xanthefic | Fic: Two Masters

Two Masters
By Xanthe
Part Eighteen

After breakfast the following day, Gibbs beckoned Tony over. His sub came eagerly. He was still moving slowly, but he looked a hell of a lot better than he had the previous day. Gibbs would have preferred another day or two before doing this, but they were back at work tomorrow so that wasn't an option.

Tony glanced at the collar and cuffs lying on the kitchen table, and Gibbs saw the gleam of anticipation in his eyes.

"You want me to get undressed, Boss?" he asked, gesturing to his sweatpants and tee shirt.

Gibbs shook his head. "Nope." He buckled the collar around Tony's neck. "Hands," he ordered. Tony held out his hands, and Gibbs fastened the cuffs on his wrists. "With me." Gibbs walked down into the basement, his sub at his heels. "Here." Gibbs pointed at the beanbag on the floor, against the wall. Tony raised a questioning eyebrow. "You can sit down, crouch, or stand if your ass isn't up to that. Up to you," Gibbs said with a shrug.

Tony gave him a perplexed look, but he crouched down and gingerly settled himself on the beanbag.

Gibbs attached a chain to his sub's collar and then fastened it to the wall. He likewise chained his sub's cuffs to the wall too. He made sure the chains were tight – he deliberately fastened them so that Tony couldn't move around much. He wanted it to be restrictive.

Then Gibbs padlocked the chains into place. He was aware of Tony's puzzled eyes following his every move; Gibbs rarely locked him into bondage like this, and if he did, he usually insisted that his sub was naked beforehand.

"What's going on, Boss?" Tony asked.

"Nothing. I'm gonna work on the boat. You're gonna watch," Gibbs told him, making sure that Tony saw him putting the key to the padlock in the pocket of his jeans.

Satisfied that Tony was secured in place and couldn't escape, he turned and went over to his workbench. He opened up a fresh container of wood and drew out a plank. He examined it carefully, and then he took it over to the boat and rested it against the side. He climbed up onto the curved prow and began measuring, taking his time, making sure he got it right.

An hour passed. Over by the wall, Tony began whistling under his breath.

"Bored, DiNozzo?" Gibbs glanced over to him.

"Well, yeah, kind of. I figured that was the point." Tony shrugged, a little wince passing across his face as the movement hurt his shoulders.

"Want me to tell you a story?" Gibbs asked.

Tony grinned. "You gonna read to me again, Boss?"

"Nope." Gibbs shook his head. "Different kind of story. Up to you.” He shrugged, returning to his measuring.

Tony sighed. "Okay, Boss, tell me a story." He said it in a pained tone, like he was indulging his dom.

"Right." Gibbs jumped down from the boat, retrieved the wood, and then climbed back up again, holding it. "It's a story about two kids," he said.

"Brothers?" Tony asked.

"Nope." Gibbs shook his head. "They don't know each other – not yet, not when the story starts. They lead very different lives, but maybe in some ways they aren't so different. I don't know. I'll leave you to be the judge of that. So, this first kid, he comes from a pretty poor family. There isn't much, but there's always just about enough."

He held the plank of wood in place and examined it critically to make sure it was straight.

"The kid is happy – but his folks aren’t. They aren't getting along, and after a long time trying to patch things up, they separate. The kid goes to live with his mom, but back then not many folks got divorced, so he was the only one in his class at school with parents who didn't live together. He felt pretty angry about that. He was particularly angry with his dad, who he blamed the most for his parents’ marriage breaking down."

"Why? His dad sleeping around?" Tony asked, looking intrigued.

Gibbs sighed, and ran a hand over his chin. "He certainly had an eye for the ladies so maybe. I don’t know. He did start seeing another woman soon after he separated from the kid's mom so…well, who knows when that started?" He shrugged. "When the kid found out, he got even angrier – he'd thought there was a chance his mom and dad could get back together, and they could all be happy again."

"How old was this kid?"

"Eleven. Still young enough to believe in happy endings." Gibbs grinned. "But it didn't happen. Soon after that, his mom started getting thinner and thinner, and she was coughing a lot, and after a short illness, she died."

Tony's head shot up. "She died?"

"Yeah. Cancer. She'd always been a heavy smoker," Gibbs replied, with a little shake of his head. He fixed the plank in place then picked up his sander and began smoothing it.

"What happened to the kid?" Tony was gazing at him intently.

"He went to live with his dad – but he was angrier than ever now. He was angry with his mom for dying, and angry with his dad because on some level he blamed him and not the cigarettes for his mom's death. But mainly he was just an angry little kid, and he stayed that way for a long time."

