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Hiding in Plain Sight: 14/21
Title: Hiding in Plain Sight: Part Fourteen
Author: Xanthe
Fandom: SGA/NCIS crossover
Pairings: Gibbs/DiNozzo, John/Rodney, Carson/Caldwell, Teyla/Ronon, Ziva/McGee, and some other pairings that would spoil the story if I revealed them. Gibbs/Ducky friendship.
Rating: NC17 for explicit BDSM sex (m/m slash, femslash and het) and spanking.
Author's Notes
Summary: When a serial killer murders three marines on Atlantis, NCIS are called in to investigate. However, their arrival brings complications for everyone – revealing a lie, a prophecy, a secret and a nemesis.
Whump warning ahead!
Part Fourteen: “You’ve won. I’m sorry. Just don’t hurt him again. Please.”
Hiding in Plain Sight
By Xanthe
Part Fourteen
Ziva gazed dispassionately at the villagers feasting around their huge open fire. Over to one side, Tim lay on the stone slab, awaiting his part in their grisly ritual.
It was an entire village but Ziva had no doubt she could take them all on, alone if need be. When the shutters came down she was a cold, ruthless killing machine – and she could already feel the shutters coming down. If she could find a way of channelling the darkness inside her, so she could use it to give her the edge she needed without allowing it to destroy her completely – surely that would be okay? Then she remembered the look in Gibbs’s eyes after Tim had been shot. He’d *been* there, in this place where she was now. He’d killed for revenge after his first wife had been murdered and he knew what that felt like. She didn’t think he regretted it for one moment, and she knew he’d do it again in a heartbeat, but she could also guess what he’d tell her if he was here now; the darkness inside her wasn’t so easily used and then tossed aside. She had to own it, or it would always own her.
“I suggest that we create a diversion,” Teyla said. “Ronon, Ziva and myself will start a fight, and draw them over in that direction while Kahla frees Tim and helps him to safety. The marines will cover us from behind. We will meet back at the jumper."
“That is your plan?” Ziva frowned. There was a whole village and only ten of them - herself, her three friends and the six marines Sheppard had sent with them. They were all superb fighters but even so, they were out-numbered. “It is kind of a crappy plan.”
Teyla smiled. “We have done this rescue before,” she murmured, “When Rodney Sheppard was once their captive.”
“And Sheppard’s done it twice,” Ronon grunted. “Said they did it the same way second time around when he was in that other universe too.”
“And it always works?” Ziva raised an incredulous eyebrow.
“It works,” Ronon said firmly.
“Very well. Then we will follow your plan.” Ziva inclined her head. Teyla was the mission leader and she knew these savages who were holding Tim captive much better than she did. Even so, kind though these strangers were, she wished she had her own team here – she was used to the way Gibbs and Tony worked, and she could predict the way they would move and what they would do. Tony might be a smartass in the squad room, but in a combat situation there was nobody she’d rather have by her side – except Gibbs. “However – I will be the one to free Tim, not Kahla,” she said firmly.
“I do not think that is a good idea,” Teyla said smoothly.
“Why not?” Ziva demanded.
Teyla gazed at her steadily, and Ziva saw the answer in her eyes. She wasn’t sure Ziva could be trusted, and, like Gibbs, she was worried for Tim’s safety if Ziva got to him first. Ziva bit down her anger. She could be trusted! She was able to control herself. She wouldn’t hurt Tim – she wanted to rescue him. All the same, there seemed little to be gained by arguing the point, so she waved her hand, giving in.
The villagers were celebrating their impending sacrifice by feasting and drinking so the element of surprise would work in their favour. On the down side, these people really didn’t look very nice. There wasn’t one of them, not even among the children, who wasn’t wearing ornaments made of some part of the human anatomy – teeth, bone fragments, hair. One man even had a complete human skull hanging from his belt. Clearly these were people who worshipped death.
“That is a good thing,” Ziva muttered to herself, as she got into position. "Soon they will meet death in person."
Teyla gave the word and all hell broke loose as they began firing on the villagers. They completely outclassed them in terms of weaponry but there were hundreds of villagers and they soon descended on their position. When they ran out of ammo there was no time to reload; Ziva just threw her gun down and drew her knives instead. By her side, Teyla was fighting with her batons, while Ronon was wielding two hefty axes, making massive inroads into their attackers, his huge arms slicing through the air with a strange kind of grace for such a big man, almost as if he was dancing rather than fighting. The marines all fought with knives, working in formation, as well trained as she would have expected from men under General Sheppard's command. Between them they drew the fight away from Tim, so that Kahla could free him and get him to safety.
Ziva kept one eye on the Athosian sub as she fought. Kahla had reached Tim and was trying, frantically, to slice through his bonds with her knife, but he was tightly tied so it wasn’t easy. A cry went up as the villagers realised they were about to lose their human sacrifice and a group of them descended on Kahla’s position. Ziva let out a growl of anger, and fought her way over to them.
Now she was in the thick of it, and the villagers were all around her. She could see Tim, blinking blearily, trying to pull himself loose from what remained of his bonds, blood now pouring from the re-opened wound on his arm. Ziva felt something click inside her, and now she wasn’t even conscious as she fought the people standing between her and the sub she wanted to make her own. Something else had taken over, and she felt like an observer as she sliced and hacked her way through bodies to get to her sub.
The darkness inside her was overwhelming, bloodlust filling every one of her senses. She *was* the darkness and it felt thrilling, intoxicating, and exhilarating! Gibbs was wrong – Teyla was wrong – this was who she was. She felt like an invincible, icy-hearted goddess as she fought, utterly without mercy for any who got underfoot; man or woman, adult or child. She was just the cold steel blade of her knife as it dispensed her justice.
She reached the stone slab, and whirled as a body came towards her. She raised her arm, knife ready to plunge, carve, and dismember…
“Ziva! No! It’s me!” a voice called, and somehow it penetrated her consciousness. She felt her vision clear a little, and saw that she had Tim pinned down on the slab beneath her, her knife pressed against his neck. His eyes were wide, and a vein was pulsing under his skin. She wondered what it would be like to sever that vein, and watch him bleed. Would she enjoy it, the way she had enjoyed killing Ari?
“Ari?” she whispered, pressing the knife a little harder, watching as a red droplet of blood rose on the side of his neck.
“I know…Ari hurt you didn’t he?” Tim whispered. “You had to kill him because he betrayed you, but I haven’t, Ziva. It’s me, Tim. I haven’t hurt you.”
Ari had hurt her - it was Ari who had first shown her what she was inside; Ari with his lies and manipulations and his way of ruthlessly disposing of anyone who got between him and his goal – including her. She'd loved him and he had betrayed her. She had killed him because she had to – but she didn’t have to enjoy it. That had been all her; it was who she was.
“I’m not him,” Tim whispered. "Ziva - I'm not him."
She stared at him for a long time, and then, somehow, teetered back from the brink.
“We must go,” she said abruptly. The crowd was pressing back in around them and Kahla was struggling to hold them off. Ziva removed the bomb from Tim's neck, an idea occurring to her. She primed the device and then threw it into the thick of the mob. There was a loud explosion and a big plume of smoke went up, obscuring them.
Ziva grabbed Tim's arm and dragged him towards the cover of the trees and the waiting puddle jumper. He came, but he was so slow. She had to yank him along, at breakneck speed, and he stumbled behind her, finding it hard to keep up with her unrelenting pace. She paused when they reached the safety of the forest and turned back to see how her comrades were faring. Teyla had seen her make her escape and had given the order to retreat, fighting as they went.
Satisfied they would make it, Ziva took Tim’s arm and pulled him away again, dragging him relentlessly back to the jumper.
It was cloaked, so he almost walked into it, but she managed to shove him inside. The pilot was waiting to take off as soon as they all returned; he turned to talk to her but Ziva ignored him. She had fought for a sub, fought for *this* sub and something old in her blood was demanding that she take him and make him hers, as was her right.
“Ziva - you’re scaring me,” he said. "Ziva…hey, slow down."
She pushed him onto the bunk, her attention rivetted by the blood on his arm. She put her fingertips in the red, sticky fluid, and then brought them to her nose and sniffed. He smelled of death - she liked that smell.
She pushed him down, roughly, so that he was lying on his back on the bunk and then she straddled him.
“Ziva,” he whispered. “Please…don’t do this…”
He was hers. She’d fought for him and won him and now she was going to claim him. She ripped his shirt off his chest, swiping through the buttons with her bloody knife, exposing the pale pink skin beneath. Then she lowered her face to his neck, wanting to sink her teeth into the tender flesh, and tear it. She would mark him; she would cover him all over with her marks so that he would know who he belonged to. She knew he was an innocent, untouched by any other top, but that would make it all the sweeter. She would show him what it was like to be her sub. She would scratch, tear, bite, hurt and…
“Ziva,” he whispered again. His hands came up, and gently stroked her hair. “Hey…Ziva…it’s me. Tim.”
She felt as if someone was calling to her from far away but she couldn’t hear what they were saying. She gazed down at Tim’s neck again, the flesh so soft and inviting…but someone was talking to her in soft, low tones, and the sound was buzzing in her head, annoying her, and she couldn’t seem to bat it away. She looked at him again, seeing him a little more clearly now. She growled as she saw the plain black collar around his neck…it was the same as the one around her own neck, but it was wrong; he should be wearing *her* collar but he wasn’t. He didn’t belong to her but he should - she’d fought for him…
“Ziva,” he said again, and his face swam into focus. He was frightened but calm, and the look of love in his eyes was unfaltering as he gazed up at her from the bunk. “Take me if you want,” he said softly, relaxing beneath her and offering himself up to her. “I’m ready. I’m yours. Do whatever you want to me. I trust you, Ziva.”
He trusted her. He had no cause to but he trusted her all the same. Reality smashed back in so hard it almost took her breath away and she sank down on top of him, resting her head on his chest. His arms came up and gently cradled her and she lay there, numb. The darkness receded, ebbing away. Tim was fine – he was alive and well, and she had rescued him.
“I wouldn't have hurt you,” she whispered. "I could never hurt you, Tim."
"I know," he said softly, stroking her back gently. "I trusted you, remember."
She did – and it was his trust in her that had saved her. She could hear his heart beating fast under her ear and she loved how his body felt beneath hers, so big and steadfast. Thank god she wouldn’t wake in the morning to find him marked by her vicious sexual frenzy. She never, ever wanted to wake again to that empty sensation in her belly and a hostile sub beside her.
Within minutes the rest of their rescue team had returned and then they were flying back towards the gate. Ziva didn’t say a word. She just lay where she was, on top of her sub, his arms around her, his breathing steady beneath her, grounding her.
He continued to stroke her back and nuzzle at her hair and she felt herself responding to the peace of his embrace. His total faith in her had given her the strength she needed to fight the darkness and win - and she knew that with him by her side it would never come close to defeating her again. It was over.
~*~
Gibbs glanced at his watch, and then at Carson. They had got through sixteen doors, seven of which had been booby trapped with bombs of various degrees of difficulty. But over five hours had passed and it had been almost 40 minutes since Tony had last said anything. They were running out of time.
“Quickly,” Gibbs muttered under his breath. “Hurry!”
“I’m going as fast as I can, sir,” Cadman replied, sweat dripping freely down the side of her face and into her blonde hair. He knew she was – she was as good at her job as Carson had said, but there were no prizes for coming in late. If they didn’t get through this door within the next ten minutes, Tony wouldn’t be able to survive losing any more blood. He had no doubt that Jordan, as an ex-medical student, knew the exact amount of blood Tony could lose before his body shut down and major organ failure occurred.
“Done it!” she said, cutting through the last of the wires. Gibbs pushed both her and Sheppard aside, and slammed through the last door, then ran down the long, dimly lit hallway to the door off to one side at the end. This was it. Tony was behind that door. Unless... was it the trap, or the bluff, or both? Why had Jordan allowed him to get this far? Why not set off that bomb around Tony's neck the minute Gibbs stepped through the stargate onto this planet, thereby showing Jordan his preference?
He examined the final door for a bomb but didn’t find one, and he couldn’t wait a second longer in any case.
He crashed the door open with his boot, and slammed headlong into the room - then looked around in disbelief.
It was empty.
Someone had been here though. A large plasma screen was fixed to the far wall, and on it…on it was a visual of the room where Tony was being held, presumably in one of the other towers judging by the similarity of the decor. It was the first time Gibbs had seen his agent in several hours and Tony’s condition had deteriorated visibly in that time. He was deathly pale and no longer moving, and the bruises on his face stood out as livid purple stains on his white skin. Rodney was still hanging where he was chained, looking utterly exhausted.
“Damn it!” Gibbs slammed his hand into the nearest wall.
Sheppard stared up at the screen, and Gibbs could see him drinking in the sight of his sub. He walked over to a control console and examined it, then turned, shaking his head.
