Waking up was slow and painful. It reminded him of all the times he'd been kidnapped in the past, including his dream world. He knew he had a concussion the moment he tried opening his eyes. There was a very loud drum band in his head playing 'Jingle bells '. At least that's what it reminded him of. A happy tune not fit for his clearly serious situation, or maybe that was just the concussion talking.

Trying his best to not groan as he finally succeeded opening his eyes, he tried covering them with his arms from the too bright light, but once again he'd been tied up. At least this time he was sitting on a chair. There were no lights on inside the room, but the bright evening sun coming from the window was already more than he could handle. For a moment he felt nausea threatening to overwhelm him and he figured at least being tied up kept him from moving too much, which would probably make that feeling even worse.

He knew he had screwed up. He knew it from the moment he'd seen those two agents dead.

- FLASHBACK -

Dialing the number by memory, Tony waited for Gibbs to pick up the phone. Clearly the man was still sleeping since it felt like forever before a gruff voice finally spoke to him.

"Gibbs."

He was about to start talking when he felt something pressed against his back. Someone held out a hand from behind him and he didn't even need to be told what he had to do. With the handgun pressed against him harder, he handed over the phone.

After he knew the call had been cut off and he felt the gun wasn't pressed against his back anymore, Tony was about to twist around and take the risk of getting shot by attacking the person behind him, but before he even took his second breath he felt someone pushing him forward and toward the asphalt. He barely even felt the pain when his head connected with the hard ground. Several more hits against his head and he felt himself slipping away in the darkness. He could barely see a tall emotionless man towering over him.

Forcing himself to ignore the splitting headache, Tony kept his eyes open as he looked around the room. Wood furniture everywhere... The whole building seemed to be made of wood, which was something Gibbs would probably approve... From the window he could barely see sparkling water and trees. Lots of trees. A cabin. That's what this place looked like. He could almost bet there was no other people anywhere near. No one would hear him.

He didn't need to see it to know that he didn't have his belongings with him anymore. Hello, phone number four... That is if I'll even make it back in one piece, he mused, remembering those two bodies in the bathroom and that unfinished chopping work someone had started on them. Remembering the bodies, Tony couldn't help but wonder in what way he was going to be killed. He wasn't going to die without a fight, but staying alive might not be an option either. By the time Gibbs and company would find him, he could be dead already.

'That's not an option. You hear me? You will not die. That's an order, DiNozzo!' He heard the voice of the old Marine in his head, almost as if the man had been standing right next to him and without even noticing it, his whole posture changed into more relaxed.

"Wow, boss... No matter what, I can't get away from you, can I? Be it in dreams, real life or my own head. I have two words for you; personal space."

'You got that right, DiNozzo. Now focus. You better be still alive and breathing on your own by the time we find you.'

"Trying, boss... The concussion and being tied up again makes things just a little bit harder you know..."

'You'll do fine. And keep your mouth shut.'

Grinning, Tony answered to the imaginary Gibbs, "You know that's not possible." He could almost swear he heard a snort.

Looking around the living room—slash kitchen—Tony tried to listen if he was alone. He got his answer when the door to the outside opened. His whole mind went into full alert mode and soon enough Thomas Harris stepped inside, carrying a couple of shopping bags with him that said, 'Walmart '. Well, that wasn't going to help him figure out where he was.

"Did you sleep well, Agent DiNozzo?" Harris put the lights on in the room.

Flinching involuntarily at the added bright light, Tony flashed a smile, hoping it didn't look more like a grimace. "It's Detective DiNozzo. I could use a little fluffing of the pillow and my bed feels awfully uncomfortable. Not that I'm complaining of course. Just something to remember for future guests."

"You're a funny man, DiNozzo." Harris laughed.

"You know, you seem to be in awfully good mood today, Thomas. Your stepfather I can understand since he hurt your mother, or so the two of you have told people. However, with your mother dead, I thought I'd be seeing little tears and lots of anger and some anguish thrown in. You know, to make things look slightly more genuine."

The smile slipped off for a moment before Harris was back into laughing. Putting away the food from the bags, he sat down to eat some pie leftovers. While eating, he looked up to Tony and held out his plate. "Hungry?"

Remembering his dream and the unfinished pie in the dead agents car, Tony nearly shuddered. "No thank you. I'm good. You seem to be having a thing for pies. Is that why you poisoned those two with one?"

Harris had a crooked smile on his face when he looked up from his pie, which he set down on the table. He was looking almost pleased. "You're good. I'll give you that. But even you don't know everything."

"It was you wasn't it? Following me and Agent Gibbs with that car back then. Who was in the other car that hit us? And it was you last night also, wasn't it? Trying to drive the car over me." Since that gave him neither answers nor a reaction, Tony of course had to test his 'luck' a little further. Because as usual, he apparently had a death wish of some sort. "Why did you kill your mother? She didn't hug you enough when you were a kid?"