"Sounds kind of unforgiving," Tony muttered.

"Yeah." Gibbs gave a little laugh. "Yeah, he sure as hell can be."

"What happened to him?"

"He grew up and went looking for his own happy ending. He found it…and then he lost it.” Gibbs shrugged. "So he went looking for it again, and again, and again – but always in the wrong places. He gave up on it for a long time. Then, one day, it crept up on him unexpectedly - long after he'd stopped looking - and took him by surprise."

He put down the sander, scrambled off the boat, and went over to his workbench. He picked up his hammer and some sturdy wooden pegs and went back over to the boat again.

"Meanwhile, the other kid is growing up someplace else, leading a very different kind of life."

Gibbs banged a couple of the pegs into place.

"His folks are wealthy – they live in a big house, and this kid's mom showers him with love. She takes him everywhere – he's her only child, and she likes showing him off to all her friends. He's a cute kid, kinda pretty for a boy, and he adores his mom. The kid's bright and precocious, and he and his mom are close. Maybe too close – the kid's dad thinks that his son is becoming too much of a momma's boy, and that he needs to be toughened up. Maybe he's even a bit jealous of the close bond between the kid and his mom.”

Tony was quiet. Gibbs glanced over to find him sitting there, very still, green eyes fixed on him as he worked.

“Anyway, the kid's dad is distant with the kid, kind of formal, keeping him at arm’s length. The kid wants his father's attention, so he does something pretty naughty to get it. His dad is furious and decides it’s time to send him away to boarding school. The kid's ten – kinda young to be sent away from home - but his dad thinks it'll toughen him up. It'll get him away from his mom and give him a chance to grow up. Maybe it’ll stop him goofing around and being such a pain in the ass."

Gibbs picked up a couple more wooden pegs and began hammering them into place.

"So, the kid doesn't like being sent away, but he's a sociable boy, and he makes friends easily. He even kind of likes boarding school. He misses his mom though – and at first she writes all the time, and he can call her every Friday night. But she's busy – her husband's business is going through a rocky patch, and she has to do a lot of socialising and entertaining to help him bring in work. And the kid is a long way from home, wondering why the presents and letters have dried up, wondering if his folks remember him, and wondering what the hell he did that was so damn wrong that he got sent away in the first place."

Tony moved his hand, and the chain fastening his cuffs to the wall clinked. Tony tugged on it, as if testing it, his movements jerky. Then he dropped his hand in frustration as he realised he was well and truly locked into place and wasn't going anywhere.

"You don't like the story, Tony?" Gibbs asked.

"I know how it ends," Tony told him sullenly.

Gibbs nodded thoughtfully. He reached for his sander again and began smoothing down the wood, working slowly, calmly.

"So, this kid…he hates being ignored. He can stand just about anything but being ignored. And when this kid wants attention – well, he knows one sure fire way of getting it. It’s a way that's always worked in the past; he does something that will get him noticed. So, one day, he steals the principal's car and takes it for a joyride."

Gibbs paused and wiped a hand across his forehead, rubbing a combination of sweat and sawdust away. He gave a little laugh.

"Gotta admire this kid – he's got guts, and he's not afraid of being punished if it gets him what he wants – which is attention from the people he loves. So, he takes this car out, and inevitably he drives it into a ditch. He’s fine, but he gets dragged back up to the school by the police. And the principal, unsurprisingly, decides to expel him."

Gibbs glanced over at Tony again, to see that his sub's jaw was set in a tight line.

"You can stop now," Tony told him. "I know the rest – and it looks as if you do too."

"I do," Gibbs confirmed.

"How long have you known?"

"Only since Friday night – after you broke that promise you made to me."

"Christ – how did you find out so quickly? Do you have a file on me or something?" Tony looked more furious than Gibbs had ever seen him.

"A dossier. Ziva gave it to me when she first joined the team, but I didn't open it until Friday night," Gibbs told him. "I wanted to see if you'd tell me first, but when you blew it on Friday you left me no other choice, Tony."

"Fuck it!" Tony roared, pulling against his chains angrily. "Ziva knows? She knows too?"

"I told her to forget whatever she'd read in that file, but yeah, she knows." Gibbs shrugged. "I made a few calls yesterday to check the facts, but they're pretty much what Mossad uncovered."

"Unlock these damn chains," Tony hissed. "Let me out of here."

Gibbs shook his head. "I'm not done yet. So…the principal calls the kid's folks and asks them to come and collect him from the school. The kid's mom arrives the following day, and she's really upset. She's angry and disappointed in the kid. It's a difficult time for the family – the kid's dad recently lost a lot of money in a lawsuit, the business isn't doing so well, and the last thing she needs is the kid acting up like this."

