A/N: So sorry for the ridiculously long wait! I really didn't mean for it to go on this long! I hope this chapter makes up for it :)

Let me know if it does in a REVIEW! Sorry, I can't help but beg :)

ENJOY!

OOOOOOoooooOOOOOO

Gibbs' face turned to stone, the expression of contempt for the young man before him frozen on his face. He didn't feel anything though; for him time had slowed down, nothing, nobody, moved. This lasted for a few seconds, and then things picked up when Ducky's lightly accented voice penetrated the silence.

"You see, Director?" The elderly man turned on his boss, "Don't you see that if we don't do something now one of your agents may die at the hands of whoever is inside there with them? We have to do something!" The last part was added with just the barest sense of desperation. Hinting that if things progressed from here, they were bound to only get worse.

"He won't kill 'em, Duck," Gibb's said before Vance could react to the doctor's statement.

Fornell turned to him, "What makes you so sure?"

"He told me," Gibbs answered, "that it's 'my turn', that he 'already made his move'."

There was a moment of silence after this, in which Gibbs noticed that the scrawny FBI kid was still standing there. He shot him a glare, clearly telling him to scram, and the kid was out of there so fast you'd swear he was never there at all. Suddenly the silence was broken as Vance, suspicious now, spoke up.

"What do you mean he told you?" The Director questioned, "Has the guy made contact with you? How do you even know he's a 'he', at all?"

"I got a call," Gibbs replied, feeling inclined to answer Vance's questions for once, "and that's what brought me here. It was a man's voice, and he said that he's made his move and now it's my turn. Called it his 'game'."

"Give me your phone," Fornell suddenly demanded, holding out his hand. Gibbs didn't make any move to comply. He couldn't see the point in giving Fornell his phone, which he would no doubt give to another inexperienced frat boy, who would then loose it in an evidence room somewhere.

"My God, Jethro," Fornell said, exasperated by his old friend's stubbornness, "just give me the damn phone!"

This time Gibbs did, while muttering something about how it was pointless. Fornell turned it on, opened the call log and called to another agent, "Braxton! Get over here!"

A young man soon approached, he was older than the first, but not nearly as confident. He spoke with a stutter when he talked, "Y-yes, Ag-Agent Fornell?"

"Trace this number," Fornell handed the phone number. "It's the most recent call listed."

"Y-ye-yes, sir," Braxton backed away quickly, and soon it was just the four men again.

Gibbs locked gazes with Fornell, "You won't get anything from the number."

"What makes you say that, Jethro?" Ducky, who'd been eager to make any headway with this case, asked.

"He's organized," Gibbs said simply, as if it was that simple, "He already had my number; odds are that he has all of our numbers." Gibbs paused, "Even if you can figure out who he is and where he made the call it wouldn't make a difference; he probably didn't even make the call from his own home, or wherever it is he's staying. A guy like this doesn't just do things on a whim, he has it all planned out."

OOOOOOoooooOOOOOO

Even before the two shots were loosed, Tim mourned his colleagues. To him, it seemed, there was no way out. No way for them to escape what surely was to come next. He believed that once they were gone, he wouldn't be far behind. He'd closed his eyes, bracing himself. He didn't want to have to witness their deaths. It was bad enough having to see Kate just after she was shot, even after she'd been cleaned up.

Then he'd heard them.

BANG!

BANG!

Both were fired simultaneously, and Tim flinched when it happened, he couldn't help it. Like he couldn't help the pinpricks he felt behind his eyelids. Then he did something he hadn't thought he'd be able to. He opened his eyes.

And what he saw surely wasn't what he'd been expecting.

He saw Tony jerk awake, only to tumble off his chair and land in a heap on the floor. He didn't move after that.

Then he saw Ziva flinch into consciousness, her head shot up, and, for a moment she caught Tim's stare. He expected her head to slump back to the floor, lifeless, but that didn't happen. She sprung up from her position on the floor, reached into her pocket, and pulled out a shiny silver blade. She flung it at the man before them.

Tim thought Ziva's aim was perfect. The knife was flying straight at the man's face, but right before it got within a few feet of his head, the man moved to the side and the knife sailed harmlessly past his head. To Tim's satisfaction though, the man didn't escape entirely unscathed. He now had a brand new haircut he probably hadn't expected on getting.

Then, before anyone had fully reacted, Tim wondered how Ziva had been able to toss the knife at the guy that shot at her. He'd aimed the gun right at her, she should be on the ground, bleeding, like... Like Tony...

