Hi! As a warning, this first chapter is pretty dark with a truck load of violence- (things improve, I assure you!) But if that's not your thing, then this story may not be right for you. Also, clearly none of the characters belong to me, but to the awesome Chicago PD! Enjoy!

Chapter One

The heavy sound of footsteps filled his exhausted mind. The rhythmic stomping of steel capped boots hitting the dirty concrete floor had become a noise he welcomed and dreaded in equal measures. He closed his eyes and sighed, summing up energy from deep within to face the hell he knew was coming. The bolt slid back, and the door sprung open, pouring light in for the first time in what felt like days. He had no concept of time; the room was always dark; he was always alone. The only thought in his head was for water, he was now so thirsty, his head was pounding, and he was dizzy laying down.

"Get up."

The barking order was familiar to him now. He estimated he had been in the company of this gang for at least four weeks. His response had altered considerably over that time, mainly due to his never-ending rounds of so called 'punishment'.

"I said get up, you piece of shit!"

The second order came with a hard kick in the ribs for disobeying the first order. With an explosion of pain, he gasped and rolled onto his side, his hands flying straight up to instinctively protect his head. "Can't…" He whispered, before erupting in a coughing fit. The pain in his chest unbearable, he silently begged his lungs to calm down. Forcing himself to breathe through his nose, he tried to talk again. His mouth was so dry, he found it impossible to talk. "Can't…"

The sadistic laugh that followed reminded him of how cruel this gang could be. Although he did know this before he even took on the case. He just always prayed that the outcome would be these guys in prison, not him in their prison. He braced himself for the next part of the ritual.

Without any warning, the man grabbed his bare feet and began dragging him out of the cell. An agonising roar erupted from him as his broken body began to move. He knew there was no point in screaming for him to stop, he had given up begging for that nearly a week ago. He would not stop until they arrived at their destination.

He was surprised at how quickly he had deteriorated if he was truthful. He honestly thought he was stronger than this, he stupidly believed he just had to hold out until they came for him, a few days max and they would be there, guns blazing. But the horrific punishment sessions had taken their toll. He could no longer get up, or even sit up unassisted. Everything hurt. He was weak and exhausted and sensed that he had lost a lot of weight. He had resigned to the fact that the team had been unable to find him. Surely, they would have been here by now otherwise? The mental pain from that fact alone, tore at him even more than the physical wounds. He was way too broken now to consider escape, he was simply waiting for them to finish playing with him and to end it. That thought had entered his mind many times before, but he had always locked it down instantly. He was now slowly beginning to accept his fate.

The trip down the passageway continued as expected, he felt the rough warehouse flooring ripping open new parts of his skin on his back, buttocks, and shoulders. New grazes forming, ripping open partially healed ones. His head bumped down a step and his feet were forcibly dropped. He vowed to himself that tomorrow he would try and walk, no matter what. That had to be the last time he was dragged there.

The one good thing about leaving his cell was water. There was never food or drink in his cell, only darkness and pain. A bowl of water and what he assumed was a bowl of dog biscuits were sometimes given to him before his punishment. Their method of giving him nourishment had not been too much of a problem in the beginning, he had sat down and picked up the bowl of water, drinking desperately. In the last week however, not being able to move himself, he had just about managed to tip the bowl over with him chin whilst laying on his side. Most of the water had spilled and if he had any spare energy- he would have cried. With his teeth uncleaned for so long, it had become to sore to manage the dog biscuits so he stopped bothering.

"Morning 'Jay'." Someone yelled, all the emphasis on his name as they had originally all known him as Ryan. They now seemed to enjoy saying his real name, reminding him of why he was being treated in this way. "Or are you Ryan today?" The second kick of the morning was given to his ribs and Jay groaned uncontrollably, squeezing his eyes closed he forced himself to control his breathing. That technique had been keeping him going for the past few weeks, no matter how bad it got- he had to just focus on breathing.

"Water…" He begged. Resorting to begging fuelled his anger inside, but he was acutely aware he had no choice, he felt dryer now that he had the whole time he had been there. They did not show any reaction to his request. He slowly opened his eyes, debating whether eye contact with one of them would help the case. "Please…" He tried again helplessly.

A roar of laughter made him jump, causing another wave of pain to travel though his body. "Water! You want water?" The owner of the loud voice stepped forward into Jay's view and his heart sank. This gang member was particularly sadistic and cruel and went by the name of Pete. To Jay's relief, he hadn't seen him for a few days and had silently prayed that they had 're-allocated' him to a different job after he took his waterboarding punishment way too far and had to be physically dragged away from Jay by his fellow gang members. Jay was certain he wasn't all there, his obsession with inflicting pain and suffering, likely fuelled by excessive drug use, was unlike anything Jay had seen. Jay immediately clocked that he looked high as a kite again today, a wave of nausea came over him.