"You can give the kid a name," Tony said tightly. "We know who he is. We know the first kid was you, and we know the second kid is me."

"Yeah. We do. So, Tony's mom picks him up from the school, and he's so happy to see her that he doesn't give a damn if she's upset with him. Hell, it's a price worth paying. He figures she'll calm down in a few days and then things can go back to the way they used to be between them. His dad – well, he might be tougher to win around, but even if they send him to another boarding school that'll take a while to arrange, so he has some time with his mom. Tony thinks that maybe they can do some of the stuff they used to do – hang out together, go shopping, have lunch with her friends, go on road trips – have fun. He doesn't know that things are kinda bad at home and that the family is under stress, because they haven’t told him any of that. He doesn't even know that his mom is drinking too much – she and his dad have always been drinkers, same way my mom was a smoker."

"She wasn't drunk when she got in the car," Tony said hotly. "I know that. She wasn't drunk then."

"No. She wasn't. She was angry though, wasn't she? She was angry with you for pulling a stunt like that precisely when she didn’t have the time to deal with you."

Tony didn't reply. His shoulders were hunched, and he looked as if he was going to throw up.

"I don't know exactly what happened – only you know that – but I read the police report and the statement you gave at the time," Gibbs continued. "You and your mom got into an argument. You were petulant – you didn't mind your dad being angry with you but not your mom. You and she had always been partners in crime. She never got angry with you – never had before. Not like this. Suddenly, your plan to get yourself expelled doesn't seem like such a good one. You hadn't anticipated that she'd be this mad with you, and you’re hurt that she isn’t pleased to see you. You say some pretty mean things to her. You get into a big fight, both of you yelling at each other in the car...and she gets distracted and loses control. The car goes off the road – nobody else is involved, and the conditions on the road were good that day – but she loses concentration because you're fighting so hard, and the car skids off the road, bangs into a tree, rolls over a few times, and crashes back onto the road again."

Tony's eyes were closed, and he was breathing heavily. Gibbs waited for a moment, and then he continued.

"You're thrown clear, but you’ve been banged up pretty bad. Your left arm is broken in several places. You're bleeding, and you're crying because you're in so much pain. You're just a kid, and you hurt, and you want your mom. You can see her, lying in the road alongside you. She's not moving, but her eyes are open. At first you think she can see you, so you call out to her, try to tell her that you're okay, but then you realise that…"

"Magnum."

Gibbs stopped. It was the word he'd been waiting for all these weeks, but there was no victory in finally hearing it. Tony looked pale, and he was tugging repeatedly on the chains securing him to the wall.

Gibbs jumped off the boat, took the key out of his pocket, and went over to his sub. He crouched down in front of him.

"It wasn't your fault, Tony. It was an accident," he said softly. "I lost my mom too at the same age. I know how it feels – that's why I told you my story first."

"I said the damn word," Tony snapped. "I fucking said it, Gibbs. Magnum – now get me the hell out of these chains."

Gibbs quickly removed the padlock, and Tony pulled himself free and lurched to his feet. Gibbs reached out a hand to steady him, but Tony shook it off and ran towards the stairs, looking like he was going to be sick.

Gibbs sighed. He hadn't been sure how this would pan out, but he'd suspected it wouldn't go well. Clearly he'd been right. He’d spoken to Tony’s old school principal the previous day and had managed to get in touch with his mom’s sister, who had been very helpful in filling in the details of Tony’s mental state – all the little things that weren’t included in the more factual Mossad report. He had been able to fill in the rest of the gaps himself – and judging by Tony’s reaction he’d been pretty spot on.

Gibbs climbed the stairs after his sub and got to the top just in time to hear the front door slamming. Then he heard the sound of a car screeching away. He thumped his fist against the wall in annoyance. He didn't want to follow Tony, in case he inadvertently caused another accident. He didn't want Tony feeling like he was cornered right now.

He noticed something lying on the floor by the front door and went over to it. His heart sank as he crouched down and picked it up.

It was Tony's collar.

~*~

His apartment was cold, and it smelled strange, which was hardly surprising as he hadn't been back here in weeks. It was a relief to be here now though, in its comforting emptiness. He had always liked being alone – he had spent more time alone here than his co-workers would ever have imagined when he was playing the part of footloose bachelor with a steady stream of girlfriends. What nobody knew was that he never allowed those girlfriends to stay over, if he could help it. When the sex was finished, so were they.

