Well, you asked for it, here's chapter 3, very short, not very progressive, but hey, I was tired, and if I didnt do some tonight, I knew I'd just forget every day after that! Im so forgetful :P
Oh well, I hope you like it, and thanx for all the great reviews! I love reading you thoughts,
Shriek1: Sorry to get your hopes up like that:( This one really IS chapter 3! HONEST!
Keep sending your reviews!
Sophie xox
Music, soft, quiet, almost distant, as if he was listening through the ears of another, or maybe in a dream. So recognisable, the kind of sound that nauseated him but yet gave him the cosy, distinct feeling of wanting to laugh. Oh if only Ducky was with him now, he could probably name the piece, and maybe name each an every member of the original Orchestra. However, these fragile and too few moments of peace for Tony were only too short, as his reality began to beckon with it's slow, familiar pull. He rolled over onto his side, keeping his eyes firmly shut, at least he knew now that the music he could hear was no dream, as it's lively melody continued to float about the small chamber in which Tony was all too aware he lay. Something in his side grated audibly as he moved, sending a bolt of pain up his side back and neck. Making a comical sound from his quick intake of breath, he quickly relieved the pain in his side by rolling carefully on to his back again.
"Great." He muttered, using his most morbid tone.
"Did I wake you my friend?" Despite the pain caused by the action, Tony almost leapt into a sitting position.
"Who are you?" The cell was dark, DiNozzo could barely even see his own hand before him, the man who sat with him, was no more visible than bat in a cave.
At least until it flew at you, Tony thought humourlessly.
"You like Tchaikovsky?"
Tony shrugged.
"I'm not much of a classical man."
Someone stood, and crossed the room, it was so dark, it was a horrible feeling, the vulnerability of being so sightless, disadvantaged. Not good. Not good at all.
"I didn't think so." Tony couldn't quite place the accent, his first thought was maybe English, but the occasional accent on the vowels made him sound much more European, maybe even southern American.
"You want an answer to your question?"
"I'd be grateful." No point in trying not to be sarcastic, Tony thought.
"My name is Mirandos, Hoolio Mirandos." Tony quirked an eyebrow, was he supposed to recognise the name? Well, he certainly wasn't of American descent with a name like that.
"You have heard the name before agent DiNozzo?"
"Should I have?" Laughter, eerily corny in such dank and dreary scenery.
"Maybe you'd better recognize me as R5629. Tony gave a humourless laugh.
"I was never any good with numbers."
"It's a case number." Mirandos interjected quickly. DiNozzo was unsure as to whether he was expected to reply to this statement, either way, it wasn't a number nor a name that jangled any bells in his brain.
"The Dance of the flutes."
"What?" Tony couldn't put a face on the guy enough to imagine an annoyed expression.
"The Dance of the flutes, Tschaikovsky's The Nutcracker." Tony nodded, despite the fact the gesture was invisible, he didn't bother to vocalize it.
"Your point?"
"Should there be a point to music?"
"There's a point to everything."
"Well, you are an NCIS agent." under different circumstances, Tony would have loudly voiced the statement of 'What the hell do you mean by that?' But somehow it did not seem appropriate.
"You're being very calm about this DiNozzo."
"Years of law enforcement does that."
"You are not curious as to how I know so much, your name, for example, your previous jobs, where you are from?"
"Not really."
The man made a tittering sound.
"You don't do my self-esteem any good you know, I happen to know very much about, well, all of you.
"Why? Howcould you know?"
"I make it my business to know."
Mirandos was interrupted by a bleeping from his pocket. Angered, he snatched the offending object and spoke gruffly into it, in some form of, as Tony could only guess, Spanish. The conversation was brief, and reminded him of the phone conversations Gibbs would hold with anybody. For a moment, Tony's mind drifted into wondering upon whether Gibbs had ever had anyone hang up on him before, when the snap close of Mirandos' phone awoke him to the present.
"I'm afraid I'll have to end our little talk here Special agent DiNozzo."
"That's just too bad." Tony gasped out loud when a hand caught him roughly round the shirt neck, hauling him several inches above the ground.
"Smarminess against authority is considered a felony where I come from!" The voice was dark, threatening, anddespite the fire in his side Tony managed to choke a few embittered words in response.
"I wasn't aware we had a hierarchy."
He was abruptly thrown down, footsteps, inside and outside of the cell. A door opened, throwing a long thin beam of light in DiNozzo's direction, yet throwing his captor into ever-increasing shadow. To Tony's dismay, he realized that Mirandos was no longer alone.
"We'll get to know each other a little better no doubt, but I always believe that so much bonding between captor and captive takes place in the absence of one, and the encouragement, of an outside party?" One of the two equally shadowed figures behind Hoolio Mirandos laughed mockingly, Tony swallowed, he could easily take on one of them, and maybe have fun with it, but two of them, he wasn't so sure, especially with what could easily have been a crushed rib marking his left side, it wasn't a fair match to say the least.
"I'm sure you three will get on wonderfully." Tony's breathing increased, he wanted to leap up and throttle the arrogant bastard where he stood, but an unknown entity held him back, common sense maybe?
"I'm sure we will."
The words were choked with anger, where was Gibbs when you needed him? Where was his gun when he needed it? The three by the doorway shared a few select and momentary words, before Mirandos took his leave. The door was shut behind him, and Anthony DiNozzo braced himself as he heard heavy footsteps draw towards him.