Tim drifted in and out of consciousness, struggling to lift his heavy persistent throbbing in his arm, was too strong to ignore, finally spurring him completely awake. He had no idea where he was, when he tried to remember the trip here, his mind drew a blank. He sat in a chair, situated in a pitch black, soundless room, making it difficult to mentally focus. Combining the thoroughly dark environment with the extent of his injuries, he wasn't even sure if his eyes were open or closed. The ground under his feet was dirt and there was a smell of old vegetables in the air, giving him reason to believe he was hidden in an old, root cellar of some kind. His arms were still tied behind his back but, now there was a rope around his chest holding him upright on the hard, wooden chair. He felt grimy and physically exhausted, like he had been thrown from a fast moving vehicle. Wherever he was hidden, offered no ventilation; the air heavy and damp, hanging like a thick cloud and making it difficult to breath. He vaguely remembered Crevits demanding security codes when he arrived, that he knew he would not reveal once the commander returned. He would more than likely have to withstand interrogation tactics to get him to speak but that would not last long considering his present condition. It would just be a matter of time that they would decide to dispose of him once they realized he would not give in. He wasn't surprised to see the commander was now involved, stating illegal demands; he never liked the guy from the get-go, but at least it had bought him some more time, while also giving his team more time to find him. He believed Fred would have killed him sooner if his father had never gotten involved.

Tim inhaled deeply, disregarding the pain in his ribs, while digging deep for a strength that his body was opposing; he promised himself he would not give up. He told himself he would be ready for when Crevits returned, keeping the image of Ziva's face in his thoughts, as he considered her the epitome of strength and endurance, especially after what she had gone through in Somalia. He repeated a mantra over and over in his head as he grew to believe it. He wouldn't go down with out a fight. He was amazed when he realized he was actually smiling, the memories of Ziva empowering him, giving him hope, no matter how bleak his outlook appeared.

A piercing sting drilled through his eyes when a hatch door creaked open and a bright light grew across the floor. He blinked, but was still blinded as he listened to quick footsteps cross the dirt floor, coming closer. He startled when he felt something gently pressed against his lips while a hand cupped the back of his head. He tilted his head back and drank, relishing the small relief of cool water pour down his dry, scratchy throat.

"Careful-"

"Mike?" Tim coughed, violently, annoyed with himself for incompetently drinking so greedily, as he tried to catch his breath.

He felt a hot breath ghost his ear, "Room's bugged...I'm sorry Tim...Just give my dad the codes so they'll let you go."

Tim slowly shook his head then inhaled deeply while clamping his mouth shut. He bowed his head, resting his chin against his chest. Crevits was Mike's father? Great...he was stuck smack dab in the middle of negotiations within one big, happy, dysfunctional family business. He felt Mike wrap a bandage around the gun shot wound on his arm, the pressure offering the slightest relief. Mike left his side and Tim looked up, his eyes focusing on his friend. He had a finger on his lips then popped two aspirin in Tim's mouth followed by the water bottle, again to help him swallow the pills. Tim swallowed them then allowed himself to relax forward, closing his eyes while focusing on his mantra and receiving comfort.

xxxxx

"Well, Special Agent Gibbs, I sincerely hope your visit calmed the anxiety I'm sure you were experiencing when you arrived, concerning your missing agent. But, as you can see, there are no signs of my son's presence here, he has not been here for a substantial amount of time. As a matter of fact, I can't tell you the last time we've spoken. I'm sorry if this is of no help to you and your investigation."

Tony saw Gibbs rub his gut then sigh with aggravation. He knew his gut must have been doing cartwheels, at this point, because he was receiving unsettling vibes from this bozo that were off the charts. This guy was faker than fake... you couldn't get any faker. He kept rubbing his arms trying to get rid of the creepy sensation that wouldn't subside while being in this man's presence. He walked closer to Ziva, seeking a comforting level of security while, also peering over her shoulder to get a closer look at the family portraits she was studying, nicely arranged on the surface of an elegant table positioned behind a sofa.

She lifted one to examine. It was the Commander, Fred and another boy; with freckles and jet black hair. They were dressed in survival clothing and well-equipped with survival gear, looking as if they had spent a week in the wilderness living off of berries, bugs and tree bark. Tony winced at the thought of chewing on a green, squirmy caterpillar. Hunh, huh, no thank you. He realized his gag reaction must have been louder than he thought when Ziva eyed him over her shoulder. "Do you have to make those noises in my ear? They are disgusting." Tony's answer was an apologetic shrug.

The men wore belts around their waists holding huge, buck knives secured in holsters. Ziva had to disguise the distaste she felt creeping into her face as she looked at the image of the proud Commander; his chest puffed out while holding a rifle in one hand and a dead deer in the other. Fred was also holding a deer but the other boy was not. "Do you have another son Commander Crevits?" She asked.

"That is my younger son, George. That was taken almost four years ago now. We spent a lot of time in the woods; we'd leave for a week on these survival trips and live off the land, but George didn't always go. I consider him to be the more weaker of the two. The first time I took that boy hunting he was rewarded with his first clean shot...a six pointer, not too far away from where we were hiding. But the sniveling, pathetic weakling just couldn't pull the trigger. Embarrassing. And, damn, if that buck didn't just stand right there...asking to be shot. So, when I decided to take the shot..Son of a..., if that good for nuthin' kid didn't, actually nudge my shoulder! The blasted buck got away. I beat that boy's hide good for that move-"

"Commander!" Ziva's face was a bright red, urging Gibbs to distract her by clearing his throat.

"What? A boy needs sense beat into him every once in a while." Said Crevits, his hands on his hips.
"Some people are just not born hunters, Commander Crevits." Ziva retorted.

Crevits' face reddened to a dark shade, instantly, "If you can't hunt, you're weak if you ask me. Fred took one down, no problem."

"Let me get this straight-"
"Ziva." Gibbs kept calm, nudging her.

"No, wait, Gibbs, I have a valid question for the Commander, If you were out...on one of your survival trips as you say, what did you do with a whole deer? Two to three people cannot ...consume a whole deer within a week."
"We ate what we needed then left the rest."

Ziva rolled her eyes. "Wouldn't you consider that to be wasteful? I wouldn't have killed one, either."
"Well... you're a woman. I wouldn't expect anything different." Gibbs reached out and held onto Ziva's arm, holding her back, but the Commander ignored her behavior. Ziva's brows furrowed, a look of disdain evident behind her eyes. She disliked him, now more than ever and she was not convinced Tim wasn't hidden somewhere, close by. She knew, without a doubt that this man was, surely involved.
"Where is he now, Commander? I'd like to have a word with him, if I could." Gibbs asked.

"That was taken almost four years ago now. He got married a few years ago, they have a child, lives out towards Manson with his wife, Claire. He's been very busy with his new family and we do not spend much time together."

Gibbs eyed the Commander skeptically, pressing his lips together; he could understand the distaste Ziva had for the man. Gibbs wouldn't trust him with a pet gerbil and the thought that this man had McGee stowed away somewhere... coiled his stomach into tight knots.

"Like I said Commander,we wanted to check in and see if you have seen your son recently. If he shows up give the agency a call." He handed the gruff man his card then started towards the door.

Once they exited, Gibbs hesitated before they entered their car, "When we get back, Ziva, get a search warrant and we need to take George in for questioning."

Ziva nodded, quick to agree.