It was nearly noon as the four agents sped down the highway in the sleek black dodge. The silence was palatable, Gibbs gripping the steering wheel so hard his knuckles were white and the rest staring off in various directions, rehearsing in their minds what was to come.

McGee looked down at his wrists yet again. The morning in autopsy had been unusual to say the least. When he had arrived, Abby was there talking nervously to Ducky. The conversation stopped abruptly as he entered and neither seemed keen to include him.

He had insisted on sitting in a chair this time. He was getting sick of sympathetic looks. The toast had definitely been a good choice. He had still felt queasy especially when Ducky said the stitches didn't look as infected as he had feared and he'd probably get Jimmy to ping them in a couple of days. No one had mentioned he had stitches there and certainly no one mentioned pinging. He assumed it wasn't meant in the computer sense.

Even when the raw meat was exposed he held up OK. Sure he had to put his head down a bit but he pretended to be interested in the scars hoping they couldn't see his eyes were actually shut. He could feel Abby's warmth on his back, her hand stroking across his shoulders. He wasn't fooling anyone but himself.

Then something very puzzling happened. Abby had pulled out a pair of black studded leather wrists braces, similar to her own.

"Gibbs said it was OK, if you wore these," she had said quietly.

He had glance at Ducky but he seemed preoccupied with his work. He had wondered briefly if there was a bet going somewhere at his expense but, wisely, he had chosen not to mention it. Abby was looking very fragile today.

"You'll hardly see them under your jacket," Abby had continued. "And it helps me feel like you're safe; like we have a sort of connection."

He had watched her intently as she wrapped them around his wrists. There was no hint of ulterior motive. When she had finished she gave him a broad smile which faded quickly.

"I know they're only probably only a bunch of college kids, but be careful. Please."

"OK," he had answered. He hadn't been freaked out about this little excursion until then. Now he kept wondering what she knew that he didn't. It made him nauseous just to think about it.

Ziva looked craned her head to see Tony in the back seat.

"What would that be on the colour chart?" she asked, nodding in McGee's direction.

Tony considered McGee's complexion for a moment. "I'd give it Chartreuse," he decided.

"Oh, I would have gone a little more olive than that," said Ziva conversationally.

"Quit it," muttered McGee.

"Colour is so subjective, isn't it?" Tony continued happily.

"Cut it out, you two," Gibbs ended the conversation abruptly as they pulled up to the kerb.

The local LEOs were in position. Gibbs left the three younger agents at the car and checked in with the highest ranking police officer he could find. Then he returned to his team.

"OK, lets roll, we'll be waiting in the corridor, you're on your own McGee," he said gruffly, tossing him the phone and turning to walk with Tony and Ziva.

"Ah Boss?" McGee began uncertainly.

"What?" Gibbs turned only half back.

McGee opened his mouth for a moment but the only thought that came into his mind was: 'I know you don't care if I live of die but…' Then he considered that might not be the best opening line.

"McGee!" Gibbs was hardly a patient person.

"Boss, I..," he struggled to find the words and his eyes did a nervous triple blink. "I can't pull the trigger."

"We haven't got time for your insecurities, McGee," Gibbs was getting frustrated at him again. "Do your job or live with the consequences."

"No boss, that's not what I mean." Not exactly the vote of confidence he was looking for, he could feel the panic starting to rise but he kept his voice level. "I can't feel my fingers, in fact most of my hand. I can't tell if I'm even holding a gun and I really don't think I can physically pull the trigger."

Gibbs turned to face McGee fully and he saw the quiet panic in his eyes. He had misjudged him; it wasn't insecurity, it was the fear that he might let the team down. He walked back to McGee and laid a hand on his shoulder.

"I've got your back, McGee," he said with a gentle smile. There might have even been a twinkle in those steely blues.

Ziva stood on one side of the door jam and Tony on the other. Their guns raised in a silent salute. McGee stood in front of the door composing himself. Gibbs had a warm hand on his back between his shoulder blades. McGee hadn't realised 'got your back' was quite so literal.

"Let's do this McGee," said Gibbs soberly.

McGee raised his hand and knocked. There was a clanking of metal and chains for a moment and the door opened a crack. One cautious eye peered out.

"Yes?" it said.

McGee silently held up the phone and the door was flung open with a cry of "Ahhhh! You are the one."

McGee took a careful step inside so that Gibbs hand fell away. The room was small and lined with electronics. There were four barely post pubescent men typing at keyboards. They all looked up with interest as he entered. One of them rose immediately and greeted McGee like a long lost brother.

"You!" he said. "We thought you were dead!" and he hugged McGee about halfway down his arms: height wasn't his strong suit. In fact none of these guys were very tall, McGee was starting to notice.

The hug had dragged him further into the room, revealing Gibbs at his back.

"And this is?" there was a tension in the room, not just from the new tone of the guy's voice but because everyone seemed to be smiling far too much.

"Ah, my boss," McGee explained.

Gibbs stepped forward. "I want to know where you guys get off kidnapping a federal agent."

"Ahhh, come in, come in," the insincere smile was even wider. "We'll show you our operation."

McGee took a few more steps, lured by the sight of online games he had read about but not yet had the time to try but Gibbs stood his ground by the door.

"No thanks," he declined. His gut was telling him to move slowly. There was something going on here that he didn't fully understand. He never trusted a room full of computers.

"Suit yourself," the man shrugged, he was obviously more interested in McGee. He turned and attempted to put a friendly hand on McGee's shoulder. The height difference made this seem less than natural.

"The kidnapping was all part of the game," he explained cordially to McGee. "That should have been explained in the gaming notes. We like to keep it as realistic as possible."

"It's an offence," said Gibbs voice from behind.

The guy turned and smiled an even wider smile at Gibbs. "So hard to prove," he shrugged. He turned his attention to McGee who was investigating some of the displays at close quarters.

Tony poked his head around the corner and then tucked it back. He whispered to Ziva standing on the other side of the door.

"Take a look," he invited. "Only McGee could get kidnapped by the entire cast of 'Revenge of the Nerds'."

Ziva smiled and poked her head around the corner. A sudden burst of recognition triggered an automatic response. She leapt through the door with her gun raised and shouted something very guttural. The room dissolved into chaos, the smiles were gone, replaced by angry yelling, frantic computer typing and then a massive explosion that filled the room with acrid smoke.

Tony reached around the door and pulled Ziva bodily out of the room. "Get help!" he yelled at her. "Go, go, go!"

Ziva stood wide-eyed for a moment and then understood. As much as she wanted to get in there, the best way she could help was if she got her information to the right people. She fled down the passage with her phone to her ear trying to remember to use English