xanthefic | Two Wolves

The crowd is in a restive mood after the killing. It’s energized them, tapped into their bloodlust, and made them crave some new excitement to slake their thirst.

Gibbs knows he has to focus. He has to forget about Steve and just concentrate on winning this next fight.

He closes his eyes, listens to his own breathing, and shuts down every part of himself except what he needs to survive.

When he hears the gate opening his eyes snap open, and he’s in the zone, ready to go.

He prowls rather than walks into the pit. He can smell Steve’s blood and feels the electric mood in the crowd. They’re excited, and the killing wasn’t enough; they want more.

Gibbs ignores the crowd, the way he always does. He despises them. They’re weak people who get their thrills from violence, rape and murder. If it weren’t for people like them, then people like Scott and Walid wouldn’t exist.

He pauses to dip his hands in the sawdust. He’s oiled his body, identifying any weak spots from his previous fight. He knows he has to protect his ribs, and he knows he has to make this quick because he’s got less stamina than usual from fighting once already. But he has no doubts. He’s the dark, ruthless, hungry wolf he has to be in the pit, in order for both himself and his opponent to survive. This newbie won’t stand a chance against him.

The gate over on the opposite side of the pit is opened, and the newbie is pushed out. He stumbles, and one of the guards grabs him and hauls him upright. He’s hooded, like all newbies, although the hood is red instead of black this time, for some reason.

“And what do we have here?” the commentator crows excitedly. “It seems our favourite Wolfman is back in the pit again in an unusual move by his owner, James Scott. And Prince Walid wants to field a newbie against him, which means we are literally throwing our newcomer to the wolf! Place your bets now! Does the newbie stand any chance against one of the strongest fighters ever to grace the pit? Or does Prince Walid have something special to show us? Let’s find out!”

Gibbs hardly listens to the words; he’s too busy concentrating. The newbie’s hood is removed, and Gibbs makes his usual fast assessment. His opponent is about six feet – possibly more as he looks to have an inch or so on himself. Broad shoulders, toned body, but not fighting fit. This guy doesn’t spend a lot of time in the gym, but he’s solid and can handle himself. The idiot still has a full head of hair – being a newbie he hasn’t figured out you have to keep it shaved or an opponent can take a handful of it during a fight and bring you down. He also hasn’t oiled himself, so he’ll be easy enough to grab and throw into the sawdust.

Gibbs starts circling, making mental adjustments as he prowls around his prey, who is just standing there, trying to talk to him. Gibbs doesn’t listen; newbies often think they can reason their way out of the pit, but the pit is about the least reasonable place on Earth. Reason, sanity, humanity…none of them belong here. This place is about raw survival, as Steve just found out all too brutally.

Steve…Gibbs feels a surge of anger at the loss of his stable-mate, and he runs forward and lands a couple of good punches. It feels good. The idiot newbie puts up his arms in defence, but makes no attack in reply. Good. The newbie is too shocked to stage much of a fight, so he should go down easy.

~*~

“Gibbs!” Tony says urgently, ducking away from a blow aimed at his midriff. “For God’s sake – it’s me, Gibbs!”

He can see by his boss’s dark, dilated pupils that he’s drugged up to the eyeballs, but something else is going on here too. Gibbs is so focused on him as an opponent that he can't recognize him for who he is. Tony has seen Gibbs like this before, when he was pursuing Ari after Kate died, but back then Gibbs wasn’t lost to himself like he is now. He was intent on his revenge, but he was still reachable, still himself.

Now, it’s like he’s someone else. Tony can imagine this was how Gibbs was after Shannon and Kelly were killed. He always turns in on himself when he’s hurting and finds some dark place inside where he nurses the anger close until he can find a way to let it out. Usually that’s in a case, or by himself with a punching bag. Tony has seen him after a bad case, just punching away in the NCIS gym. There is a similar look of intense concentration on his face now, and Tony can’t see a single trace of the Gibbs he once knew in the predatory figure standing in front of him.

Gibbs moves in again, all prowling grace, and Tony knows he doesn’t stand a chance against him. He’s never bested him in any of their sparring sessions in the past. Gibbs is just…Gibbs, and Tony doesn’t remember anyone ever beating him in a fight.

His intention here isn’t to win in any case; it’s to stop Gibbs hurting him too badly. He’s seen the people they’ve dragged from the pit after a fight. He doesn’t want Gibbs to beat him to a pulp and live with the guilt afterwards. If he’s capable of feeling guilt these days because it looks like he isn’t capable of feeling anything right now.

