xanthefic | Fic: Soul Deep

Soul Deep
By Xanthe
Book Four: Pride

Tony called Director Shepard, and then he called in the team. Gibbs's team. Now they were his team. For the first time in his life, he was in charge.

"You'll be fine," Shanti said, pacing to and fro around Gibbs's living room. "We'll find him. I know we'll find him."

"How can we find him if we can't feel him?" Tony snapped.

Shanti came over to him and nudged his hand reassuringly with her head. "Because you're good at finding things. You always have been. You're a cop, Tony – forget that it's Jethro and do what you do best.

Tony bit on his lip. "If I screw up, then we could lose him forever.”

"You won't screw up," she told him firmly.

“He was there for me, when I needed him most.” Her eyes whirled with anxiety, and he knew they were both remembering that night in the motel all those years ago. “I can’t let him down, Shanti.”

She got up on her hind legs and thwapped one of her paws across his head, hard. “Be who you are – who you really are. Have *pride*, Tony.”

She had never spoken to him like that before, and he felt a sense of purpose rush through his veins and a hard, cold fury rise in his chest.

Someone had taken Jethro. Some bastard had hurt the person he loved most in the world. He would get Jethro back, and he would make that bastard pay. They would regret the day they’d ever laid a finger on someone he loved.

Tony threw back his head and roared.

~*~

The cell was dark. There were no windows, and the one door was locked. His watch had been removed, along with his gun, cell phone, badge, wallet and any other identifying signs. He had no way of knowing how long he had been here.

The pain radiated out in waves from his gut, making him aware, every single second, of the fact that he had been forcibly separated from his daemon. The sense of loss hurt so much he could hardly stand it. Sweat trickled into his eyes, and he was aware of the almost constant need to touch her, speak to her, and hold her close.

He tried to concentrate. They'd had a case like this once – it had been the first case he and Tony had worked together, before that bastard Fornell had stolen it from him.

There had been a dead Marine called Paul Watson. Fornell had said the case was linked to several other crimes involving people who’d been separated from their daemons, but he hadn't given any details.

What was it Ducky had said back then? It was five years ago, but the case had been so horrific it had made a lasting impression. Ducky had said that Watson’s internal organs had been compromised by the enforced separation. People weren't supposed to live without their daemons. People *couldn’t* live for long without their daemons.

Tessa was his guiding star; his light, his soul, his inner voice – his gut. When he listened to her it always worked out so much better than when he didn’t.

He smiled as he thought about that. She had been adamant that he shouldn’t marry each and every one of his three ex-wives, but he hadn't listened. And she'd been right.

She'd been equally adamant about his feelings for Tony, and he'd been ignoring her, or laughing at her…damn it, why hadn't he listened to her? If he could have her back now, he'd listen to her. He’d hang on every word she said, and he'd do anything she asked. If only he could have her back…

Right now was when she'd usually cut into his thought process with a wry comment or a sly dig at him, and he felt that savage sensation of loss all over again, so strong it made him cry out loud. He doubled over, clutching his belly.

He tried to get his head back onto the case again, but it was hard. Why was it so difficult to concentrate? His head was fuzzy, and his mind wandered so easily.

Paul Watson…he'd been abducted, he'd been separated from his daemon, and then he'd been murdered. Was the same fate awaiting him? To be kept away from his daemon for weeks and then murdered? To never see Tessa again before he died?

What kind of a bastard would do that? It was horrific. Like pulling the wings off a fly and watching it die for the pleasure of it. He'd heard of some sick serial killers before – he’d even tracked down a few – but he'd never heard of one who killed in such an obscene way.

He heard the sound of a key turning in the door, and he struggled to his feet. He ached all over, but he was still strong; if he could somehow overpower his captor…

The door opened and something scuttled into the room. Gibbs recoiled as he found himself looking at a daemon so grotesque that it made him feel physically sick. He couldn't stop himself; he bent over and threw up all over the floor.

The daemon scuttled up the wall, moving fast, and Gibbs eyed it warily, every fibre of his being protesting. This wasn't a normal daemon. It didn't have any kind of recognizable animal shape. Instead, it looked like a whole bunch of different forms had been melted together to create an ugly, misshapen mess.

It had one black wing, like a crow, but just a claw on the other side of its body where its second wing should have been. Its head was brown and slimy, like a slug but on a much bigger scale, and emerging from it were a set of pincers, like a stag beetle. It had one normal eye, on the same side as its solitary wing – that eye was small and yellow, like a crow's eye. Its other eye was sunk deep in its slug-like flesh and was much bigger; it was white with a black centre, like a fish’s eye, and it looked cold and dead.

