Gibbs stood dead still, weighing his options. As if you have any options. Not with him holding that gun so steadily against Tony's forehead. Gibbs suddenly wished for a nightmare. Tony's shrieking was enough to unsettle anyone—and it would provide a perfect distraction.

But Tony simply slept, completely unaware of the danger he was in.

Gibbs put his gun on the floor and looked back up at Fordham, noting the man wasn't even the least bit nervous. Is he on something? Is he part of the drug scam?

"Your cell phone and knives, too," Fordham said, gesturing with his free hand to the blades at Gibbs' waist and ankle.

Gibbs removed the phone and knives, and placed them next to his gun, wishing he had bothered to strap on a third. He hadn't, simply because he wasn't expecting to run into trouble while watching Tony sleep. Only you, DiNozzo, he thought fondly, even as fear nagged away at the back of his mind like his third ex-wife.

"So what's the plan?" Gibbs asked mildly, holding his hands up in submission. "You would have shot us by now if that was your intention."

"Can't," Fordham said. "I need you two."

Gibbs waited for him to continue, but the captain simply pushed the gun harder against Tony's head and barked the agent's name. Gibbs felt his fury shoot through the roof as DiNozzo came awake in a second, his eyes wide and panicked as he registered the gun in his face. "What the fuck?"

"Shut up," Fordham hissed, jabbing the barrel into Tony's cheek hard enough to make him flinch.

Gibbs almost wished the captain would draw back and hit him with it—at least it would give Gibbs a chance to tackle him. But Gibbs couldn't move. Not with the gun barrel never leaving Tony's shocked face. He saw DiNozzo's mouth open and then clamp shut, his eyes sliding to meet Gibbs'.

I'm so sorry, Tony. Just hang in there. I'll get us out of this.

I'll get you out of this.

Gibbs blinked as DiNozzo's eyes hardened, as if he had read his thoughts.

But DiNozzo just looked back up at the captain. "Wow, probably should have seen this coming," he said calmly. Gibbs was amazed at the transformation. His agent had gone from blinking sleep from terror-filled eyes to smooth and glib in a few racing heartbeats. "You knew about my nightmares. Hell, I flat out told you about them, el capitan. I should have recognized your voice. The authority in it when you ordered them to hold me down. Right in this very room. You know, I'm thinking of a movie right now, but the title escapes me. Can't imagine why I'm not exactly thinking straight. But I'll give you the plot. It's one where—"

Fordham cut him off with a swift backhand, his knuckles connecting with DiNozzo's mouth with a sharp smack. Gibbs was watching, waiting, but he didn't move since the gun never wavered from Tony's head.

"I said shut up," Fordham hissed.

DiNozzo just smiled, showing off the blood on his teeth. " 'Thank you sir may I have another'?" he said, his words short and staccato as gunfire. "That one's 'Animal House,' in case anyone's keeping score."

Fordham looked as if he wanted to oblige him, but he didn't. "Get up," he said coldly.

DiNozzo didn't move except to slowly stretch his arms up and tuck his hands under his head in one long, lazy movement unhindered by the bulky cast. "And if I refuse?" he asked, still smiling but with a new, shiny-sharp edge to his tone.

Fordham's free hand disappeared into his pocket and returned quickly, the crisp snap of the switchblade popping open an inch from Tony's face. DiNozzo stifled a gasp—and the screaming in his head—and simply kept smiling. His voice never wavered. "Is that supposed to be scarier than the gun? Because if I had to choose a way to kill someone, I'd go with the bullet. Simpler, usually neater. Depending on the blowback, though, 'cause that can get messy. Blood and brain tend to fly and I'd hate for you to ruin that nice captain's uniform for little ol' me."

"Shut. Up." Fordham looked shocked at the lack of fear in Tony's voice. Hell, Gibbs was even a little surprised that DiNozzo managed to sound so calm with his eyes glued to that blade.

"I thought you wanted me to get up?" Tony asked casually. "Which is it?"

Gibbs could see Fordham's hand start to shake, and he silently told DiNozzo to can it. He'd made his point. Gibbs' heart clenched tighter as Fordham moved the blade to rest against Tony's left wrist, still tucked under his head, the scarred skin presenting vulnerable veins to his tormentor. Gibbs watched Tony's eyes shut for a moment, watched his breathing still, and knew the agent was waging a fierce battle against what had to be nearly overwhelming panic.

But Tony's eyes opened and his breathing resumed with a soft snort. "Hey," he said, his voice as steady as light summer rain. "Maybe you'll even get it right this time."

Fordham growled out his rage and stabbed the knife into the mattress mere inches from DiNozzo's head. He pressed the gun into Tony's cheek and shook his head. "I knew you were good, DiNozzo. But this," he said, laughing appreciatively. "Well, I guess Hannah and North were right in saying we shouldn't underestimate you. But I knew that when I saw you after your little run-in with Henry Stowell, and you shrugged it off like it was nothing. I was impressed."

"And I'm flattered," Tony said flatly. "Why didn't you just toss me? Get a new agent assigned? The decision was up to you."

Fordham rolled his eyes. "I would have, if Lowe hadn't been an idiot and covered up your broken hand to spite you. I couldn't take the chance that you'd have it looked at on dry land and figure out what he'd done—and start wondering why."

Tony felt the throbbing in his hand flare—along with his anger. "Yeah, and questioning his diagnosis and sending me on my merry way was so much less fun than faking my suicide. Thanks for that. Who came up with that, by the way? Was that you? Maybe you're smarter than you look?"