The look on the young man's face darkened at Tony's question. "No, she did not hug me when I was a kid. Spoiled brat from a rich family, as you are, would not know the pain I went through. The moment she remarried into that wealthy family, I was forgotten and handed over to the relatives to look after. Eventually even they forgot my existence. I actually wanted back the hell of life I was living in before, just to get her attention. That woman only got what she was asking for."

"I can see you've done a little background search on me..." Most of which was pretty much complete hit and miss. "Tell me something. Your stepfather. He wasn't really the violent type, was he? Sure, with him being a former Marine he might have had some violent flashbacks, but that's not it. Why did you kill him? Them. Why did you kill them, Thomas?" It was getting harder for Tony to ignore the growing headache and nausea. The smell of a pie certainly didn't help.

Harris acted as if he hadn't heard him while he finished eating his pie.

"Your love for pies... Your mom ever made you pies?" Seeing how he was starting to get under the man's skin, Tony kept talking, "She did, didn't she? Was it her way of showing her love? The only motherly act?"

"She never made those pies for me! It was for that filthy little thing!" Harris threw the plate against the wall, breaking it into pieces.

"Your brother. Charles Miller. Age 10. He went missing a year ago on his birthday. Everyone thinks he is dead, but the body was never found. Is he still alive or did you make your mother think he is? Is that why she took the blame? Agreed to confess your stepfather's murder in order to keep your brother safe."

"He's no brother of mine! That little vermin only had to ask once and he'd have her whole attention!" Harris was shouting and then he started whining in a child like voice, "Mommy, I want to see a movie! Mommy, read me a bedtime story! Mommy, I want you to make me a pie for my birthday!" Harris looked furious and he was back to shouting in his own voice, "Mommy, mommy, mommy! That miserable little creature!"

It was always shocking to see just how much hate some people felt toward the innocent, and more often than not, it went back all the way to the parents or someone having the role of a parent.

"He's just a child, Thomas, and your mother was sick, mentally. She couldn't afford the help she started getting only after she met your stepfather. I looked it up. Those private doctors with their happy drugs are very expensive. It was only when your brother went missing that she started having more break downs and hurting herself in the progress."

"He's only half!" Narrowing his eyes, Harris calmed down. Walking in front of his captive, he put his hands on Tony's shoulders and leaning close enough so that Tony could smell the pie from his breath. Cherry pie. He wouldn't be eating that for a while. Harris held Tony's face gently between his hands as he spoke almost softly, "You are very good, Detective DiNozzo. You almost got me. But even you don't know everything... In fact, you don't know anything at all."

Tony wasn't fast enough to realize what was happening when he suddenly found himself unable to breathe. With strong hands choking him, all he could see was the man with crazy gleam in his eyes. "As far... as your family goes... Your mother... wasn't the... crazy one... You... You are..." The hands around his windpipe got stronger and angrier. He really had a problem with his mouth sometimes... The moment Tony was sure he was about to pass out from the lack of oxygen, he felt the grip loosening. The buzzing in his ears nearly blocked it out, but after gasping for the much needed air back in his lungs for a while, he heard someone talking.

"...bodies. Can't be helped then. Good work, Richard. It'll keep them busy for a while."

Squinting his eyes and looking up, he saw Harris and with him that tall man with no emotions. Richard, as Norma Miller had called him back then.

"Look Richard. Our guest is back with us now. How are you doing, sweetheart?" Harris' voice was mocking. Richard on the other hand was still yet to show any kind of emotions on his face. "Are you thirsty? Want some air?" Laughing at his own joke, Harris walked back to him.

For a moment Tony was afraid the choking would happen again when Harris took hold of his head and then chin. Instead he felt cold water filling his mouth. As much as he hated himself for his pathetic reaction, he drank the water greedily as if he hadn't had any for days. As much as his throat hurt, the fresh water was almost heavenly. The glass was gone too soon.

"Enough. We don't want to be dealing with your bathroom breaks already, do we?"

Raising his eyebrow, Tony was handling the situation in his usual foolish way. By opening his mouth. He barely got any real sound out and it hurt to talk. "You know... You're not very... guest friendly..."

Laughing, Harris leaned forward. "I really do like you, DiNozzo. It's a shame we couldn't have been friends. Maybe in another life."

"No one would... want... to be friends wi... with a... madman."

"Don't call me that!" Harris exploded and hit his hands against the table, making Tony flinch at the sudden loud noise. Then the man laughed. "Got ya! Nice try, but you can only try that little trick once. Look after him, Richard. I'll go see if this place has a TV or a radio." He left and soon Tony heard things crashing on the floor and against walls as the man went through the things in the house. Clearly he wasn't the only one first time in this place.