Tony turned on the heating, selected one of his favourite jazz albums, and allowed the familiar lazy, haunting tunes to soothe him.

The light was flashing on his answering machine. He hit the button, more out of habit than anything else. There were only a handful of messages. One was from his cleaning lady, wondering if he wanted her to continue cleaning for him as there was so little to do these days.

The next one was from his dry cleaner, asking if he was ever going to come in and pick up his grey Armani suit. He'd almost forgotten about that suit – he'd got blood on it a couple of months ago. His dry cleaner was always joking with him about the amount of wear and tear his suits took. "Wouldn't it make more sense not to wear fancy suits in your line of work?" she would mutter darkly as she surveyed yet another wrecked suit. He had once dressed more casually at work, back in the old days, when things had been simpler. God knows, it wasn't as if Gibbs set any standards for sartorial elegance in the office.

But since coming back from the Seahawk, he'd needed a new layer of protection. The suits worked well for that. The suits had become another layer in the Tony DiNozzo mask that he'd been carefully building up over the years. They were expensive, tailored and smart. People were so dazzled by the exterior that there was no need for them to look beneath the shiny surface. He didn't want them to have to work too hard to think they'd figured out Tony DiNozzo. He gave them exactly what they expected, and only a couple of people had ever questioned that. Fox Mulder had been one, and Gibbs was the other. Gibbs had always seen through him to a certain extent - he'd just never called him on it. Until now.

The next message was from his aunt. She said she was calling to catch up, but there was a worried tone in her voice. He checked the timestamp – her message had been left yesterday.

There was one final message, terse and to the point.

"Tony. Call me."

Gibbs. He'd left it just a few minutes ago.

"Fuck you, Gibbs." Tony erased all the messages with a sharp jab of his finger. "And fuck rule number one," he told the answering machine. It felt wrong to disobey that terse injunction all the same. How many weeks had he been jumping to it every time Gibbs threw an order at him?

"Hell, not just weeks, Anthony. Years. Eight years as Gibbs's unofficial sub, and you can't even make it to eight weeks as the real thing – and even that still makes it one of your longest relationships," he muttered to himself ruefully as he walked into the kitchen. "You always knew it'd fall apart. They always do. No surprises there."

It didn't usually hurt though. Usually he just felt relieved.

There was nothing in the fridge – not even a few beers. He considered calling for take out, but he wasn't hungry. And he hurt - inside and out. He ached.

He returned to the living room, opened up his wet bar, and located the bottle of fine, smooth whisky that would blaze a fiery trail down his throat and take him happily to oblivion. He didn't need a glass; the bottle would do just fine.

He took a mouthful of the liquor and then eased himself down on the couch. He lay there, face down, allowing the silence, the drink, and the music to soothe him. Christ, he was tired.

His first few weeks as Gibbs's sub had been so sublimely wonderful that it had lulled him into a false sense of security. He should have known that nothing that good could last for long. And sure enough, the past couple of weeks had been a train wreck as he'd lurched from one crisis to another, fucking everything up as he went along.

Being with Gibbs 24/7 meant that he had no access to his usual coping mechanisms. He hadn't been able to come back here, lie low, lick his wounds for a few days, and then emerge with his happy, shiny Tony mask firmly back in place.

He could do that now. Might take a while to polish up the mask, but he could do it. He'd had plenty of experience after all.

~*~

Gibbs spent the day on his boat. He wished he could lose himself in the familiar grain of the wood, but his gut was taut with anxiety for his missing sub. He kept his cell phone out, but nobody called.

Tony hadn't taken his cell phone. Hell, Tony hadn't taken anything except the clothes on his back and his keys. Gibbs wasn't sure where Tony had gone, but without money or clothes, Gibbs suspected he'd end up back at his old apartment. There weren't a whole lot of options open to him.

Gibbs left one message for Tony on his home answering machine – he didn't see the point in leaving any more. If Tony didn't want to be contacted, then it was best to leave him be – for now anyway. If he wasn't at work tomorrow, Gibbs would have his ass, but he'd give him tonight. Tony just needed some time and space to figure this out.

Gibbs kept glancing at the basement door as he worked, hoping for his sub's return. He wasn't sure what they'd say to each other exactly, but at least it'd be a start.

Tony didn't show though. Finally, at 1 a.m., Gibbs threw down his sander and accepted the inevitable; his sub had gone and wasn't coming back – not tonight at least.

He’d been left before, many times, and he’d let them all leave because he didn’t care enough to convince them to stay.

This was different. Tony was his – and there was no damn way Gibbs was giving up on him.

