Fic: Two Masters - 17/22

[xanthefic]

Two Masters
By Xanthe
Part Seventeen

Tony swung open the front door and walked unsteadily along the hallway. He paused outside the basement door and glanced at his watch. He grinned; two minutes to midnight. Gibbs couldn't fault him for his timekeeping. Down in the belly of the basement, he could hear the soft rasp of sander on wood. It was an old, familiar sound, and he loved how warm and safe it made him feel.

He opened the basement door and lurched forwards to grab the handrail.

"Hey Boss!" he called. "I'm home…on time." He pointed to his watch triumphantly and then half walked, half fell down the stairs.

Gibbs glanced up as Tony staggered the last few steps and dropped onto his ass on the second to bottom stair.

"Have a good evening?" Gibbs asked, returning to his work, gently sanding down the ribs of the boat. Tony loved watching him work.

"Yeah. Great." Tony nodded vigorously. "I'm drunk," he added, with a little belch.

"I can see that." Gibbs moved his hands forward forcefully, and the sander made a little humming sound. "How was Matt?"

"Fine. Great. He's a good guy." Tony nodded again.

"How many of you were there?" Gibbs asked, barely sparing him a look as he concentrated on the boat.

"'bout eight," Tony shrugged. "Frat brothers," he added. "Good guys. All of 'em. Known 'em for years."

"It's great you all live in DC," Gibbs commented. "Makes it easier for you to get together."

"Yeah. Great." Tony nodded. He got up and lurched over to Gibbs. "Don' I get a kiss?" he asked, leaning forward.

A hand shot out and hit his chest hard, and next thing he knew he had been shoved up against the wall.

"Oh, I don't think so," Gibbs said dangerously. He was pressed up close, his muscles hard and unyielding. Tony stared into a pair of furious blue eyes.

"You know," he said softly, reality puncturing his inebriated state.

"Yeah. I know," Gibbs snapped. "You left your cell phone behind. I called Matt. In Hawaii."

Tony had the grace to wince. "Sorry 'bout that."

"Where the hell were you tonight, Tony?"

"I needed a goddamn drink!" Tony growled. "And I knew you wouldn't let me just go out fucking drinking by myself."

"So it was easier to lie to me?"

"Yes. It was easier to lie to you," Tony admitted. He hated the dull, disappointed expression that crept into Gibbs's eyes when he said that. "Hell, you know me, Gibbs. I told you I'd let you down. You *knew* that when you took me on."

Gibbs loosened the pressure on Tony's chest, but he didn't pull away.

"Someone called for you," he said, his steely gaze never leaving Tony's face.

"Who?"

"Didn't leave his name. Nice guy. Called ya 'motherfucker'. Wanted to remind you that he'd be back in a couple of weeks."

"Oh." Tony bit on his lip.

"Who is he, Tony?"

"Nobody."

Gibbs increased the pressure on Tony's chest again, keeping him immobilised against the wall.

"Who is he, Tony?" he repeated.

"Let me rephrase that – nobody you need to know about," Tony replied, in a cold tone.

The expression in Gibbs's eyes changed, hardening. "That really the way you wanna play this, Tony?" he asked, in a deceptively soft voice.

Tony sighed. "It's nothing. Just a guy I pissed off when I was an agent afloat. He gets drunk sometimes and calls me to blow off steam."

"What's his name?"

"I don't remember," Tony lied. Gibbs raised a disbelieving eyebrow. "Look, if I tell you, then you'll go after him with a baseball bat, and he's really nothing. He's harmless."

"Didn't sound that way. He made a threat against you."

"So?" Tony shrugged, looking away. "Like I said, I can handle him…"

Gibbs grabbed his jaw and made him look at him. "He made a threat against *my* sub," he hissed. "He's not just yours to handle, DiNozzo. That makes him mine too."

Tony blinked. "Okay…I understand. Listen – the guy's a bully. He runs a flight deck crew on the Seahawk. I thought he was beating up on his men, so I did an investigation."

"And?" Gibbs's fingers were digging into his skin.

"And nothing. I told the skipper, showed him what I'd found, but he said this flight deck chief was just hard on his men - he hadn't crossed a line." Tony shrugged.

"You disagreed?"

Tony took a deep breath. "Yes. The skipper seemed to think I was some namby-pamby, soft-assed civilian who didn't understand the rough and tumble of military discipline." Tony gave a derisory little snort. "I tried to tell him that after years working under Leroy Jethro Gibbs I sure as hell knew the meaning of military discipline, and that in my considered opinion this crossed the line, but he wouldn't listen to me."

"So what did you do?"

"I took the chief petty officer to one side and told him that if he hurt any of his men again then I'd break his fucking legs. What the hell else *could* I do? Skipper wasn't any help. Doc hated me because I blew his prescription racket. Nobody had my six on that damn boat, Boss. You weren't fucking there. You don't know what it was like. I did my best. I tried to help his men."

"And you made an enemy in the process." Gibbs finally released him and took a step back.

"Yeah. He hates my guts. Calls me to remind me that the Seahawk will be home soon, and that when it docks he'll come after me. That's all. He doesn't mean it. He's drunk. Like I said, I can handle it."

"And like I said, it isn't just yours to handle any more. You're *my* sub, Tony. You should have told me about this. How often has he been calling you?"

"Every week or so for the past few weeks," Tony admitted.

"And you thought you'd keep this to yourself?" Gibbs looked furious.

"I didn't know it was important."

"Some guy calls you regularly to threaten you, and you don't think it's *important*?" Gibbs asked incredulously.

Tony blinked in surprise. "I guess I'm not used to having anyone in my life who gives a damn," he said quietly. "Nobody ever has before, Boss. I've always handled everything alone. I'm sorry I didn't tell you. I figured it'd go away, and if it didn't – well, I'd take care of it."

