A/N: Glad you're all enjoying this and once again thanks for the excellent reviews I'm getting.



Slowly, Gibbs came back to awareness, someone beating an excruciating beat on the inside of his skull just behind his bloodshot eyes. He carefully opened his eyes and was pleased to find the room he was being held in was immersed in almost complete blackness. The marine was still taking shallow, rasping breaths but the pain in his ribs had partially subsided, only to be replaced by a gnawing ache in his knees. He placed his free hand – the one not rubbing his bruised legs, trying to relieve the niggling ache – palm down on the ground beside him. He had intended to push himself up to sit straight-backed against the wall but there was something other than the concrete floor underneath his hand. Investigating further, he found that it was a small rectangular object which felt surprisingly like...

My cell!

If the thought of a sudden expulsion of air from his injured lungs was not so painful, Gibbs would have shouted in triumph. As it was, he flipped it open and pressed '1'. His relief was short-lived however as the screen failed to light up. He swore under his breath.

Just my luck to run out of battery at the only time I actually want to make a call!

He was sorely tempted to throw the damn thing at the door: the only thing that saved it was the knowledge that it contained a GPS tracker, which would aid his team in finding him – if they remembered in their frantic search.

Gibbs shoved the run-down phone into his pocket in case Smith moved him again then let his head slump forward, coming to rest against his chest. He was dog-tired, his head hurt like hell and each breath he took sent ripples of pain through him. His knees ached from the repeated abuse they had suffered throughout the years. Even the old scar from where Ari had shot him ached – either from the cold concrete behind him or because of fresh injury: he could not tell.

Well, I'm certainly not getting any younger. If I was as young as DiNozzo, I would've been able to take out Smith in the parking lot. Maybe I should retire...again...

Smith interrupted his musings as he thumped open the door, a gun in one hand, a phone in the other. He stepped into the room and pushed the door closed – it had to be locked on the outside and he was not planning on letting Gibbs go anytime soon. He took another step towards Gibbs and dialled a number into the phone. "Shall we see what your director is willing to do in exchange for you, Leroy?"


For a moment the room was silent - the NCIS agents who were standing in their director's office having just watched their fellow agent being shot - then it was broken by the director's phone ringing. She stretched over to reach it and picked it up, "Yes, Cynthia?"

"There's an Allen Smith on the phone for you – he says he has information vital to the search for Special Agent Gibbs."

"Get Special Agent McGee to start running a trace then, when he's started, put Smith through." Tony and Abby straightened at the name and looked questioningly at Shepard who ignored them. There was a click as the call was transferred through to her line and she heard breathing on the other end. "Director Shepard?"

"Smith." Jenny growled, placing the phone on speaker.

"I hope you're not losing hope of finding your agent – it's more fun when someone's chasing you."

"What do you want, Smith?" She asked through gritted teeth.

"What do I want? I want my brother back. We all know he didn't kill that Petty Officer but your Agent Gibbs planted evidence to incriminate him." Jenny did not know whether the man was having a mental breakdown or seriously believed his brother was still alive. "Your brother is dead. I investigated the case with Agent Gibbs – it was an open and shut case."

"NO! My brother died in prison for something he didn't do, and now someone you love is going to pay. Gibbs being such an easy target is just an added bonus." Tony was distracted by his phone vibrating and he looked at the screen – it was a text from McGee. 'Trace difficult. Signal v. poor. Keep on phone'

"...One problem with this plan of yours." There was a muffled groan in the background and a loud exclamation on Smith's end. 'Shut up!'Jenny swallowed nervously – whatever it was Smith had done to Gibbs it was bad.

"And what's that?"

"What have you done to him?"

"What is the problem with my plan?" Smith sounded angry that anyone could doubt his highly thought out plan. Swallowing her concern for Gibbs' welfare, Jenny answered, "I...I don't love him anymore." Tony raised his eyebrows but remained silent. "You can't use him as a negotiating tool against me... I don't love him."

"Really? You seemed pretty attached to him when he was interviewing my brother." Smith accused. Jenny's mind flashed back to the interrogation eight years previously.