~*~

Tony got into work early the next day. The last thing he wanted was to give Gibbs an excuse to interact with him any more than was strictly necessary.

"See, this is why Rule Number Twelve is such a good idea," he muttered to himself as he walked into the empty squad room. "Because if you date a co-worker you have to *see* them every day at work, even when you don't want to."

He could have gone awol. He'd considered it, but he knew Gibbs would track him down wherever he went. The man was like a bloodhound. It was better to just come into work, act like everything was fine, and keep his dom at arm's length until he'd figured out a way to handle this. He'd been so tired yesterday that it had been easy to spend the day dozing, drinking, and not thinking about what happened next. It'd be harder today, but he could do it.

"Hey, I'm the great Tony DiNozzo. Avoiding reality is one of my special gifts," he told himself, sitting down cautiously at his desk and turning on his computer. His body still ached, but it was a less severe ache now. He only had himself to blame. He'd wanted that punishment so much, but it hadn't done what he'd thought it'd do. It hadn't been enough. What could ever be enough?

Ziva arrived a few minutes later. She looked happy. Glowing. Tony was pretty sure she had a new boyfriend - but he wasn't asking, and she wasn't telling. He felt a stab of envy in his gut.

McGee arrived next, hurrying, falling over his own feet in his haste to get to his desk. It was an unofficial rule in the department that if you arrived after Gibbs then you were late. This was tricky, as nobody knew exactly when Gibbs would arrive. Tony had flouted this unofficial rule a few times since becoming Gibbs's sub but not today. Today that would have been suicidal.

"Busy weekend, Probie?" Tony raised an eyebrow. "Been up all hours defeating hordes of rampaging orps again?"

"They're orcs, Tony," McGee told him in an irritated tone of voice. "As you well know."

"Whatever." Tony grinned at him.

Ah yes, this was good. This was what he needed - the soothing tones of mindless banter with his co-workers. No need to think or remember anything. No need to consider just how fucked up his relationship with Gibbs was right now. No need to think about what had happened in the basement yesterday. There was just the easy back and forth of a long-standing working relationship. He could play the role of irritating co-worker in his sleep – it was familiar, easy, and just what he wanted right now.

He heard the elevator ping, and his stomach flipped queasily. He looked down at his work, pretending to be studiously occupied. A second later, a shadow fell over his desk.

"DiNozzo - didn't you get my message?"

He looked up. Slowly. Gibbs was standing there, blue eyes boring into him. Damn the man for being able to see into his soul like this. Tony didn't like it.

"Oh, hey, Boss. What message was that?" Tony gave his easy Tony smile, bright, shiny and utterly insincere.

"The one I left on your answering machine yesterday. Telling you to call me."

"Ah. Right. No. Didn't get it," Tony lied.

Gibbs gazed at him inscrutably, the lie standing between them, as clear as day.

"Something important?" Tony raised an eyebrow, challenging his dom to continue with this line of questioning.

Gibbs settled back on his heels, a distinctly un-amused grin distorting the corners of his mouth. "This really the way you want to play this?" his eyes asked.

Tony kept on smiling at him, his happy, beaming face making his reply clear: "Oh yeah. This *really* is the way I want to play this."

Gibbs gave a little grunt of acknowledgement. "Yeah – you left your cell phone lying around. I wanted to give it back to you."

He took the phone out of his pocket, grabbed Tony's hand, placed the phone in his palm, and folded Tony's fingers around it. Gibbs's hand felt warm on his skin, his touch electric and familiar.

"You shouldn't be so careless with your belongings," Gibbs said, his eyes fixed meaningfully on Tony's neck, where his collar had once been.

"You're right," Tony said softly. "Not like you, huh, Boss? 'Cause you're always really careful with what belongs to you."

Gibbs's fingers tightened on his hand, and he looked as if he was going to explode. Tony continued smiling up at him, seemingly innocent. Nobody listening to them would have guessed the tension that lay between them. Then Gibbs relaxed.

"Yeah. I am, Tony," he replied. "I take good care of what's mine. I think you know that though."

Tony's heart skipped a beat. He gazed up at Gibbs helplessly. Gibbs gazed back at him, his eyes radiating the sincerity of his words. There was a depth of compassion in that blue-eyed gaze that Tony couldn't bear to see. He was acutely aware of the way Gibbs's fingers were lingering on his hand, stroking softly, and he couldn't handle it. He yanked his hand away, muttering something about needing to check on Abby's useless replacement in the lab. Then he made a run for the elevator, threw himself inside, and slammed his hand on the emergency switch the minute it started moving.