Gibbs's expression softened. "Okay. That, at least, I can understand. Tell me who this guy is. If he’s a serving naval officer, and if he’s making threats against you, then we can have him up on charges.”

“No!” Tony snapped. Gibbs’s eyes flashed. “No,” Tony repeated in a softer tone. “It’s more complicated than that, and it’s really nothing. This guy…he’s just drunk. It’s nothing.”

Gibbs didn’t look convinced. Tony decided it was time to change the subject.

"You should punish me," he said. Gibbs raised an eyebrow. "For lying to you about where I was going this evening. I went to a bar I know. It's kind of an old dive, but they let you sit there and drink yourself stupid. I didn't meet anyone there. I just sat there and got drunk. You should punish me for it."

"That what you want, Tony?" Gibbs put his head on one side and gazed at him thoughtfully.

"Not what I want. What has to happen," Tony told him. He leaned forward and shoved Gibbs's shoulder angrily. "You need to punish me, Gibbs. I'm a fucking screw-up!"

Gibbs stood there, unmoving. Tony thumped his shoulder again, harder this time.

"Oh c'mon! You're fucking angry, Boss. I know you are. A minute ago you wanted to pound your fist into my face. I could feel it in your body. You still do. You want to let rip and kick out. You should do that. I can take it. You'll feel better if you do."

Gibbs reached out a hand, grabbed hold of his shirt collar, and pulled him close.

"Want me to punch you, Tony? Want me to knock you to the floor and then kick you around a bit?"

"Yeah. It'll make you feel better about me lying to you. Just do it, Gibbs! C'mon, what kind of a pussy are you?" he taunted. "Just go with it. Let it out – all the anger and pain. I can take it."

"Oh, I just bet you can," Gibbs growled. He yanked on Tony's collar, pulling him half off his feet, and raised his fist.

"That's it," Tony goaded. "Punch me. Do it! C'mon! I won't fight back."

Gibbs lowered his fist and dropped Tony back onto his feet again. "You honestly think I'd ever punch you?" he asked quietly. "Seriously, Tony? You think I'd lose control like that? You think I'd drop you to the floor and kick you around the place? You think that's the kind of man I am?"

Tony had the sickening realisation that Gibbs had seen right through him from the beginning and had never even been close to losing control, let alone seriously taking a swing at him.

Gibbs reached out and gently touched Tony's face with the back of his hand, stroking softly. Tony pulled away angrily.

"Why, Tony?" Gibbs demanded. "Why would you think I'd do that? Why would you *want* me to do that?"

"She's going to be fucking scarred for life," Tony snapped at him. "They shaved off her *hair*, Gibbs. Her pigtails are gone…" He felt the words choke him. "She's sitting in that fucking hospital bed being fucking brave as hell when she came this close to being killed, and it's all my fucking fault, and you won't even fucking punish me like I deserve. No wonder I had to go out and get drunk on my ass tonight."

"That's what all this is about?" Gibbs asked. "Me refusing to punish you?"

Tony wrapped his arms around his body and gazed at his dom from sullen eyes. "Yeah," he muttered. "I'm sorry I lied to you, Gibbs, but I really needed that fucking drink."

Gibbs nodded slowly. "It's late, and you're too damn drunk to be having this conversation. And I'm too damn angry to be having it with you!" he snapped when Tony opened his mouth to protest. "Go to bed. Sleep it off. We'll talk in the morning."

"Great. Fine. Fucking fine. Whatever."

Tony began stomping up the stairs. He heard Gibbs behind him, following him up into the bedroom. Tony took off his clothes and left them in an untidy heap on the floor, then crawled into the bed. A second later he felt himself being hauled out again by the scruff of his neck.

"Not there," Gibbs growled. "If you sleep in my bed then you sleep in bondage, and you're too damn drunk for that to be safe tonight. You can sleep it off on the floor."

He threw a pillow onto the floor and tossed a blanket on top of it. Tony glared at him for a moment, but he was too tired and too drunk to argue. He threw himself down onto the floor, turned his back on Gibbs, pulled the blanket over his head, and closed his eyes.

~*~

Gibbs stood in the bedroom, his hands on his hips, glaring down on his sub for awhile, but Tony just lay there with his back to him, unmoving. Eventually Gibbs turned and left the room, pausing only to kick aside the heap of clothes that Tony had left on the floor.

He pounded down the stairs and back into the basement, went over to the workbench, opened the top drawer, and pulled out the big, brown envelope. He opened it up and drew out the file inside. Tony's face smiled up at him from the photo on the cover, his green eyes happy and shiny, and his wide grin as bright and deceptive as always.

Gibbs was about to open the file when he hesitated. Was this the right move? His head told him that it was, but his gut wasn't so sure.

He stood there for a moment, trying to decide, and then shoved the file back into the envelope.

“Damn!” he growled, thumping down his fist on the work bench.

He reached for his cell phone and called the one person he trusted to give him the kind of honest, impartial advice he needed right now.

~*~

There weren't many people for whom Walter Skinner would tear himself away from his slave's warm body at 1 a.m. on a Sunday morning, but Leroy Jethro Gibbs was definitely on the list.

The door was open, as always, so Walter walked right on in. He found Gibbs sitting in the kitchen, his hand clasped firmly around a mug of coffee.

"Hey." Walter sat down at the table opposite his old friend. "Bad huh?" His gaze raked over Gibbs's tensely muscled shoulders, and he took in the deep, dark anger in his eyes.

In front of him, on the kitchen table, was a large brown envelope.

"Tony's dossier?" Walter asked, jerking his head towards it. Gibbs raised an eyebrow. "Well, they put the 'I' into FBI for a reason, and I am Deputy Director over there," Walter chuckled. "Not that it takes a trained investigator to figure this one out. You opened it?"