There’s nothing in those icy blue eyes except a desire to win.

“Gibbs…it’s me, Tony. Listen to me, will you?” he hisses urgently.

Gibbs gives no sign of having heard him. There is no recognition in his eyes as he feints one way and then lands two vicious punches to Tony’s gut. Tony lurches out of range, holding his side, panting heavily.

“Look, I know they’ve fed you drugs, and I know they’ve kept you locked up for five months and done God knows what to you, but you have to listen to me,” Tony says urgently. “Because you’ll really regret this later if you don’t. Well, I think you will. Maybe it’s always been your dream to fight naked with me in a pit while a bunch of people watch, but can I just say that it’s the kind of thing that’s much sexier as a fantasy than it is in reality…”

He reaches up and slaps the back of his own head for the inanity of what he’s saying. Gibbs is still prowling around him, circling, looking for weaknesses – Tony can see his cold assessment of Tony’s skill as a fighter in his eyes. There is nothing in them to suggest that the Gibbs of old is even still alive in there. He might as well be a completely different person.

How the hell is Tony going to reach him?

~*~

His opponent talks and skips out of reach and then talks some more. It’s getting boring, and Gibbs decides it’s time to bring him down.

He moves in to deliver a knockdown, but his opponent surprises him with a feint to the left that disguises an agile move to the right. It’s a move Gibbs is familiar with because it’s one of his own, and one he taught to many young Marines when he was a gunny. Something about it niggles at him, and his gut tells him that he’s missing something important. He’s just not sure what.

He ignores it. The pit isn’t a place to have doubts. He goes back in for another attack, and finally his opponent decides to fight back instead of just defending himself. He lands a glancing blow to Gibbs’s jaw; it wouldn’t normally be enough to bring Gibbs down, but his foot slips on something in the sawdust, and he goes down, briefly, breaking his fall with his hand and getting up again before his opponent can take advantage of his moment of weakness. He glances down to see what made him slip and sees a patch of Steve’s blood that they must have missed when throwing down the new sawdust.

The memory of what they did to Steve ignites the anger he needs to win. He feels it rise up inside, and he channels it, the way he always does out here. Steve, Shannon, Kelly, his mom…all the unnecessary deaths coalesce in one angry ball of hate, and he throws himself on his opponent. He’s so furious right now that he just wants to kill, and he forgets everything else. He can’t see the pit, or hear the crowd. He’s just a killing machine; there is nothing else in his heart as he brings his opponent down.

He straddles his victim, pinning the man’s shoulders into the sawdust with his knees, and grabs a handful of the man’s thick brown hair. Then, holding him in place, he delivers a savage punch to his jaw, and then another.

It feels good to let it out, to release all the pent-up anger and hate and take it out on the flesh and blood beneath him. He wants to bury his fist in this man’s face, to have his revenge by proxy on Walid, and Scott, and Hernandez, and the drunk driver who killed his mom. He’s not sure there is any limit to his anger. It’s like a bottomless pit and every time he goes back down he finds more and more of it, a black hole of rage and fury.

He’s hitting his stride, raising his arm for another blow…but then his fist is caught in mid-air. Somehow his prey has got an arm free and is blocking his punch. He can feel a vice-like grip around his wrist…but instead of pushing him away, the man beneath him is pulling him forward.

“Boss? Boss! Snap out of it!”

He’s so close. A few more punches, and he’ll claim his victory…if he can just pull his arm free…

“Jethro!” It’s the first time anyone has called him by his preferred name in months. “Jethro – it’s me – Tony!”

He feels a sharp slap on the back of his head and, at the same time, the words penetrate his consciousness. His opponent uses his moment of disorientation to take hold of his face between his hands, forcing him to look at him, and Gibbs finds himself staring into a pair of familiar green eyes. They’re so familiar, and so incredibly out of place in this nightmare, that the jolt of recognition feels like a stab in his gut. He draws back his fist to punch again, wanting his victory, craving his victory, and then pauses…

“Tony?” Sweat falls into his eyes, and he blinks it away. His chest is rising and falling heavily, and he feels like he’s on the brink of falling. He can’t force all the anger and hate back inside. He wants to fight, and hurt, and win. He wants to land blow after blow on his opponent’s face. He wants…“Tony?” he says again, in disbelief.