Damn Gibbs for not yelling at him. Damn him for looking at him like that, with concern, understanding and affection. Damn him for not tearing Tony a new one for running out on him, leaving his collar behind, and not returning his call. Tony didn't want his sympathy or concern. He didn't want to be understood, and he didn't want anyone's pity.

He slammed his hand against the elevator wall a few times until he started feeling a little better. Then he composed himself, pasted his happy, shiny Tony face back on, and flipped the elevator switch again.

Luckily, Mondays were always busy for Gibbs, so Tony managed to avoid him quite successfully for most of the day as his dom went in and out of various meetings with Vance.
He was aware of Gibbs's gaze falling on him every so often, when his boss was leaning on the rail outside MTAC, or passing by his desk on his way to the elevator or the head. Gibbs didn't speak to him though, or try to get him on his own.

Tony managed to slip out of the office later that evening without being alone with Gibbs all day. He wondered if Gibbs would drop by his apartment and was fully prepared to not answer the door, but his dom didn't show. It looked as if Gibbs was giving him some breathing space, for which Tony was profoundly grateful.

There was only so much avoidance they could do though. Most of his clothes were at Gibbs's place, and he worked with the man every day. Tony didn't want to handle this, but he felt like throwing up at the thought of addressing it. He couldn't bring himself to even think about what had happened in the basement.

He was pretty pleased with himself when he managed to avoid being alone with Gibbs for nearly three days. Tony began to wonder whether he could sneak into Gibbs's house and steal back his clothes. Then they could pretend that the past few weeks hadn't happened.

He got into the elevator, mulling over the issue of how to retrieve his possessions from Gibbs's place without actually talking to the man. A second later, he heard an almost silent footfall behind him, and someone got into the elevator just before the door closed. Tony turned, cursing under his breath, knowing exactly who it was. Gibbs was staring at him, one eyebrow raised, as the elevator began to glide downwards.

"What? You hadn't figured out that I was *allowing* you to avoid me these past few days?" Gibbs asked. He flicked the emergency stop button and the elevator came to a grinding halt.

Tony sighed. "I thought I was just doing a good job of staying out of your way."

"I was giving you some space." Gibbs edged closer, moving silently, a deadly predator cornering his prey.

Tony took a step back, and then another, until his back hit the mirrored elevator wall. ""Yeah. Right. Space. I can see that," he said sarcastically.

He could feel the heat of Gibbs's body, sense the tautness of his dom's muscles, and smell his familiar, enticing scent.

"So, I was thinking of dropping by for my clothes," Tony said, trying hard to stay in control of the situation. That wasn't easy when he was backed up against the wall by a man whose sexual dominance had mesmerised him for years.

Gibbs shook his head. "No," he said firmly.

"No?" Tony raised an eyebrow. "It's over, Gibbs."

"No, it isn't. I've just been allowing you a long leash." Gibbs shrugged. "But not for much longer, Tony. You have until the end of the week – then I'll rope you back in, whether you like it or not."

"I told you it's over," Tony repeated in a hard tone.

Gibbs raised an eyebrow. "Because you'd rather keep running and hiding than turn around and face it?"

Tony's jaw tightened. "You don't know shit."

"I know there's more," Gibbs snapped in reply. "You're kind of like an onion, Tony. You peel off one layer, and there's another one beneath. Then, just when you think you're done peeling, you realise you've barely even started. How many people ever see even a fraction of what you are? How many people catch even a glimpse of what's under the pretty surface, huh?" He flicked at Tony's newly cleaned, grey Armani suit.

Tony gazed at him stonily. "Drop it, Gibbs."

"No." Gibbs moved his hand and gently caressed Tony's cheek. Tony tried to turn away, but he didn't have the strength. "I told you once that if I fucked you, and if I collared you, that you'd be mine, and I don't give up on what's mine, Tony. And I don't think you want me to. Not really."

He held Tony's jaw lightly in his hand and then moved in and dropped a gentle little kiss on Tony's mouth. Tony balled his hands into fists in an effort not to respond, but he couldn’t bring himself to push Gibbs away. He liked the feel of those soft, insistent lips too much. Gibbs drew back.

"If I come back…" Tony began. Gibbs raised an eyebrow, making it clear that the 'if' was redundant. "We could put this behind us, right?" Tony suggested. "Never talk about it again?"

Gibbs gave a little grunt of a laugh, shaking his head. "Yeah. Right."

"I mean it," Tony said firmly. "I don't want to talk about it."

"You can't have it both ways, Tony. You can belong to me, or to the past - but not both. You can't serve two masters."

"It's two different things," Tony snapped.