“Jordan got Rodney to create some artificial life-signs to lure us to this room,” he said.
“So we chose the wrong tower?” Carson looked as if he was about to cry. “I’m sorry – that’s my fault. I suggested…”
“It’s nobody’s fault,” Gibbs snapped. “Nobody except Jordan; he wanted us to come to this tower, and that’s why he left the trail of breadcrumbs straight here. Now I’m guessing he wants to finish with a floorshow.”
There was no time for them to retrace their steps and then navigate their way down to the bottom of the other tower; Tony didn't have that long. John glanced at his watch, and then over at Gibbs, and shook his head.
“Not yet,” he said. Gibbs nodded.
“Better be soon,” he said. “We’re almost out of time.”
At that moment there was a noise on the screen and the door to the room Rodney and Tony were in opened. Gibbs watched as Jordan entered. He went to the camera, and stared straight at them. John glanced around the room and pointed at a camera positioned over the plasma, making it clear that Jordan could see them as clearly as they could see him.
“Ah. Gibbs. I’m so sorry – you've made another bad choice. Story of your life isn’t it?” Jordan said. “First, all those years ago you made the bad choice of stealing my sub from me. Now you’ve made another mistake and will have to suffer the consequences. This is my moment, Gibbs – I've waited a very long time for this and I want you to watch very carefully.”
He went over to where Tony was lying and removed the tube from his arm. Tony stirred and muttered something, at least reassuring Gibbs that he was still alive. Jordan unfastened the little bomb from Tony's collar and placed it on the ground, out of reach. Then he returned to Tony's side.
“He’s very pretty,” Jordan said, running a finger down the side of Tony’s face. Gibbs felt his gut tighten. “I can see why you collared him. I wouldn’t have thought he was your type but he is, isn’t he? All that mouthy charm, combined with just a hint of DiNozzo vulnerability. He’s a handful, a challenge, and you like that don’t you, Gibbs?”
Gibbs grunted. Jordan’s hand whipped out and struck Tony on the jaw and Tony’s eyes flew open and he let out a startled yelp.
“I asked you a question,” Jordan said. “Please reply.”
“Yes,” Gibbs ground out. “I like that Tony is a challenge.”
“I thought so.” Jordan smiled straight at the camera. “What first attracted you to him?”
John made a motion with his hand to play for time and keep Jordan talking, and Gibbs blinked at him that he understood.
“Well…he looked like something the cat dragged in when he first showed up for an interview at NCIS, but there was something about his eyes. His body language said he couldn’t care less but his eyes said he wanted to please.”
“And you liked that?” Jordan asked, running his finger slowly down Tony’s chest. Gibbs swallowed hard.
“Yeah, I liked that,” he agreed.
“And you’ve liked it ever since, haven’t you?” Jordan laughed. “You like keeping him on edge, you like making him work hard for your approval. When you give it to him it’s in these grudging little morsels that always leave him wanting more because it’s never quite enough, is it?”
Gibbs felt his hands clench into fists. Was that true? Maybe it was, a little.
“It helps him stay good at his job,” he said gruffly. “I get the best out of him that way.”
“And is it always about the job? Or is it sometimes more personal?” Jordan asked.
Gibbs thought about that for a moment but he was too slow, and Jordan’s hand whipped out again. The sound of Tony’s cry sliced through him, making him flinch.
“Yes, it’s sometimes more personal,” he said quietly.
“Good. That’s what I wanted to hear,” Jordan said. “Because I’m about to do something to dear Tony. Something *very* personal. And I want you to watch. If you look away, I’ll make him very sorry.”
Gibbs could do nothing *but* watch, his gut roiling, as Jordan began undoing the buttons on Tony’s shirt.
“Oh dear god no,” he whispered.
“I didn’t want him quite dead you see,” Jordan said. “He’s weak, but conscious. I want him to feel it when I take him.”
“Jordan…no…please…you don’t have to do this,” Gibbs said hoarsely. “It’s not too late. There’s still time for you to stop this.”
“Oh I know.” Jordan smiled at the camera. “But I don’t want to stop, Gibbs. I’ve been looking forward to this. Tony isn’t my usual type either but he’s a fine looking boy. I’ll enjoy using him as he should be used – as you’ve neglected to use him.”
“How do you know that?” Gibbs flung at him, trying to do something – anything – to delay the inevitable.
“I’ve been listening to him and Rodney talk, Gibbs, the same way you have these past few hours. He’s besotted with you and you’ve been cruel to this boy, Gibbs, keeping him on edge when you could have taken him to your bed and given him what he wants. Instead you made him work for it, didn’t you? You made him work for everything – every word of praise, every fond look, and every smile. I almost feel sorry for him.”
He finished undoing Tony’s shirt and slid it open, revealing his sub’s chest beneath with its smattering of fine dark hair. Gibbs fought hard to keep his face blank, but failed. He turned away to hide his emotions but Tony’s hoarse cry when Jordan backhanded him brought him back to the plasma.
“Please keep your eyes on the screen, Gibbs. I don’t want you to miss any of this,” Jordan told him, looking straight at him through the camera. “If you turn away again I’ll make him scream even harder.”
Jordan undid Tony’s belt, pulling it through the loops, and then undid his fly. Gibbs just stood there, helplessly, standing by, unable to do a thing as Jordan undressed his sub. Every muscle in Gibbs's body was coiled and tense. He could feel Sheppard, Carson and Cadman watching him watching Jordan and was aware of their silent sympathy but it was no damn use to him.
Jordan paused for a moment to undo the various cuffs that bound Tony to the table. He unbuckled them all, clearly thinking Tony was too out of it to put up any kind of a struggle. Now Gibbs was seriously impressed by Jordan’s planning; this had all been meticulously worked out, down to the last detail.
He pulled Tony up, and Tony lolled against him.
“You wanna make out?” Tony slurred, nuzzling at Jordan’s throat. Gibbs frowned. He knew DiNozzo too well… ”Hey handsome,” Tony said, his hands clumsily stroking Jordan’s body, patting and fondling. “You want me?” he breathed in Jordan’s ear. “I think you do.”
Jordan laughed. “Your boy is like a cat in heat, Gibbs. He’d go with anyone.”
“I’m easy,” Tony said. “Always have been.” He lolled forward again, as if he’d lost his balance, but Gibbs wasn’t fooled. He noticed that Tony had a bunch of keys in his hand stolen from Jordan’s pocket, and as he fell forward, making Jordan catch him, he threw them at Rodney’s feet, clanging his hand against the steel bed to hide the sound of them landing.
Rodney’s eyes widened, and he reached out with one of his feet to drag the keys towards him, and then managed to contort enough to pick them up with his bound hands. He didn’t have much leeway, and he almost dropped the keys but then caught them again and began frantically trying to find the right key to unlock the chains. Gibbs tried not to watch in case he gave the ploy away to Jordan, but he was willing Rodney to succeed and grab the chance Tony had given them both.
Jordan moved suddenly, and threw Tony face down over the steel bed. Tony gave a yelp as Jordan yanked his shirt from his back and then held him down, his groin pressed against Tony’s ass, his hands holding Tony’s wrists tightly to keep him still. He leaned over Tony’s half-naked body and then licked the back of Tony’s neck. Gibbs felt something break inside him – something old and cold that had been keeping him imprisoned for a long time, but he couldn’t give into it yet. He had to stay focussed, for Tony’s sake, because when the moment came he had to be ready. He saw Carson making a sign with his hands, and nodded imperceptibly and signed back, his hands hidden behind the console.
Gibbs watched out of his peripheral vision as Rodney freed himself from the cuffs and then got to his feet, behind Jordan, out of the other man’s sight. He’d been chained for hours and he was a little unsteady, but he was silent as he stood.
“You like me this way, big fella?” Tony was saying to Jordan, desperately continuing with the distraction. “All helpless underneath you. That feel good, huh? Always liked sexy older guys – you ever heard of Ricardo Montalban?”
Gibbs rolled his eyes; it really was astonishing that Tony’s seduction technique was ever successful.
“How about you let me up so I can look at you when you take me, huh?” Tony asked, and Gibbs understood the point of that request. Face down, Tony had little room to manoeuvre, but if Jordan let him up then there would be a split second when Tony had a chance to overpower his assailant – if he wasn’t too weak, and looking at him Gibbs was by no means sure that he wasn’t.
“That’s good…if you let me up the other way I could show you how good a DiNozzo kiss can be,” Tony was saying. Jordan bit on his shoulder blade and Tony gave a strangled yelp.
“I like you fine just the way you are,” Jordan told him. “You’re in just the right position for me to fuck you.”
For the first time, Gibbs saw a flicker of real panic on Tony’s face and it was all he could do to keep his eyes on the screen.
Rodney was now creeping stealthily towards them. He had one of the chains in his hand – it was solid and would pack a good blow, Gibbs thought, if wielded correctly. He knew Rodney Sheppard was a scientist, not a fighter, but he hoped that the general had drummed some kind of fighting skills into his sub, even if only to keep him alive during those dangerous missions they frequently went on.
Tony was face down and couldn’t see how close Rodney was, but then Rodney let out a scream of defiance and brought the chain down hard on Jordan’s back. Jordan roared and Tony pushed up from beneath, then swayed, before launching himself at Jordan who was now grappling with Rodney for possession of the chain.
“I've got him, Rodney. RUN!” Tony yelled, landing what looked like a pretty good punch to Jordan’s kidneys considering his weakened condition. “Get out of here, Rodney – go!” Tony shouted hoarsely.
Rodney didn’t run though, and Gibbs hadn’t thought for a moment that he would. Rodney Sheppard was one of those people you only got to know when the chips were down. He had a prickly, sarcastic manner and gave the appearance of being a coward, but in a crisis he was one of those people whose innate bravery shone through. Now he grappled with Jordan for possession of the chain, while Tony thumped the man from behind with the last bit of strength he had left. Gibbs watched, his heart in his mouth, willing the two subs to defeat his nemesis.
Then suddenly Jordan pulled the chain free, and, in one smooth motion, thwapped it hard against Rodney’s head. There was a loud cracking sound, and then a stain of blood streaked Rodney’s forehead and he crashed to the floor.
Gibbs heard someone screaming but Rodney was out cold…then he realised the screaming was coming from General Sheppard, who was clutching his own head, and Gibbs suddenly remembered the lifebond.
“Is he okay? Is he still alive?” he asked the general. John nodded, his eyes dark with pain.
“He’s unconscious but I can feel he’s still there,” he hissed. Carson crouched down beside him, checking on him, and used the movement to sign to Gibbs again. Gibbs signed back, with a sharp, impatient flick of his fingers.
Back on the screen Jordan turned, triumphant, and Tony swayed again, and then sagged down onto his knees, shaking his head to try and clear his vision.
Jordan grinned at the camera. “Where was I?” he said. “Oh yes. You know, Gibbs, I think Tony deserves a whipping for that, don’t you? I wonder what damage the buckle end of my belt will do to all this fine young skin?”
He wrapped the chain brutally around Tony’s wrists, securing them behind him, and then he pushed Tony over the bed again. He yanked off Tony’s pants leaving Tony naked. Jordan grinned, and ran his fingers over the faint strap marks on Tony’s ass.
“I see you keep him well-disciplined, Gibbs,” he commented. “I can understand why. A sub like this – if you’re not going to keep him well-fucked then you have to keep him well-spanked or he’ll leave you, won’t he?”
“He needs a firm hand,” Gibbs choked. He hadn’t wanted to answer the question at all but feared Jordan’s reprisal against Tony if he didn’t; Jordan liked his questions to be answered.
“Yes he does. And he’ll have it,” Jordan said, unbuckling his belt and pulling it free from the loops in his pants. He wrapped the leather end around his hand and then drew back his arm and unleashed a hard blow on Tony’s shoulders. Tony jerked, convulsing, a low animal cry keening from his lips.
“No more,” Gibbs whispered hoarsely. “Please, Jordan. I’m begging you. You want me to say I’m sorry about Ducky – I will. Anything you want, I’ll say it. You’re the big dom here, Jordan, not me. You’ve won. I’m sorry. Just don’t hurt him again. Please.” His throat hurt with the sincerity of what he was saying. Jordan glanced at the camera again.
“But I like hurting him, Gibbs,” he murmured. “I like it when a sub is scared and trembling beneath me. Don’t you like the way that feels?”
“No,” Gibbs replied honestly. “That’s always been the difference between us, Jordan. I like my subs happy and safe. You just like bullying them.”