Tim had seen him fall, and hadn't seen any movement since then. He quickly looked over, and was saddened to see that Tony still hadn't moved. Just as he was about to begin the mourning process all over again though, he saw that Tony's hands weren't in the same position that they had been in when he first fell out of his chair. Originally, they'd just been splayed on the floor, probably in some last attempt to brace for the impact of the fall from his chair. But now his hands were placed on his head, in an attempt to shield himself no doubt. The corner's of Tim's lips twitched, but he fought the urge to smile. He didn't want to draw attention to the fact that Tony was still alive, especially if this guy had meant to kill him.

It wouldn't be long before he noticed though, because there was no pool of blood. Not under Tony, and not on Ziva. Tim was still sure that both guns had been trained on his colleagues though, at least he was, until he saw the two holes in the floor.

Tim felt a wave of relief that none of them were dead. However, it was soon chased away by the feeling of dread; because if this guy was planning on letting them live a while longer, that meant he had something... special in store for them. There was no doubt in Tim's mind that he had it all planned out, too.

OOOOOOoooooOOOOOO

It'd been a few minutes since the ordeal inside, unbeknownst to the group outside, had gone down, and in that time they'd made no progress. Vance and Fornell wanted to make a positive ID on the guy before they did anything, and Ducky and Gibbs wanted to try and get eyes inside the bullpen.

They were still arguing when Gibbs noticed a familiar car pull up next to where Gibbs had parked his own. He couldn't help but smirk when the driver's door opened and he saw familiar black pigtails stomp over to where the four men were congregating.

"What is going on here exactly?" Forensic specialist Abby Sciuto asked, "And why didn't anybody tell me about it?"

"Miss Sciuto," Vance addressed the goth, "there's nothing you can do right now, and before you get too upset I'd like to say that we haven't positively ID'd anybody in the building right now, so I think it would be in your best interest to go home."

"The hell it would be!" Abby growled, momentarily forgetting that Vance was her boss, "I know who's in there! And so do you!"

"Abbs, calm down," Gibbs said soothingly, putting a hand on the young woman's shoulder. "It's not gonna do them any good if we're all out here fighting about positive IDs."

Abby whirled around and flung her arms around him, "Gibbs! I was so worried! I-"

"What do you mean," Fornell butted in, "that you know who's in there?"

Immediately, Abby released her hold on Gibbs. She rummaged in the pocket of her black coat for a moment before pulling out her wallet, a skull pen, and a pair of bat earrings, all of which she handed to Ducky, asking if he could hold them for a bit. She did a bit more digging, this time in the other pocket, and soon she held a crumpled piece of paper in her hand. She unfolded it carefully, so as not to tear it or smudge the ink, and handed it over to the senior FBI agent, "This is how I knew to come here. I mean, besides Gibbs' weird, middle-of-the-night call. By the way," she addressed Gibbs now, "how come you didn't tell me anything? I could expect that from, like, Vance or-"

She was cut off by the sound of Fornell clearing his throat, preparing to read the note aloud. He looked at the people assembled before him, as if expecting a sudden outburst from the group. When he was satisfied that no one would, he began to read:

"Dear Abigail,

My name is Eamon and I know we've never met before, but, as such a crucial member of "Team Gibbs", I felt that I simply must get to know you better. I was hoping that we could meet sometime? Face to face? And we could discuss you and your team.

It's all just so fascinating to me, the way your team functions. Especially your fearless leader, Gibbs, so strong yet so very vulnerable, and only vulnerable as a result of the people around him. You see, over time I've discovered that a person's only weakness is the other people in their lives. And, in Jethro's case, that would be you and his team due to the lack of a real family.

I intend on getting to know all of you better. Your strengths... and your weaknesses.

I know I'm neglecting you by being with the others at the moment, but don't worry! As soon as I'm done with Timothy, Anthony, and Ziva you and the others will have your time to get to know me.

Sincerely, Eamon."

Another bout of silence reigned while it all sunk in. Ducky, however, was the first to speak, "What does he mean 'when he's done'?"

Gibbs, Vance, and Fornell exchanged subtle glances. They all had their own ideas about what it meant. Surprisingly, all of them were the same.

But it wasn't any of the three who answered the coroner.

"What it means," Abby said, her voice wavering, "is that he's gonna kill them."

OOOOOOoooooOOOOOO

Ziva glared daggers at their captor, all the while wishing she had real daggers to throw at him. He was lucky that he'd missed her first throw. Lucky and nothing more. There was no way he could've been trained to do that, because if he had... Ziva shook her head slightly, she didn't want to think about what that could mean.

She glanced at McGee, who was currently being forced to handcuff both of his hands to a leg of his desk. He didn't make eye contact with the man, but did as he was told. Soon, he was sitting with his back to his desk, unable to stand, and both hands handcuffed behind him to it.