"Nope." Gibbs shook his head.

"That why you called me?"

"Yup. Want some coffee?"

Walter nodded, and Gibbs got up and poured him a mug of coffee. He handed it to Walter wordlessly.

"What happened?" Walter asked, taking a sip.

He sat back and listened as Gibbs filled him in on the events of the past week.

"Well you said it was all a bit too easy," he grunted, when Gibbs had finished.

"Yeah – I knew it was going too well. Some kind of crisis had to happen, and I guess this is it."

Walter leaned forward. "The boy feels guilty," he said.

Gibbs rolled his eyes. "Yeah, I'd figured that one out, Gunny!" he snapped, in an exasperated tone. "There's an 'I' in NCIS too – stands for the same damn thing!"

"He blames himself for Abby's accident – sounds as if he's got at least some reason to as well," Walter said, ignoring the outburst.

"Yeah – he does. But me and Abby have to take a share of that blame too."

"Well, she's taken enough punishment – and you, you don't have the luxury of it," Walter told him bluntly. "Your punishment is dealing with the fallout. That's always how it is for us, Jethro. You know that. You and me – we're always the ones who have to take the ultimate responsibility. Your punishment is having Abby in the hospital and a sub who is spiralling out of control. That's your part of this mess, Jethro."

Gibbs glared at him.

"What? You didn't call me over to have me sugar-coat this, Jethro. You wanted to hear it straight and that's exactly how I'm telling it."

"Yeah. I know," Gibbs grunted. "Question is – what do I do now?"

"Why won't you punish him?" Walter asked curiously. "If that's what he wants so much? Why not just do it?"

"Feels wrong," Gibbs replied, with a terse little shake of his head. "In my gut. Feels kinda unhealthy. He fucked up, but he's only human. We all fuck up sometimes. And it's not part of our relationship – I don't mind punishing him for stuff we've laid ground rules about, but if we bring in every aspect of our lives and make that punishable too…" He shook his head. "I don't want that."

"I can understand that, but he's feeling guilty," Walter pointed out. "And when he feels guilt to the extent that he's goading you into taking a swing at him – well, wouldn't it be better just to punish him for it and then tell him it's over?"

"I don't think it's that simple. I think there's a helluva lot of guilt there. I’m not even sure it’d *be* over for him, even if I did punish him. I’m not sure that’s how he works."

"Maybe." Walter nodded. He considered it for a moment, weighing up his options, and then he exhaled sharply and ploughed on. "Look, Jethro, there's something I don't usually talk about, but it's relevant, so I'm going to tell you. It's confidential, but I know I can trust you, of all people, not to tell anyone."

Gibbs gave a curt nod of agreement.

"I have a lot of responsibilities," Walter began. "Both in my job, and because I have a 24/7 slave too – he's a job all by himself." He gave a little grunt. "Always was, always will be. Nobody could ever call Fox low maintenance."

"No arguments from me on that score," Gibbs replied with a wry grin. "Tony's not like Fox though. He has his moments, and he's got a smart mouth on him, but he's always been obedient and eager to please. In fact, he's been pretty damn easy to handle up until now."

"Because he's hiding from you – hiding who he really is, the way he always *has*," Walter pointed out.

"Yeah." Gibbs slammed his fist down on the envelope on the table in front of him. "Damn it! I should have *seen* that. I know what he's like for Christ's sake."

"So you fucked up. Like you said, we all do that sometimes. Me too." Walter gave a self-deprecating grin. "Which brings me back to what I was saying about responsibilities. Sometimes, Jethro – not often, and not for a long time now – but sometimes, I get this need for release."

"What kind of release?"

"Physical punishment. I used to go to a good friend of mine, a dominatrix called Elaine. She took care of it. It was always my call – nobody topped me, or tied me in place. I said when I'd had enough and it stopped then - immediately. It wasn't a scene – it was just a kind of catharsis. Can't tell you why I needed it, or why it worked, but it always did."

Gibbs was looking at him in surprise. Walter grinned.

"Hey, Jethro – we're not all such natural born doms as you," he said softly. "And we all have our own ways of dealing with stress. You have that damn boat of yours, and Tony has…well, by the sounds of it he has alcohol, he has sex, and he has you. Now he's asking you to do this for him."

"I won't use him as a punching bag, Walter," Gibbs snapped.

"Of course not! They're our boys, Jethro. We love 'em, despite all the headaches they give us. No, I'm talking about giving him what worked for me. Tell him that you're doing this for him – that it's in his control, and that you're just facilitating what he needs."

"You think that'd work?"

"I have no idea." Walter shrugged. "But if it doesn't – well, then you'll have run out of options, and you'll know what you have to do." He picked up the big brown envelope on the table and held it up.

Gibbs reached out and took it with a grunt. "Yeah, Walter. If it doesn't work, then I know what I have to do."

~*~

Tony opened his eyes and immediately wished he hadn't. His head was pounding and the daylight seeping in around the edge of the drapes felt bright and jarring. He moved onto his side, wondering why the bed felt so hard beneath him. Then he remembered a jumbled up, chaotic version of what had happened the previous night, and he broke out into a sweat.

Shit, he'd screwed this one up. No matter how often Gibbs told him it was never a choice between kicking him out and punishing him hard, Tony couldn't quite get his head around the fact that there might be any other options. He was pretty damn sure there wasn't this time.

He glanced over at the bed, but it was empty – it didn't even look like it had been occupied all night, but then Gibbs was notorious for making his bed the minute he left it in the morning so that didn't necessarily mean anything.

Tony got up, slowly, and made his way gingerly into the bathroom. He looked at himself in the bathroom mirror and winced. He looked like exactly what he was – someone with a bad hangover who'd fucked up so much these past few days that there wasn't much hope of any kind of redemption.