“Yes. It’s me, Gibbs.”

It’s as if he can see clearly for the first time in months, and yet it doesn’t feel real. How can Tony have been transported from that other reality, so long ago, into this one? Tony doesn’t belong here; this isn’t his world.

“You…” Gibbs glances up to see Walid standing high up in the stands above, watching them intently. He remembers the little smile the man gave him earlier. Gibbs has spent the past five months wondering if Tony had forgotten all about him, and now he wishes he had. “Oh, Tony,” he says brokenly. “You stupid, fucking idiot.”

“Good to see you too, Boss.” Tony grins, and then, unexpectedly, he throws a punch that hits Gibbs a glancing blow on the chin, throwing him backwards.

Tony gets to his feet and circles him. “Sorry about that. Wanted to buy us some time.”

“Tell me there’s a plan,” Gibbs asks as they mock parry. “Tell me you have backup, Tony. Tell me we’re going to be rescued.” He wants to feel relief. He wants to believe that this is the end, and he’ll soon be rescued, but the fact Tony is fighting in the pit makes him doubt that’s the case.

“Sorry, Boss. No backup. Finding you was the plan.”

“That’s the plan? Christ, Tony. What a stupid plan!”

“Yeah, that’s what everyone else said too. Well, everyone except Ziva. She thought it was ‘bold’.” Tony feints to one side and then gets in close and lands a blow lacking any real weight to Gibbs’s midriff.

“Then why the hell…?”

“It’s been five months! I ran out of options!”

Now it all makes sense. The second fight, the smile Walid gave him, hell, even the stupid red hood Tony was wearing…they’re just puppets being made to dance to Walid’s tune.

And now he has a decision to make – and fast. “So if there’s no rescue…”

“Yeah,” Tony says grimly. “I saw a few fights earlier, Gibbs. I saw you fight earlier. I know what happens next.”

Does he? Does he really have any idea? Gibbs doesn’t see how he can. You can’t understand the reality until you’ve experienced it.

He throws a punch to Tony’s jaw that glances to one side, skimming the surface. He’s weighing up the options as he goes through the motions of the fight.

He could throw the fight, let Tony win…but is Tony capable of doing what he has to do? Because if he isn’t, then Steve’s corpse won’t be the only one dragged from the pit tonight.

“Did they give you any drugs?” he asks, closing in on Tony with a flurry of punches that look more powerful than they are. He knows the answer to that already; Tony’s eyes are clear. He’s clean.

“No.”

If he throws the fight, and if Tony can somehow manage to fuck him, which Gibbs doubts, then he’ll be Walid’s property. Was that part of the plan? Did the sneaky bastard think he’d neutralize his biggest competition by throwing this curveball into the contest? Gibbs is all that stands between Walid’s best fighter, McIntyre, and victory.

If he loses, then he and Tony both go into Walid’s setup as newcomers, with all the risks that entails. Gibbs has spent five months in Scott’s stable. He knows the guards, the routine, and the people. He stands a better chance of protecting Tony as Scott’s prize fighter than as just another loser in Walid’s stable.

But can he do what he has to – to Tony? He’s fucked fighters before, countless times, but he didn’t know any of them. He didn’t allow himself to know any of them, in case he couldn’t do it when the time came. That’s what Hurrell, with all his little kindnesses and his need to get close to people, never understood. Gibbs doesn’t know if he can fuck Tony like he’s just another one of those strangers. He isn’t sure he can do that.

Gibbs once vowed never to be defeated in this pit, but now, for the first time, he doesn’t want to keep that vow.

Tony is watching him closely. Gibbs goes in and grabs his neck, pulling him forward.

“I’ll throw the fight. Let you win,” he growls into Tony’s ear.

Tony shoves him away, twists around, and puts him in a neck lock. “No.” Tony’s arms are strong around his neck, and he squeezes firmly. “I can’t do it. You’ve done it before, Gibbs. You can do it again.”

Tony is right, and he knows it. He has no choice. He’s never damn well had a choice; if he’s learned anything over the past five months, he’s learned that.

Gibbs escapes the neck lock, throws himself on Tony, and brings him down to the ground.

“Stay down,” he orders. “Take the punches. Make it look good.”

~*~

Tony finds himself on his back, looking up at Gibbs who is straddling him. A blow connects with the side of his jaw, but there isn’t much force behind it, unlike the blows he took earlier. He gives a loud holler of pain anyway. A blow from Gibbs’s other fist makes his head snap back the other way, and he groans and tries to push up. Gibbs silences him with a third blow, and then a fourth. None of them are as bad as they were when Gibbs meant it for real, but they feel bad enough.

