A/N: Well, here we go. Sorry for the huge delay, but what with a life to take care of, exams to study for, and friendships to maintain... Not to mention that I hated writing every word of this chapter...

Here we are, Chapter 5 of Mysterious Minds.

Warnings: Mildly disturbing thoughts and images, beginnings of torture.

5. Forsaken

As soon as the phone snapped shut, loud in his straining ears, Tony's stomach plummeted. The noise rang, echoed ominously between his ears like a declaration. The deed was done, and DiNozzo struggled not to let his fear show through. Gibbs was put off the scent, at least for a while. Madame Director would not reveal anything to him, even if she was suspicious. Maybe she would call his phone. Maybe she would feel her nerves stretch with anxiety when it went straight to voice mail. Or maybe she would just assume he had begun the mission for which he had been preparing for weeks.

He was left alone, to his thoughts, as the dark closed in once more. There was only a faint glimmer of light, barely enough to be comforting, but none of it mattered. In the gloom, the young agent reflected. He put his life on the line every day- well, often enough. Tony knew that the integrity of the operation was of utmost importance, and the Director would not ruin their chance for anything. And now, faced with the possibility of death, he was surprised. There was fear- he was human, after all- but he was rather resigned to the idea. He must protect their contact, protect classified information known only to himself and Jenny. If his life was forfeit... so be it. He had called off those who would try to save him, and he would take his information to his grave. Tony steeled himself, running scenario after scenario through his head, wondering what was going to become of him. He'd seen enough movies to be sufficiently afraid. He cringed as horrifying images flashed beneath his closed eyes, shrank away from the pain that had not even come.

But, his mission took priority. And, as much as he liked Jenny Sheppard, Tony believed she would feel exactly the same way.

Beneath the surface, turmoil roiled, despair fighting to breach his calm exterior, but he swallowed back the fright valiantly. A deep breath was all that he allowed himself- if there was going to be a struggle for his life, he did not need to be struggling with himself. He accepted what was to come, and accepted that extreme possibility which frightened him more than anything else on the face of the earth.

Memories flitted behind closed eyes, a bittersweet slide show of the past. Most were more recent, the childhood clouded by his blossoming golden years (soon to be cut short). Ducky, Kate, McGee, Abby, Ziva, Palmer.

Gibbs. He was prevalent, from the headsmacks to the few, treasured grains. Tony sighed. The man had played such a large role in his life for years, had been there more constantly than any other. They watched out for each other.

Gibbs might be the only one he would truly regret leaving behind.

The young captive lay, relaxed, on the chained table, staring unseeingly into the uncertain shapes which now lingered in the half light of his cell. The small amount of light offered comfort to him, and he did not even flinch as the heavy door behind him squealed open. His eyes did not move from their target of the ceiling, even as footsteps approached and the light intensified. He shut his eyes defiantly.

"You seem quite calm, Anthony," remarked the familiar captor's voice, and there was a flash. That damn Polaroid. But still Tony lay unmoving.

The man moved over to the wall, fumbled for a few moments, and then stepped back, admiring something.

"I think that this may turn into my best collection yet," he murmured before turning back to his prey, making a soft tutting noise. "Really, it is a shame. So handsome. If you're wise, you won't waste these fine features. Cooperation would be in your best interest."

Silence and stillness filled the empty space as Tony refused to respond. The smile began to fade from the older man's face, when suddenly Tony's nature took over.

"Best for you, maybe," he snorted cynically, the corners of the agent's mouth turning up in a mirthless smile. However, the lips quickly firmed back into a straight as a hand clasped his jaw in a firm grip.

"I cannot wait," the old man purred sweetly, "To see how exquisite you look when in agony, Agent DiNozzo." The hand slipped down beneath his chin and fingers pressed suggestively against his exposed throat, but Tony kept his expression obstinately.

His captor let out a sigh, obviously disappointed that Tony would not play. "Very well. I'll call Marcus, and then we shall begin."

DiNozzo shuddered as the footsteps faded once more. He could hardly hold back a shocked cry as a bag was slipped over his head, blinding him. The bear-like man's hands gripped his wrists, pulling him roughly from his chains, then his ankles, and he was set on the floor. Stiff and sore from his time hanging there, he longed to crumple to the floor and relieve his aches, but he continued to stand. He maintained his composure, not uttering a single sound.

"Going keep your silence forever, DiNozzo?" he asked in a low drawl as he tightened the bonds, pulling maliciously. "You are so enjoyable to speak with."

Tony stood, still as a statue. "I wish I could say the same of you." He did allow himself a smirk as Marcus muttered something in a disgusted voice under his breath, but cringed as a huge hand connected painfully with his lower back.

"Let's go, pretty boy."

Tony winced at the next rough shove to the center of his back.