He took a shower, shaved, and cleaned his teeth, which at least got rid of the disgusting morning-after feel in his mouth.

He pulled on a pair of sweat pants and tugged a plain black tee shirt over his head. Then, finally, he took a deep breath, squared his shoulders, and set off slowly down the stairs to face what he was pretty sure would be the most unpleasant conversation of his life.

He found Gibbs sitting in the kitchen, wearing the same soft sweats he had been wearing the previous evening, holding a mug of coffee and reading through the Sunday papers.

"Hey." Tony stood in the doorway, unsure what to do.

Gibbs glanced up. "Hey," he said, in a voice that gave nothing away. He moved his foot and kicked the chair opposite him away from the table. "Sit," he ordered, gesturing towards it.

Tony edged forwards and sat down cautiously in the chair. Gibbs nudged a glass of water and a couple of headache pills across the table towards him.

"How did you guess?" Tony asked with a self-deprecating grin, swallowing the tablets gratefully.

"Considering how drunk you were last night, wasn't hard," Gibbs grunted.

Tony nodded. "So…first off, I'm sorry," he said, needing to get that out of the way before this all got too heavy. "I was a shit last night, and you didn't deserve that."

"What are you referring to specifically?" Gibbs asked, leaning back in his chair, one hand wrapped around his mug of coffee. "The fact you lied to me about where you were going, the fact you didn't tell me about some guy who has been threatening you for the past few weeks, or the fact that you were so drunk you thought you could taunt me into taking a swing at you?"

"All of it," Tony said firmly. “I’m sorry for all of it.”

"Yeah, I think you are." Gibbs nodded. "And I think you'd do it all again tomorrow if you were in the same kind of headspace again."

Tony thought about summoning up his most abject Tony DiNozzo mask and wearing it so convincingly that Gibbs would be sure to believe in his sincerity, but his dom seemed to see right through him.

"Don't do it, Tony," Gibbs said softly. "Don't. Just don't."

"Okay," Tony sighed. "I won't. You're right - I'd do it all again tomorrow, Gibbs. And I'd regret it, just like I regret it today, but I can't promise you I won't do it anyway."

"Yeah. I know." Gibbs put down his coffee and leaned back in his chair.

"So where do we go from here?" Tony wasn't used to being this exposed in front of anyone. He was always able to deflect and hide – he was a master at it. Only he couldn't do that right now. Gibbs wouldn't let him, and he didn't have the heart for it in any case.

Gibbs raised an eyebrow. "Well, usually round about now you ask me if I'm gonna throw you out or beat up on your ass. Those are the only two options you can ever see."

Tony nodded. "Do you have any others?"

"Yeah. First off – I'm not giving up on you that easy, Tony. I took you as my sub knowing full well what you're like, and I have every intention of keeping you."

Tony felt an enormous and unexpected sense of relief. "Thank you," he said. "I don't think I deserve that, but thank you."

"Secondly – I'm gonna ask you some questions, and I want your honest answers."

"Right." Tony shifted uncomfortably in his chair. "Kind of like an interrogation?"

"If you like." Gibbs shrugged.

Tony bit on his lip. Gibbs was a master of interrogations – Tony would have to be at the top of his game if he was going to hold his own against his dom. He wished his head wasn't pounding so much. The meds were starting to work, but he needed his wits about him if he was going to go head to head with Gibbs and stand any chance of winning.

"Okay then." Tony sat back in his chair and waited.

"Your dad ever spank you, Tony?" Gibbs asked unexpectedly.

"Yes." Tony nodded. "A few times – I was kind of a naughty kid, Boss, as you can imagine. Can't say, looking back, that I didn't deserve it. All my friends got spanked too. I'm guessing your dad put you over his knee a few times as well."

"Yeah. He did." Gibbs nodded, gazing at Tony thoughtfully. "Your dad ever punch you, or kick you around, Tony?"

"No," Tony replied firmly. "No, Gibbs. He used to fall down drunk sometimes, but he wasn't like that. He's a good man. Okay, so we're not close, but he's a good man in his own way. He didn't spank me any more or any harder than any of my friends' dads did, and he didn't beat up on me."

"What about your mom?" Gibbs asked. "She ever hit you?"

Tony felt his body tense up. "No," he said quietly. "She was like me – you know, the fun-loving type. She left the discipline to my dad – it wasn’t her thing at all. She used to take me out shopping and dress me up in crazy-ass clothes just for the fun of it. We'd laugh our heads off in the store changing rooms. She'd dress me up and show me off to her friends. She was good fun. She wasn't like most people's moms. She'd take me off on adventures. We'd drive off in her car, and she'd get lost, and we'd end up in the middle of nowhere. Some kind of crazy shit always happened with her. She was that kind of person."

He realised he might have said too much, and he shut up. Gibbs was still gazing at him intently, the way he did with suspects in the interrogation room.

"You ever get into any trouble at boarding school, Tony?"

"Plenty." Tony nodded. "Like I said, I was a naughty kid. My mom taught me how to have fun and so…I always chased the fun in any situation."

"Did the principal ever use corporal punishment on you?"

"Yeah. I got paddled a few times." Tony shrugged. "It was never hot back then the way it is when you do it though, Boss." He gave Gibbs a cheeky grin which Gibbs completely ignored.

"Anyone at school ever kick you around?" Gibbs asked. "Bully you? Beat up on you?"

"No," Tony said, with a shake of his head. "Look, what the hell is this about, Gibbs?"

"Just trying to judge how you view physical punishment."

"Why?"

"To decide whether to go ahead and give you what you want. One last question…"

Gibbs leaned forward. Tony braced himself. He knew that this one was the important one, regardless of what had gone before, and how he answered it would be crucial to whatever his dom had in store for him. When the question came though, it wasn't at all what he expected.