Jordan’s hand came down again and Tony gave a low grunt of pain. Gibbs winced when he saw the blood staining Tony’s back where the metal belt buckle had lacerated the skin. He’d disciplined many subs in his time, sometimes very hard, but he’d never once broken skin; there was never any need for it and it sure as hell wouldn't have given him any pleasure. He’d never used the buckle end of a belt either – or any object harder than a strap, cane or paddle - or his own hand, which he was pretty sure was as hard, if not harder, than most implements. The subs he’d spanked certainly seemed to think so.
Jordan delivered blow after hard blow while Tony writhed beneath his belt. After the first blow Tony hadn’t screamed again and Gibbs knew why. He’d seen Tony in pain before, and when it wasn’t serious Tony milked it for all it was worth – but when it *was* serious, something inside him seemed to shut down and he went quiet. His breathing was ragged, and he gasped as each hard blow from Jordan’s belt ripped into his skin, but Gibbs knew he didn’t want to give Jordan the satisfaction of hearing him scream or beg for mercy.
Gibbs could only stand there and watch, in a cold, angry silence as Jordan flogged Tony repeatedly with his belt, until his back and shoulders were covered in blood, the flesh torn, welted and bruised. Then, finally, much to his relief, Jordan was done and he threw the belt onto the floor.
“Now we come to the good bit,” he said, smiling at the camera. “It’s been awhile for you hasn’t it, Tony?” he said, sliding his hands possessively over Tony’s ass cheeks. “You’re probably tighter than you used to be…it’ll be like popping your cherry,” he said, his hands kneading Tony’s buttocks.
“Been a long time since anyone likened me to a virgin, Jordan,” Tony muttered, with just enough wryness in his voice to hearten Gibbs. The whipping had been tough, but it seemed Tony was tougher.
“Unfortunately, despite my meticulous planning, I ‘forgot’ to bring any lube,” Jordan chuckled. “So you might find this a little rougher than you’re used to, Tony. But that’s okay; the discomfort shouldn’t last for long because when I’m done with you I’m going to slit your throat with my knife.”
“You sure as hell know how to turn a sub on,” Tony replied. “I’m getting hard just thinking about it.”
Jordan squeezed his buttocks brutally, making Tony gasp. “You won’t be so smart by the time I’m through,” he said. “Will you beg for your life? I hope so. I’d like Gibbs to see you do that.”
“Why are you doing this, Jordan?” Tony asked, and this time there was no bravado in his voice. “You want to punish Gibbs – I get that. And he’ll be pretty pissed – I get that too, but this isn’t going to hurt him the way you want it to. He’s lost agents before and he’s bounced back. It’s not like I’m special. If you were doing this to Abby or even Tim then you might hurt him more, but not me. It’s not like it was with you and Ducky. You’re not hurting him the way he hurt you. Trust me.”
Tony craned his neck upwards and looked straight at the camera. “Gibbs,” he said hoarsely, getting a good look at the screen for the first time, eyes trying to focus through his exhaustion. “I don’t know why you came for me in person and not the others, but I’m guessing it was a bluff to throw him off the scent. So tell him the truth. Tell him it doesn’t matter to you, tell him *I* don’t matter to you.”
“Can’t do that, Tony,” Gibbs replied, gazing directly into his sub’s eyes. “He already knows it’s not true.”
Those green eyes looked momentarily confused. “But it is…” he whispered.
“No,” Gibbs said softly, moving closer to the camera. If these were going to be Tony’s last few minutes then he wanted him to know the truth. “No, it isn’t. I love you, Tony. I’ve loved you since the minute you walked into that interview room in that crumpled shirt, and shot me that stupid DiNozzo smile - the one you think charms all the tops. Didn’t work on me, but the eyes did. That expression in your eyes – the one you can’t fake, the one that made me want to slam you down on the table and make you understand who you belong to. You’ve been pushing me for a long time, Tony, but you didn’t need to. You had me all along.”
“Then why…?” Tony gasped, his gaze swimming in and out of focus.
“I wasn’t ready,” Gibbs replied tersely. “Sorry, Tony.”
“Never say you’re sorry – sign of weakness,” Tony muttered.
“Not with you,” Gibbs said softly.
“Ah…finally the mighty Agent Gibbs admits to having feelings,” Jordan said. “And just when it’s too late. Stay with me, Tony – it’s time we ended this. But first things first…once, a long time ago, you did something to me, Gibbs, something that really hurt me; and you did it in public, in a roomful of witnesses. Now I’m going to return the favour. I just want you to know how it feels.”
He reached for Tony’s collar and Gibbs felt a wrenching ache inside his gut.
“I know how much being collared means to you, Tony,” Jordan said. “But you’ve worn this for long enough. It's time you were a free, isn’t it? Besides, didn’t you say you wouldn’t go to another top’s bed while you were wearing Gibbs’s collar? I never had you down as the old-fashioned type but it does you credit; all the more reason to take it off you before I fuck you.”
Tony made a choking sound as Jordan unbuckled the collar and then pulled it away from his throat. Gibbs felt his fists clenching and unclenching by his side. Removing a sub’s collar without the sub’s permission - unless the top who put it there was the one removing it - was actually a legal offence, and there was a reason for that. Jordan held up the collar and examined it critically.
“It’s just what I’d expect from you, Gibbs. How much did it cost? Two dollars? At least I gave Donald a collar that was worth something – several thousand dollars in fact.”
“That was just for the sake of your ego,” Gibbs muttered, and then regretted it as Jordan slammed his hand hard against Tony’s lacerated back, forcing an agonised gasp from Tony.
“This is what I think of your cheap collar, Gibbs,” Jordan said, throwing it down disdainfully. It landed a few feet away from where Rodney was lying on the floor, still out cold. “Now, I hope you understand how it feels to have your collared sub taken from you, and his collar removed without your permission. I'm pleased that your friends have witnessed your impotence and humiliation at being unable to keep the sub you collared.”
Gibbs glanced at Sheppard and Carson but saw only a kind of transfixed anger in Sheppard’s eyes, and utter sympathy and horror in Carson’s.
“Now, Tony,” Jordan said, turning his attention back to the prone agent. Tony looked out of it now; the loss of his collar and his own inability to prevent it, combined with the blood loss and the beating he’d received had drained him. His green eyes were open but blank, and Gibbs had a sudden fear that if Tony wasn’t broken now he might be by the time Jordan had finished raping him. “Watch, Gibbs,” Jordan gloated. “Watch me take your boy.”
Jordan undid his pants and Gibbs stood there, utterly powerless to do anything. It wasn’t a position he was used to being in, and he felt a wave of cold sweat break out on his body. Was he really going to have to stand by as this happened right in front of him? Was he going to have to watch as Tony was raped and then murdered? His anger was now a hard, frozen ball of solid ice in his gut and it took all of his self-control to keep it there, and not give into it and allow it to destroy him. There was still a chance they could save Tony, and he had to be ready for it.
He saw John move towards Carson and raised an eyebrow.
“Ten seconds,” Carson said, gazing intently at the device in his hands.
Ten seconds...it felt like ten years. Gibbs held his gun in one hand and his knife in the other, and watched as Jordan kicked Tony’s legs apart. Tony struggled, pushing back against him, and Jordan grabbed a handful of his thick hair and thumped his head down on the table, smashing his forehead against the steel surface. Gibbs winced – Tony looked dazed, and Gibbs wondered if he’d even make it through to the throat-slitting part. He already looked close to death; they were going to be too late.
“Three, two, one…” Carson’s voice whispered, and then the room disappeared. Gibbs had been transported only once before, when they’d first joined Daedalus from Earth several weeks ago, and he’d found the experience disorienting. This time he was too alert and focussed to be disoriented. Tony needed him and they didn’t have much time.
A second later he found himself standing on the Daedalus.
“Thank god – just in time,” Sheppard snapped. "Get us down there – now.”
A second later the room on the Daedalus disappeared and then he was in the room he’d seen on the plasma screen. Jordan was busy trying to wrestle a struggling, clenched Tony into submission so he could rape him, and hadn’t noticed them disappear from the other room. They had only been gone seconds in any case.
Gibbs heard Sheppard let out a blood-curdling growl as he ran towards Jordan. Gibbs didn’t run, and yet somehow he crossed the room in a couple of strides. Jordan looked up, a shocked expression on his face, and then Sheppard was behind him, pulling him off Tony, holding his arms behind his back. Jordan didn't say a word - his eyes said it all as they glittered in defeat. Gibbs barely spared him a glance.
Gibbs’s knife was in his hand and for a split second he and Sheppard locked gazes. Jordan might not resist arrest but they all knew there wasn’t going to be any arrest. Gibbs didn’t let anyone hurt his sub this badly and live, and he sure as hell knew that John Sheppard didn’t either. Sheppard held Jordan up, arms twisted behind him, and Gibbs waited. He and Sheppard had a wordless conversation, each understanding the other perfectly, and then Sheppard thrust Jordan forward and held him there – held him up, and held him still, offering him to Gibbs.
Gibbs arm went forward, and he felt the cold blade of the knife slide straight into Jordan’s belly, as deep as it would go. He leaned in close, so close that he could feel the warm blood on his shirt, and feel Jordan’s agonised breathing against his cheek.
“Nobody hurts what’s mine and lives,” he told Jordan, in a low, intense voice. “And Tony DiNozzo is mine.”
Then, slowly and deliberately, Gibbs twisted the knife. Jordan choked, and Gibbs slowly twisted it back the other way. Then he was done. He dropped his hand and locked wordless gazes with Sheppard again. Sheppard nodded, took hold of Jordan’s head in his hands, and twisted, just once, hard. There was a loud crack and then Sheppard dropped the man’s dead body to the ground, where it landed with a crashing thump.
Gibbs turned without looking back and was by Tony’s side in an instant. Carson was crouching beside him, getting a line into his vein, and blood into his body. Sheppard was cradling Rodney’s head in his lap, while Cadman called the Daedalus to get them transported out. Sheppard glanced up at him and Gibbs saw something in the other man’s eyes that made him go cold, and he knew this wasn’t over for John Sheppard yet - and it might be some time before it was.
“How is he?” Gibbs asked Carson. Tony was lying pale and silent on the floor, unmoving. “Is he dead?” Carson was working fast, his hands moving over Tony’s body with thorough efficiency.
“Not while I’m his damn physician he isn’t,” Carson growled, and, for the first time, Gibbs saw the true top in the usually affable Carson.
Seconds later they were transported back to the Daedalus, and then there were medical personnel everywhere, and people pushing and shoving past him with gurneys and medical supplies.
“Agent Gibbs.” Colonel Beckett was striding towards him. “I’ve got Mr Woolsey waiting for you on an open channel back to Atlantis.”
Gibbs watched as an unconscious Tony was placed on a gurney.
“My people?” he asked, glancing at Steven Beckett. “Did they all make it? Abby? Tim? Ziva? Are they okay?” He dreaded hearing the news because he didn’t think he could stand losing any of them.
Beckett’s face creased into a wide smile. “They all came back alive,” he confirmed.
Gibbs felt as if he’d left his body and was looking down on himself, standing alone in the centre of that room while everyone hustled and bustled around him. They were alive. They were all alive. It was hard to take in. He had been worried about every single one of them but they had all come through – and, for the most part, they’d come through without him.
“Colonel Lorne lost a man out there,” Beckett added, in a more sombre tone. “But Lieutenant Rice was the only casualty.”
Gibbs came to, brought back down to himself by that unwelcome news.
“Please relay my condolences to Colonel Lorne. I’ll write to the marine’s family myself when we get back.”
They had Tony strapped to the gurney now. Gibbs fell into step beside it, and reached out and took hold of Tony’s hand as they walked. Tony was still unconscious, and his hand felt cold. He was a mess, his face covered in bruises and his hair and body streaked with blood. He was almost unrecognisable.
“Sir? Agent Gibbs?” Beckett called after him. “Mr Woolsey wants to speak to you, and there’s a mission debrief and…”
Gibbs glanced back at him over his shoulder. “I’m not leaving my sub,” he snapped.
Beckett turned to Sheppard. “General? What about the debrief? What shall I tell Woolsey?” he asked, as Sheppard ran past him beside Rodney’s gurney.
“You heard Agent Gibbs,” Sheppard growled. “Same goes for me.”
They glanced at each other. At some point they’d have to decide what their reports would say, and how they would describe Jordan’s demise, but right now neither of them gave a damn about anything except their two subs. Gibbs saw in John now the kindred spirit he hadn’t seen when he first met the man. John Sheppard might hide behind a casual exterior but the man had a dark, passionate streak, and would go to hell and back for the sub he loved. Gibbs understood that all too well; Sheppard was a top after his own heart.
~*~
Tony opened his eyes, then closed them again, then opened them once more as consciousness slowly seeped back in.
“Hey.” Blue eyes were gazing at him. Tony tried to sit up but the room circled around, dizzyingly. Gibbs leaned in and steadied him on his way back down again. “Might be a bit too soon for that,” Gibbs said. Tony felt boneless as his head hit the pillow again. “How do you feel?” Gibbs asked.