The referee is in the pit, coming over to them, and Gibbs keeps up the frenzied attack on his face. It looks much worse than it is, the frenetic activity hiding the fact that none of the blows is connecting with real force.

Then the referee is pulling Gibbs off him, and he feigns the dazed look he saw on the other fighters’ faces when he was watching earlier. There’s blood running down his jaw from a cut caused by one of Gibbs’s earlier punches and that helps. He shakes his head and the blood splatters over the referee’s shirt.

That seems to decide it – the referee declares for Gibbs, and the crowd goes into their usual frenzy, yelling out obscene comments, most of which seem to relate to Gibbs fucking him.

Gibbs fucking him. The reality of what is going to happen next hits home. It was all very well being noble about it just now, but being fucked in the sawdust in front of a baying mob didn’t feature in any of Tony’s fantasies of what sex with Gibbs might be like. The alternative, him fucking Gibbs, was always out of the question; his cock is resolutely flaccid, and he doesn’t see that changing any time soon, given the situation. At least Gibbs has the benefit of whatever drugs they’ve fed him.

Gibbs is coming back towards him, a grimly determined look in his eyes.

“You oiled?”

“What?” Tony sits up.

“Your skin isn’t oiled – you oiled anywhere else?” Gibbs asks impatiently. “To make it easier?”

“No.” He can feel himself blushing, but now is no time to play the coy virgin.

The crowd is getting restless, wanting their big finale. “Fuck him, Wolfman!” they chant, over and over again.

Gibbs kneels down in the sawdust beside him. Tony saw him fuck a man earlier without even breaking into a sweat, but now…now he looks lost and confused, as if he’s not sure what to do, and his cock is barely semi-erect. Tony decides he can’t leave it all to Gibbs – he has to play his part too.

“I won’t be raped,” he says fiercely.

Gibbs looks even more confused. “If I don’t, then they’ll probably kill you,” he mutters hoarsely. He drops his gaze to the ground, looking desperately ashamed.

“No…” Tony grabs his head and pulls it up so that Gibbs is looking at him. “I won’t be raped,” he repeats urgently. “Understand?”

He leans forward and kisses Gibbs on the mouth, just gently. It isn’t exactly how he imagined them sharing a first kiss, but it’s the best he can do in the circumstances. Gibbs’s mouth is hard and unresponsive beneath his; he seems shocked.

“What the hell, DiNozzo?” Gibbs asks when Tony releases him.

“Don’t make this rape, Gibbs,” Tony replies fiercely. “Not between us. Give me something back here.”

Understanding dawns in Gibbs’s eyes, and he nods and reaches out to stroke gentle fingers through Tony’s hair.

“Okay, Tony. Show me how.”

Tony grabs his hand and kisses his fingers, smiling at Gibbs. Then he draws Gibbs down on top of him in the sawdust, holding him close. He’s surprised to find that Gibbs is shaking – he’s trembling like a wet puppy, and there’s no trace of the formidable ‘Wolfman’ that Tony saw in action earlier.

Tony wonders when anyone last showed Gibbs anything other than brutality. The man has been kidnapped, forced to fight and fuck at gunpoint, whipped, beaten, and abused for five long months. No wonder he’s shaking right now. Kindness is hard to bear when you’ve become accustomed to being kicked constantly.

“Ssh…it’s okay…I’ve got you.”

He gently caresses Gibbs’s back with his fingers and gradually Gibbs’s shaking subsides, and he gets himself under control. Tony can feel that his cock isn’t anywhere near hard yet though. He knows Gibbs can fuck a stranger in the pit because he’s seen him do it – but put him with a friend, someone he’s worked with for ten years, and he’s floundering badly. Tony knows he has to do something - fast.

“Do you trust me?” He looks up into Gibbs’s eyes and sees a complete lack of comprehension there. Gibbs is out of it right now; he doesn’t know what the hell is going on.

Tony grabs Gibbs’s head and makes him focus. “Do you trust me, Gibbs?” he demands roughly. “I need you to trust me.”

Gibbs nods, his eyes clearing. ”Yeah, I trust you, Tony.”

“Good – then let’s do this.”