"Did you lie to me in any of the answers you just gave?" Gibbs asked.

Tony gazed at him steadily, his heart beating a little too fast in his chest. Gibbs's piercing gaze was unrelenting, and Tony found he couldn't look away.

"Yes," he replied honestly.

Gibbs sat back in his chair with a gruff little shake of his head. "Believe it or not, that's actually progress," he grunted. "Thank you, Tony."

"Just once," Tony clarified. "That's all. I only lied once."

"Can you tell me which question you lied about?"

Tony shook his head. "No."

There was a long silence.

"I could make you," Gibbs said at last.

"I know," Tony replied.

"I won't."

"I know that too," Tony said softly.

"I can't trust you, Tony, because you won't open up to me."

"I know. I'm sorry." Tony gazed at him despairingly. "If I could, I would, I promise. And if I could with anyone, it'd be with you. But…it's all locked up inside. I don't know how to explain it, but…I can barely tolerate having it in my head – I can't drag it out into the daylight and have it exposed."

"Why not?"

"Because, Gibbs, I can't even look at it myself – I never do. I *can't*. It's not the fact of anyone else hearing it or knowing it – it's me. It'll tear me apart. I can't…I just can't."

"If you don't handle it, it'll always be there."

"Yeah. I know. You think I don’t know that!" Tony growled. "I can't do it, Gibbs."

Gibbs leaned forward. "One day, I might make you, Tony."

Tony felt his heart flip. "Not yet. Please. Give me more time," he requested softly.

Gibbs sat back in his chair again. He began tapping the fingers of his right hand on the table, playing out a little rhythm. Tony just sat there, looking at him, awaiting his fate.

"Okay," Gibbs said finally. "Here's what I can give you, and here's what I want from you. I will punish you, Tony, if that's what you want. I'll punish you for what happened to Abby."

"How?" Tony asked eagerly.

"Well, I won't damn well punch you or kick you around, so if that's what you want then forget it. I won't lose my temper with you, and I sure as hell won't lose control," Gibbs growled. "I will give you the choice of how it's done. I won't tie you, and you'll choose the implement and how many you take. It'll all be in your control. I'll do it for you, but that's it."

Tony bit on his lip again. "And what do you want from me?"

"Your honesty," Gibbs said firmly. "I know that's not your strong suit, but I need you to tell me when to stop. That's all. Can you do that?"

Tony nodded. "Yes. That's a bargain I can accept. Thank you, Boss." He sat up straight in his chair. "When?" he asked. "Now? Today?"

"No," Gibbs said sharply. "You're in no shape to take anything like that right now. You were in a car accident a couple of days ago. Also, I want to give you time to change your mind. So you have until Friday. If you still want to go ahead on Friday night, then I'll do it. That'll give you the weekend to recover before going back to work, because I'm guessing this'll be a hard one."

He was right about that. Tony wasn't looking forward to this, but if it helped quell that aching sensation in the pit of his stomach, if it got those damn images out of his mind, and if he felt he'd *paid* for his screw up, the way he deserved, then it would be worth it.

"If you decide you don't need it on Friday, then that's fine by me," Gibbs told him firmly. "This is all totally your choice and in your control. Clear?"

"Clear." Tony nodded. He glanced around the room. "I'm starving – are there any bagels, Boss?"

"Tony." Gibbs's tone was hard. Tony turned back to him. "I mean it – you fuck this up, and I *will* make you face whatever it is you're hiding. Do you understand?"

Tony's heart flipped again. "Yes, Gibbs," he said quietly. "I understand."

~*~

It was a long week. Gibbs allowed Tony back into his bed, and they resumed making love on a regular basis, but Gibbs didn't feel like continuing Tony's training while Friday was hanging over them.

They caught a big case at work which meant they didn't have much free time anyway, and Gibbs spent most of Monday yelling at Abby's useless temporary replacement who didn't seem to have a clue what was required of him. Gibbs became so exasperated that Tony stepped in and took over the task, keeping the new guy out of Gibbs's firing line.

Tony didn't put a foot wrong at work all week. He was back to his old self, joking around, pulling pranks, and nosing into Ziva and McGee's personal lives, while at the same time doing his job with a quiet competence that most people missed. Gibbs didn't miss it – but then he never had.

They didn't talk about what had happened again. They were both so tired when they got home late each evening that all they did was order take out and slump on the sofa while they ate it, watching the news or one of Tony's DVDs.

When they were done eating, Tony edged up against Gibbs, and Gibbs allowed him to lie down next to him and put his head on his lap. He wordlessly stroked Tony's hair, wondering all the time what the hell went on in Tony's head. Tony seemed to require the comfort of being close to Gibbs, without being able to ask for it, and for that entire week, every night, that's what Gibbs gave him.

They managed to wrap up the case by Friday afternoon, so Gibbs sent the rest of the team home. Then he turned to his sub.

"Go home too, Tony. You have some thinking to do."

"What will you do?" Tony asked, shoving some papers into a file and slinging it into his desk drawer.

"I'll finish up here, and then I'll come home. Be there," Gibbs warned.

"I will."

"And know what you want," Gibbs added sharply.

Tony grabbed his backpack and left the office without saying another word. When he'd gone, Gibbs turned back to filing his report. He wasn't looking forward to this. It was one thing to spank Tony for their mutual pleasure, as part of their sex roles, but another to deliver this kind of hard punishment. He could do it, sure, but that didn't mean he had to like it. Although it was what Tony seemed to think he wanted, Gibbs wasn't convinced, in his gut, that it was what he *needed*. Without knowing what was behind Tony's underlying sense of guilt, he couldn't be sure that he was doing the right thing - and that bothered him.

He finished off shortly before seven and left the office. With any luck, Tony would have decided he didn't need this, and then perhaps they could put the whole sorry business behind them and move on.