Then Ziva looked at Tony. He'd realized after a moment or two that shots were no longer being fired and that the man wasn't buying his "play dead" act. He was staring, stone-faced, into the distance. He didn't try and move to take out the man for the same reason Ziva didn't. The man, while giving McGee orders, still had a gun trained on each of the agents. They didn't dare move for fear of being shot, though Ziva would much rather prefer that to the humiliation of being forced to handcuff herself.

"Who are you?" Tony asked sharply, suddenly coming out of his trancelike state.

The brunette man smiled a smile that made Tony cringe and instantly regret saying anything at all, but he just couldn't stand the silence. He glanced at McGee once, just to make sure he was really cuffed, and then answered, "My name is Eamon, and I'm glad you asked because we'll be spending much more time together before the day is done. Isn't that exciting?"

"Of course," Tony said sarcastically, which turned out to be a bad move.

Eamon, suddenly overcome with rage, snarled, "I don't take sarcasm well, Anthony, you should mind your manners." Then, as quickly as the rage had come, it was gone again. The corners of Eamon's mouth jerked up, "Next time you misbehave there will be consequences." His gaze flicked to Ziva for only a millisecond, signaling that this applied to her as well.

Ziva had the urge to be sarcastic herself just to antagonize him, but she knew that wasn't what the situation called for. Sarcasm wouldn't help. She needed to take action. Glancing around, Ziva could find several objects that could be used as a weapon, but sadly, she wouldn't have enough time to use them. She only had to be half a second slower and she'd be dead.

"Now," Eamon's voice startled the three members of the MCRT, they still couldn't get used to the fact that they were being held captive, "I want the two of you to do the same as Agent McGee, and know this: if you disobey my orders, one of your teammates will pay the price."

Any hesitation they might've felt about doing this was banished as soon as Eamon added that little rule. None of them wanted to be the cause of another's suffering or pain.

After a few more minutes they all had their hands handcuffed behind them to their respective desks. It was funny how a place they were every day, a place they used to work and tease one another, could be used for such awful purposes. They'd never thought to be playing the role of prisoners in a place that might as well have been their home for all the time they spent there.

"Now that everybody's ready to go," Eamon's lips curled into a twisted, secretive smile, as if he was privy to some huge piece of information, "we can begin the game. I don't think Gibbs will mind if I assume that he's used his turn."

At the mention of their boss, the three teammates remembered exactly who they were relying on. They felt relief blossom in their hearts, each of them was sure that Gibbs would come to their rescue before anything happened. He was Gibbs, after all. Stubborn, fearless, unstoppable Gibbs. They had no doubt their rescue was imminent.

"We'll start with a game of Truth or Dare," Eamon continued, "but in this case, I think it would more accurate if we called it Truth or Consequences. You see, if you don't tell me what I want to know, someone else will suffer the consequences."

Tony and McGee exchanged apprehensive glances, while Ziva continued to glare at Eamon, who saw the glances that were exchanged. His smile widened, revealing surprisingly white teeth, "We'll start with you, Agent DiNozzo."

Tony, surprised, sat ramrod straight as Eamon approached him. Wild theories ran through his head as to what he might be asked. He could only hope he'd answer right.

Eamon knelt down in front of the senior field agent, taunting him by placing one of his guns just out of Tony's reach, "We'll start with an easy question, shall we?" When he didn't get an immediate answer he proceeded on, "Have you ever slept with a woman named Katherine Georges?"

That was definitely not the question he'd been expecting, because Tony's only response was, "What?"

Eamon frowned, he didn't like having to repeat himself. The question itself was simple, he couldn't fathom why there was no immediate answer. He repeated himself, pausing every once and a while in order for the words to sink in, "Have. You ever. Slept with. A woman named. Katherine Georges?"

Tony couldn't recall a girl by that name, but then again, he couldn't remember half the names of all the girls he'd been with. So his answer was, "Uh, no?"

Eamon stood up right then, but instead of answering he walked away from Tony, past McGee's desk, and bent over to grab something off the floor. He then turned back to the group, revealing Ziva's blade in his fist. They all tensed, this wasn't going the way they'd hoped.

He walked until he stood directly in the center of all three, then, after waiting a few moments in silence to build up the tension, he shook his head, looking disappointed, "Wrong answer."

Then Eamon lunged, plunging the knife into one of Tony's closest friends.

OOOOOOoooooOOOOOO

A/N: Mwahaha! I'm evil, I know :) Let me know in a review who you think got stabbed :)

Maybe if I get more reviews I'll update sooner instead of leaving you in suspense for a while. What? A writer can hope :)

PS: I couldn't help but add "Truth or Consequences" to the story. It is my fav episode