziva…do you honestly think we'll find him?" Abby asked, her confidence suddenly gone. "And don't lie. I can tell when you're lying."

Ziva chose her words carefully. "I believe we have the ability to pool our resources and find him." And she did. "I also believe that Tim is intelligent enough to keep himself alive until we do find him." What Ziva didn't express to Abby were her concerns of what condition Tim would be in when they did find him. That was something she simply didn't need to think about.


A harried, tearful woman burst through the doors of NCIS headquarters. Her coat was torn, her hair was a mess, and her face was pale and frightened. "Do you need help, ma'am?" one of the security guards asked, feeling almost foolish for doing so. Judging by the state she was in it was obvious she did need help.

The woman wiped her cheek with the back of her hand. "Y-yes…I need to speak to special agent Gibbs! Please!" When the guard didn't immediately move she grabbed his shirt. "It's an emergency!"

The man pulled the frantic woman off of him. "What is this pertaining to, ma'am?"

At that she nearly broke down crying. Her shoulders shook with sobs that wanted to come out. She ran a hand through her hair, pushing it back and off her face. "My boyfriend…he's been kidnapped! I think they're going to kill him!"