AN- So yeah, here's my new story. I don't own NCIS. I dedicate this story to Claire because she's one of the first people that I shared this story with who knew I actually wrote this.

Tony's stomach growled audibly, reminding him he had not eaten since morning and it was now past midnight. He knew he would return home to an empty fridge and pantry, meaning he would have to stop at the store. Great, grocery shopping on a Friday night. This is what I've come to. He stopped walking as he reached his destination, his car, and fumbled around inside his pockets for the keys. He reached to the bottom of his front and back pockets, and then completing the same process with his coat pockets, but his search was fruitless. He deduced he must have left them in the bullpen and groaned internally in frustration. What a great way to start your first vacation in weeks, right? He turned on his heel and went in the direction of the elevator to leave the car garage.

In no hurry to return to the bullpen, he leisurely strolled over and pressed the up button. The familiar groan of the elevators cables sounded, but spiked no alarm within Tony. Vance had rejected the plan to replace them, despite their old age. The elevator reminded him of Gibbs, in a strange way, because even though they were both quite old, they were too stubborn to slow down. However, this time there must have been a defective relay again, because the elevator was irritatingly slow. After nearly five minutes of him tapping his foot and then promptly his fingers, he resigned to the stairs. Unfortunately, Tony had only ambled halfway to the staircase when abruptly the hairs on the back of his neck bristled. There was a change in the air, which sounded cliche, but was undeniably existent. He was suddenly acutely aware of eyes boring into his back, and immediately knew there had to be more than one person behind him. Considering that the car garage had been empty when he had entered, it was safe to assume that the unknown attackers had been hiding. That also led to the speculation that their intentions were villainous. Tony contemplated what to do for a second, but then decided to continue walking as if he had not observed them. After all, he was outnumbered; that is if his senses had not failed him. Also, he was weaponless due to McGee borrowing his SIG earlier and not returning it. Of course he had his knife, he would never dare to break one of Gibbs' rules, but it was puny compared to what his analyses suggested he was facing.

Most people would assume this as paranoia, but when you had luck like Tony's, there was no such thing. To some what would seem as delusional was simply careful to DiNozzo. Knowing all of this, Tony trusted himself and decided to guide the men over to the video cameras to hopefully alert the guard on duty. He had just stepped into view of the one closest to him when a strong, firm hand clamped down on his shoulder. Tony's muscles tensed instinctively and he fought the urge to recoil, that would be futile, so instead he forced his body to relax which was no small feat. He swiveled to face the man who was holding him captive but flinched in revelation when he saw the opposing face. It was the dead marine who had taken up the last three months of his life, the one and only Samuel Maberry, or better known as Sam. Behind Sam stood three burly men with arms and stomachs that bulged beneath their black t-shirts leaving it obvious they were the muscle of the operation. Tony's hand to hand combat had been improving, but Tony didn't stand a chance against them.

"You're supposed to be dead," he told Sam bluntly and concise.

"Evidently I'm not," Sam told him with a grin that finally made him understand why everyone in the bullpen could get annoyed with his.

"Well, thank you for that captain obvious," he retorted with a lopsided smirk.

"I would watch your mouth if I were you."

"And why would that be?"

"Because I have the upper hand."

"This is coming from the man in view of at least three video cameras with two of those capturing your faces," he steadily exaggerated.

"Liar," Sam said without missing a beat. How Sam knew that was beyond him; the cameras were well hidden to the naked eye; McGee had strategically placed them himself. So, at lost for words, Tony did the first thing that came to mind; he offered a movie reference.

"Lying is a skill like any other, and if you want to maintain a level of excellence you have to practice constantly. That's from Star Trek. Good movie, but I don't love sci fi so much."

"They warned me about this."

"Then 'they' probably warned you that I have a short tempered boss who hasn't had coffee in over two hours that will murder you without blinking," he told Sam in a run-on sentence that reminded him of the manner in which Abby spoke.

"Then it's a good thing we won't be here long enough for Gibbs to notice your absence."

"Huh?" Tony only had enough time to ask his question before a shovel connected with the back of his head. He crumpled to the ground, hitting his head once again on a taillight, and then lying still. Muscled goon number one, the one who had struck Tony, made sure he was out cold before they got work.

"Hold his arm out carefully. If they see bruises they'll run extra tests," Sam instructed.

"But I fought you said it would be undetectable," Goon number two reminisced. He instantly regretted questioning orders from Sam, who was patently extensively experienced. For a few petrifying seconds, fiery rage sparkled behind his brown eyes. But then, just as instantaneously and unexpected as it had come, it left, replaced with a smile.

"We were ordered to go to extreme cautions, if you recall. Now don't pretend you know anything about anything." After that everyone pretended to be deeply engrossed with their task and a silence so heavy it weighed on everyone's shoulders fell over them. They followed the procedure they had spent months preparing accurately and precisely and there time had payed off well. Sam took out the needle, and with muscled goon number one holding out Tony's arm, plunged it into his vein in his forearm. When the contents of the vial was emptied, Tony stirred, but two goons held him to the ground carefully without leaving marks.