The daemon didn't have legs – it had some kind of little clicking, scuttling things that enabled it to move surprisingly fast. Everything about it was wrong. It was a twisted abomination of a daemon, and it looked like it had scuttled straight out of a horror movie.

Gibbs's reaction to the daemon was so strong and immediate that he barely noticed the man who had entered the room with it. Then the door was shut and locked, and he was aware of someone leaning over him.

The man looked normal enough. He was about six feet tall, with dark hair, broad shoulders, and brown eyes. If it wasn't for his misshapen daemon, you wouldn’t know how sick he was inside.

"You don't like Darsha?" The man looked up at his daemon and crooned: "He doesn't like you, Darsha!"

The daemon laughed, a strange, squawking sound, and scurried down the wall and onto the man's arm. She sat there, gazing down on Gibbs, her big eye flat and dead while the little one blinked repeatedly.

"Doesn't like me?" She spoke through a stubby, misshapen beak of a mouth, and he saw that she had two sharp canine teeth, like a dog. "Aw…shame. His daemon didn't like me either; she tried to bite me, so I had to sting her. Then she howled! She howled and howled, and I laughed and laughed!" The daemon threw back her head and cackled loudly.

Gibbs saw the small, curved scorpion's sting sticking out from the daemon's underbelly, and he felt a surge of anger that it had been used to hurt Tessa…followed swiftly by a sense of shock.

"I didn't feel anything. If you hurt Tessa then why didn't I feel anything? Where is Tessa? What have you done with her?"

"Ah…it's a terrible thing when a man loses his own soul, isn't it?" The man shook his head in mock sympathy. "Sit down, Agent Gibbs, and I'll explain everything."

He gestured in the direction of the table, but Gibbs ignored him. He wished he could think straight. It must be possible to escape. If he could just get himself together, he could fight this man, steal the key, get out of here, and go and find Tessa. She couldn’t be far away, surely? If only he could feel where she was…

"I'm sure you're thinking about escape. That would be a mistake."

The man smiled at him, and Gibbs saw, for the first time, that he had a tazer in his hand. He waved it, and Gibbs knew that he had no choice but to sit down at the table. He pushed himself away from the wall and staggered over to it.

"Who are you?" he asked as he sat down, trying to sound normal so that his captor wouldn't know how much he was hurting right now.

"My name is Hunter. Richard Hunter."

"Can I call you Dick?"

Hunter laughed. "It's funny how often they try to pretend it doesn't matter in the beginning," he said, taking a seat opposite Gibbs at the table. "By the end, they're begging to be allowed to see their daemon again, but at the beginning they try to convince themselves that they'll be okay." He leaned forward. "They're wrong. You aren't okay, Gibbs – and it only gets worse from here on in."

"Why?" Gibbs leaned back, crossing his arms over his chest, refusing to let this man see his fear and pain. "Why are you doing this?"

Hunter shrugged. "It's business."

"Someone is paying you?" Gibbs asked incredulously. "Why?"

"I'm a facilitator." Hunter gave a little grin and gently skritched his daemon on the mess of slime and feathers under her chin. She made a throaty little sound that put Gibbs's teeth on edge. "People pay me to get certain things done – I identify the right people to do them and then apply enough leverage to make them comply."

Gibbs nodded thoughtfully.

"Ah, you thought I was some kind of serial killer who got off on separating people from their daemons!"

"I wondered." Gibbs shrugged. "On that subject – where is Tessa? Is she okay?" He hated himself for asking, for giving this man any more power over him than he already had, but he had to know.

"She's fine – and you're wondering why you can't feel her." Hunter's daemon gave a delighted little whistle and rubbed her claw against the side of his head, as if skritching him back.

"Even if you're holding her some distance away, I'd still be able to feel her…but I can't. And I'm conscious, so she can't be unconscious…"

"She isn't. Many great things came out of the Cold War, Agent Gibbs. One of them was a particular substance – if painted on the walls of a prison cell where a daemon is being held, it insulates a daemon completely from the person she belongs to, so they can't feel each other."

Gibbs felt himself grow cold at the thought of Tessa being held in a prison cell. Had this bastard chained her? Was she lying there, chained up and in distress, unable to move?

"I haven't heard of this substance," he managed to growl out.

"It's got some fancy scientific name, but I like to call it Daemonite." Hunter laughed at his own joke.

Gibbs stared at him, trying to get a measure of the man holding him prisoner. Hunter was clearly insane – that much was evident just by looking at his daemon. But his daemon was also high functioning – she could talk and interact with him – so clearly Hunter was intelligent and not to be under-estimated.