"No. It isn't. Can't have a repeat of the past couple of weeks, Tony," Gibbs told him flatly. "I need to understand every single bit of how my sub ticks if I'm gonna handle you properly."

"I'm not a fucking horse," Tony growled. "I don't need 'handling'."

Gibbs grinned. "Yeah, you do."

"You already know everything there is to know about me – thanks to Ms. Mossad out there." Tony flicked his head derisively. "There's nothing more to know; nothing more to say; nothing more to talk about. That's it. That's all there is."

Gibbs snorted. "Yeah. Right. Tell me, Tony, what was it I did in the past eight years that made you think I'm a total idiot?"

Tony glared at him. Gibbs leaned in close again, and Tony felt his entire body react to his dom's proximity. He broke out into a sweat, his cock hardened, and he had to fight hard to control his overwhelming impulse to go down on his knees in front of Gibbs, where he belonged. And Gibbs – the bastard - knew the effect he was having.

"I'm taking you down, Tony," Gibbs promised. "You belong to me, and I'll fight for you. Even if it's your own demons I have to fight. And you know me – I fight to win." He reached out and flicked the switch and the elevator lurched into motion. "You have until Friday on the long leash, Tony – after that, the short leash is back."

The doors opened, and Gibbs left the elevator without looking back. Tony watched him go. He didn't know if he felt relieved or cornered – or both.

He was Tony DiNozzo – deflection, deception, and avoidance were his finely honed
weapons of choice. And now he was pitting them against a master – a man who had never yet been beaten in a fight. Tony didn't rate his own chances very highly. However good he was, Gibbs was better.

And Tony, who had always been so adept at concealment, was now running out of places to hide.

~*~

Gibbs watched Tony for the next couple of days, but gave him his space, as he'd promised. He hoped that Tony would make the first move, but if he didn't, Gibbs had no qualms about reeling him in. He was engaged in a battle for possession of his sub's soul, and it wasn't a battle he intended to lose. Tony belonged to him, pure and simple, and Gibbs would do whatever it took.

Tony was uncharacteristically silent for most of the day on Friday. He kept shooting surreptitious glances at Gibbs as he worked, but for the most part he said nothing. Even McGee and Ziva noticed, and they kept exchanging surprised looks as a multitude of teasing opportunities went by unexploited by their usually mocking co-worker.

Gibbs sent them all home on time for once, leaving just him and Tony alone in the office, gazing at each other warily across the room.

Gibbs got up. "I'm going to spend the evening at Murray's Bar," he said quietly. "Neutral territory. You have until eleven to show up."

"And if I don't?" Tony raised a challenging eyebrow.

"Then I'll come and get you."

~*~

Gibbs got to Murray's bar at eight and ordered a coke. He didn't want to get drunk tonight. He glanced at his watch, wondering when Tony would show up. He had no doubt at all that his errant sub *would* show up – but, knowing Tony, he'd leave it until 10:58.

His cell phone rang, and he glanced at the display, feeling a surge of annoyance when he saw it wasn't Tony. He didn't recognise the number, but he picked up anyway.

"Gibbs," he snapped, glancing up at the stairs to see if Tony had put in an appearance.

"Boss?"

He frowned. That was an old, familiar voice – but one he hadn't heard in a long time. "Stan? That you?"

"Yes, it's me. I really need to see you. You busy?"

"Right now?" Gibbs grimaced, glancing up at the stairs again. "Can't it wait?"

There was a moment's hesitation. "No, I don't think so," Stan replied. "See, it's about Tony DiNozzo."

~*~

Tony looked at the clock ticking away on his computer: 20:37. He ran a hand through his hair, making it stick up in messy points. He didn't want to do this. He didn't want to have this particular conversation with his dom, his boss, his lover – hell, whatever it was Gibbs was to him these days. Mulder had been right, he realised ruefully, that day back in the playroom at Crystal City. Mulder had told him he wouldn't be able to hide from Gibbs.

"Should'a listened," Tony muttered.

20:39.

How long could he leave it? He knew that Gibbs would be true to his word, and if he didn't show up his dom wouldn't hesitate to track him down. If Tony pushed him into that then he was pretty damn sure that Gibbs would be pissed off – and nobody liked a pissed off Gibbs.

He sat back in his chair and closed his eyes. He was immediately a child again, lying on the road, screaming in pain, gazing into his mother's dead green eyes. Gibbs would want to know everything. There was no way he'd settle for hearing half the story. Once he'd opened Tony up a tiny bit, he'd want him opened up all the way. He'd gut him like a fish, leaving Tony gasping and exposed. He'd want to know what had happened after…

Tony opened his eyes and slammed his hand onto his computer keyboard.

