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Tony stared into the eyes of his captor and wondered if this was going to be the time he didn’t make it. There was no way he was going to be able to rescue himself this time. He’d already tried multiple times and it had only resulted in multiple contusions and some severe bleeding.
He coughed and cringed as blood came out. That was a pretty good sign of internal bleeding. He knew if he didn’t get help soon he was as good as dead.
He could barely move. His spirit might not be broken, but his body was more than. He’d heard Ducky talk about lacuna before and now he wondered what his lacuna looked like. He was pretty sure they were in terrible shape.
He slowly over a period of an hour managed to move himself from where they’d tossed him the last time, after their latest torture session, to the corner farthest away from the cell door. He still hoped that Gibbs and the team would find him. They were his only hope now.
He’d positioned himself where he did because it was the most defensible and the farthest away from the cell door if they had to blow it up to get him out. Of course, that meant that they had to find him and he didn’t even know if they knew he was missing, yet. He could admit that this whole scenario was his fault.
He’d been the one looking into cold cases late at night when there was no one around to play backup. He’d thought he was just reaching out to a witness, but instead he’d found the murderer and because it was Tony, the guy was completely off his rocker. Normally, Tony could outlast any torture, but this guy was quite adept and Tony was hanging onto his sanity purely by focusing on Gibbs, McGee, Jimmy, and all the rest of them coming for him.
The maniacal cackles haunted his sleep, what sleep Tony managed to get which wasn’t much, and Tony knew the guy was aware of where his thoughts were going. With every day that passed, it was getting harder and harder for Tony to believe that Gibbs would come through for him this time. After all, it wasn’t like this would be the first time that Gibbs had forgotten Tony existed.
That’s when the screaming started and Tony struggled to get up despite the fact that neither of his legs could really support his weight. It sounded like Tim. He needed to rescue Tim from this torture that he was going through. If he couldn’t save himself, at least, he could save Tim. Tim was his Probie. It was his job to protect him.
He let out a sharp cry as his entire body protested the movement, but he had to save Tim from this hell. It was bad enough that he’d gotten himself caught in it. He could never live with himself if he lost Tim to this too.
He heard his captor, laughing at his misery, but he ignored him as he tried to stand on his own two feet. He didn’t have the slightest idea how he’d get out of this cell, but he’d be damned if he sat by and did nothing while they tortured McGee. He didn’t care what happened to him, he would save his brother.
He collapsed in a heap on the floor when the screams stopped. Had it all been in his head? Was Tim really here being tortured somewhere? What was real and what was just in his head? He didn’t know anymore.
Why wasn’t Gibbs here, yet? Where was his team? His family? They should be here already. It felt like he’d already been here for two weeks. Had they abandoned him? Did none of them care about him, after all?
Had they all been captured like him? Was it up to him to save all of them? He didn’t think he had it in him. He couldn’t even move without pain. It was excruciating trying to stand up.
He’d wasted so much energy trying to save McGee and he hadn’t even made it to the cell door. He was so fucked. Was this nightmare ever going to be over?
How many days had it been now? Could he even tell? Were they trying to screw with his sense of time? They hadn’t made any demands for information and he was at a loss as to what they wanted. Was torturing him their only goal?
How much longer was he expected to survive this? He couldn’t move, he was coughing blood. Every day he grew weaker and moving took more effort and hurt more.
He wasn’t afraid to die. Honestly, he welcomed it at this point in time. It had been at least 24 hours since his last beating, which meant another one would be happening soon.
More than anything he wanted this nightmare to be over. He would love to be home surrounded by his family. Heck, even some sign that they were looking for him would be lovely. He’d been here way too long. They should have found him by now. Where were they?
Was he really going to die here? He’d imagined going out one day in a hail of bullets, but nothing like this. He’d never imagined dying in the middle of nowhere with no one who cared about him present. Honestly, it hurt his pride to imagine that these might be his last days, but he couldn’t do anything about it either.
He’d tried. He’d tried so hard to escape. He’d tried so hard to save his energy and take advantage of opportunities and still he remained stuck here with more injuries than he could count, some of them very concerning.
He closed his eyes. He didn’t even have enough energy to keep them open anymore. He was done. His family must have been all in his head. He felt his life force draining away and he prayed to someone, anyone, that his family was ok and not trapped in the same nightmare he was.
This was it. This was where he died. He slipped into unconsciousness, knowing that he would never see the light of day again. That they had won.
He was astonished to blink awake. He was still weak, but someone was holding his hand and he heard the beeping of machines that usually signalled he was in the hospital. He tried to force his eyes to open, but dropped back into unconsciousness instead.
He had no idea how much time had passed when he next woke up, but he could at least open his eyes this time. He felt tears well up as he saw his entire family there in the hospital room for him. They had come.