Jethro is leaning over Thomas Smith, his hands planted firmly on the desk, 'Why'd you kill Petty Officer Carnell and his wife? Was it jealousy? Revenge? Love?' Jethro punctuates each motive by slamming his palm on the desk, inches from Smith's manacled wrists. He's pushing him but I daren't interrupt the interrogation – I did once and have never since. 'I'm telling you I didn't kill them! I don't know what you're talking about! Where's my lawyer?' Smith is still insisting he didn't kill them but I don't believe him: we found his blood at the scene, his fingerprints on the door and in the house and most importantly we found them on the murder weapon. 'You'll get your lawyer once you tell me why you killed them.' This is why I love Jethro – he's not afraid to bend the rules...Okay break the rules, but he's just getting the job done. 'I didn't kill them!' Smith shouts, slamming his fists on the table. Ha! Jethro's getting to him now. He'll break soon enough. 'We found your fingerprints on the murder weapon, your blood at the scene and you expect us to believe you didn't kill them?'

'That's not possible!' Smith stands up, only to be forced back into his chair by Jethro. 'I don't even know who Petty Officer Carnell is. Why would I kill them?'

'I asked you that, didn't I. You're the murderer, not me!' I can't believe Jethro's taunting this man, this monster – he bludgeoned two people to death with a crowbar and Jethro's goading him. 'I'm telling you—' Ooh Jethro's going for the photos. He lays them on the table in front of Smith – the mutilated remains of the couple and their driving licence photos – before and after pictures, classic Jethro.

Suddenly Smith erupts from his chair, sending it clattering back against the wall and taking Jethro by surprise – not an easy thing to do to a Marine. I'm still standing in the viewing room and I watch as Smith charges at Jethro, pinning him against the wall. It's only been a few months since his last encounter with an angry suspect (and the tail end of a very heavy oar) and I see him grimacing as he slams into the wall. I don't know if I should intervene or let Jethro fight his own battle, but as Smith swings the discarded chair at him, I change my mind and rush from the room. I hear Jethro shout at Smith to stop just as I reach the door and try the handle. It won't turn. God damn it! Why won't it turn? I try barging it with my shoulder. There's a final cry of pain from the other side and then a thump as a body hits the floor. I ram the door again and find myself stumbling into the room. Something grabs my wrist and stops me from falling flat on my face and embarrassing myself. I turn around and look at my rescuer's bloodied face. 'Jethro, are you alright?' I ask, placing a palm on his cheek and producing a tissue to wipe the blood running from his nose. 'I'm fine Jen.' I can't help but laugh at his mumble and place an arm around his middle, gently pulling him closer. 'Ow! Watch my ribs, Jen!' I laugh again and kiss his cheek, then release him to look down at


"That was eight years ago, Smith, I've changed...He's changed."

"He's still a stubborn bastard—"

"Some things never change, but I don't love him anymore." On the other end there was a rustling and the sound of a metal latch being undone, then, "Well, well, Special Agent Gibbs, it looks like you're going to be here for a while longer. Your director certainly doesn't seem in any hurry to rescue you." The NCIS agents listening heard the sound of a fist hitting flesh and then Smith's voice again. "Why don't you tell him what you told me? What's the problem with my plan? Oh and we're on speaker now by the way – what do you think I'll do if you lie?"

"Jen?" Gibbs' voice was weak and Tony could have sworn he heard fear in it as well as the layers of pain. "I'm sorry Jethro..."

"The problem, director." Smith insisted.

"The plan won't work because...because..." Tony looked meaningfully at Shepard, trying to communicate his thoughts.

She's not seriously going to admit she doesn't love him. It'll break him. He'll give up. I know he's not one to give up but this might just make him.

She ignored his warning look, "...Because I...I don't—"

"Boss, do not give up! We're going to find you." Tony interrupted, terminating the call as soon as he finished speaking. Shepard stood in stunned silence, her face slowly turning a deep shade of red. "What the HELL did you just do Agent DiNozzo!"

"With all due respect, ma'am, if you allow Smith's taunts to affect you, Gibbs has no hope." Despite the red-faced director standing a foot from him, Tony managed to keep his voice in check, only lowering it to comment further. "Gibbs may be a very private man, Director Shepard, but I know what it would do to him if he heard that." He stalked to the door, closely followed by a half scowling, half crying Abby, then turned around. "And if that's how you really feel, then you should tell him...after we get him back and after he's recovered fully. Do you understand...ma'am?" Jenny was too shocked to reply and merely nodded sheepishly to the junior agent as he left.


A/N: So by now you should know what I'm going to say, but I'm going to do it anyway xD

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