"What do you want from me?"

"I thought you'd never ask." Hunter grinned. "See, I have a very specific job for you, Agent Gibbs. This is a very special commission, and, because of the difficult nature of the task, these people were prepared to pay for the very best – that's you, by the way."

"I'm flattered."

"I first noticed you when you got so very close to finding me a few years ago. You remember –when you were investigating that dead Marine. You nearly caught up with me in that warehouse in Virginia. I had to shoot my way out of that one which was a little too close to comfort. I was impressed though!"

"Thanks." Gibbs inclined his head sarcastically.

"And then they gave the case over to good old Agent Fornell at the FBI, and he's good, but let's face it, not as good as you. I gave him the slip, lay low for a bit – even thought about retirement – and then this commission came along, and I couldn't refuse. The money's too good for a start – and the nature of the commission intrigued me. I knew you were the man for the job before I even accepted it."

Gibbs raised an eyebrow. "And the job is?"

Hunter gave a delighted laugh. "Ah, Agent Gibbs, this is the good part! You see, what you're going to do for me, if you ever want to see your daemon again, is to kill someone."

"I don't think so." Gibbs gave an amused grunt. "I don't kill to order."

"We both know that isn't true. You used to kill for your country. You were the best Marine sniper of…well…you were the best Marine sniper ever! I've read your service record. I even interviewed some of your old comrades – I didn't tell them why I wanted to know about you, of course. I kept Darsha hidden in a bag, and they thought I was interviewing them for a feature on your career for the NCIS magazine."

Gibbs managed a wry, mirthless laugh at that. "And of course you told them not to tell me you’d been asking questions – and they didn't because they knew how much I'd hate anyone writing an article like that about me."

"Exactly!" Hunter beamed. "I've been researching you for some time, Agent Gibbs, and I know I've got the right man for the job."

"You still haven't told me what that is." Gibbs raised an eyebrow. "Just who, exactly, am I supposed to kill?"

"Oh, that's the good part!" Hunter's daemon fluttered her one wing up and down excitedly. "You see, Agent Gibbs, the person you're going to kill – no, the person you are going to *assassinate*, is the President of the United States."

~*~

Ziva and McGee arrived first. Tony immediately ordered them to start working the area like a crime scene. They hesitated at first, and he could see their confusion at his change from annoying co-worker into hard-nosed, focused, boss, demanding their best work. He could also see they were worried about Gibbs – and, to a certain extent, lost without his firm leadership. His first job was to make them look to him for that firm leadership instead.

"Do it!" he ordered, and Shanti gave a roar that sent them scurrying into action.

Director Shepard arrived at Gibbs's house next. She swept in, her chipmunk daemon chittering away anxiously on her shoulder.

"Sit rep," she ordered, and Tony immediately told her all he knew and what he suspected. She looked concerned. Tony knew there had been some kind of relationship between her Gibbs once; but he also knew that while it was long since over for Gibbs, there was still some lingering, unfinished business on her part. Her chipmunk daemon liked to tease Tessa, and the big wolf clearly didn't appreciate that judging by the way she growled and sulked about it afterwards.

"I'll get my best team onto this," Shepard said. "I'll lead the investigation myself."

"We *are* the best team," Tony snapped at her. "And with Gibbs gone, I'm their leader. *I* will lead the investigation."

"You?" She looked torn between laughing and outrage. "You, with the overgrown kitten of a daemon who chases her own tail and dances around the squad room nosing into people's purses the whole time?"

Tony went very still, and Shanti put her head back and roared at the top of her lungs. It was deafening. Shepard put her hands over her ears and stared at Tony; she'd never seen Shanti behave as anything other than a very excitable pussy cat, and she looked astonished.

"Me," Tony told her firmly. He leaned forward. "Shanti's a lioness, Director – a gigantic lioness. That scares people, so she acts like a big kitten to seem less threatening, but that doesn’t change the fact that she's a lioness. Think about what that means."

He watched the director's face as she figured that one out. Lionesses were strong, brave, cunning, stealthy, and ruthless. They were also highly protective. Tony might well have allowed the playful side of his nature to be all that most people saw, but those who scratched the surface, like Tessa, knew the real Shanti.

"Very well. You can have the lead on this," Shepard said. "But I expect results, DiNozzo."

Tony almost laughed out loud. "This is *Gibbs*," he told her. "Do you think there's any way I'll give it less than everything I have?"

She studied him for a moment and then nodded, slowly. "I believe you. I think, Agent DiNozzo, that I might have underestimated you."