“Great,” Tony replied. “Nothing hurts. Hell…what’s Carson given me? These are some serious happy pills.” He couldn’t move without toppling over but the sensation of flying was terrific. He gazed around the room; it didn’t seem familiar. “Where are we?” he asked, blankly.
“Daedalus sick bay – on our way back to Atlantis,” Gibbs replied. Tony wasn’t sure without looking down but he thought that maybe Gibbs was loosely holding his hand. He dismissed that as a side effect of the pain meds – Gibbs didn’t do hand-holding.
“What happened?” Tony asked, and then he flinched as the memories came flooding back. He could vaguely feel a myriad of different aches in his body, masked by the medication, and suspected that when the drugs wore off he’d hurt like hell. He remembered being held down, remembered his head crashing onto metal, remembered Jordan working his legs open… “Jordan,” he murmured. “Is he…?”
“Yeah.” The expression on Gibbs’s face wasn’t pretty.
“Right.” Tony nodded. “You did that?”
“Yeah.” Gibbs’s blue eyes shone icily. Tony noticed there was a big red stain on his shirt and decided, wisely, not to mention it.
“And before that, did he…?” Tony remembered rough hands on his ass, pulling his buttocks apart, and he’d been clenching and wriggling for all he was worth but he knew he had been too beat up to prevent the inevitable for long and at some point he’d blacked out so he wasn’t sure what had happened next.
“No,” Gibbs said firmly. “We got there in time. The Daedalus set off the same time we stepped through the gate but it was a six hour flight and we knew it’d be tight and we couldn’t necessarily rely on them for rescue. Colonel Beckett busted a gut to get this ship to our location as fast as he could. Soon as they were within range they transported us out of where we were and over to where you were. Daedalus has more powerful scanning technology and was able to pinpoint your life-signs. We couldn't risk transporting you straight out because of your physical condition – Carson wanted to stabilise you first. We also couldn't risk transporting Jordan up with you – we didn't know which life-sign was which - so Colonel Beckett transported us over to your position – that's how we got there."
“And the others?” Tony asked. “Abby and Tim? Are they okay? Is Ziva okay?”
“Yes – they’re all okay. All of them got back to Atlantis safely,” Gibbs told him. “The planets they were being held on were out of Daedalus’s range so we sent teams in puddle jumpers instead. Colonel Lorne rescued Abby, and Ziva brought Tim back.”
Tony felt suddenly exhausted all over again. He sank back into the bed, eyelids fluttering, then, by great force of will, opened them again.
“Rodney?” he whispered. “Is he okay?” He had a vague recollection of Rodney lying on the floor, a big red mark on his head. “Oh shit…he’s not…? Did he make it? I really grew to like the guy.”
“He’s fine,” Gibbs said. “Carson is taking some X-rays of his head but he’s regained consciousness – he asked after you.”
“Should have run and left me,” Tony muttered.
“Not his style.” Gibbs shook his head. Tony tried to say something but he was sure it just came out as gibberish. “I think you need to sleep now,” Gibbs told him, and then Tony felt a hand stroking his hair, and a kiss being pressed to his forehead. He was asleep before he could even think about how good that felt.
He dreamed that he was flying through the air and Randolph Jordan was flying behind him with a big silver knife, coming closer and closer until the knife was pressed against his throat and... He woke with a start, to find himself staring into a different set of blue eyes – these ones were wide and had a kind of innocence to them – they weren’t sharp and all-knowing like Gibbs’s eyes. The room came into focus and Tony saw that there was a bed next to his and Rodney Sheppard was lying in it, a big bandage wrapped around his head.
“Hey…you’re awake. Good. Because I would not want to be around Gibbs if you, you know, died or anything.”
“Where is he?” Tony glanced around blearily. There was nobody in the sick bay save for Rodney and himself – and John Sheppard who was leaning against the wall. Tony was not remotely fooled by the casual pose Rodney’s top was adopting; every muscle in his body was tense and there was a dark, almost predatory look in his eyes.
“He went to the bathroom. He and John take it in turns so there’s always one of them in here with us at any one time.” Rodney leaned a little closer. “I think it’s a top thing,” he said conspiratorially. “If one of them has to leave for any reason the only one they trust to stand guard is each other. I don't know what they think’s gonna happen onboard the Daedalus. I mean, the bad guy’s gone – who do they think is going to come after us now?”
“I don’t think it’s about that, Rodney,” Tony said. “I think it’s more of a sort of PTSD thing. Until they come down from whatever toppy headspace they’re in right now we just need to expect them to be a bit over-protective.”
“Yeah - you could be right.” Rodney nodded.
“Are you okay?” Tony’s eyes flickered over Rodney’s bandaged head, and down to the bruises all over his face, and then the red marks on his wrists.
“Yeah. Carson said I don’t have a fractured skull – which is a good thing. This skull houses a brain of considerable genius.”
Tony laughed out loud at that. “Ah, Rodney, I really *like* you,” he said. Rodney looked surprised.
“Really?” He seemed quite pleased by that and Tony could suddenly see, with total ease, what Abby and John Sheppard and even, he suspected, Gibbs saw in the man. The bluster was all a disguise – Rodney Sheppard was a whole lot more insecure than he seemed, and he had a big heart beneath it all. He was also damn brave.
“I told you to run,” Tony said to him. Rodney’s eyes widened.
“He was going to rape you and slit your throat!” he protested. “Besides, I thought Gibbs would kill me if I didn’t stay and help.”
Tony laughed and Rodney gave a little laugh too. Tony glanced up at John who, despite hearing their entire conversation, hadn’t said a word. He was just standing there, leaning against that wall, never once taking his eyes off his sub.
“Is he okay?” Tony asked. Rodney’s expression changed, becoming more serious and thoughtful.
“Not yet, but he will be,” he said. “Right now he’s hanging on until I’m better. Then I’ll need to take him down.”
“You take him down?” Tony asked, surprised. “Isn’t he the top?”
“Yeah, he’s the top – but sometimes I’m the one in control,” Rodney said. “This is him. It’s how he is. It’s how *we* are.”
Everyone had their own dynamic, and this one intrigued Tony. He wondered what it would be like to take Gibbs down but his brain wouldn’t even go there. He didn’t think Gibbs *did* being taken down.
At that moment Gibbs returned to the room. Tony was surprised by the way his boss's eyes lit up, visibly and openly, when he saw he was awake.
“Hey – how you doing?” Gibbs said, in a soft voice that Tony didn’t think he’d ever heard before. His boss came over to him, put a hand on his head and smoothed his hair back, and then dropped another of those little kisses on his forehead. Tony lay there, too surprised to react. He vaguely recalled a conversation that he suspected might have been important and even relevant to the way Gibbs was behaving now but the details were hazy.
“Uh…fine?” he said. He tried sitting up again and this time managed it without toppling back down, but the movements made everything hurt. He winced. His back and shoulders felt like they were on fire, and he was suddenly aware of how much his jaw and the side of his face ached. He could feel the pain meds wearing off and his head was pounding.
“Got some lacerations back there,” Gibbs told him, nodding in the direction of his shoulders. “Should heal okay but might be sore for awhile.” He leaned forward and ran a finger over Tony’s face. “You’re not looking so pretty right now, DiNozzo,” he said. “But the bruises should fade soon.”
Tony ran a tongue over his dry lips, remembering spitting blood. He found the large gash on his lower lip and winced as his warm tongue made contact.
“So…Ricardo Montalban?” Gibbs asked, with a raised eyebrow. Tony groaned.
“Didn’t you see that movie, boss? Don’t tell me you never had a thing for Captain Kirk, either. Running riot across the entire galaxy while he waited for Spock to make his move, trying to provoke him into it…but you know, Spock was being all Vulcan and denying he had feelings but we all knew he did, and then Khan shows up looking all ripped and…uh...” Tony paused. “You usually tell me to shut up by now, boss.”
Gibbs grinned, and settled back in his chair. “Tony, I don’t have a clue what you’re saying but I’m glad you’re still alive to say it, so just go ahead. I’ve not got anywhere else to be.”
Tony gazed at him suspiciously. This really wasn’t Gibbs-like behaviour at all. On the plus side, his current physical state did at least preclude Gibbs slapping the back of his head. Or maybe not. He remembered being deathly ill with the plague once and Gibbs had given him a head tap then, so it might not be wise to test that theory by pushing his boss too much at the moment, especially when Gibbs kept looking at him that way, as if he couldn’t take his eyes off him. Gibbs’s gaze seemed to be mapping his entire face, travelling steadily over every inch of him as if he was recording him for posterity or something. It was un-nerving, and Tony wasn’t entirely sure what to make of it.
At that moment a man in a white coat entered with a little tray of meds and came over to Tony’s bedside.
“How are you doing, Mr DiNozzo?” he said cheerfully. “I’m here to give you your meds and…”
He broke off with a strangled squawk as Gibbs’s hand fastened around his wrist, holding him tight.
“I don’t know you,” Gibbs growled.
“I’m Nurse Bryant. Just taken over on shift,” the man squeaked.
“Well go get Carson. Nobody else touches Tony, or comes close to Tony, or gives Tony any damn thing except him – understood?”
Bryant nodded, eyes wide, and backed out of the room.
“See, I told you,” Rodney whispered loudly to Tony.
Tony leaned back in his pillows, frowning. He’d never seen Gibbs behave like this and a part of him liked it - while another part of him was really wishing he could have had the pain meds before Gibbs had scared the nurse away.
Carson entered a few minutes later and gave Gibbs a severe look, which Tony could see was pretty much for show.
“God help me, it’s bad enough with just him usually,” he said, nodding in General Sheppard’s direction. Sheppard hadn’t moved; he was still standing there, gazing wolfishly at Rodney. “Now there are two of you scaring the life out of all my staff.”
He paused, and surveyed Tony. “Nice to see you awake, son,” he said, in a firm but gentle voice that Tony had never heard from him before. He remembered his initial impressions of Carson as being the kind of top he could charm and manipulate, and realised that while that might be true outside of an infirmary, in here, as one of Carson’s patients, he didn’t stand a chance. This was where Carson was at his toppiest. Carson sat down on the bed beside him. “How are you feeling?”
“Great. Fine. Ready to go back to quarters as soon as we get back to Atlantis, Doc,” Tony said, his mask fitting effortlessly back into place as he gave Carson his best subby smile - which hurt his cut lip so much he couldn’t hold it.
Carson shook his head, smiling wryly. “Son, you won’t be going back to quarters for a few days yet. You’ll be staying in my infirmary on Atlantis until I say you’re well enough to return and even then, you won’t be back on active duty for a few weeks.”
Tony hated being ill or injured. He hated the time away from work, and especially the time away from Gibbs - but most of all he hated the endless bed rest, and how that gave him far too much thinking time. He didn’t do well if he had too much time to think.
“Hey, Doc, even when I had the plague I was back at work within a couple of weeks,” he said. “And Ducky can look out for me back at our quarters. I’ll be fine.”
“You’ll stay under Carson’s care until he releases you,” Gibbs cut in firmly, and Tony’s heart sank because he could argue with Carson all he liked but there was never any arguing with Gibbs.
He lay back down on his pillow, feeling a wave of impotent rage. The last thing he wanted right now, after all that had happened, was thinking time. The pain meds had well and truly worn off now and with them had gone his good mood and sense of optimism.
“I want you and Rodney to both see Kate Heightmeyer when we get home as well,” Carson said.
“The shrink? No way,” Tony said. “I don’t do shrinks.”
“If this had happened back on Earth the Director would send you for a psych evaluation before letting you return to duty so we’ll follow that protocol out here as well,” Gibbs said. “And…it might do you good, Tony,” he added, leaning forward. His eyes were kind but uncompromising, and Tony saw how his gaze flicked briefly over his neck…and he didn’t want to think about what was – or wasn’t – there. For a sub to have a collar forcibly removed was always traumatic – that’s why they had a law against it, and Tony had been through that and a lot more besides in the past 24 hours.
“There's no way *you’d* see a shrink – don’t see why I have to,” Tony muttered, closing his eyes. He opened them again, in surprise, as Gibbs gave him a firm tap on the head; it wasn’t a slap, but Tony knew that was only because of his condition. “Yes boss, sorry boss,” Tony sighed.
It was stupid, but somehow that small tap made him feel better than even the pain meds had managed to do. He closed his eyes again, and was soon fast asleep.
~*~
End of Part Fourteen
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Hiding in Plain Sight: Part Fifteen
Author: Xanthe
Fandom: SGA/NCIS crossover
Pairings: Gibbs/DiNozzo, John/Rodney, Carson/Caldwell, Teyla/Ronon, Ziva/McGee, and some other pairings that would spoil the story if I revealed them. Gibbs/Ducky friendship.