The agent was taken from his prison, aching from the lack of movement. Though his knees wobbled, his skin prickled, his bare stung against the cold cement floor, Tony marched on resolutely. His breath came quickly, thickened by his anxiety. He tried to keep track of the turns they made (left, right, veer right, left, left again) but it soon became too much to remember them all. His head throbbed; he wished he'd had more than that single bite of frozen waffle this morning. Completely blind and guided only by rude shoves, he stumbled on.

Time stretched as he bumped into walls and tripped around what he could only assume were corners.

Suddenly, the agent felt a rush of warm, moist air against his skin as he heard a muffled "swish" of an opening door. It was almost comforting, like a balmy summer's breeze, but he knew he couldn't let his guard down. Even as the walked in, and the warmth wrapped itself around him, Tony mentally pinched himself. They weren't going to baby him, treat him as an honored guest; They were going to try to extract information.

He was not prepared as the restraints were ripped from his body, along with his last remaining scraps of clothing and dignity. Tony shivered, ashamed and exposed as he was chained again. The bag was pulled from his head, and he groaned as the white light was shone directly into his eyes.

By the time his eyes had adjusted, blinking indignantly at the severely increased intensity, Tony was extremely disoriented. He was alone in a sterile room, clean white and obviously medicinal in purpose. He was chained in the center, his arms pulled painfully wide and his ankles fastened to the floor with bolts and shackles. His body shook in fear, and he no longer made any attempt to hide it.

He nearly yelped in fear as the door slid open. The elderly man stepped before him, still dressed as superbly as he had been before, but with his sleeves rolled up and the camera slipped around his neck. Glasses perched on his nose. Tony closed his eyes as a wave of nausea crashed over him.

The man stepped up and gripped the younger man's jaw again, turning the youthful face first to one side, then the other. Tony cringed as the man's warm breath washed over his face, filling his nostrils with the scent of mint. The chuckle made him cringe further.

"Fear, Anthony? I hadn't expected it so soon."

*click,flash*

Tony allowed a growl to slip past his lips. He could practically hear the grin spreading across his captor's face.

"Beautiful."

He heard the snap of fingers, and the whoosh of an opening door. The trembling commenced again.

Tony cried out as the rapid spout of water pounded against his bare skin. It was alternately boiling hot, and excruciatingly chilled, but he could hardly register the temperature change under the immense pressure. He knew what they were doing, and tried to tell himself it wasn't working.

But, he knew deep down it was.

The man who had followed the snap of Old Man's fingers was dressed in OR garb. Perhaps for affect, or for an actual reason. Tony couldn't really tell, but at this point he didn't care enough to decide. His body was swabbed completely in some antiseptic solution, covering him from head to foot. He had blinked as the burning liquid trickled into his eyes and sputtered as it flowed into his mouth.

The man he dubbed Doctor had then sifted through a tray of shining metal tools. Tony looked away, closing his eyes, unwilling to see what he picked up.

He gasped in surprise as a cool metal blade touched to his chest. He thought it was a knife, until he heard it buzz to life, and the tool scraped down his chest.

They were shaving him? Odd. But he could deal.

Or so he thought, until the razor was put to his scalp, legs, arms... and everywhere in between. Tony shivered in shame as he thought about how truly naked he was, under this blinding spotlight and in absolutely nothing but his skin, the medicinal stench wafting strongly around him.

Old Man was obviously still there: Tony could hear the click of his expensive shoes on the floor and the click of the goddamn camera.

It's just mental, DiNozzo, Tony told himself, trying to will himself to open his eyes, They're just trying to make you feel ashamed. Take away your confidence. Emasculate you. You can handle this.

But, if there was one thing Tony valued in himself, it was his suave machismo. Being a man's man.

Tony knew they had discovered his weaknesses, and knew that they would exploit them completely to get what they wanted.

Maybe this was the beginning of the end. He opened his eyes and stared defiantly into the lens aimed at him.

When the brutal hose was finally turned off, Tony drew in a sharp breath, willing his beaten, scarred lungs to take in precious oxygen. The anitseptic had washed off his skin, but the smell still remained, stinging his nostrils. He breathed deeply, slowing himself cautiously. He had to try to maintain his strength. Showing his fear would only encourage them.

"Well, Anthony," Tony heard the old, deep voice say, interupting his thoughts, "You've been cleaned up and prepared for our fun and games now. Marcus will escort you back to your lodgings, and shortly we'll begin."

Tony's raw nerves and aching muscles protesting as Marcus grabbed at him, and he groaned inwardly as the huge man's body pressed unnecessarily close. Outwardly, though, he glared in protest at Old Man, who was thumbing through his handful of photographs. An unsettling grin spread across his face, and Tony looked away.

As his bonds were removed, Tony shivered as he was manhandled, pushed toward the door.

"Goodbye for now, Agent DiNozzo," echoed the sinister farewell, as Tony tried not to think of the horrors that lay before him.

Sorry for yet another scatterbrained chapter. Trying very hard not to make it so choppy, but it's like Tony's fading in and out of reality.
More very soon, I have the chapters all worked out. Thanks for your patience!