A/N: I want to thanks everyone that comment this story. I really appreciate it, because the worst for author is not knowing what the readers are thinking about his story. I wish that you will share your opinions with me. I want to thank my friend that helped me with this chapter. I'm sorry for any errors and bad grammar.

Chandni

Chapter 2

He was confused and maybe that's exactly what they wanted? After the mental abuse came time for giving him a hope that next they would brutally take away from him. How else to explain these small gestures of Old Gringo? He gave him water, right, he didn't want him to be dehydrated. But that pat on the chin? Tony settled himself as comfortably as possible on the concrete floor heated by the sun that managed to get into the room through the small windows.

He searched his memory for what they have learned about this Old Gringo. He was probably an American commando, who has lost his voice during his last failed mission. Then he left the U.S. and went to Mexico, where he joined the Coyotes. So, while during his stay here he will try to figure him out. In the meantime he tried to focus on his other senses. A man is always relying on a sight and touch. When, however, he lose his sight... he becomes dependent on the other, and becomes like a bat.

"The bats see with their ears." he whispered, trying to concentrate on what he had heard. He knew what sounds made shoes of Coyotes and during what step. He already knew Gringo's gait. At present, he has been able to determine it was the night. It was quieter and he could hear the sound of water. So was close to the wharf.

Suddenly, the shrill cries reached his ears. He was not alone in the pain and suffering but from the scream he read that it was a different kind of pain. For him it was psychologically torment, and for this people they inflicted physical pain. He didn't know which was worse.

/

They came for him around noon. He felt an overwhelming hunger and rumble in his stomach. Tony was terrified by the fact that he become so quickly accustomed to the stench that prevailed in the cell. He napped for about be three hours, cause he was afraid to sleep, but tiredness was stronger than the fear and alertness.

They repeated the previous day's activities. Checked the band on his eyes, bound ropes around his wrists and next they pulled him by the chain to the same room where he was yesterday, in which they killed his partner.

Again he heard the conversation in Spanish and felt the presence of Old Gringo in the corner of the room. As usual, he was an observer.

"Lie on your belly" the order fell quickly, so he did it. Someone put next to him the chain that was still attached to his collar. Moments later, another person entered the room and was placed next to Tony in the same way. But this time DiNozzo didn't feel the touch of another body, like yesterday when his arm felt Danny's shoulder. It meant only that the perpetrator left a space between them. Not a second passed before Tony learned why, when the long, braided leather whip lashed literally a millimeter from his left side. He heard the hiss of air as the whip was raised again, and this time it fell on the right side of his body.

Tony felt his body react instinctively, tensing, shrinking away. He was covered in goosebumps and his forehead, laying on the concrete floor, had drops of cold sweat running down. Quiet, involuntary moan of shock came from his throat. Whiplashes along his body were repeated twice, and then dropped four straight hits on the back of another person. Man, older mexican, howled in pain. He tried to free himself, screaming, begging for mercy. Tony did not have to know the language to know. He himself tried to slip the band even a little off of his eyes but could not when the next four series fell right on his body. If he could, he would jump in place, lying down. He was breathing heavily through parted, dried lips. He decided to mentally prepare for the next hit, using the sense of hearing. The next four hits fell on Mexican. Again, Tony heard the whistle of the air, and soon four strikes fell.

The detective could get used to his torture but it was hard to get used to other people being tortured, especially since they really suffered mentally and physically. He could not turn off the mind and focus on something else and he should. If he wants to survive, he has to do it. Must be cut off from the pain of others, but he couldn't. And it was not even associated with empathy, solidarity and other lofty sentiments. Rather just the plain humanity, of which the minute, hour, day he was being stripped.

Suddenly, everything stopped. He heard the laugh of Coyotes and sobs of wounded man. Coyotes talked among themselves, probably about the next torture they had planned for him that day.

Why don't they kill me? He thought, when Gringo strong hands untied his bounds for a moment.

"Over your head," ordered young coyote spitting next to him and tying Mexican hands over his head. Old Gringo tied DiNozzo's hands above his head, and then pressed a hook between thick cords.