Rating: NC17 for explicit BDSM sex (m/m slash, femslash and het) and spanking.
Author's Notes
Summary: When a serial killer murders three marines on Atlantis, NCIS are called in to investigate. However, their arrival brings complications for everyone – revealing a lie, a prophecy, a secret and a nemesis.
Whump warning ahead!
Part Fourteen: “You’ve won. I’m sorry. Just don’t hurt him again. Please.”
Hiding in Plain Sight
By Xanthe
Part Fourteen
Ziva gazed dispassionately at the villagers feasting around their huge open fire. Over to one side, Tim lay on the stone slab, awaiting his part in their grisly ritual.
It was an entire village but Ziva had no doubt she could take them all on, alone if need be. When the shutters came down she was a cold, ruthless killing machine – and she could already feel the shutters coming down. If she could find a way of channelling the darkness inside her, so she could use it to give her the edge she needed without allowing it to destroy her completely – surely that would be okay? Then she remembered the look in Gibbs’s eyes after Tim had been shot. He’d *been* there, in this place where she was now. He’d killed for revenge after his first wife had been murdered and he knew what that felt like. She didn’t think he regretted it for one moment, and she knew he’d do it again in a heartbeat, but she could also guess what he’d tell her if he was here now; the darkness inside her wasn’t so easily used and then tossed aside. She had to own it, or it would always own her.
“I suggest that we create a diversion,” Teyla said. “Ronon, Ziva and myself will start a fight, and draw them over in that direction while Kahla frees Tim and helps him to safety. The marines will cover us from behind. We will meet back at the jumper."
“That is your plan?” Ziva frowned. There was a whole village and only ten of them - herself, her three friends and the six marines Sheppard had sent with them. They were all superb fighters but even so, they were out-numbered. “It is kind of a crappy plan.”
Teyla smiled. “We have done this rescue before,” she murmured, “When Rodney Sheppard was once their captive.”
“And Sheppard’s done it twice,” Ronon grunted. “Said they did it the same way second time around when he was in that other universe too.”
“And it always works?” Ziva raised an incredulous eyebrow.
“It works,” Ronon said firmly.
“Very well. Then we will follow your plan.” Ziva inclined her head. Teyla was the mission leader and she knew these savages who were holding Tim captive much better than she did. Even so, kind though these strangers were, she wished she had her own team here – she was used to the way Gibbs and Tony worked, and she could predict the way they would move and what they would do. Tony might be a smartass in the squad room, but in a combat situation there was nobody she’d rather have by her side – except Gibbs. “However – I will be the one to free Tim, not Kahla,” she said firmly.
“I do not think that is a good idea,” Teyla said smoothly.
“Why not?” Ziva demanded.
Teyla gazed at her steadily, and Ziva saw the answer in her eyes. She wasn’t sure Ziva could be trusted, and, like Gibbs, she was worried for Tim’s safety if Ziva got to him first. Ziva bit down her anger. She could be trusted! She was able to control herself. She wouldn’t hurt Tim – she wanted to rescue him. All the same, there seemed little to be gained by arguing the point, so she waved her hand, giving in.
The villagers were celebrating their impending sacrifice by feasting and drinking so the element of surprise would work in their favour. On the down side, these people really didn’t look very nice. There wasn’t one of them, not even among the children, who wasn’t wearing ornaments made of some part of the human anatomy – teeth, bone fragments, hair. One man even had a complete human skull hanging from his belt. Clearly these were people who worshipped death.
“That is a good thing,” Ziva muttered to herself, as she got into position. "Soon they will meet death in person."
Teyla gave the word and all hell broke loose as they began firing on the villagers. They completely outclassed them in terms of weaponry but there were hundreds of villagers and they soon descended on their position. When they ran out of ammo there was no time to reload; Ziva just threw her gun down and drew her knives instead. By her side, Teyla was fighting with her batons, while Ronon was wielding two hefty axes, making massive inroads into their attackers, his huge arms slicing through the air with a strange kind of grace for such a big man, almost as if he was dancing rather than fighting. The marines all fought with knives, working in formation, as well trained as she would have expected from men under General Sheppard's command. Between them they drew the fight away from Tim, so that Kahla could free him and get him to safety.
Ziva kept one eye on the Athosian sub as she fought. Kahla had reached Tim and was trying, frantically, to slice through his bonds with her knife, but he was tightly tied so it wasn’t easy. A cry went up as the villagers realised they were about to lose their human sacrifice and a group of them descended on Kahla’s position. Ziva let out a growl of anger, and fought her way over to them.
Now she was in the thick of it, and the villagers were all around her. She could see Tim, blinking blearily, trying to pull himself loose from what remained of his bonds, blood now pouring from the re-opened wound on his arm. Ziva felt something click inside her, and now she wasn’t even conscious as she fought the people standing between her and the sub she wanted to make her own. Something else had taken over, and she felt like an observer as she sliced and hacked her way through bodies to get to her sub.
The darkness inside her was overwhelming, bloodlust filling every one of her senses. She *was* the darkness and it felt thrilling, intoxicating, and exhilarating! Gibbs was wrong – Teyla was wrong – this was who she was. She felt like an invincible, icy-hearted goddess as she fought, utterly without mercy for any who got underfoot; man or woman, adult or child. She was just the cold steel blade of her knife as it dispensed her justice.
She reached the stone slab, and whirled as a body came towards her. She raised her arm, knife ready to plunge, carve, and dismember…
“Ziva! No! It’s me!” a voice called, and somehow it penetrated her consciousness. She felt her vision clear a little, and saw that she had Tim pinned down on the slab beneath her, her knife pressed against his neck. His eyes were wide, and a vein was pulsing under his skin. She wondered what it would be like to sever that vein, and watch him bleed. Would she enjoy it, the way she had enjoyed killing Ari?
“Ari?” she whispered, pressing the knife a little harder, watching as a red droplet of blood rose on the side of his neck.
“I know…Ari hurt you didn’t he?” Tim whispered. “You had to kill him because he betrayed you, but I haven’t, Ziva. It’s me, Tim. I haven’t hurt you.”
Ari had hurt her - it was Ari who had first shown her what she was inside; Ari with his lies and manipulations and his way of ruthlessly disposing of anyone who got between him and his goal – including her. She'd loved him and he had betrayed her. She had killed him because she had to – but she didn’t have to enjoy it. That had been all her; it was who she was.
“I’m not him,” Tim whispered. "Ziva - I'm not him."
She stared at him for a long time, and then, somehow, teetered back from the brink.
“We must go,” she said abruptly. The crowd was pressing back in around them and Kahla was struggling to hold them off. Ziva removed the bomb from Tim's neck, an idea occurring to her. She primed the device and then threw it into the thick of the mob. There was a loud explosion and a big plume of smoke went up, obscuring them.
Ziva grabbed Tim's arm and dragged him towards the cover of the trees and the waiting puddle jumper. He came, but he was so slow. She had to yank him along, at breakneck speed, and he stumbled behind her, finding it hard to keep up with her unrelenting pace. She paused when they reached the safety of the forest and turned back to see how her comrades were faring. Teyla had seen her make her escape and had given the order to retreat, fighting as they went.
Satisfied they would make it, Ziva took Tim’s arm and pulled him away again, dragging him relentlessly back to the jumper.
It was cloaked, so he almost walked into it, but she managed to shove him inside. The pilot was waiting to take off as soon as they all returned; he turned to talk to her but Ziva ignored him. She had fought for a sub, fought for *this* sub and something old in her blood was demanding that she take him and make him hers, as was her right.
“Ziva - you’re scaring me,” he said. "Ziva…hey, slow down."
She pushed him onto the bunk, her attention rivetted by the blood on his arm. She put her fingertips in the red, sticky fluid, and then brought them to her nose and sniffed. He smelled of death - she liked that smell.
She pushed him down, roughly, so that he was lying on his back on the bunk and then she straddled him.
“Ziva,” he whispered. “Please…don’t do this…”
He was hers. She’d fought for him and won him and now she was going to claim him. She ripped his shirt off his chest, swiping through the buttons with her bloody knife, exposing the pale pink skin beneath. Then she lowered her face to his neck, wanting to sink her teeth into the tender flesh, and tear it. She would mark him; she would cover him all over with her marks so that he would know who he belonged to. She knew he was an innocent, untouched by any other top, but that would make it all the sweeter. She would show him what it was like to be her sub. She would scratch, tear, bite, hurt and…
“Ziva,” he whispered again. His hands came up, and gently stroked her hair. “Hey…Ziva…it’s me. Tim.”
She felt as if someone was calling to her from far away but she couldn’t hear what they were saying. She gazed down at Tim’s neck again, the flesh so soft and inviting…but someone was talking to her in soft, low tones, and the sound was buzzing in her head, annoying her, and she couldn’t seem to bat it away. She looked at him again, seeing him a little more clearly now. She growled as she saw the plain black collar around his neck…it was the same as the one around her own neck, but it was wrong; he should be wearing *her* collar but he wasn’t. He didn’t belong to her but he should - she’d fought for him…
“Ziva,” he said again, and his face swam into focus. He was frightened but calm, and the look of love in his eyes was unfaltering as he gazed up at her from the bunk. “Take me if you want,” he said softly, relaxing beneath her and offering himself up to her. “I’m ready. I’m yours. Do whatever you want to me. I trust you, Ziva.”
He trusted her. He had no cause to but he trusted her all the same. Reality smashed back in so hard it almost took her breath away and she sank down on top of him, resting her head on his chest. His arms came up and gently cradled her and she lay there, numb. The darkness receded, ebbing away. Tim was fine – he was alive and well, and she had rescued him.
“I wouldn't have hurt you,” she whispered. "I could never hurt you, Tim."
"I know," he said softly, stroking her back gently. "I trusted you, remember."
She did – and it was his trust in her that had saved her. She could hear his heart beating fast under her ear and she loved how his body felt beneath hers, so big and steadfast. Thank god she wouldn’t wake in the morning to find him marked by her vicious sexual frenzy. She never, ever wanted to wake again to that empty sensation in her belly and a hostile sub beside her.
Within minutes the rest of their rescue team had returned and then they were flying back towards the gate. Ziva didn’t say a word. She just lay where she was, on top of her sub, his arms around her, his breathing steady beneath her, grounding her.
He continued to stroke her back and nuzzle at her hair and she felt herself responding to the peace of his embrace. His total faith in her had given her the strength she needed to fight the darkness and win - and she knew that with him by her side it would never come close to defeating her again. It was over.
~*~
Gibbs glanced at his watch, and then at Carson. They had got through sixteen doors, seven of which had been booby trapped with bombs of various degrees of difficulty. But over five hours had passed and it had been almost 40 minutes since Tony had last said anything. They were running out of time.
“Quickly,” Gibbs muttered under his breath. “Hurry!”
“I’m going as fast as I can, sir,” Cadman replied, sweat dripping freely down the side of her face and into her blonde hair. He knew she was – she was as good at her job as Carson had said, but there were no prizes for coming in late. If they didn’t get through this door within the next ten minutes, Tony wouldn’t be able to survive losing any more blood. He had no doubt that Jordan, as an ex-medical student, knew the exact amount of blood Tony could lose before his body shut down and major organ failure occurred.
“Done it!” she said, cutting through the last of the wires. Gibbs pushed both her and Sheppard aside, and slammed through the last door, then ran down the long, dimly lit hallway to the door off to one side at the end. This was it. Tony was behind that door. Unless... was it the trap, or the bluff, or both? Why had Jordan allowed him to get this far? Why not set off that bomb around Tony's neck the minute Gibbs stepped through the stargate onto this planet, thereby showing Jordan his preference?
He examined the final door for a bomb but didn’t find one, and he couldn’t wait a second longer in any case.
He crashed the door open with his boot, and slammed headlong into the room - then looked around in disbelief.
It was empty.
Someone had been here though. A large plasma screen was fixed to the far wall, and on it…on it was a visual of the room where Tony was being held, presumably in one of the other towers judging by the similarity of the decor. It was the first time Gibbs had seen his agent in several hours and Tony’s condition had deteriorated visibly in that time. He was deathly pale and no longer moving, and the bruises on his face stood out as livid purple stains on his white skin. Rodney was still hanging where he was chained, looking utterly exhausted.
“Damn it!” Gibbs slammed his hand into the nearest wall.
Sheppard stared up at the screen, and Gibbs could see him drinking in the sight of his sub. He walked over to a control console and examined it, then turned, shaking his head.
“Jordan got Rodney to create some artificial life-signs to lure us to this room,” he said.
“So we chose the wrong tower?” Carson looked as if he was about to cry. “I’m sorry – that’s my fault. I suggested…”
“It’s nobody’s fault,” Gibbs snapped. “Nobody except Jordan; he wanted us to come to this tower, and that’s why he left the trail of breadcrumbs straight here. Now I’m guessing he wants to finish with a floorshow.”