"Yeah, well, I don't blame you." Tony gave a rueful smile. "Look, Director, I've been thinking, and for some reason I keep remembering the first case I worked on with Gibbs, five years ago."

"Is something about this case similar to that one?"

"No." Tony grimaced. "It's just…more a feeling."

"You want to waste your time chasing up what could be a blind alley on a *feeling*?" Shepard raised an eyebrow, and Tony fought down a wave of frustration.

"Rule number one – always listen to your daemon," he replied, and Shanti sat up and looked the director square in the eye. "I know you don't think much of Shanti, but you don't really know her. Nobody does. Not really. Well, nobody except Gibbs."

"I've seen the way Shanti throws herself all over Tessa," Shepard said, looking irritated. "I never understood why Tessa puts up with that."

"It's a long story, and you don't know any of it," Tony said, trying to keep a lid on his temper. "Look, Shanti thinks something might have happened to Tessa, and that's why I was reminded of that Marine back at the Baltimore docks."

"Shanti *thinks* something might have happened to Tessa?" Shepard's tone was incredulous. "Based on what?"

"Based on…” Tony shook his head. There was no way he could explain this without making himself appear insane, and then Shepard would take him off the case for sure. “Look, I don't have time to explain, but Shanti knows Tessa very well, and she says that something is wrong."

"Because she can feel it? She feels there is something wrong with Tessa?" Shepard looked as if she was at least trying to understand.

Tony sighed. "No – because she *can't*." He saw Shepard's eyes widen and shook his head. "You need to trust me, Director, and I need you to order Agent Fornell from the FBI to get his ass over here and to bring everything he has on Paul Watson and any other similar cases he's investigated."

Shepard opened her mouth, looking as if she was about to protest, but Tony turned away from her purposefully and strode back over to his team.

"Now, Director!" he snapped as he went. Shanti stood up on her hind legs and gave another loud roar before following him.

Two hours later, Agent Fornell was on the doorstep with a box full of files.

~*~

Gibbs wrapped his arms around his body, trying to get warm. Hunter had left him here, alone in the dark, to consider his next move.

There was no way he was going to assassinate the president of all people, even if it meant he got to see Tessa again – and he was pretty damn sure that wouldn't happen. No, once his usefulness was over Hunter would kill him – just like he'd killed Paul Watson.

Although it didn't make sense that he'd killed Watson and left his body in such a public place, out on the docks for anyone to just stumble across. Hunter struck him as someone who laid meticulous plans, and that didn't fit his modus operandi. Something was wrong about it, and he knew if Tessa was here he'd be able to identify what, but she wasn't and his brain wasn't working the way it should. The constant, searing pain didn’t make concentrating easy. He wished the aching sensation would subside for just a few seconds, but instead it seemed to get worse the longer he was separated from her.

Ducky had said that after prolonged separation from their daemons, people became highly suggestible. Was that what had happened to Watson? Had he started out defiant, but eventually caved in and agreed to carry out whatever crime Hunter had told him to commit?

Gibbs shivered. He couldn't imagine that happening to him, but he already felt terrible. How would he feel in a week's time? Or two? Would he be ready to cave then?

Damn it, he needed Tessa. Whenever he thought about her, he felt a wave of intense anguish that made him want to howl. He needed her. He couldn't figure out any of this on his own; he felt adrift.

He raised his hand and gazed at it to reassure himself that he was solid flesh. He felt like a ghost, pale and without substance.

What was he without her? Who was he? She had always been here, by his side, his confidante and best friend. She was wise and calm – she soothed him when he got angry and counseled him when he was troubled. He didn't know what to think now she was gone. How could he trust himself to get it right without her?

She was his gut instinct and his touchstone.

He was lost without her.

~*~

“What the hell happened?” Tony growled at Fornell as they strode into the squad room. “When you took this case off us you said it was because you had better resources, that this case was linked to other cases, and that you had leads, damn it!”

He dumped the box of case files he was carrying on the floor beside his desk and looked up. Fornell appeared shaken, and his fox daemon slunk away from Shanti miserably.

“We did have leads!” Fornell protested. “But after Watson, this bastard just vanished. There were no more disappearances and no more reports of people being separated from their daemons. The trail went cold.”

“What does this bastard want?” Tony asked. “Is he a serial killer? Is he getting off on the power trip?”

“He’s not a serial killer in the accepted sense of the term, but is he getting off the power trip? You bet,” Fornell said grimly. “But he’s not doing this just for kicks, DiNozzo.” Fornell took a file out of the box and threw it on the desk. “Paul Watson – he was a Marine sniper, just like Gibbs. And he was a good man. He sure as hell wasn’t a cold-blooded killer. But look here.” He pointed to a grainy image, clearly taken from a security camera. “This was taken the day before Watson’s body was found.”