"Rise," fell another command. Numb, he followed it, only to hang a moment later half a meter above the floor. Someone took and spun him. Sure the young one, because he thought Gringo was above such childish ideas. Tony felt weak, as if he contracted seasickness. And that ringing of the chain by his collar. When the whirling stopped and he stood in the place he felt as someone pulled his shoes. He groaned. Not only for almost two days his arms were to his back he was still hanging on them now.

Is his boss looking for him at all? Didn't they figured out that the deal didn't go as it should? Haven't they already found the Danny's body?

He felt more and more sore and tired. He began to lose hope of the rescue in 'Lethal Weapon' style. He didn't like that he was dangling there with bare feet. This doesn't bode any good, and he was right. He heard the familiar sound of the discharges, and immediately knew what Coyotes prepared. His ankles were exposed and lightly moistened with water. He turned his head and placed it on his shoulder, biting teeth on a shirt. The room came a muffled cry when two conductive rods were applied to his ankles.

It took a second, but he felt his body shake in seizures, the blood quickly crackling in his body, his heart beating like crazy and breathing becoming fast and shallow. He heard the low moan, and he knew that he made that sound. After a while he heard the shrill cry of the Mexican. Tony moved his head nervously listening. His hands were clutching the rope tightly, as if for support. Someone swung it again and again shocked him with electricity, but this time a little longer. He couldn't stop his scream. He felt as tears were falling from his eyes into the blindfold, the sweat running down his face, neck and body.

Another moment and he will be begging for mercy. He won't be able to endure this for long. He was hungry, exhausted and emotionally broken.

He was torn away from his thoughts by sound of shoes and closing doors. They left them, so that they just left hanging there suffering. Tony moved rapidly.

"Hola?" he whispered hoarsely. He hoped that his comrade in misery was still among of the living.

"N-nothing do," he spoked with hard english accent. "Told them 'no'.

"I'm sorry," Tony whispered. Coyotes terrorized residents of a small city and demanded cooperation, property, women. Who opposed them... ended just like that.

/

He didn't know how long he hung in loneliness exchanging short, slight sentences with each other. If Tony had to guess they hung there for several hours, which he painfully felt in his arms. A few men came back to the room. Gringo, as usual, took his place in a dark corner. Tony felt as someone pulled his shirt up.

Do they want to 'caress' his belly now? He thought and vision of electroconvulsive this time on her stomach did not cause him a wave of joy. However, the perpetrators didn't mean that, but quite something else. After a moment smell of kerosene and sulfur reached the detective. Something was lit and Tony understood what this time they got ready for them. He didn't have to wait for long before one of the Coyotes approached him with the lit torch and held it to his left side. Flames barely brushed his skin, more pain flared from the heat coming off the torch. He clenched his hands on the ropes restraining him and clenched his teeth again on the sleeve of his shirt. He didn't know how long he can stand it when the Coyote moved the torch to his other side, before Tony smelled slight burn of roasted skin and hairs on the body. After five minutes, he was close to fainting when he heard the cry of the Mexican. He knew that he was probably burned by applying more heat to the body. The stench of burning flesh came quickly to him. He wanted this to end, and finally, for him and for the poor wretch.

And as if at his request, a few minutes later that he was to him like an eternity, he heard familiar sound of reloaded gun and then a shot was fired. He instinctively froze, waiting for the pain and slow death.

But he has not suffered the saving grace of release but the Mexican, the man who opposed the cartel. After a while, he was lowered on the floor. His legs buckled under him. No one held him up. He fell to his knees gasping. His shirt slid down, rubbing injured sides of his his belly. He was shaking with exhaustion and pain. Every nerve in his body screamed in agony. Adding to this was headache from impact, which he hadn't previously felt. His chain has been sharply drawn. He stood up, forced to go on.

And just as the previous night he was pushed into the bath. He greeted cold streams like salvation to his burning body. And as yesterday he was forced to hold a 'toilet' in the shower. But in the present moment he didn't care at all. He just wanted to go back to his cell, cuddle up to a cold and wet walls and sleep.

Just like the previous day Old Gringo led him to his cell. Then Tony realized that they haven't tied his wrists, for which he was grateful. Old Gringo repeated acts of drinking. This time, he let him enjoy virtually all the water. And as last time a finger tapped him on the cheek, as if hinting he should not give up. There was something in the rough gesture and touch that made him follow this command. DiNozzo couldn't explain it. Moments after the Gringo left, the detective gave himself into the arms of Morpheus.