Gibbs found Tony sitting on the couch in the dark waiting for him when he got home. Gibbs snapped on the light, took off his jacket, and threw it over the back of a nearby chair. Then he turned to his waiting sub.

"So – what's it going to be?"

Tony's face was grimly determined. He stood up, and Gibbs noticed that he'd changed into a pair of sweatpants and a tee shirt.

"I want to do this," he said quietly.

"Yeah, I thought you’d say that." Gibbs gave a terse jerk of his head. "Okay then, Tony. Follow me. Let's get this over with."

~*~

Tony followed his dom out of the living room – and then, much to his surprise, Gibbs began walking up the stairs.

"We're not going to the basement?" Tony asked.

"Nope."

Gibbs took them along to the second spare bedroom, and Tony hesitated in the doorway. This room had always been a storage area, mainly holding spare supplies of wood and other carpentry equipment. Now it seemed to have been cleared. He wasn't sure when Gibbs had done this, but now the room contained the spanking bench that had previously been in the basement. Beside it was a hand-made wooden rack, containing all the disciplinary implements that had previously been stored in the toy box.

"Okay." Gibbs closed the door behind him. "This is your show now, Tony. You tell me how it should go down."

Tony looked around, uncertain now that the moment had arrived. It was much easier leaving it all up to Gibbs. He wasn't used to having input, let alone having to stage-manage the whole event.

"Uhhh…" He had spent the past couple of hours thinking about this, but now it was actually happening, he wasn't sure. He didn't like having this kind of responsibility. It felt wrong, the way it felt wrong on the rare occasions Gibbs had allowed him to run a case they were working. Gibbs was so much the boss, both at work and at home, that it was hard to accept that he'd created an environment, in this room, where that responsibility fell to Tony.

Gibbs just stood there, his face completely blank, waiting for instruction. Tony went over to the wooden rack and examined the implements on display. His stomach began churning with anxiety.

“I’m not sure…” he began helplessly.

"I told you, Tony – this is your show. I'll do what you ask, but you have to tell me what you want."

"I know that!" Tony snapped irritably. "Sorry…" He turned to face Gibbs, immediately apologetic. "I'm just…this is new to me, Boss."

"This is neutral territory, Tony. It isn't a room we've played in before. This, here, is where you can be whoever you need to be."

Now Tony understood the significance of the space Gibbs had cleared – he just wasn't sure he could handle all that it meant. He gave a helpless shrug.

"Come here." Gibbs beckoned, and Tony went over to him. Gibbs grasped his chin in his hand, making him look into his eyes. "You screwed up, and you want to be punished for that – yes?"

"Yes," Tony agreed.

"Okay. I agree that you screwed up, but I don't think you need to be punished, Tony. I think you've punished yourself enough. But I promised I'd do this, and I will. What I won't do is take it out of your hands. It's yours – not mine. I'm just helping you out. I'm not going to make this easy for you by taking the responsibility away. You want this – you make it happen."

Tony nodded grimly. "Fine. I understand."

He pulled away from Gibbs and returned to the rack of implements. He ran his hand over them, touching each of them in turn. He paused when he got to the cane. This hurt the most – he hated how it felt. That was a good reason to choose it, but he hesitated because he wasn't sure how much he could endure of this particular implement – and he needed this to last long enough to work. He moved on, and in the end it came down to a choice between the strap and the paddle.

He was aware of Gibbs behind him, leaning against the wall, taking no part in the proceedings. That, of and by itself, felt weird. Gibbs always called the shots where punishment was concerned, and it felt almost sacrilegious to be touching these implements so freely in his dom's presence.

The paddle hurt, but the strap…the strap was more flexible. He thought he'd be able to take more from the strap, so he picked that up, and went back over to his dom.

"This," he said, handing it to Gibbs. Gibbs looked at it for a moment, and then he took it out of Tony's hand. Tony stood there. Gibbs raised an eyebrow.

"Well? Where d'you want to be? Over the bench? Against the wall? Over my knee? What?"

"The bench," Tony said firmly. The bench was sturdy, well made, and comfortable. He didn't want to be distracted by having to hold himself in place, or by any discomfort in his leg muscles. There would be enough discomfort, of a different kind, and that was what he wanted to feel.

Gibbs put the strap down on the window ledge and began unbuttoning his shirt sleeves. Tony stood there, watching him. Usually, he got a thrill from seeing Gibbs slowly turn back his sleeves to the elbow, but not this time. This occasion felt flat and serious.

Gibbs finished and picked up the strap again. Then he turned back to Tony.

"What next?" he asked. "You gonna stay dressed, or get naked, or what?"

Tony stripped his tee shirt off and then toed off his sneakers and shucked off his pants. He stood there, naked, screwing up his courage to see this through. He wanted this. He could feel the aching need for it in his belly, but it was so damn hard.

"It's easier when you tell me what to do," he said to Gibbs.

"Well, yeah, Tony, I guess it is. This time you know you're doing it to yourself," Gibbs grunted. "But you've been doing it to yourself in your head for a long time now. Maybe it's better this way – get it out, take the punishment, and then move on."

"Yeah." Tony nodded.

“If you can move on. Think you can, Tony?” Gibbs looked at him searchingly.

Tony hesitated. “Yes,” he replied eventually, but he was by no means certain.

"Unless you've changed your mind?" Gibbs raised an eyebrow.

"No," Tony said sharply. "I haven't."

He went over to the spanking bench and got himself into position. Gibbs didn't touch him. He didn't help him get his knees in place, and he didn't stroke him or pet him, the way he usually did. He just remained where he was, watching.

When Tony was finally settled, Gibbs walked over to the bench.

"How many, Tony?" he asked.

"I'll let you know when I'm done," Tony replied, glancing over his shoulder at his dom.