Fordham glared. "I know what you're doing, Agent DiNozzo. This isn't some B-list movie, and you're not getting a big, long confession out of me to waste time until backup arrives."

Tony snorted. "B-list? They'd have to dig way down to the D-list to cast your ugly mug."

Fordham looked like his head was about to explode, and DiNozzo caught Gibbs' warning glare. "Okay, okay. C-list, but only because you didn't actually shove that knife through my pretty face. What can I say? I'm feeling generous."

"Enough," the captain barked. "Get up and shut up before I kill you."

Tony's eyes flicked to Gibbs' as he stood unsteadily, watching Gibbs watch and feeling the gun sliding over his body, never leaving contact as it moved from his head to settle against the middle of his back. Sorry Boss, he mouthed, feeling blood drip from the corner of his bruised mouth. Gibbs just gave a tiny shake of his head and a half-power glare. Not your fault.

"You first," Fordham said, nodding at Gibbs. "You will walk down the corridor in front of us. You will go where I tell you to. You will not open your mouth, and you will not try anything. Or I'll put a round through his spine. And then I'll put this gun to your back and take you with me, leaving him to slowly bleed out. And there will be no help coming this time. I made sure we'd have these halls to ourselves when I had them make that announcement."

Gibbs walked, his pace deliberately slow as he hoped some unruly sailor would ignore the orders to stay put. He knew that was pretty much their only hope until they reached their destination. He wasn't so stupid as to think he could do anything but obey the captain's orders. He couldn't even see the man, but he knew he was keeping his promise and had the gun pressed against Tony's back as they walked. Anything Gibbs did would practically ensure Fordham's pulling the trigger, and Gibbs figured DiNozzo could do without holes in his spine.

Gibbs just hoped DiNozzo wouldn't end up bleeding anyway because he decided to do something stupid in an attempt to save his boss.

Bleeding more, that is, Gibbs thought as he followed the captain's directions, winding ever lower into the bowels of the ship. Gibbs had almost lost it as soon as Fordham's hand had connected with Tony's face, but the gun trained on his agent's head had kept him rooted to the floor. Gibbs had spent the entire exchange hoping the captain would turn the gun on him.

Gibbs' thoughts turned to McGee and Ziva, and he hoped they would try to contact him, or come back to the office. Gibbs knew Fordham had made a mistake in leaving Gibbs' phone and weapons on the floor, but his heart sank when he realized it might not matter because the agents wouldn't know where to find them. If he had been able to turn, though, he would have seen Tony discreetly and silently spitting blood from his damaged mouth to the floor in as regular intervals as he could. The agent was sucking at the injury, gnawing and biting his lip to keep the blood flowing.

"Stop," Fordham commanded. "Knock slowly three times and open the door."

Gibbs did as he was told, bristling all the while. He really hated taking orders—especially from people threatening to kill his agents.

They filed into the room, and Tony almost fell over from shock and relief—and maybe exhaustion, too—at the sight of Benny sitting in the corner of the cavernous room full of shipping containers. Tony checked the cook over for injuries and almost sighed in relief at finding none. He winced, though, at the rage in Benny's eyes as the young man began struggling fiercely against the restraints binding him to an exposed pipe.

Benny took in Tony's pale, bloody face and jerked against the zip ties holding him back. He yelled at Fordham, his voice booming in the huge room, "You son of a bitch! You lay another hand on him, and I'll kill you myself."

Tony couldn't help himself. He grinned even as Fordham jammed the gun harder into his back. "Missed you too, Benny."

"Shut up," Fordham barked. "All of you."

Bubba North approached from Gibbs' right and moved to stand behind him, placing his gun against the back of the agent's skull.

Gibbs met DiNozzo's eyes for a second before Tony said, "Okay, well this could be fun. What do we do now? Turn out the lights and tell ghost stories? I can start. I was on this ship once called the Chimera and—"

Sneaking a glance at his newly acquired backup, Fordham suddenly gave in to his rage. He grabbed DiNozzo roughly by the throat, choking off his words and slamming him against the wall. The weakened agent's knees buckled and he slumped to the floor, landing on his right side with a soft thump. Fordham drew back and kicked him hard in the side, making Tony grunt and curl his knees up to his chest even as he fought to breathe through the stinging pain.

"I've had enough of your goddamned mouth," Fordham roared, kicking DiNozzo again, this time in the face, knocking him out cold.

Gibbs stood seething, feeling the cold steel against his neck and wondering if Fordham even knew how little time he had left to live.

"Knock it off, Andrew," North said from behind Gibbs. "You'll ruin everything if you continue kicking the shit out of him."

"He just never shuts up," Fordham said, looking down disdainfully at DiNozzo's slack, bleeding face.

"Tell me about it," Gibbs said, watching Benny's eyes widen and wondering if it was from his words or the dark blood oozing thickly from Tony's nose. "But he's got a point. You've got us all here. What's your brilliant plan?" And how does beating my agent unconscious "ruin" it?

Fordham snuck a glance at North that made Gibbs wonder who the mastermind behind all this was. Gibbs couldn't see North, but Fordham nodded and said, "Now we invite some more friends to the party."

Gibbs' eyes narrowed as Fordham pulled a radio and pressed the call button. "Lowe? Willis? Bring Agent McGee and David down here now."