McGee lay on the bed looking up at the glowing light on the ceiling. He still felt queasy and it had been hours since he'd been down in autopsy with Ducky and Jimmy having his wretched wrist bandages changed. He thought he'd been doing quite well at first, sitting on the gurney, staring straight ahead and trying to think about something other than Gibb's wrath but it hadn't been long before the skin on his face began to feel rather hollow and he found he was taking deeper breaths than normal. Little beads of perspiration started squeezing out his pores.

"Alright, Timothy?" Ducky had asked, peering at the wrists over his glasses.

"Um, …I'm not sure," he had tried to answer honestly.

"Ah, Doctor Mallard…," Jimmy's urgent voice was in his ear as the first wave of light headedness hit him.

Ducky had looked up and simply said "oh".

That 'oh' was still echoing in his head as Jimmy helped him lie down. He hadn't actually fainted, of that he was sure, but he was feeling faint enough that Ducky had insisted that Jimmy drive him home. So now he was just lying down, trying to sleep, or at least not throw up.

He sighed when he heard the knock on his front door. That knock could be only one person and if he didn't get out of bed soon that same person would try to break in anyway.

He shuffled through the lounge room and peered into the eyepiece of the door. There was Tony's maniacal grin. McGee sighed again and undid the chain and lock. Tony entered and gave him his signature nipple tweak.

"Tony, I was in bed."

Tony gave him a disbelieving look. "It's 9 o'clock and every light in your house is on." He looked around for the desk lamp. "Every single light", he emphasized.

McGee started bolting the door closed. "I don't go to your house and complain about the lighting," he muttered.

Tony studied McGee's face carefully; he looked grey and there were crepe-skinned bags under his eyes.

"Have you eaten?" he asked suddenly.

"Not really hungry," McGee mumbled.

"Ziva left you some stuff in the fridge," said Tony

"I know."

"Can I at least tone down the lights?"

"No."

Tony caught McGee by the arm as he turned away.

"You know this is crazy, right?"

McGee looked at Tony with a sort of quiet desperation. "Tony," he said wearily. "I'm really tired, I just want to lie down somewhere. You can stay, you can go. I just need to lie down, I'm going to bed."

"OK," Tony said cheerfully. "I'll come with you."

McGee looked suddenly shocked.

"Park those brows," said Tony using his fingers to push McGee's eyebrows down. "I'll sit in a chair." He grabbed McGee's desk chair and hauled it into the bedroom.

McGee sighed again. He knew Tony was trying to be nice but he wouldn't complain right now if Tony inexplicably spontaneously combusted.

Once McGee had climbed into the bed again, Tony ducked out of the bedroom and systematically turned out every light.

"Tony," he heard McGee's complaint.

"OK, I'll leave one on. Come on, I know what you're paid, you can't afford this sort of electricity bill."

As he re-entered the bedroom, Tony turned off the main light for good measure leaving only a bedside lamp. He moved the chair next to McGee's side near the lamp.

"Don't touch it," McGee warned.

Tony put up his hands in surrender. "Wasn't even thinking about it." Then he learnt forward in the chair. "Want to tell me why you want the place lit up like a Christmas tree?"

McGee slid his eyes across guiltily to Tony. "I just can't handle the dark right now, OK."

"OK." Discussion ended. "So," began Tony afresh, "what do you want to talk about?"

"Tony!"

"Oh, right, sleeping." There was a pause. "You know Gibbs was only mad at you because he doesn't like being taken for a ride?"

"He wasn't the only one made to look a fool, Tony."

By this time McGee had figured out the only way to make Tony stop talking was to pretend to be asleep. So he rolled on his side, turning his back on him, closed his eyes and tried some deep breathing. At least that was the plan. Unfortunately, deep breathing, or sleeping for that matter was impossible on that side due to the pain in his ribs. Annoyed, he rolled on his back. He tried again. Deep breathing was definitely out. That seemed to hurt no matter what position he was in. Perhaps he could just ignore Tony and think about something else.

He tried to think of something fun: computer games, fantasy worlds, weapons, lances, spikes, electronic spikes, kidnapping, darkness. He started awake, suddenly aware he had been sleeping.

"OK, there, Probie?" Tony was still there.

"Mmm," he mumbled, drowsily.

Without intending to, he rolled over to face Tony and drifted off to sleep again thinking of Abby, conversations with Abby, lunchtime with Abby, spikes at lunchtime, kidnapping, darkness, fire, nakedness, vulnerability. He started, half-awake this time and let out a little whimper. He frowned at his own folly. Then he felt a warm hand in his and the tension seemed to drain out of him. He slid off to sleep.

Tony stifled a yawn and looked at his watch. It was 11 pm and McGee had been snoring for quite a while now. He was hungry. Extracting his hand from McGee's now limp grip, he hoisted himself out of the chair and tapped McGee lightly on the arm.

"Let's see what Ziva left you in the fridge," he said to McGee's oblivious face.

As Tony sat in the kitchen spooning chunks of lukewarm casserole into his mouth and reading through the escapades of L. J. Tibbs, he heard a strange noise from McGee's bedroom. Soundlessly, he set the bowl and spoon down and drew his weapon. He stalked through the apartment and peered carefully around the corner. Then he paused to assess the situation.

McGee was up with his fingertips on the walls feeling his way around the room.

"Must be a way out," he was muttering over and over.

Tony holstered his weapon.

"What are you doing?" he asked directly.

"Gotta be a way out," McGee explained simply feeling the contours of the wall.

"The door?" Tony suggested.

"Locked," McGee informed him concentrating hard on his task.

Tony frowned and then made his move. He took McGee gently by the arms and guided him back to bed.

"We've found you," he said quietly in his ear. "You're safe now, get some sleep."

McGee nodded dumbly, curled up on his side again and fell sound asleep leaving Tony still frowning at him.

Tony returned to the kitchen and baulked at the now cold casserole. He tossed it in the bin. Then he rustled around the linen cupboard until he found a sleeping bad and set himself up on the living room floor.