"Then I need to know how you'll tell me that. Will you use your safe word?"

"Yes."

"What is it?" Gibbs asked.

Tony sighed inwardly. "Magnum," he replied. God knows, Gibbs asked him what the damn word was often enough.

"When you say that word, I'll stop. Yes?" Gibbs clarified.

"Yes – for God's sake! It's not rocket science, Gibbs!" Tony exploded. Then he bit on his lip. "Sorry. Again," he sighed. "I'm jumpy, Gibbs. I don't know how this'll pan out. I'm not sure…I've never done anything like this before."

"You've done something else though, to handle the guilt, haven't you?" Gibbs asked.

"What do you mean?" Tony glanced up at him.

"You've let someone kick you around, beat up on you – yes?" Gibbs raised an eyebrow. “The only part I can’t figure out is whether you let them do it for your sake or theirs; maybe it was a bit of both.”

Tony didn't reply. He put his head back down and held on tight. "Do it," he ordered.

"Where?"

"What?" Tony growled.

"Where d'you want me to deliver the strokes? Your back? Your butt? Your thighs?"

"Anywhere between my shoulders and the backs of my knees.”

"Remember your side of the bargain," Gibbs told him. "You use your safe word when it's time to stop. You let me know when you feel you've been punished enough."

"Yes. I'll use my safe word when I want you to stop," Tony told him through gritted teeth. He put his head down again and waited.

A second later, the first stroke fell on his ass. It wasn't a warm-up stroke. This wasn't an erotic spanking, designed to stoke up the endorphins and make him fly. It was flat, hard and painful. It was, he realised, exactly what he'd asked for – a punishment.

He closed his eyes and let the image of Abby lying unconscious in the wreckage of the car seep into his mind. He could see the blood soaking her dark hair, could smell the gas all around them.

He backtracked to them leaving the courthouse. He saw her dumping her shoes in the trash and tucking her hand through his arm. He saw them both getting in the car together. He remembered thinking he should tell her to sit in the back, but the danger was over, wasn't it? He stayed there, in that moment, and took the punishment for his stupid damn mistake that had almost cost her her life and left her permanently scarred.

The strokes came down steadily. Gibbs didn't say a word. He didn't help him through it, the way he usually did. He didn't stroke him, or praise him, or tell him he had no choice but to take it. He didn't *make* him take it – Tony was left in no doubt that the only person making him take this was himself.

He could feel his flesh heating up with each new stroke. His shoulders ached under the onslaught, and now Gibbs moved lower, avoiding his lower back and the sensitive kidney area, and moving onto his butt. Tony gasped as the blows rained down on his buttocks. He panted with the effort of taking them, and then screamed as they continued, each one stinging and burning him.

He buried his head in his arms, screaming down into the surface of the spanking bench, using every single ounce of his own determination not to say his safe word. It was so hard to stay in position and suffer this, knowing that nobody was making him do it. He didn't have the comfort and reassurance of Gibbs's usual implacable commands. He wasn't tied. There was just him and the leather strap beating down on his skin.

He moved beyond Abby and saw Jenny, her dead hazel eyes staring up at him. He was supposed to be protecting her, but he'd screwed that up.

"Idiot," he berated himself. "Stupid damn idiot."

Why the fuck had he followed her orders? Why had he cared more about renting that stupid car and hanging out in LA than doing his job? He seemed to make the same mistakes over and over again.

He could hear himself screaming in the distance, and it felt comforting. His thighs were flaring with pain, and he welcomed it. He floated back to a different kind of pain, a very long time ago, but just as well-deserved.

Then, all of a sudden, he'd gone back even further, and he was lying on his side on the road, gazing at his misshapen, broken arm, and the blood that was spewing out everywhere, mixing with the shards of glass on the ground. And beside him…beside him…

He sobbed helplessly into his own arms. It hurt. God it hurt. And it *should* hurt. Yet no matter painful it was, it couldn’t match the hurt inside.

Tony bit down hard on his own arm. There was no way he could ever say his safe word and end this - because no amount of punishment could ever be enough.

The sound of leather on skin stopped. It took him a little while to even notice. Then he felt a gentle hand stroking his hair.

"Tony, can you hear me?" a voice asked.

He didn't reply. A pair of firm hands pulled him to his feet. God, how he ached! He felt as if his body was on fire. He felt one of his arms being slung over a set of sturdy shoulders, and he was walked out of the room, along the hallway, and into the main bedroom. He was gently guided onto the bed, face down.

He felt some kind of cool gel being soothed into his burning skin, and he shivered.

"Ssh. You're okay. It's okay." A sheet was pulled over his body. He looked up and saw Gibbs, looking down at him.

"Fuck it. I screwed it up, didn't I?" he muttered.

"Yeah." Gibbs sat down on the bed beside him. "Did you ever intend to say your safe word, Tony?"

"Yes…at the beginning, going into it, I thought I would…but when it came to it…"

"You couldn't?"

"No. I couldn't. I'm sorry."

Gibbs leaned over and kissed his face. "Ssh. Don't worry about it now. We'll handle it. I'll handle it."

"How?" Tony asked helplessly. Everything seemed so incredibly fucked up. He didn't have a clue how the situation could be salvaged.

"Leave it to me. It's out of your hands now. Get some sleep," Gibbs ordered. Tony whimpered as his dom got up off the mattress. "It's okay. I'm just taking off my shoes." Gibbs did that and then sat back down on the bed, beside his sub. "I'll stay here until you're asleep," he promised.

Tony nudged himself over, every single tiny movement sending flares of pain through his body. He rested his head on Gibbs's lap, and Gibbs began combing his fingers through his hair. It felt so good, the way it always did. He knew he shouldn't need this, and God knows he didn't deserve it. He was surprised Gibbs kept letting him do it, but he couldn't stop himself.