"Get the hose." He ordered one of the others in a very serious tone, the laughing had stopped now, Pete meant business. Jay could hear his order being carried out and panic was setting in. He forced himself to try and sit up.

"No…" Jay managed to force out, making it up only as far as his bleeding elbows. Pete paid no attention to Jay, just began removing his jacket and rolling up his long sleeves. "No!" Jay shouted.

"Who the fuck do you think you are?" Pete reached Jay in two long strides and shoved his boot onto Jays chest knocking him flat on the floor again. "This cop's got balls telling me what to do!" Pete yelled, grin back on his face.

Jay decided it had reached the point to start begging for his life. The team had to be close now, it had been weeks and he couldn't lose hope that they weren't about to blast the doors off this run-down warehouse. What he wouldn't give to watch Voight's bullet go straight through Pete's head. He knew this would be his last session with that cloth and hosepipe. He still wasn't certain how he had managed to regain consciousness after the last time. It was definitely up there as his most horrific torture experience- and he'd had the unfortunate achievement of trying many methods out, both with the army and the police. His lungs were already wet, his cough had been worsening over the last few days. He would never survive another round.

"Please, don't do this! You'll kill me." Jay said, trying to roll on his side but Pete's boot stayed put firmly on his chest.

"Death Jay, is what you deserve." Pete said pushing down with his boot even harder before removing it. Jay rolled to his side and tried to curl up, his breathing so fast now, he was struggling to comprehend that this was how it was all going to end.

"But… you could ransom me, get cash. Don't do this man, please..." Jay begged. "Call them, they'll pay, seriously…"

Pete laughed again, and with a swift nod of the head three men moved towards Jay and began to pin him down. Three was probably overkill with how weak he was, but he would now be fighting for his life and Pete was taking no chances.

A strong dose of pure adrenaline erupted through Jay's body. He began squirming and kicking out, fighting off the restraining force. His efforts were futile, these men clearly worked out and within seconds they had him completely pinned. Jay was now taking panic fuelled gasps of air, his bulging eyes darting around trying to see where Pete was and if the hose was incoming.

A filthy black cloth was shoved over his face and the smell of car grease filled his nostrils. He tried again to move his arms, begging them to be able to force the pressure away.

The first splash of water onto his face caused even more adrenaline to flood his body. His heart pounding away in his chest, felt like it was also trying to break free of his rib cage. He thrashed his head to the sides wildly trying to lose the cloth, but instantly felt strong hands securing it in place. Water was pouring up his nose and down his throat, each gasp of air drew more water down and his airways were on fire.

After what felt like forever the water stopped and the cloth pulled away. Jay was violently spluttering and hacking coughs shook his body. He roared with fear and anger, an animalistic noise that didn't even sound like it had come out of his own mouth. "Focus on breathing" he replayed over and over in his head; he had survived round one. The violent coughs and been now replaced with major gasps for air. This was when Pete had enjoyed turning the hose back on last time, quickly causing unconsciousness.

"Why is this so fucking awesome to watch?" Pete shouted wildly to the men pinning Jay down, they laughed and cheered in agreement with him. "You still thirsty?"

Jay heard the hose being dragged back towards him and managed a massive gulp of air before the cloth was shoved back on his face. The water arrived a second later and poured straight up his nose finding a way to invade his body. His instinct was to cough and try to expel the invading liquid, but this just caused more water to enter his mouth. Flashing lights danced in his vision and his hearing began to lose its clarity. Images of Hailey began to fill his mind. Her beautiful blond wavy hair, her smile, those blue eyes. Her arrival made him thrash his head and body again, but still to no avail, he realised that he was losing consciousness. Once he was out, he wouldn't wake again.

With complete shock and surprise there was a sudden loud crash. Jay thought it was a door bursting open but in his state he couldn't quite tell. Had his team arrived? The hose was instantly removed from his face and the men holding him down vanished. His hangs instinctively sprung up to his face to remove the wet cloth and he gasped at the air available. The fire inside his airways now fully a blaze with the sensation of fire, he rolled onto his side to allow the water to drain. His pain unbearable. In his own personal hell, he hadn't noticed the commotion going on around him. A man wearing a full suit was suddenly in his face shouting. Dragging him back onto his back, two strong hands found his shoulders and began shaking him forcibly, banging his head onto the floor. Jay was completely disorientated; he could barely focus his eyes and his hearing was still coming back. He blinked slowly at the man in complete shock.

He had a brief sickening thought when he realised the man above him wasn't Voight and that his team had obviously not arrived. He closed his eyes, and promptly passed out.