There was no time for them to retrace their steps and then navigate their way down to the bottom of the other tower; Tony didn't have that long. John glanced at his watch, and then over at Gibbs, and shook his head.
“Not yet,” he said. Gibbs nodded.
“Better be soon,” he said. “We’re almost out of time.”
At that moment there was a noise on the screen and the door to the room Rodney and Tony were in opened. Gibbs watched as Jordan entered. He went to the camera, and stared straight at them. John glanced around the room and pointed at a camera positioned over the plasma, making it clear that Jordan could see them as clearly as they could see him.
“Ah. Gibbs. I’m so sorry – you've made another bad choice. Story of your life isn’t it?” Jordan said. “First, all those years ago you made the bad choice of stealing my sub from me. Now you’ve made another mistake and will have to suffer the consequences. This is my moment, Gibbs – I've waited a very long time for this and I want you to watch very carefully.”
He went over to where Tony was lying and removed the tube from his arm. Tony stirred and muttered something, at least reassuring Gibbs that he was still alive. Jordan unfastened the little bomb from Tony's collar and placed it on the ground, out of reach. Then he returned to Tony's side.
“He’s very pretty,” Jordan said, running a finger down the side of Tony’s face. Gibbs felt his gut tighten. “I can see why you collared him. I wouldn’t have thought he was your type but he is, isn’t he? All that mouthy charm, combined with just a hint of DiNozzo vulnerability. He’s a handful, a challenge, and you like that don’t you, Gibbs?”
Gibbs grunted. Jordan’s hand whipped out and struck Tony on the jaw and Tony’s eyes flew open and he let out a startled yelp.
“I asked you a question,” Jordan said. “Please reply.”
“Yes,” Gibbs ground out. “I like that Tony is a challenge.”
“I thought so.” Jordan smiled straight at the camera. “What first attracted you to him?”
John made a motion with his hand to play for time and keep Jordan talking, and Gibbs blinked at him that he understood.
“Well…he looked like something the cat dragged in when he first showed up for an interview at NCIS, but there was something about his eyes. His body language said he couldn’t care less but his eyes said he wanted to please.”
“And you liked that?” Jordan asked, running his finger slowly down Tony’s chest. Gibbs swallowed hard.
“Yeah, I liked that,” he agreed.
“And you’ve liked it ever since, haven’t you?” Jordan laughed. “You like keeping him on edge, you like making him work hard for your approval. When you give it to him it’s in these grudging little morsels that always leave him wanting more because it’s never quite enough, is it?”
Gibbs felt his hands clench into fists. Was that true? Maybe it was, a little.
“It helps him stay good at his job,” he said gruffly. “I get the best out of him that way.”
“And is it always about the job? Or is it sometimes more personal?” Jordan asked.
Gibbs thought about that for a moment but he was too slow, and Jordan’s hand whipped out again. The sound of Tony’s cry sliced through him, making him flinch.
“Yes, it’s sometimes more personal,” he said quietly.
“Good. That’s what I wanted to hear,” Jordan said. “Because I’m about to do something to dear Tony. Something *very* personal. And I want you to watch. If you look away, I’ll make him very sorry.”
Gibbs could do nothing *but* watch, his gut roiling, as Jordan began undoing the buttons on Tony’s shirt.
“Oh dear god no,” he whispered.
“I didn’t want him quite dead you see,” Jordan said. “He’s weak, but conscious. I want him to feel it when I take him.”
“Jordan…no…please…you don’t have to do this,” Gibbs said hoarsely. “It’s not too late. There’s still time for you to stop this.”
“Oh I know.” Jordan smiled at the camera. “But I don’t want to stop, Gibbs. I’ve been looking forward to this. Tony isn’t my usual type either but he’s a fine looking boy. I’ll enjoy using him as he should be used – as you’ve neglected to use him.”
“How do you know that?” Gibbs flung at him, trying to do something – anything – to delay the inevitable.
“I’ve been listening to him and Rodney talk, Gibbs, the same way you have these past few hours. He’s besotted with you and you’ve been cruel to this boy, Gibbs, keeping him on edge when you could have taken him to your bed and given him what he wants. Instead you made him work for it, didn’t you? You made him work for everything – every word of praise, every fond look, and every smile. I almost feel sorry for him.”
He finished undoing Tony’s shirt and slid it open, revealing his sub’s chest beneath with its smattering of fine dark hair. Gibbs fought hard to keep his face blank, but failed. He turned away to hide his emotions but Tony’s hoarse cry when Jordan backhanded him brought him back to the plasma.
“Please keep your eyes on the screen, Gibbs. I don’t want you to miss any of this,” Jordan told him, looking straight at him through the camera. “If you turn away again I’ll make him scream even harder.”
Jordan undid Tony’s belt, pulling it through the loops, and then undid his fly. Gibbs just stood there, helplessly, standing by, unable to do a thing as Jordan undressed his sub. Every muscle in Gibbs's body was coiled and tense. He could feel Sheppard, Carson and Cadman watching him watching Jordan and was aware of their silent sympathy but it was no damn use to him.
Jordan paused for a moment to undo the various cuffs that bound Tony to the table. He unbuckled them all, clearly thinking Tony was too out of it to put up any kind of a struggle. Now Gibbs was seriously impressed by Jordan’s planning; this had all been meticulously worked out, down to the last detail.
He pulled Tony up, and Tony lolled against him.
“You wanna make out?” Tony slurred, nuzzling at Jordan’s throat. Gibbs frowned. He knew DiNozzo too well… ”Hey handsome,” Tony said, his hands clumsily stroking Jordan’s body, patting and fondling. “You want me?” he breathed in Jordan’s ear. “I think you do.”
Jordan laughed. “Your boy is like a cat in heat, Gibbs. He’d go with anyone.”
“I’m easy,” Tony said. “Always have been.” He lolled forward again, as if he’d lost his balance, but Gibbs wasn’t fooled. He noticed that Tony had a bunch of keys in his hand stolen from Jordan’s pocket, and as he fell forward, making Jordan catch him, he threw them at Rodney’s feet, clanging his hand against the steel bed to hide the sound of them landing.
Rodney’s eyes widened, and he reached out with one of his feet to drag the keys towards him, and then managed to contort enough to pick them up with his bound hands. He didn’t have much leeway, and he almost dropped the keys but then caught them again and began frantically trying to find the right key to unlock the chains. Gibbs tried not to watch in case he gave the ploy away to Jordan, but he was willing Rodney to succeed and grab the chance Tony had given them both.
Jordan moved suddenly, and threw Tony face down over the steel bed. Tony gave a yelp as Jordan yanked his shirt from his back and then held him down, his groin pressed against Tony’s ass, his hands holding Tony’s wrists tightly to keep him still. He leaned over Tony’s half-naked body and then licked the back of Tony’s neck. Gibbs felt something break inside him – something old and cold that had been keeping him imprisoned for a long time, but he couldn’t give into it yet. He had to stay focussed, for Tony’s sake, because when the moment came he had to be ready. He saw Carson making a sign with his hands, and nodded imperceptibly and signed back, his hands hidden behind the console.
Gibbs watched out of his peripheral vision as Rodney freed himself from the cuffs and then got to his feet, behind Jordan, out of the other man’s sight. He’d been chained for hours and he was a little unsteady, but he was silent as he stood.
“You like me this way, big fella?” Tony was saying to Jordan, desperately continuing with the distraction. “All helpless underneath you. That feel good, huh? Always liked sexy older guys – you ever heard of Ricardo Montalban?”
Gibbs rolled his eyes; it really was astonishing that Tony’s seduction technique was ever successful.
“How about you let me up so I can look at you when you take me, huh?” Tony asked, and Gibbs understood the point of that request. Face down, Tony had little room to manoeuvre, but if Jordan let him up then there would be a split second when Tony had a chance to overpower his assailant – if he wasn’t too weak, and looking at him Gibbs was by no means sure that he wasn’t.
“That’s good…if you let me up the other way I could show you how good a DiNozzo kiss can be,” Tony was saying. Jordan bit on his shoulder blade and Tony gave a strangled yelp.
“I like you fine just the way you are,” Jordan told him. “You’re in just the right position for me to fuck you.”
For the first time, Gibbs saw a flicker of real panic on Tony’s face and it was all he could do to keep his eyes on the screen.
Rodney was now creeping stealthily towards them. He had one of the chains in his hand – it was solid and would pack a good blow, Gibbs thought, if wielded correctly. He knew Rodney Sheppard was a scientist, not a fighter, but he hoped that the general had drummed some kind of fighting skills into his sub, even if only to keep him alive during those dangerous missions they frequently went on.
Tony was face down and couldn’t see how close Rodney was, but then Rodney let out a scream of defiance and brought the chain down hard on Jordan’s back. Jordan roared and Tony pushed up from beneath, then swayed, before launching himself at Jordan who was now grappling with Rodney for possession of the chain.
“I've got him, Rodney. RUN!” Tony yelled, landing what looked like a pretty good punch to Jordan’s kidneys considering his weakened condition. “Get out of here, Rodney – go!” Tony shouted hoarsely.
Rodney didn’t run though, and Gibbs hadn’t thought for a moment that he would. Rodney Sheppard was one of those people you only got to know when the chips were down. He had a prickly, sarcastic manner and gave the appearance of being a coward, but in a crisis he was one of those people whose innate bravery shone through. Now he grappled with Jordan for possession of the chain, while Tony thumped the man from behind with the last bit of strength he had left. Gibbs watched, his heart in his mouth, willing the two subs to defeat his nemesis.
Then suddenly Jordan pulled the chain free, and, in one smooth motion, thwapped it hard against Rodney’s head. There was a loud cracking sound, and then a stain of blood streaked Rodney’s forehead and he crashed to the floor.
Gibbs heard someone screaming but Rodney was out cold…then he realised the screaming was coming from General Sheppard, who was clutching his own head, and Gibbs suddenly remembered the lifebond.
“Is he okay? Is he still alive?” he asked the general. John nodded, his eyes dark with pain.
“He’s unconscious but I can feel he’s still there,” he hissed. Carson crouched down beside him, checking on him, and used the movement to sign to Gibbs again. Gibbs signed back, with a sharp, impatient flick of his fingers.
Back on the screen Jordan turned, triumphant, and Tony swayed again, and then sagged down onto his knees, shaking his head to try and clear his vision.
Jordan grinned at the camera. “Where was I?” he said. “Oh yes. You know, Gibbs, I think Tony deserves a whipping for that, don’t you? I wonder what damage the buckle end of my belt will do to all this fine young skin?”
He wrapped the chain brutally around Tony’s wrists, securing them behind him, and then he pushed Tony over the bed again. He yanked off Tony’s pants leaving Tony naked. Jordan grinned, and ran his fingers over the faint strap marks on Tony’s ass.
“I see you keep him well-disciplined, Gibbs,” he commented. “I can understand why. A sub like this – if you’re not going to keep him well-fucked then you have to keep him well-spanked or he’ll leave you, won’t he?”
“He needs a firm hand,” Gibbs choked. He hadn’t wanted to answer the question at all but feared Jordan’s reprisal against Tony if he didn’t; Jordan liked his questions to be answered.
“Yes he does. And he’ll have it,” Jordan said, unbuckling his belt and pulling it free from the loops in his pants. He wrapped the leather end around his hand and then drew back his arm and unleashed a hard blow on Tony’s shoulders. Tony jerked, convulsing, a low animal cry keening from his lips.
“No more,” Gibbs whispered hoarsely. “Please, Jordan. I’m begging you. You want me to say I’m sorry about Ducky – I will. Anything you want, I’ll say it. You’re the big dom here, Jordan, not me. You’ve won. I’m sorry. Just don’t hurt him again. Please.” His throat hurt with the sincerity of what he was saying. Jordan glanced at the camera again.
“But I like hurting him, Gibbs,” he murmured. “I like it when a sub is scared and trembling beneath me. Don’t you like the way that feels?”
“No,” Gibbs replied honestly. “That’s always been the difference between us, Jordan. I like my subs happy and safe. You just like bullying them.”
Jordan’s hand came down again and Tony gave a low grunt of pain. Gibbs winced when he saw the blood staining Tony’s back where the metal belt buckle had lacerated the skin. He’d disciplined many subs in his time, sometimes very hard, but he’d never once broken skin; there was never any need for it and it sure as hell wouldn't have given him any pleasure. He’d never used the buckle end of a belt either – or any object harder than a strap, cane or paddle - or his own hand, which he was pretty sure was as hard, if not harder, than most implements. The subs he’d spanked certainly seemed to think so.