Turning his head toward Richard, Tony was surprised by how close the man had gotten suddenly, without making any sound. Back in that cave it had been a little hard to be sure what the man looked like, but now he could easily see the black suit the man was wearing and he was pretty sure it was covered in blood. He could also barely see the white sleeve of the shirt under it. If that red against the white wasn't blood, then he really wasn't fit for the work he was doing. Stone faced, the man just looked at him as if he could see right through his head. The haircut... Well, at least the haircut was a big give away.

"You're a... Marine?" He wasn't surprised when he got no answer so he opted trying to see which one of them would win the staring contest. With the concussion it was no easy battle.

By the time Harris returned in the room, carrying a small TV with him, he found the two men just staring at each other and barely blinking their eyes. He bursted into laughter. "Oh, you are just killing me here!"

Hours of a normal car drive away, Gibbs was biting people's heads off. "Go back and search the apartment again! Everyone makes mistakes! There must be something we missed! No one cleans up a crime scene that well!"

"But this guy did... Other than the bathroom, there are no signs of anyone ever having lived there..."

Already at very explosive mood, Gibbs answered his ringing phone, "What..!? I'm on my way!" Not listening to what else the other person had to say, he ended the call and stormed in the elevator. Another Agent who was already in there, jumped out before the elevator doors closed, taking the stairs instead.

"Man... I've seen Gibbs during his worst days, but this takes it to a whole new level..."

"I heard he made some guy in the gym cry and beat up another."

"Really? I heard he killed our new vending machine."

"I heard from a friend that his father—a Marine—used to work with him. He told me there are rumors how he hunted down some guy in Mexico and shot him dead. They say he left no evidence..."

Director Tom Morrow stood, watching down at the bullpen, displeased at the loud whispers and obvious gossiping going on. Already having had to deal with Gibbs personally, he was in a very bad mood himself. "Are we in high school!? Get back to work!"

For a moment there was a complete silence in the room, until someone dropped a pen on the desk.

"Perfect. Now we've got another dragon to deal with..." someone whispered it quietly and there was a sound of very quiet laughter to be heard over the sounds of working.

With a sigh, Morrow returned in his office. He had to make a phone call, which he'd been hoping he would not have to make. After all the trouble Gibbs had made him and other people go through in order to bring the young Detective here, now he'd have to explain to DiNozzo's people how it was possible that they lost the man in the hands of a possible murderer.

Gibbs stormed inside the lab. "What do you have for me, Abbs?"

"I'm not talking to you until you apologize for yelling at me, Gibbs." Abby was pouting.

"Abby!"

"Sorry. It's nothing much really. Our agents were poisoned, which we already knew."

"But?"

"But it's hard to get kind of poison. You don't just walk into some store and buy it. You have to buy it straight from the people making it. Hardly legal, but they sell it usually behind some different fancy names."

"Abby!" Gibbs wasn't feeling too happy right now, but since it was Abby, he hadn't verbally attacked her as he'd done to everyone else. He had even been yelling a few chosen words to Ducky, who had calmly responded with his own when he went too far.

"These are a couple of known places close enough where you can buy it from." She gave a piece of paper with the information on it to Gibbs, who stormed off with a, 'thank you, Abbs '. "You owe me weeks worth of Caf-Pow, Tony..." she muttered.

It was only hours later, while sitting in a car, when Gibbs finally took a few long breaths to calm himself down. It hadn't even been a full day, yet it felt weeks long. They weren't getting anywhere with this case. They knew how the victims had been killed and so on. They even had identified the unknown man as the missing owner of the apartment. The apartment had no fingerprints, not anything. There was no way to prove the murders were done by Thomas Harris. It was frustratingly obvious that the man was guilty, yet other than the bodies in the apartment, which wasn't even his, there was no other actual evidence against him.

The time was running out. He could feel it in his gut.

Putting away the paper, which Abby gave him, Gibbs took out another. After looking through it for a moment, he started the engine. It was time to pay another visit to the family members. All of them.

Moving slowly, Tony tried to stand up again. He knew he would be easy to find. He hadn't stopped bleeding and the bloodloss was starting to take its toll on him.

'Stand up, DiNozzo,' the voice of Gibbs inside his head was commanding and, gnashing his teeth together, Tony got back on his feet. It was slow and agonizing step by step walk. 'Attaboy, Tony. Forget the pain. Let it come later. You don't have time to rest. Keep moving. Don't close your eyes. If you fall asleep, all is lost.'

Opening his eyes, Tony let out a shuddering sigh. "On it... boss..."

'Keep moving. That's an order. You hear me, DiNozzo?'

"I... hear ya... boss... Lo... Loud and... clear..."

Holding his hand as tight as he could against his bleeding shoulder, he suddenly felt eyes on him. Turning around slowly he froze, seeing the man standing there only a few long steps away from him. Just staring at him with that blank expression, covered in blood from head to toe and holding a kitchen knife. "Richard... You're still... alive... I see... Good for... you... Hard to... kill..."

Tony saw the man jumping forward and not a moment later he felt the fight leave his body as his feet refused to carry him any farther.