"You're gonna have a long wait, Gibbs."

~*~

Gibbs watched as Stan made his way down the stairs and into the main seating area of Murray's bar. His old sub was looking good; he was lean and tanned, and he attracted a few lingering looks as he jogged down the stairs.

Stan paused at the bottom, saw Gibbs, and his face broke into an anxious kind of half-smile. Gibbs frowned; whatever it was that Stan had to tell him, he had a feeling he wasn't going to like it.

He stood up as Stan drew close and pulled his old sub into a hug. He didn't usually do hugs, but his time with Tony had given him a vague sense of guilt about how it had ended between him and Stan. Tony had been so easy to love, but he'd never been able to give Stan even a tiny piece of his heart. Gibbs drew back and nodded his head at the bottle of beer on the table.

"See you haven't forgotten what I like to drink," Stan said, with a little grin, sitting down opposite him.

"Nope. You're looking well, Stan," Gibbs said gruffly.

"You too." Stan gave a strained little grin.

Gibbs sighed inwardly. Stan had always been a fantastic sub and a willing, hard-working subordinate at NCIS. What was lacking - what had always been lacking, he now realised - was his ability to take Gibbs. He was like McGee – he was happy to roll over and show Gibbs his belly, but he lived in perpetual anxiety of him too, and that was wearying. Tony wasn't like that. Gibbs was surprised to realise that Tony had been right, all those weeks ago, when he'd said he could handle him. He could. He was tough inside, however much he liked to fool the world with the shiny idiot persona. And he *got* Gibbs, like nobody else ever had -except Shannon.

"Surprised to see you in a place like this," Stan commented, glancing around. "You never liked the scene much when we were…" He left the sentence hanging.

"Still don't. I was waiting for someone," Gibbs replied.

Stan's eyes widened as he took in the implications of that. "Oh. Right…okay. Because this is a members' only kind of place, so I was wondering."

"I figured it was the kind of place you'd be a member of," Gibbs grunted.

Stan grinned. "I am – just surprised you are."

"I'm not. I know a friend of the owner. He's…accommodating."

"Right," Stan said slowly.

"Let's not waste time on the small talk, Stan," Gibbs said abruptly, taking a sip of his coke. "You said you wanted to see me about DiNozzo?"

"Yeah…" Stan took a deep gulp of his beer. "Look…I wasn't sure what to do about this, but…I thought it was something you should know. I like DiNozzo – only met him once, but I liked him. Thought he had the hots for you though, Boss."

He grinned at Gibbs. Gibbs grunted. He saw no reason to let Stan know how close to the mark he was there. Stan swallowed hard, clearly sensing Gibbs's tension.

"Okay…look, you know I took over as agent afloat from Tony on the Seahawk?"

Gibbs shook his head, surprised. "No. I didn't know that, Stan."

"We docked this morning, so I'm on leave now. I kept my old apartment and it feels good to be back in DC, but I'm surprised I haven't missed it more. I guess I just like being an agent afloat." Stan gave that gentle, easy smile of his. "It's a hell of a lot less stress than working with you, Boss."

Gibbs grinned. "Tony called it being the only cop in a city of 5,000. That's not a low-stress environment, Stan."

"Compared to working for you, Boss, it's like a spa retreat." Stan grinned back. "Anyway, Tony…he had kind of a unique style as agent afloat."

Gibbs raised an eyebrow.

"He didn't take any shit, Boss. He didn't turn a blind eye for an easy life like some agents afloat I've known. You trained him well."

"Yeah. I know." Gibbs took another sip of his coke. "Trained you well too, Stan."

"Yeah, but Tony's got a cop's nose, and he never lets anything lie – not the important stuff anyway. Made him a lot of enemies."

Gibbs stared at Stan, eyes narrowing. "You referring to one flight deck chief in particular?"

Stan leaned forward. "You know about Grasso?" he asked eagerly, looking relieved.

"No." Gibbs shook his head. "All I know is that Tony had some kind of a problem with him, and now the guy calls him when he’s drunk and talks shit at him."

"Grasso calls him?" Stan looked troubled by that news.

Now it was Gibbs's turn to lean forward. "Tell me what's been happening, Stan. All of it. Don't leave anything out."

~*~

End of Part Eighteen
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Two Masters - Part Nineteen

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Damned, Xanthe you're the child of Hitchcock and Agatha Christie, when we think that is over, there's a new thing in line, you kill us slowly lol !

It's pretty exciting. Thnaks to you.

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Fic: Two Masters - 18/22

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