I would highly recommend re-reading chapter 2 as I swapped this and that around. This was what you would have read for chapter 2 but now that is for chapter 2 and you haven't read that because I only just finished it and this isn't making any sense so I'm going to stop now! Happy reading!

When Bishop let out a soft moan and opened her eyes, everything was pitch black. At first, she was confused. Then she realised that there was something covering her head. She tried to pull it off, but found that she was tied down by her wrists to what felt like the arms of a chair. She attempted to shake the hood off, but pain erupted from her head. She bit back a scream, taking deep breaths until the pain had subsided. She should try to take things slow. She could feel sweat coating her forehead from the long amount of time under the thick fabric, and she realised that it was getting harder to breathe. After a few moments, she began to test the ropes that held her down, but froze as she heard a door being unlocked. Without hesitation, she dropped her head and pretended to still be unconscious.

A loud groan sounded as the door swung open, and she felt the cold air rush into the room.

"She should be awake by now," someone muttered.

Footsteps came closer, and she felt someone fumble with the hood before it was ripped off her head. The freezing cold air hit her hard, but she successfully fought the urge to shiver. A hand slid under her chin and lifted her face to the light.

She forced herself to keep her eyes closed, and to breathe deeply so it appeared that she was out of it. This was rather hard, especially seeing as she had an annoying tickle in her throat.

Another hand was pressed against her forehead.

"She's burning up," the same voice said, and Bishop was surprised to hear that he sounded concerned. She send another silent thank you… this time to whoever it was that put the stupid hood over her head. It gave her something to work with, at least.

"So what? Her well being is nothing to us. We were paid to get her off the street, not play nurse."

Bishop recognised the voice of Wilson, and restrained from lifting her head and spitting out the most vile words she could think of at him. Instead, she chose this moment to execute her plan, letting out the cough she had been holding in. Several more followed, and they didn't sound good. Obviously whatever had been on that cloth hadn't quite agreed with her.

"What's she doing?" Wilson asked, although his voice had raised an octave.

Bishop keeled over in her chair, coughing loudly.

"She's having an allergic reaction!" The other man yelled as he started to untie the ropes.

"What are you doing?" Wilson yelled, but he still sounded worried.

Once she was free, she let herself fall forwards.

The man caught her and lowered her to the ground, turning her onto her side. "It's okay. You're okay."

Bishop opened her eyes a little to see his gun in his holster, and it was just a few centimetres from her face. She quickly pulled it out and caught him in a headlock, pressing the gun to his head.

Wilson put one hand on his gun.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you."

He reluctantly raised his hands, and she began walking backwards towards the open door, dragging the man - who hadn't uttered a single word - along with her. She felt bad about doing this to him. She knew he was only trying to help. She sensed someone behind her only a second before something hard hit her in the head, and she crumpled to the ground. The man twisted free, and kneeled down at her side, noting with obvious concern the blood dripping on the floor from her head wound.

"What's the matter with you?" He asked the man - another goon for hire - who had appeared out of nowhere.

"She was holding a gun to your head! What did you expect me to do?"

The man looked down at the unconscious NCIS agent. Her hair tie had snapped, and thick blonde hair covered her face. He gently brushed it away, letting his hand linger on her forehead for a moment longer. She didn't deserve this. No-one did. He looked up at the man, who was staring at him. "I've got this. Go!"

The man raised his eyebrows and walked out into the freezing cold.

"You too Wilson, I'd better stay until she wakes up. To make sure she doesn't escape while we're out."

He strode past him and out the door, slamming it behind him.

The man looked back down at Bishop, and sighed. He slid one arm around her waist, and the other under her knees, lifting her up and carrying her over to the empty chair sitting in the middle of the room. He set her down, and she slumped forwards into his arms. He carefully pushed her backwards, and she managed to stay upright in the chair until he had once again fastened her wrists to the arms of the chair, when her head fell limply to the side. He sat back on his heels and wondered what he had gotten himself into. It was supposed to be a simple ransom demand. He'd had second thoughts when he found out they were taking an NCIS Agent, but had been won over by the amount of money on offer. It wasn't until the boss had casually mentioned that she was going to die that he fully realised the gravity of the situation. He didn't want a death on his hands. Especially not hers. He would wait for her to wake up. Then they could talk.

Oooooh... a good bad guy! Do things get any more complicated than this? And what about poor Bishop? She just can't seem to be able to stay out of trouble! But is this guy for real? Is he actually worried for her well-being, or is this all just an attempt to win her over? I guess we won't find out until the next chapter! And yes... we. I don't know how this will turn out either. I guess we'll just have to wait and see...