Tony gazed at the photograph searchingly. It showed Watson, looking pale and gaunt, his face haggard and his eyes shadowed with pain. He was walking into a building – and his daemon wasn’t with him.

“What am I looking at?” Tony demanded.

“A woman was shot from that building. She worked in the law firm office opposite.”

“You think Watson killed her?”

“Yes. She was the lead attorney on a case that was about to come to court. We think someone paid to have her killed – but it was Watson who was forced to actually do the killing.”

Tony looked up. “This bastard kidnapped Gibbs because he wants him to kill someone?” Shanti gave an appalled roar.

Fornell gave a grim nod and got out another file. “Sean Williams. He was a security specialist. He broke into a bank in 1998 and got away with $5 million. It was completely out of character – but people in the bank at the time reported that they couldn't see his daemon, and he kept talking to himself, like he'd gone insane. He disappeared immediately after the bank raid and nobody saw him again until his body turned up three years later. It was well hidden – and would have stayed that way if it wasn’t for a new road they started digging through a field. And this one.” He threw another file on the desk.

“Janine Petrowski. She worked in the restaurant where Senator Taylor was poisoned back in 1995. She went missing a week before it happened, then showed up for work looking ill and refusing to say where she’d been. She had a mouse daemon which she said was in her pocket, but he used to be a friendly, interactive kind of daemon, and nobody ever saw him again when she returned. She only returned for half a day; after the senator died she disappeared too. We never found her body. ”

“Gibbs won’t do it,” Tony said firmly. “I don’t care what this bastard does to him. Gibbs won’t kill anyone for him.”

“Can you be sure?” Fornell asked. “Can any of us be sure if it comes to that, DiNozzo? If you were separated from your daemon, how long do you think you’d last?”

Tony found his hand going automatically to Shanti’s head. He couldn’t imagine Gibbs without Tessa by his side. It hurt to even think about it. He thought of that limping, sullen young man he’d met all those years ago, and Tessa was an integral part of that memory. She was a vital part of what made Gibbs…Gibbs.

“I don’t know,” he replied to Fornell’s question. “But this is Gibbs we’re talking about. He won’t give in without a fight.”

“But he will give in,” Fornell said quietly. He pointed to the files spread out on the desk in front of them. “They always do.”

~*~

"So…have you had enough time to think?" Hunter entered the room, and Darsha flapped and scuttled her way over to where Gibbs was lying on the mattress. "It's been over a week, Gibbs. That's more time than is usually required, but I knew you'd need more. I factored that into my plans. You're a very strong-willed individual; I knew you’d be tough to break."

Gibbs blinked at him, trying to remember who this man was and what he wanted from him. Darsha began climbing up his leg, her claw digging into his pants.

"She could be your daemon, if you want," Hunter said. "Would you like that, Gibbs? You must be missing your daemon by now. Surely any daemon would do? Darsha is a very good daemon."

Gibbs looked down on the strange, twisted daemon clambering on him. There was something about her that he used to find repulsive, but he wasn't sure what that was now. He just wanted his daemon back.

"Would you like to touch her? Would you like to feel her touching your bare skin?" Hunter smiled at him. "I'll let you do that, Gibbs, if you just agree to take on this job I have for you. I need a man with your skill, you see – a trained sniper who always hits his target."

"What target?"

Hunter crouched down in front of him and stroked his sweat streaked hair away from his face. Gibbs flinched instinctively. He didn’t like being touched; at least he remembered that much about himself.

"I know it's hard for you to focus, isn't it? It's hard for you to remember things. But one thing you do remember is that you're a sniper. You know that because it's not what you are, it's *who* you are. It's the lone wolf in you – I read somewhere that nearly half of all snipers have wolf daemons."

"Wolf daemon? T…Tes…" He couldn't remember her name. He could remember the softness of her fur against his fingers, and the brush of her whiskers on his face when he leaned down to talk to her, but he didn't know what she was called. Had she even belonged to him? Or was it the other way around? Did he belong to her?

“The wolf has gone. Don’t think about her. You have another daemon now – someone better suited to you. See – this is Darsha. She’s your new daemon.”

Gibbs blinked, trying to focus. He missed his daemon. He ached for her. He wanted to touch her, and hold her, and talk to her.

“That’s right,” Hunter cooed in his ear. “You can have Darsha. She can be your daemon now.”

