Just Keep Breathing
Chapter Two
"Agent Gibbs I am going to answer some of the questions I'm sure you have floating around in your head. You do not know me but you may call me Mr. Smith if you need to assign me a name. No one knows where you are and your famous team will not find you. You will be with us for anywhere from ten days to two weeks depending on how much of our special brand of hospitality you can endure. I have no intention of killing you so rest assured you will be returned home when we are finished. Having said that and put your mind to rest for a moment let me also say you will at some point in the next ten days wish with all your soul that I would kill you. I will not. I will however inflict as much physical and mental pain and suffering on you as I can without giving you that final peace you will so desperately want.
I know you will resist and that is fine. You are but one man and I have several who are ready, willing and able to cause you considerable discomfort. Your eyes will remain covered for the entirety of your stay here. Not because you would be able to identify me because you wouldn't, but because it will add to your sense of disorientation and eventually fear. I will uncuff your hands but if you attempt to remove your eye coverings I will not only put them back on I will break your right arm first. Do you understand?"
Gibbs did not respond.
Mr. Smith nodded to a man standing in the doorway. He jerked Gibbs up by the shirt and hit him twice in the upper abdomen driving all the air out of his lungs. When the man let go of him, Gibbs fell helplessly to the floor.
"When I ask you a question I suggest you respond. Do you understand about the cuffs?"
"Yes," Gibbs gasped.
"Good. You are not here to be questioned about any deep dark national secrets. You are not being held for ransom. No one is being contacted to trade you for some poor political prisoner somewhere. You are here merely to be beaten and abused and made to suffer to within minutes of your own death. Then you will be taken home."
You are probably asking yourself why I'm doing this. If I'm so terribly angry with you that I would go to all this trouble why don't I just kill you? I'll tell you why; because I want you to remember this experience and know that I'm still out there somewhere. I can do this again anytime I want to. I can get you anytime. Or maybe someone you love. Now, that's enough for tonight. Try to get some sleep. The real fun begins soon."
The man who had hit him, picked Gibbs up and braced him against the wall face first. He removed the cuffs and Gibbs almost cried at the relief he felt at being able to move his arms and shoulders. The relief didn't last long. The man punched him twice in the kidneys and when Gibbs slumped to the ground the man kicked him in the chest and stomach so many times Gibbs lost count. Just before he passed out, Gibbs felt the man rip off his shirt, tee shirt and pants. Then he took his shoes and socks leaving him in just his boxers. The man helped him up then pushed him down on the bed.
"Toilet's on the wall to your right. Have a pleasant night."
Then the man left and Jethro curled up in the fetal position and tried not to move. He tried to think but his mind was so fuzzy he couldn't put two thoughts together. Maybe some sleep would help he thought. He drifted off finally in a haze of pain and confusion.
He had no idea how long he had been asleep but he was awakened by an overwhelming urge to pee. He sat up on the side of the bed and tried to remember what the goon had said about the toilet. To the right he thought. He stood up carefully and with his hands out in front of him shuffled to his right, found the wall and eventually the toilet. He hoped his aim was good but really didn't care. He heard himself hitting the water so he guessed he could at least still do that alright. Gibbs felt around a little more and found a sink. He turned on the water and found only cold. Better than nothing. He splashed some water on his face careful to avoid his eyes lest Mr. Smith think he was messing with the tape there. He swallowed a couple of handfuls of water and made his way back to the bed.
Gibbs laid down on the bare mattress and felt around for a blanket or sheet. There was none. Oh well. He stretched out and tried to calm his mind so he could think. He wanted to think about Ziva but he knew that wouldn't really help him. It might make him feel better for a while but not really. Instead, he thought about Mr. Smith. He didn't recognize the voice; it was flat and had no accent at all. For some reason this man wanted to hurt him and hurt him badly. After a while, Jethro knew he wouldn't figure anything out tonight. Despite what the man said, Jethro knew Ziva would be looking for him and she would get the team involved. They would find him. He just had to hold on. He was tough and figured he could withstand at least a few days of beatings. The man wanted him alive so Gibbs decided he would take the beatings and try to figure out who the guy was as they went along.
While Jethro was sleeping fitfully on the bare mattress, Ziva was pacing the floor of their living room trying to decide what to do. For the hundredth time she read the note she had found on the kitchen table when she arrived home earlier that night. The note read:
I have agent Gibbs. If you look for him he dies. If you notify your father he dies. Tell ANYONE and he dies. Leave it alone and he will be back in two weeks. He won't be "good as new" but he will be alive. Don't fuck with me or he dies. You will be kept apprised of his condition. You can't help him but you CAN make it worse.
Ziva had no idea what to do. Of course her instinct was to call Tony and tell him what was going on but she was afraid to do that. They, whoever they were, had been in the house. The note was left right there on the kitchen table where she and Jethro always left notes for one another. She considered contacting her father through the embassy but again, she was afraid to. They knew who she was and more importantly who her father was. She couldn't just do nothing.
She sat down at the kitchen table and did the only thing she could think of at the moment. She prayed. And she thought. Something was tickling the back of her mind but she couldn't quite pull it out. She was exhausted but how could she sleep? Her husband, the man she loved beyond reason was gone, taken by strangers and undoubtedly being hurt. She HAD to do SOMETHING!
TBC