He closed his eyes and drifted off to sleep, with Gibbs's hand still gently stroking his hair.

~*~

Gibbs waited until his sub was asleep, and then he moved Tony’s head aside, placed it gently on the pillow, and got up. His sub was covered in strap marks, from the top of his shoulders to the back of his knees.

It had been a tough call, but the realisation had slowly dawned on Gibbs that Tony wasn't going to honour his side of the bargain. Gibbs had been very sure going into this that he wouldn't step outside his comfort zone. Tony had taken a hard strapping, but Gibbs hadn't crossed his own self-imposed line. He'd gone right up to that line, giving Tony every chance to say his word, but nothing would have induced him to cross it.

Maybe he should feel angry and betrayed right now, but he didn't. Tony was so obviously struggling with something pretty big – it was impossible not to feel sorry for him, and to want to help him in some way.

Gibbs walked down the stairs and opened the basement door. He went slowly down the basement stairs and over to the workbench. He took out the brown envelope from the drawer and pulled out the file inside.

This time he didn’t hesitate, as he’d done so often before. This time he opened the file.

He sat down on the workbench, turned on the lamp, and began to read. He read for an hour. When he'd finished, he threw the folder onto the worktop with a sigh.

"Yeah, that pretty much explains it," he muttered to himself. There were gaps, sure, but he could fill them in for himself. He put the file away, turned off the lamp, and walked back upstairs. Tomorrow, he'd make a few calls and check a few details – and then he had to decide what to do next.

He returned to the bedroom, got undressed, crawled into the bed beside his sleeping sub, and pulled Tony into his arms. He held him gently against his own body, mindful of his sore skin, and Tony muttered something in his sleep and nestled in as if by instinct. Gibbs buried his face in his sub's hair, enjoying the familiar scent of him, needing to hold him close and keep him safe after what he'd just read.

"I'm not giving up on you, Tony," he said softly. "We'll figure this out, somehow."

~*~

Tony awoke the next day to find himself lying wrapped up in his dom's arms. Usually he was in bondage, facing away from Gibbs, but today he was chest to chest with him, his chin resting on Gibbs's shoulder, their bodies pressed closely together, and Gibbs's hand was wrapped loosely around his waist.

He knew without moving that he hurt. He couldn't blame anyone but himself for that, and a part of him even welcomed the pain. He'd asked for it, and he'd deserved it. He knew that he'd made a bad mistake in not calling an end to it though. Gibbs had displayed a hell of a lot of patience in dealing with him these past couple of weeks, but that had to be wearing thin right now.

Tony knew that he was running out of time. There was no way a man like Gibbs would allow this to just go away. There were hard questions to be answered and hard truths to be faced.

A part of him wanted to just roll out of this bed and leave, but another part, that weak, needy part that he despised, couldn't face the thought of disentangling himself from the warmth and security of his dom's arms. Gibbs got him, the way nobody else ever had, his entire life. He couldn't leave. He belonged here. Gibbs might kick him out one day, but he couldn’t imagine ever leaving of his own free will.

He was suddenly aware of a pair of blue eyes looking at him, and he made a face.

"Hey, Boss…didn't realise you were awake," he muttered sheepishly.

"Clearly. It's interesting – watching you when you don't know you're being watched. Nice to see you without the mask, Tony."

There was something different about his dom. Gibbs wasn't angry – he didn't even seem disappointed by what had happened last night. There was a kind of weary sadness to him, but under that was the usual Gibbs steel. He looked like a man who had come to some kind of decision.

"How ya feeling?" Gibbs asked.

Tony made a face. "Like everything hurts," he replied honestly.

"I'd be surprised if it didn't. Did you get any kind of catharsis from that last night, Tony?"

Tony thought about it. "Not really," he admitted at last.

"Yeah, that's what I thought. So from now on, we go back to doing it my way. I'm in charge of your punishments again because frankly, you're really crap at it."

Tony grinned, aware of a warm glow of relief in his belly. He preferred things this way.

"Yes, Boss!"

Gibbs leaned in and kissed his lips. "I'm back in control now, Tony," he said firmly.

"So what happens next?" Tony's stomach flipped as he voiced the question. He wasn't sure that he wanted to know the answer.

"That's not up to you. Today, you're just gonna do what you're damn well told."

"Yes, Boss," Tony replied quietly, feeling a surge of relief at that news.

They took a shower together, and Gibbs washed Tony gently - which was a good thing, because Tony could barely lift his arms above his shoulders, let alone wash his own hair. Afterwards, Gibbs patted him dry and then applied that soothing gel that Tony had become so familiar with. He dressed Tony in a pair of light, loose sweatpants and a tee shirt and then took him downstairs.

It was a quiet day. Tony lay on the couch, on his stomach, watching one DVD after another, trying not to move too much, while Gibbs sat at the table, working on some files he'd brought home.

Every so often, Gibbs left the room. Tony could hear him on the phone out in the hallway, making calls, but he couldn't decipher what they were about.

Gibbs made him lunch and brought him coffee throughout the day. He didn't say much, and he didn't encourage Tony to talk, either. Tony was glad about that. There was really only one thing for them to talk about, and it wasn't anything he wanted to discuss right now.

Gibbs fed him frequent painkillers and rubbed that gel into his back, buttocks and thighs every few hours. Tony slept intermittently, zonked out on the painkillers.

They went to bed early, and Gibbs slipped in beside Tony and pressed dozens of light kisses over every inch of his body before gently, oh so gently, making love to his sub. Afterwards, Tony rolled over and rested his chin on his dom's shoulder again. Gibbs wrapped his hands loosely around his body, holding him close. Neither of them said a word.

It was the calm before the storm. Something was going to happen – Tony knew that.

He just wasn't sure what.

~*~

End of Part Seventeen
Two Masters - Part Eighteen