Darsha’s yellow eye gleamed in the darkness. She climbed up his shirt and then reached out with her claw to touch his face.

Gibbs got a glimpse of something so repulsive that it made him howl. He brushed the foul creature away from him in horror. He was still howling as he struggled to his feet and kicked her across the room. Then he sank back down on the floor, panting from the brief moment of exertion.

Hunter and Darsha both screamed at the same time, the shrill sound piercing his aching head. Hunter ran across the room and rescued his daemon. He tucked her into his shirt, crooning to her as he rubbed her belly. Then he returned to Gibbs’s side, and Darsha poked her ugly, misshapen head out from Hunter’s shirt and hissed at him.

“Keep that stinking, piss poor excuse for a daemon away from me,” Gibbs growled.

“You’re not a wolf, you’re just a fucking dog!” Hunter snapped. “A mutt. A cur. You’re nothing, Gibbs. You don’t even have your own daemon!”

He grabbed a handful of Gibbs’s hair and slapped his face repeatedly, yelling at him the entire time. Gibbs fought back as best he could, but the constant pain had sapped his strength, and he didn’t have it in him to put up much of a struggle. He collapsed, and then all he could do was endure the blows as they rained down on him. It hurt, but not as much as being separated from Tessa.

Tessa. That was her name. His beautiful Tessa.

“You can’t take her from me,” he told Hunter. “I won’t forget her name again. I’ll keep her here, inside me.” He pointed at his chest, blinking the sweat out of his eyes as he gazed up at his captor.

Hunter released his grip on his hair and threw him back down onto the floor.

“Oh, you’ll forget her. In another few days you won’t even remember her name. I own you now, Gibbs.” He gestured to Darsha. “*We* own you.”

He laughed out loud, and he was still laughing as he left the room, locking the door behind him.

Gibbs wrapped his arms around his body and held himself tight. He rocked himself like he’d once rocked a newborn baby to sleep many years ago.

“Tessa." He said her name over and over again. “Tessa…Tessa…Tessa….”

He had to hang onto her. He couldn’t let himself forget who he was.

~*~

Tony sat at Gibbs’s desk trying to think, hoping to get inspiration from sitting where Gibbs usually sat.

Gibbs had been missing for nearly two weeks, and every single lead they chased down led to a dead end. There had to be something in these files Fornell had given him, but he'd been through them all, over and over again, and if there was, he couldn't see it.

"You need to get some rest," Shanti told him.

He'd barely done more than catnap since this nightmare began, but he couldn't sleep. Not when Gibbs was out there, being held captive…and not when Tessa was so incredibly absent. It was that part of this puzzle that brought him out in cold sweats. Gibbs was tough – he could handle all kinds of physical pain, but separation from his daemon? Who could withstand that? Wherever Gibbs was, Tony was absolutely sure that he was enduring the worst kind of torture possible.

"Not yet," he told Shanti, soothing her head gently with his hand. "There must be something here. Something we’ve missed."

His gaze fell on the members of his team. McGee was sitting at his desk, his head resting on his hands, snoring gently. His squirrel daemon was slumbering beside him, resting her sweet little head on his shoulder. Ziva was lying on the floor behind her desk, fast asleep. Who knew where her daemon was? Tony had never even caught a glimpse of him. He had to be small enough that he could hide somewhere in her clothes, but Tony had no idea what form he took.

Abby was sitting in his chair, dozing fitfully, her monkey daemon muttering uneasily as he slept beside her. And he knew that Ducky was down in Autopsy, fretting and waiting for news, Morag flying anxiously around the room. His new assistant, Jimmy Palmer, and his badger daemon Phyllis were with him at least, so the ME wasn't alone.

How could someone disappear so completely? And why couldn't he feel what Gibbs was feeling, the way he'd been doing since he was eight years old? Why?

~*~

Gibbs sat up when the door opened. He didn’t like it when the door opened. He wasn’t sure why, but he knew bad things happened when that door opened.

A shadow fell over him, and he looked up at the man who sometimes visited him. The man’s daemon scuttled over to him and looked at him from one blank, dead eye, and one beady yellow eye. Gibbs cringed away from her.

“Don’t you recognize your own daemon?” the man asked derisively. “What the hell is wrong with you?”

Gibbs stared at the creature in front of him. “She’s mine?” he whispered. “She’s my daemon?”

“That’s right. She’s the only daemon you’ve got now.”

Gibbs shook his head. He didn’t recognize her as any part of him. He didn’t think she could be a part of him. “I don’t think she’s mine,” he said hoarsely.

The man crouched down beside him. “Oh, she’s yours. Look around you – do you see any other daemons in here?”