Jordan delivered blow after hard blow while Tony writhed beneath his belt. After the first blow Tony hadn’t screamed again and Gibbs knew why. He’d seen Tony in pain before, and when it wasn’t serious Tony milked it for all it was worth – but when it *was* serious, something inside him seemed to shut down and he went quiet. His breathing was ragged, and he gasped as each hard blow from Jordan’s belt ripped into his skin, but Gibbs knew he didn’t want to give Jordan the satisfaction of hearing him scream or beg for mercy.
Gibbs could only stand there and watch, in a cold, angry silence as Jordan flogged Tony repeatedly with his belt, until his back and shoulders were covered in blood, the flesh torn, welted and bruised. Then, finally, much to his relief, Jordan was done and he threw the belt onto the floor.
“Now we come to the good bit,” he said, smiling at the camera. “It’s been awhile for you hasn’t it, Tony?” he said, sliding his hands possessively over Tony’s ass cheeks. “You’re probably tighter than you used to be…it’ll be like popping your cherry,” he said, his hands kneading Tony’s buttocks.
“Been a long time since anyone likened me to a virgin, Jordan,” Tony muttered, with just enough wryness in his voice to hearten Gibbs. The whipping had been tough, but it seemed Tony was tougher.
“Unfortunately, despite my meticulous planning, I ‘forgot’ to bring any lube,” Jordan chuckled. “So you might find this a little rougher than you’re used to, Tony. But that’s okay; the discomfort shouldn’t last for long because when I’m done with you I’m going to slit your throat with my knife.”
“You sure as hell know how to turn a sub on,” Tony replied. “I’m getting hard just thinking about it.”
Jordan squeezed his buttocks brutally, making Tony gasp. “You won’t be so smart by the time I’m through,” he said. “Will you beg for your life? I hope so. I’d like Gibbs to see you do that.”
“Why are you doing this, Jordan?” Tony asked, and this time there was no bravado in his voice. “You want to punish Gibbs – I get that. And he’ll be pretty pissed – I get that too, but this isn’t going to hurt him the way you want it to. He’s lost agents before and he’s bounced back. It’s not like I’m special. If you were doing this to Abby or even Tim then you might hurt him more, but not me. It’s not like it was with you and Ducky. You’re not hurting him the way he hurt you. Trust me.”
Tony craned his neck upwards and looked straight at the camera. “Gibbs,” he said hoarsely, getting a good look at the screen for the first time, eyes trying to focus through his exhaustion. “I don’t know why you came for me in person and not the others, but I’m guessing it was a bluff to throw him off the scent. So tell him the truth. Tell him it doesn’t matter to you, tell him *I* don’t matter to you.”
“Can’t do that, Tony,” Gibbs replied, gazing directly into his sub’s eyes. “He already knows it’s not true.”
Those green eyes looked momentarily confused. “But it is…” he whispered.
“No,” Gibbs said softly, moving closer to the camera. If these were going to be Tony’s last few minutes then he wanted him to know the truth. “No, it isn’t. I love you, Tony. I’ve loved you since the minute you walked into that interview room in that crumpled shirt, and shot me that stupid DiNozzo smile - the one you think charms all the tops. Didn’t work on me, but the eyes did. That expression in your eyes – the one you can’t fake, the one that made me want to slam you down on the table and make you understand who you belong to. You’ve been pushing me for a long time, Tony, but you didn’t need to. You had me all along.”
“Then why…?” Tony gasped, his gaze swimming in and out of focus.
“I wasn’t ready,” Gibbs replied tersely. “Sorry, Tony.”
“Never say you’re sorry – sign of weakness,” Tony muttered.
“Not with you,” Gibbs said softly.
“Ah…finally the mighty Agent Gibbs admits to having feelings,” Jordan said. “And just when it’s too late. Stay with me, Tony – it’s time we ended this. But first things first…once, a long time ago, you did something to me, Gibbs, something that really hurt me; and you did it in public, in a roomful of witnesses. Now I’m going to return the favour. I just want you to know how it feels.”
He reached for Tony’s collar and Gibbs felt a wrenching ache inside his gut.
“I know how much being collared means to you, Tony,” Jordan said. “But you’ve worn this for long enough. It's time you were a free, isn’t it? Besides, didn’t you say you wouldn’t go to another top’s bed while you were wearing Gibbs’s collar? I never had you down as the old-fashioned type but it does you credit; all the more reason to take it off you before I fuck you.”
Tony made a choking sound as Jordan unbuckled the collar and then pulled it away from his throat. Gibbs felt his fists clenching and unclenching by his side. Removing a sub’s collar without the sub’s permission - unless the top who put it there was the one removing it - was actually a legal offence, and there was a reason for that. Jordan held up the collar and examined it critically.
“It’s just what I’d expect from you, Gibbs. How much did it cost? Two dollars? At least I gave Donald a collar that was worth something – several thousand dollars in fact.”
“That was just for the sake of your ego,” Gibbs muttered, and then regretted it as Jordan slammed his hand hard against Tony’s lacerated back, forcing an agonised gasp from Tony.
“This is what I think of your cheap collar, Gibbs,” Jordan said, throwing it down disdainfully. It landed a few feet away from where Rodney was lying on the floor, still out cold. “Now, I hope you understand how it feels to have your collared sub taken from you, and his collar removed without your permission. I'm pleased that your friends have witnessed your impotence and humiliation at being unable to keep the sub you collared.”
Gibbs glanced at Sheppard and Carson but saw only a kind of transfixed anger in Sheppard’s eyes, and utter sympathy and horror in Carson’s.
“Now, Tony,” Jordan said, turning his attention back to the prone agent. Tony looked out of it now; the loss of his collar and his own inability to prevent it, combined with the blood loss and the beating he’d received had drained him. His green eyes were open but blank, and Gibbs had a sudden fear that if Tony wasn’t broken now he might be by the time Jordan had finished raping him. “Watch, Gibbs,” Jordan gloated. “Watch me take your boy.”
Jordan undid his pants and Gibbs stood there, utterly powerless to do anything. It wasn’t a position he was used to being in, and he felt a wave of cold sweat break out on his body. Was he really going to have to stand by as this happened right in front of him? Was he going to have to watch as Tony was raped and then murdered? His anger was now a hard, frozen ball of solid ice in his gut and it took all of his self-control to keep it there, and not give into it and allow it to destroy him. There was still a chance they could save Tony, and he had to be ready for it.
He saw John move towards Carson and raised an eyebrow.
“Ten seconds,” Carson said, gazing intently at the device in his hands.
Ten seconds...it felt like ten years. Gibbs held his gun in one hand and his knife in the other, and watched as Jordan kicked Tony’s legs apart. Tony struggled, pushing back against him, and Jordan grabbed a handful of his thick hair and thumped his head down on the table, smashing his forehead against the steel surface. Gibbs winced – Tony looked dazed, and Gibbs wondered if he’d even make it through to the throat-slitting part. He already looked close to death; they were going to be too late.
“Three, two, one…” Carson’s voice whispered, and then the room disappeared. Gibbs had been transported only once before, when they’d first joined Daedalus from Earth several weeks ago, and he’d found the experience disorienting. This time he was too alert and focussed to be disoriented. Tony needed him and they didn’t have much time.
A second later he found himself standing on the Daedalus.
“Thank god – just in time,” Sheppard snapped. "Get us down there – now.”
A second later the room on the Daedalus disappeared and then he was in the room he’d seen on the plasma screen. Jordan was busy trying to wrestle a struggling, clenched Tony into submission so he could rape him, and hadn’t noticed them disappear from the other room. They had only been gone seconds in any case.
Gibbs heard Sheppard let out a blood-curdling growl as he ran towards Jordan. Gibbs didn’t run, and yet somehow he crossed the room in a couple of strides. Jordan looked up, a shocked expression on his face, and then Sheppard was behind him, pulling him off Tony, holding his arms behind his back. Jordan didn't say a word - his eyes said it all as they glittered in defeat. Gibbs barely spared him a glance.
Gibbs’s knife was in his hand and for a split second he and Sheppard locked gazes. Jordan might not resist arrest but they all knew there wasn’t going to be any arrest. Gibbs didn’t let anyone hurt his sub this badly and live, and he sure as hell knew that John Sheppard didn’t either. Sheppard held Jordan up, arms twisted behind him, and Gibbs waited. He and Sheppard had a wordless conversation, each understanding the other perfectly, and then Sheppard thrust Jordan forward and held him there – held him up, and held him still, offering him to Gibbs.
Gibbs arm went forward, and he felt the cold blade of the knife slide straight into Jordan’s belly, as deep as it would go. He leaned in close, so close that he could feel the warm blood on his shirt, and feel Jordan’s agonised breathing against his cheek.
“Nobody hurts what’s mine and lives,” he told Jordan, in a low, intense voice. “And Tony DiNozzo is mine.”
Then, slowly and deliberately, Gibbs twisted the knife. Jordan choked, and Gibbs slowly twisted it back the other way. Then he was done. He dropped his hand and locked wordless gazes with Sheppard again. Sheppard nodded, took hold of Jordan’s head in his hands, and twisted, just once, hard. There was a loud crack and then Sheppard dropped the man’s dead body to the ground, where it landed with a crashing thump.
Gibbs turned without looking back and was by Tony’s side in an instant. Carson was crouching beside him, getting a line into his vein, and blood into his body. Sheppard was cradling Rodney’s head in his lap, while Cadman called the Daedalus to get them transported out. Sheppard glanced up at him and Gibbs saw something in the other man’s eyes that made him go cold, and he knew this wasn’t over for John Sheppard yet - and it might be some time before it was.
“How is he?” Gibbs asked Carson. Tony was lying pale and silent on the floor, unmoving. “Is he dead?” Carson was working fast, his hands moving over Tony’s body with thorough efficiency.
“Not while I’m his damn physician he isn’t,” Carson growled, and, for the first time, Gibbs saw the true top in the usually affable Carson.
Seconds later they were transported back to the Daedalus, and then there were medical personnel everywhere, and people pushing and shoving past him with gurneys and medical supplies.
“Agent Gibbs.” Colonel Beckett was striding towards him. “I’ve got Mr Woolsey waiting for you on an open channel back to Atlantis.”
Gibbs watched as an unconscious Tony was placed on a gurney.
“My people?” he asked, glancing at Steven Beckett. “Did they all make it? Abby? Tim? Ziva? Are they okay?” He dreaded hearing the news because he didn’t think he could stand losing any of them.
Beckett’s face creased into a wide smile. “They all came back alive,” he confirmed.
Gibbs felt as if he’d left his body and was looking down on himself, standing alone in the centre of that room while everyone hustled and bustled around him. They were alive. They were all alive. It was hard to take in. He had been worried about every single one of them but they had all come through – and, for the most part, they’d come through without him.
“Colonel Lorne lost a man out there,” Beckett added, in a more sombre tone. “But Lieutenant Rice was the only casualty.”
Gibbs came to, brought back down to himself by that unwelcome news.
“Please relay my condolences to Colonel Lorne. I’ll write to the marine’s family myself when we get back.”
They had Tony strapped to the gurney now. Gibbs fell into step beside it, and reached out and took hold of Tony’s hand as they walked. Tony was still unconscious, and his hand felt cold. He was a mess, his face covered in bruises and his hair and body streaked with blood. He was almost unrecognisable.
“Sir? Agent Gibbs?” Beckett called after him. “Mr Woolsey wants to speak to you, and there’s a mission debrief and…”
Gibbs glanced back at him over his shoulder. “I’m not leaving my sub,” he snapped.
Beckett turned to Sheppard. “General? What about the debrief? What shall I tell Woolsey?” he asked, as Sheppard ran past him beside Rodney’s gurney.
“You heard Agent Gibbs,” Sheppard growled. “Same goes for me.”
They glanced at each other. At some point they’d have to decide what their reports would say, and how they would describe Jordan’s demise, but right now neither of them gave a damn about anything except their two subs. Gibbs saw in John now the kindred spirit he hadn’t seen when he first met the man. John Sheppard might hide behind a casual exterior but the man had a dark, passionate streak, and would go to hell and back for the sub he loved. Gibbs understood that all too well; Sheppard was a top after his own heart.
~*~
Tony opened his eyes, then closed them again, then opened them once more as consciousness slowly seeped back in.
“Hey.” Blue eyes were gazing at him. Tony tried to sit up but the room circled around, dizzyingly. Gibbs leaned in and steadied him on his way back down again. “Might be a bit too soon for that,” Gibbs said. Tony felt boneless as his head hit the pillow again. “How do you feel?” Gibbs asked.
“Great,” Tony replied. “Nothing hurts. Hell…what’s Carson given me? These are some serious happy pills.” He couldn’t move without toppling over but the sensation of flying was terrific. He gazed around the room; it didn’t seem familiar. “Where are we?” he asked, blankly.