"Take out the chloroform and cover his nose and mouth for two minutes." Sam barked and with no one wanting to provoke Sam's wrath, they fulfilled the chore. As DiNozzo slipped into a deeper unconsciousness his body became unmoving on the asphalt. "Lets go." Sam nodded to the car in the back of the garage and goons number one and three scooped up Tony. Goon two jogged ahead to the van and prepared it for the get away.

Once in the van with Sam in the back with Tony, the car quickly gained speed and accelerated out of the lot. They still had three minutes until the video cameras would reset themselves and resume recording, but as Sam said, "They were to go to extreme cautions". The sickly sweet chemical was pressed against the kidnapped agents face periodically, ensuring he would not awake. Goon number one, Thomas, thought it was overkill. It was obvious that he was not capable of rousing, and he aware abuse of chloroform would lead to a depressed respiratory system. He had seen Sam snap at Brantley, or goon number one, when he had questioned orders, so he was tentative to voice his concerns. He struggled to retain his mouth shut, but after the fifth time of reapplying it, enough was enough.

"Sam, anymore and you will kill him," he warned with voice on the edge of yelling. Thomas hadn't exactly expected a warm reaction, but what he got was worst than the imagined. Sam's head snapped up as if he had been stung but then maintained a neutral face. He deliberately reached behind him and brought whatever item was in his hand in front of his body. Thomas only had enough time to hastily identify the object he was looking at as the barrel of a gun when a deafening crack rang out. Brantley, who had befriended Thomas, had a look of horror and shock smeared on his face. The other henchman, Damien, was indifferent, and if anything, annoyed he would have to rid of the body. If they had not been far outside the clutches of NCIS, guards would have been swarming the ca from the noise.

Sam restored the gun in his waistband without an emotion on his face. He felt no remorse; he had made it very clear his orders would be followed diligently. Thomas had not obeyed, thus causing his own demise. But still, without even his own knowledge, deep inside, where he hid all the things about himself that did not please him, he knew Thomas was right. He might have killed the NCIS agent with the overuse of the anesthetic, but he would never consciously acknowledge it.

They made it to the warehouse exceptionally fast due to Sam's intimidation effect on the driver, Brantley. Damien, who was strong was strong enough to lift their captive on his own, scooped up Tony's lax body and carried him inside of the rusty warehouse. He looked like he was about to dump him unceremoniously on the rigid cement, but with a glare from Sam, he instead laid him down on the hard floor. If DiNozzo had been awake, he would have found Damien's face comical that displayed his disgust at his own gentleness.

As soon as they were settled in to the abadoned building, Sam snached up the first aid kit and rifled through the contents. When his hand wrapped around a tube, he pulled it out and brought it closer to himself so he could properly examine it. Finding it was some sort of healing remedy, he applied some to the agent. Of course his actions were not to benefit DiNozzo, they were to help himself to nearly one million dollars. He simply could not have an entry wound from the needle, or what they had injected would be uncovered. With his estimate, in two weeks there would not be a mark on his skin that could be observed without some sort of magnifier. The pitiful knot on the back of his head from the shovel would be slower to heal, but the agent was conscious when that wound was inflicted, therefore leaving no reason to bother hiding it in the first place. Sam planned to keep Tony unconscious until they left NCIS enough clues and crumb-trails for them to be found. But by then, Sam and his henchmen would be far from the grasp of even Gibbs, going into a financially sound early retirement.

Sam's employers, who none had spoken directly to excluding Sam, had included Gibbs on their lists of liabilities Sam had required. Gibbs had been described as a wild card, and overly protective of his team. The employers spoke with a note of hatred in their voice when they spoke of Gibbs, as if they were trying to hide white hot fury and not quite managing it. If Sam had considered this more closely, he would have wondered if agent DiNozzo's fate was revenge on Gibbs. If the notion had occurred to Sam, he would not have cared any more, Sam was only in on this project for the money. Oh, the grand reward had they been promised. Sam had never been one to be considered to have a positive personality, but when he thought of the millions, a sense of giddiness absorbed him.

Sam did not realize he had lost himself in his thoughts until he heard a fearful voice interrupting them. Sam did not need to look up or analyze the voice to comprehend who had spoken. Only Brantley spoke with that much fear.

"What do you want?" Sam snapped with and angry bite in his tone. Brantley flinched involuntarily at his harshness but recovered enough to reply.

"Uh, well, we are almost out of chloroform… I was wondering if I should get more?"

"Fine. Hurry up." Eager to put distance between himself and Sam, Brantley nearly ran out the door, leaving behind a chuckling Damien.

"Coward," Damien muttered under his breath.

"Well, we might as well settle in." Sam announced and exited the room after shrugging off his jacket.

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