Gibbs looked around. The man was right – she was the only daemon here. “No,” he whispered. “Just her.”

“Then she must be your daemon.”

It did make sense. Gibbs watched as the daemon scuttled closer. He was so lonely. He ached to have a daemon. Maybe the man was right, and she was his.

"Are you a sniper, Marine?" the man barked authoritatively, and Gibbs felt an old certainty kicking in.

"Yes, *sir*!" he replied. "I'm a sniper, sir."

"And do you follow orders, Marine!"

"Yes sir. I follow orders."

The man looming over him didn't look like Major Ryan, but Gibbs wasn't sure of anything right now, so he might be wrong.

"Your daemon has an order for you, Marine." The man gestured with his hand, and the daemon slowly crawled up his leg and then onto his chest. She was dark, and the wrong size and shape, but the man had said she was his daemon. Maybe she was… What was her name?

"Tasha? Dessa?" he whispered, looking down on her. Was she really his? He wished he knew.

Suddenly the daemon reached out with her claw and grabbed his chin. He screamed as his bare skin came into contact with her for the first time. A black shadow swept through his mind and a swirling pit of fetid darkness opened up in front of him. He had been touched by something so repulsive that he could hardly breathe. He wanted to pull her off and throw her across the room, but she was his daemon, wasn’t she? He couldn’t do that to his own daemon.

"Good. There, see, she can be your daemon too. We can share her," the man said soothingly.

The daemon moved her claw and fastened it around his throat. In his mind’s eye he saw himself as a wolf, and this daemon had put a spiked collar around his neck and pulled it tight. He struggled against that tight band around his throat, trying to rip it away.

The man loomed over him, grinning. "Wolves are just wild dogs you know, Gibbs. All you have to do is put a collar on one and tame it, and it will do whatever you say. Now, are you ready to obey me?"

Gibbs tried to pull away, but the daemon tightened her grip, bruising his throat.

"You will obey me. You’re going to do whatever I say," the man insisted.

"Whatever he says," the daemon echoed, her voice halfway between a cackle and a squawk.

"Yes?" the man said, and that tightness around Gibbs's throat intensified to the point where he couldn't breathe.

"Yes!" Gibbs gasped finally. "Yes."

Only then did the pressure ease, and he rolled onto all fours, panting and gasping for breath.

"That's good. A few days of this and our big, bad wolf will be a tame puppy dog, eager to do our bidding."

The man straightened up and held out his arm, and the daemon scrambled onto it and scuttled up to sit on his shoulder. Gibbs felt as if a terrible weight had been lifted from him, and yet he ached all the same. He ached for a daemon. He wanted his daemon so much.

He lifted his head and gazed at the dark, twisted creature sitting on the man's shoulder.

"Are you really mine?" he asked her blankly.

She laughed and flapped her wing energetically. "No, you're mine!" she crowed. “You’re mine! You’re mine!” The man laughed and petted her, crooning to her, and then he turned and left the room, taking her with him.

And Gibbs was alone again.

~*~

The answer lay at the Baltimore docks; Tony was sure of it. He'd been to the warehouse in Fairfax where they were shot at five years ago, but found nothing. He'd been to a dozen different places following the leads in Fornell's files, but still nothing.

He'd even been back to the docks once already, but he was sure he must have missed something. The answer had to be there; Shanti was convinced of it.

"It's just a feeling," she told him. "But I can't shake it." She looked tired; her fur was coarse and her eyes dull. He knew that she was as exhausted as he was.

It had now been nearly three weeks since Gibbs had first disappeared, and they were running out of time. Paul Watson had been found dead two weeks after he went missing; Gibbs surely didn't have much longer.

Tony had given his team the night off to catch up on some sleep. They were all dead on their feet. He was too, but he couldn't sleep for more than an hour or so at a time. Not when Gibbs was out there, suffering who knew what kind of torture.

"I miss him," Tony told Shanti as he drove to the docks. "All these years I've known he was there…he was always with me, even when I didn’t see him for years on end. It’s been that way ever since that night at the motel room, and now he's gone. I can't feel that link we used to share – I didn't even realize it was such an everyday presence until it wasn’t there anymore."

"It wasn't always that way," Shanti said softly. "It grew that way when we saw him every day, and when he started to fall in love with you."

"At least he wasn't in love with me when I was eight years old." Tony managed a wry smile at her. "That would be freaky." He’d stopped arguing with her about whether Gibbs was in love with him. Rule number one seemed more important than ever now, and if she said he was then maybe he was.