“Daedalus sick bay – on our way back to Atlantis,” Gibbs replied. Tony wasn’t sure without looking down but he thought that maybe Gibbs was loosely holding his hand. He dismissed that as a side effect of the pain meds – Gibbs didn’t do hand-holding.
“What happened?” Tony asked, and then he flinched as the memories came flooding back. He could vaguely feel a myriad of different aches in his body, masked by the medication, and suspected that when the drugs wore off he’d hurt like hell. He remembered being held down, remembered his head crashing onto metal, remembered Jordan working his legs open… “Jordan,” he murmured. “Is he…?”
“Yeah.” The expression on Gibbs’s face wasn’t pretty.
“Right.” Tony nodded. “You did that?”
“Yeah.” Gibbs’s blue eyes shone icily. Tony noticed there was a big red stain on his shirt and decided, wisely, not to mention it.
“And before that, did he…?” Tony remembered rough hands on his ass, pulling his buttocks apart, and he’d been clenching and wriggling for all he was worth but he knew he had been too beat up to prevent the inevitable for long and at some point he’d blacked out so he wasn’t sure what had happened next.
“No,” Gibbs said firmly. “We got there in time. The Daedalus set off the same time we stepped through the gate but it was a six hour flight and we knew it’d be tight and we couldn’t necessarily rely on them for rescue. Colonel Beckett busted a gut to get this ship to our location as fast as he could. Soon as they were within range they transported us out of where we were and over to where you were. Daedalus has more powerful scanning technology and was able to pinpoint your life-signs. We couldn't risk transporting you straight out because of your physical condition – Carson wanted to stabilise you first. We also couldn't risk transporting Jordan up with you – we didn't know which life-sign was which - so Colonel Beckett transported us over to your position – that's how we got there."
“And the others?” Tony asked. “Abby and Tim? Are they okay? Is Ziva okay?”
“Yes – they’re all okay. All of them got back to Atlantis safely,” Gibbs told him. “The planets they were being held on were out of Daedalus’s range so we sent teams in puddle jumpers instead. Colonel Lorne rescued Abby, and Ziva brought Tim back.”
Tony felt suddenly exhausted all over again. He sank back into the bed, eyelids fluttering, then, by great force of will, opened them again.
“Rodney?” he whispered. “Is he okay?” He had a vague recollection of Rodney lying on the floor, a big red mark on his head. “Oh shit…he’s not…? Did he make it? I really grew to like the guy.”
“He’s fine,” Gibbs said. “Carson is taking some X-rays of his head but he’s regained consciousness – he asked after you.”
“Should have run and left me,” Tony muttered.
“Not his style.” Gibbs shook his head. Tony tried to say something but he was sure it just came out as gibberish. “I think you need to sleep now,” Gibbs told him, and then Tony felt a hand stroking his hair, and a kiss being pressed to his forehead. He was asleep before he could even think about how good that felt.
He dreamed that he was flying through the air and Randolph Jordan was flying behind him with a big silver knife, coming closer and closer until the knife was pressed against his throat and... He woke with a start, to find himself staring into a different set of blue eyes – these ones were wide and had a kind of innocence to them – they weren’t sharp and all-knowing like Gibbs’s eyes. The room came into focus and Tony saw that there was a bed next to his and Rodney Sheppard was lying in it, a big bandage wrapped around his head.
“Hey…you’re awake. Good. Because I would not want to be around Gibbs if you, you know, died or anything.”
“Where is he?” Tony glanced around blearily. There was nobody in the sick bay save for Rodney and himself – and John Sheppard who was leaning against the wall. Tony was not remotely fooled by the casual pose Rodney’s top was adopting; every muscle in his body was tense and there was a dark, almost predatory look in his eyes.
“He went to the bathroom. He and John take it in turns so there’s always one of them in here with us at any one time.” Rodney leaned a little closer. “I think it’s a top thing,” he said conspiratorially. “If one of them has to leave for any reason the only one they trust to stand guard is each other. I don't know what they think’s gonna happen onboard the Daedalus. I mean, the bad guy’s gone – who do they think is going to come after us now?”
“I don’t think it’s about that, Rodney,” Tony said. “I think it’s more of a sort of PTSD thing. Until they come down from whatever toppy headspace they’re in right now we just need to expect them to be a bit over-protective.”
“Yeah - you could be right.” Rodney nodded.
“Are you okay?” Tony’s eyes flickered over Rodney’s bandaged head, and down to the bruises all over his face, and then the red marks on his wrists.
“Yeah. Carson said I don’t have a fractured skull – which is a good thing. This skull houses a brain of considerable genius.”
Tony laughed out loud at that. “Ah, Rodney, I really *like* you,” he said. Rodney looked surprised.
“Really?” He seemed quite pleased by that and Tony could suddenly see, with total ease, what Abby and John Sheppard and even, he suspected, Gibbs saw in the man. The bluster was all a disguise – Rodney Sheppard was a whole lot more insecure than he seemed, and he had a big heart beneath it all. He was also damn brave.
“I told you to run,” Tony said to him. Rodney’s eyes widened.
“He was going to rape you and slit your throat!” he protested. “Besides, I thought Gibbs would kill me if I didn’t stay and help.”
Tony laughed and Rodney gave a little laugh too. Tony glanced up at John who, despite hearing their entire conversation, hadn’t said a word. He was just standing there, leaning against that wall, never once taking his eyes off his sub.
“Is he okay?” Tony asked. Rodney’s expression changed, becoming more serious and thoughtful.
“Not yet, but he will be,” he said. “Right now he’s hanging on until I’m better. Then I’ll need to take him down.”
“You take him down?” Tony asked, surprised. “Isn’t he the top?”
“Yeah, he’s the top – but sometimes I’m the one in control,” Rodney said. “This is him. It’s how he is. It’s how *we* are.”
Everyone had their own dynamic, and this one intrigued Tony. He wondered what it would be like to take Gibbs down but his brain wouldn’t even go there. He didn’t think Gibbs *did* being taken down.
At that moment Gibbs returned to the room. Tony was surprised by the way his boss's eyes lit up, visibly and openly, when he saw he was awake.
“Hey – how you doing?” Gibbs said, in a soft voice that Tony didn’t think he’d ever heard before. His boss came over to him, put a hand on his head and smoothed his hair back, and then dropped another of those little kisses on his forehead. Tony lay there, too surprised to react. He vaguely recalled a conversation that he suspected might have been important and even relevant to the way Gibbs was behaving now but the details were hazy.
“Uh…fine?” he said. He tried sitting up again and this time managed it without toppling back down, but the movements made everything hurt. He winced. His back and shoulders felt like they were on fire, and he was suddenly aware of how much his jaw and the side of his face ached. He could feel the pain meds wearing off and his head was pounding.
“Got some lacerations back there,” Gibbs told him, nodding in the direction of his shoulders. “Should heal okay but might be sore for awhile.” He leaned forward and ran a finger over Tony’s face. “You’re not looking so pretty right now, DiNozzo,” he said. “But the bruises should fade soon.”
Tony ran a tongue over his dry lips, remembering spitting blood. He found the large gash on his lower lip and winced as his warm tongue made contact.
“So…Ricardo Montalban?” Gibbs asked, with a raised eyebrow. Tony groaned.
“Didn’t you see that movie, boss? Don’t tell me you never had a thing for Captain Kirk, either. Running riot across the entire galaxy while he waited for Spock to make his move, trying to provoke him into it…but you know, Spock was being all Vulcan and denying he had feelings but we all knew he did, and then Khan shows up looking all ripped and…uh...” Tony paused. “You usually tell me to shut up by now, boss.”
Gibbs grinned, and settled back in his chair. “Tony, I don’t have a clue what you’re saying but I’m glad you’re still alive to say it, so just go ahead. I’ve not got anywhere else to be.”
Tony gazed at him suspiciously. This really wasn’t Gibbs-like behaviour at all. On the plus side, his current physical state did at least preclude Gibbs slapping the back of his head. Or maybe not. He remembered being deathly ill with the plague once and Gibbs had given him a head tap then, so it might not be wise to test that theory by pushing his boss too much at the moment, especially when Gibbs kept looking at him that way, as if he couldn’t take his eyes off him. Gibbs’s gaze seemed to be mapping his entire face, travelling steadily over every inch of him as if he was recording him for posterity or something. It was un-nerving, and Tony wasn’t entirely sure what to make of it.
At that moment a man in a white coat entered with a little tray of meds and came over to Tony’s bedside.
“How are you doing, Mr DiNozzo?” he said cheerfully. “I’m here to give you your meds and…”
He broke off with a strangled squawk as Gibbs’s hand fastened around his wrist, holding him tight.
“I don’t know you,” Gibbs growled.
“I’m Nurse Bryant. Just taken over on shift,” the man squeaked.
“Well go get Carson. Nobody else touches Tony, or comes close to Tony, or gives Tony any damn thing except him – understood?”
Bryant nodded, eyes wide, and backed out of the room.
“See, I told you,” Rodney whispered loudly to Tony.
Tony leaned back in his pillows, frowning. He’d never seen Gibbs behave like this and a part of him liked it - while another part of him was really wishing he could have had the pain meds before Gibbs had scared the nurse away.
Carson entered a few minutes later and gave Gibbs a severe look, which Tony could see was pretty much for show.
“God help me, it’s bad enough with just him usually,” he said, nodding in General Sheppard’s direction. Sheppard hadn’t moved; he was still standing there, gazing wolfishly at Rodney. “Now there are two of you scaring the life out of all my staff.”
He paused, and surveyed Tony. “Nice to see you awake, son,” he said, in a firm but gentle voice that Tony had never heard from him before. He remembered his initial impressions of Carson as being the kind of top he could charm and manipulate, and realised that while that might be true outside of an infirmary, in here, as one of Carson’s patients, he didn’t stand a chance. This was where Carson was at his toppiest. Carson sat down on the bed beside him. “How are you feeling?”
“Great. Fine. Ready to go back to quarters as soon as we get back to Atlantis, Doc,” Tony said, his mask fitting effortlessly back into place as he gave Carson his best subby smile - which hurt his cut lip so much he couldn’t hold it.
Carson shook his head, smiling wryly. “Son, you won’t be going back to quarters for a few days yet. You’ll be staying in my infirmary on Atlantis until I say you’re well enough to return and even then, you won’t be back on active duty for a few weeks.”
Tony hated being ill or injured. He hated the time away from work, and especially the time away from Gibbs - but most of all he hated the endless bed rest, and how that gave him far too much thinking time. He didn’t do well if he had too much time to think.
“Hey, Doc, even when I had the plague I was back at work within a couple of weeks,” he said. “And Ducky can look out for me back at our quarters. I’ll be fine.”
“You’ll stay under Carson’s care until he releases you,” Gibbs cut in firmly, and Tony’s heart sank because he could argue with Carson all he liked but there was never any arguing with Gibbs.
He lay back down on his pillow, feeling a wave of impotent rage. The last thing he wanted right now, after all that had happened, was thinking time. The pain meds had well and truly worn off now and with them had gone his good mood and sense of optimism.
“I want you and Rodney to both see Kate Heightmeyer when we get home as well,” Carson said.
“The shrink? No way,” Tony said. “I don’t do shrinks.”
“If this had happened back on Earth the Director would send you for a psych evaluation before letting you return to duty so we’ll follow that protocol out here as well,” Gibbs said. “And…it might do you good, Tony,” he added, leaning forward. His eyes were kind but uncompromising, and Tony saw how his gaze flicked briefly over his neck…and he didn’t want to think about what was – or wasn’t – there. For a sub to have a collar forcibly removed was always traumatic – that’s why they had a law against it, and Tony had been through that and a lot more besides in the past 24 hours.
“There's no way *you’d* see a shrink – don’t see why I have to,” Tony muttered, closing his eyes. He opened them again, in surprise, as Gibbs gave him a firm tap on the head; it wasn’t a slap, but Tony knew that was only because of his condition. “Yes boss, sorry boss,” Tony sighed.
It was stupid, but somehow that small tap made him feel better than even the pain meds had managed to do. He closed his eyes again, and was soon fast asleep.
~*~
End of Part Fourteen
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Hiding in Plain Sight: Part Fifteen
no subject
Ziva scared me for a moment in the jumper but Tim's “I’m ready. I’m yours. Do whatever you want to me. I trust you, Ziva.” was such a perfect line and finally managed to break through to her.
Oh god Tony. I knew he would keep fighting but when Jordan was talking about raping him I was filled with so much anger. Seriously toppy protectiveness running through my vein.
Can't read next chapter just yet but I'm looking forward to reading the fallout to the rescues and Tony getting a new real collar from Gibbs.
no subject
And I love that you got angry on Tony's behalf! That's so sweet - poor Tony needs lots of love right now :-).
And yeah, I wonder how far off that *real* collar is though...*g*.