Another drop of water hit his forehead. He had lost track of how many had dropped on his forehead today. He was strapped to a cold metal chair, arms bound tightly to the arm rests and his feet tied together. He couldn't move and a blind fold covered his eyes. He didn't know where they had put him today. Every day he was in a new place. They moved him from here to there, sometimes it took mere seconds, sometimes it took more than hours at a time.

Another drop of water hit his forehead. It was driving him mad. He didn't know how much more of this he could take. He had stopped struggling long before now. He just saw no point. He had lost track of the days. He had lost track of how many tortures he was put through every day. He was starting to lose hope that anyone would ever find him again. He felt a tear escape his eye as he thought of his partner. Ziva. He missed her so much. He missed her smile, her bright laugh when he told some stupid joke. He missed McGee. The Probie. He swore never to call him that again, when he got out of here. If he got out of here.

Another drop of water hit his forehead. He couldn't take it anymore. He had to scream. He had to struggle against the bonds. He had to let all sanity go. But he didn't. He didn't because he knew if he did, he would spill all of NCIS's secrets. He would tell them everything he knew and considering how much he knew, that wasn't good. He didn't let go of his sanity because he knew Ziva wouldn't. Ziva would have stayed strong. He felt another tear run down his cheek. He needed to stop thinking about them. Nothing good would come from this if he was weak, if he couldn't stay strong.

He heard the creaking of a door and a pair of footsteps. Just one this time, thank goodness. Slowly, he heard them make his way over to him. A pair of calloused hands brushed their thumb across his cheek, wiping the tear marks away gently. They felt… familiar. They felt so familiar but he didn't talk, afraid he would be wrong. Slowly, ever so slowly, they reached behind his head, which was strapped back by a neck brace connected to the chair so he couldn't move his head, and removed the blindfold.

Bright light shined down on him and he squeezed his eyes shut at the sudden brightness before opening them slightly and blinking fast to get used to it. Someone stood in front of him. It was…a woman. He squinted, trying to focus on the person was. Slowly, the woman came into focus and fear made his empty stomach turn. It was her. Samuel Grey's wife, Michelle Grey. Such a pretty name and such a pretty girl, ruined by her cold, cruel personality. She was always the one that told him that his torture was over, that his torture was about to begin, and she took him from place to place.

His clouded gaze went to the whip she was holding in her hands. His eyes widened in horror and he started to struggle and another drop of water fell on his forehead, dripping down his face. Michelle Grey's eyes were cold, colder than her heart which he was pretty sure was ice. Michelle snapped her wrist, making the whip smack the floor, a loud crack echoing through the small, metal enclosed room. He flinched at the sound, another tear running down his cheek and his eyes were large and pleading for her not to. Her eyes were emotionless as she finally spoke. "Today is a celebration, Special Agent Anthony DiNozzo. Would you like to know why?"

Tony nodded quickly. "Yes." His voice cracked. He sounded defeated, loss of all hope.

Michelle struck his with the whip on his cheek. A cry of agony erupted from his mouth and he blinked back tears of pain as blood ran his face from the shallow wound on his cheek. "You never answer questions." She snapped. "We don't ask questions. We state facts. Never think we ask a question."

Tony didn't move or speak, fearing if he did either one he would get struck again but his eyes shone with fearful understanding.

Michelle seemed pleased. "Good. Now, we are going to show you to someone. But…" her eyes trailed over him. "We need to get you ready and my husband has left me with the pleasant pleasure of doing just that."

She quickly barked some orders in Arabic and two well-muscled men came in and cut his ropes before grabbing his wrists and attaching cuffs to them, chains hanging off the cuffs. Tony didn't let his imagination wander about what they were going to do to him but he did let out a small groan of pain when one of the men kicked his back. He felt a small tug on the chains and his brow furrowed in confusion as he felt himself being lifted off of the ground, hanging by his chains.

He watched as one of the men carelessly tore his shirt off with a knife, cutting Tony's chest in the process. Tony yelled slightly in pain.

Michelle stood in front of Tony. "Tony, I'm not sure if you remember them but," she held up a laptop with a webcam and his eyes widened. "I hope you can recognize you fellow co-workers." Tony stared at the screen. Abby, Jenny, Gibbs, Ziva, and McGee were staring at him in horror. He could only imagine what he looked like. Dried blood, fresh blood, caking his face along with dirt and wounds and scars. His dull eyes, only fear and terror.

He hears Abby gasp. "Tony…"

Tony's eyes widened and he cries out in pain as his back is whipped. A tear runs down his cheek and he stares at Gibbs and manages to whisper, "R-red, yel-yellow, seven,f-five…" Another tear runs down his face as a knife is dug into his shoulder and he screams.

Tony faintly hears Gibbs through the pain as the shoulder digs deeper into his sholder. "DiNozzo! We will find you! Just hang in there-" but that was all Special Agent Anthony DiNozzo heard before he passed out, hopeless eyes locked with Gibb's outraged eyes.

My very first story with NCIS. Please review and tell me what you think! Constructive criticism appreciated.