"No…he always loved you, but I think he fell *in love* with you much later. I don't believe that there was a moment. I think it was just a gradual expansion of something that was already there; something already soul deep."

"I'll take your word for it," Tony said. "I never saw it myself."

"You saw it every day – whenever I sat close to Tessa, and she didn't growl at me to leave."

It was dark when he pulled up at the docks, and it was cold, but at least it wasn't snowing. He smiled as he remembered that night five years ago, when he'd met up with Gibbs again.

Watson's body had been over here, beneath the lamp post…

"Which is kind of weird, isn't it?" Shanti said. "To be out here, for anyone to see…and with the sea so close. Why not just dump the body in the water?"

"Maybe he wanted us to see it, whoever this bastard is," Tony said, glancing around.

There were buildings, containment crates, warehouses, boats…all the things you'd expect to see at the docks.

"Fornell said that our perp kidnaps people and makes them commit crimes against their will by forcibly separating them from their daemon," Tony mused out loud. He knew the details of the case backwards, but saying it aloud might help him make a new connection.

"So he might be holding Tessa miles away from wherever he is holding Jethro," Shanti said.

“Yeah. That's my guess." Tony shuddered. He could still remember that night he'd spent along the hallway from her when he was at boarding school, locked away from her behind closed doors. How could anyone stand two weeks of that? It didn’t bear thinking about.

"I am here." She nudged his hand reassuringly with her head, but that just served to remind Tony that Gibbs didn't have that kind of comfort right now.

And how would Tessa be feeling? She had to be distraught. He remembered how Shanti had roared for hours on end that night they'd been kept apart. Had Tessa been howling for the past two weeks?

~*~

"Are you ready?" The man – was his name Hunt? Or Hunter maybe? – had brought his daemon to see him again. She clawed her way up his body and sat on his shoulder. It felt strange. Some people had daemons who sat on their shoulders, but he didn't remember being one of them. He didn't really like the way she felt, sitting there. He didn't like being touched.

"Ready for what?" Gibbs frowned. He couldn't seem to hold onto anything in his head for very long now. He hurt so much, and most of the time that was all he could think about. Every so often he'd feel a sensation of such wretched, aching loss that he vomited, but he didn't know what he'd lost or why he mourned for it so.

"To do your job, Marine! You're a sniper, aren't you?" Hunter looked at him from a pair of cold brown eyes.

Gibbs nodded."Yes sir!"

"Good. Then here are your instructions. You'll find the rifle waiting for you in the car. Then you go here." Hunter pointed to an address. "Go here and take up position. They'll let you in. Here's your badge. Remember that you're a federal agent."

"Yes, sir. A federal agent." Gibbs nodded and took the badge.

"When the president comes into sight, you shoot. One shot to the forehead – nothing sloppy. Take her out with one clean shot."

"Yes sir!"

"A female president – it isn't right." Hunter shook his head. "Some people are very unhappy about it – and you are going to put that right, Gibbs. You're going to make those unhappy people very happy indeed. Understand?"

"Yes sir!"

“When you’ve completed your assignment, I’ll come and pick you up. Then you can be reunited with your daemon.”

His daemon…wasn’t this his daemon, sitting here on his shoulder? Or did he have a different daemon? He felt so confused. He had a vague recollection of a big wolf, loping by his side.

“Tessa?” he whispered, and that name seemed to come from deep within, as if he’d been hanging onto it, desperately trying not to let it go.

“That’s right…Tessa. She’s your real daemon. Darsha has been standing in for her because you were so lonely. But when you’ve completed your task, you can see your real daemon again.”

“I can see Tessa?” Gibbs felt a surge of such longing that it almost brought him to his knees.

“Yes. I promise. Now…one more thing…” Hunter took out a syringe, and injected something into Gibbs’s neck. “GPS transmitter.” Gibbs put up his hand and felt the little bump under his skin. “So I know where you are at any time. It stops transmitting if exposed to the air, so don’t try and cut it out.”

“No sir.”

“Just go and do your job. If you fail, or if you deviate from the instructions I’ve given you, then Tessa will suffer for your mistakes. And I’ll be sure to remove her from her insulated room first – so that you can feel every single thing I do to her.” Hunter gave him another one of those twisted smiles. “Understand?”

Gibbs put the badge and note of instructions into his pocket. "Yes sir. I understand. I'm ready to do my job as ordered, sir.” He gave Hunter a sharp salute.

“Good. One final thing – just so you won’t know where you’ve been staying these past two weeks.”

Another syringe, another sharp, stinging sensation in his neck…and then darkness.

~*~

End of Part Ten
Part Eleven
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