Tony wraps his arms around Gibbs’s back, pulls him close, and kisses him again. This time Gibbs’s lips come alive beneath his, and his tongue explores Tony’s mouth eagerly. Tony caresses his buttocks, moving his body rhythmically against Gibbs’s body, hoping to arouse him that way, and he feels Gibbs’s cock slowly starting to harden. Tony guesses the drugs are making him respond to any sexual stimulus.

The gentle kissing and rocking motion is working, and after a while Tony pushes Gibbs back and reaches down between their bodies to caress his cock. Gibbs gives a startled grunt, and Tony can see that he’s visibly torn between the sheer torture of this situation and the drug-induced demands of his own libido. He’s disoriented, thrown by the fact he can’t just fuck a faceless stranger.

Tony knows that he has to take charge here, or this whole thing will end in a swift gunshot to the head for one of them. He wonders whether Gibbs has any experience with men – has it only ever been this brutal rutting in the pits, or has he ever known what it’s like to make love to a willing guy? Tony’s thankful for his own extensive experience with men over the years, or he doubts he’d be able to handle what he has to do next.

“Come on, lover boy, let's move this along…”

Tony rubs his fingers in the oil on Gibbs’s skin and then dips them into his own ass, oiling and stretching it. It isn’t ideal, and he knows this is going to hurt like hell, but it’s better than nothing, and the oil will ease the way a little.

The crowd has gone completely still, shocked into silence by what they’re doing. Tony bites back a desire to laugh. It serves the bastards right; they want their fucking to be about degradation, force and humiliation, but he’s giving them something very different. He hopes it damn well chokes them.

Tony returns his hand to Gibbs’s cock. He slides his fingers over it, rubbing it to full hardness, and then he guides it between his open legs. Gibbs’s pupils are dilated, and Tony can see that the desire to fuck is so strong it’s almost overwhelming him. Yet Gibbs is holding back because of who is beneath him; Tony can see it in his eyes.

“Do it,” he urges, opening his legs wide to give Gibbs more access. “Give in to it, Gibbs. It’s fine.”

Under normal circumstances, Tony thinks he’d probably be pleased that Gibbs is so well endowed, but right now it’s not exactly a blessing. He bites back the hiss of pain as Gibbs sinks into him. He wasn’t properly prepared for such a large intrusion, but he doesn’t want Gibbs to feel bad about that so he pulls him into his body, welcoming him in, trying to relax as best he can around his large cock. It feels like he’s being stretched beyond endurance, and it’s sore as all hell, but he breathes deep and reaches up to pull Gibbs’s head down and kiss him again.

Gibbs is moaning softly, his body bucking into him helplessly, driven by the drugs they’ve pumped into him. Tony can feel his shame and pities him for it. He’s done all he can to lessen the horror of what they’re being made to do, but for a proud man like Gibbs, being forced to commit this act with a friend in this brutal way has to hurt.

Tony keeps kissing Gibbs fiercely, trying to remind him that although they’re both being made to do this against their will, he is an active participant. This isn’t something Gibbs is doing to him; it’s an ordeal they’re sharing.

Finally Gibbs comes, with an agonized gasp, and Tony lies back in the sawdust, panting, keeping his gaze locked on Gibbs’s face. They did it. Somehow they’ve managed to stave off death for at least a little while longer.

Tony smiles up at Gibbs, and Gibbs manages a tight little smile in return, but there is something dark and ominous in his eyes.

Gibbs withdraws from Tony’s body and glances up at the watching crowd.

They stare back at him, still deathly silent, in total shock. Gibbs gives them a slow, murderous glare, sweeping the entire arena with a look of utter contempt, and you could hear a pin drop.

Gibbs looks back down at Tony, the contempt fading from his eyes.

“Do you trust me too, Tony?” he asks.

Tony isn’t sure what’s about to happen next, but he knows his answer. “I trust you, Gibbs,” he says, without any hesitation.

Gibbs runs a gentle hand through Tony’s hair. “Atta boy, Tony,” he whispers in Tony’s ear.

Then he takes hold of Tony’s left hand, grabs the index finger, and, with a sudden unexpected jerk, breaks it. It makes a loud cracking sound, and Tony yowls in pain. He tries to draw his hand away, but Gibbs has it in an iron grip and won’t let go. Instead of releasing him, he breaks Tony’s second finger instead.

The crowd goes wild. They didn’t understand the kissing, or the gentle, face-to-face love-making that was so different from the primal rutting they expected. But this savage climax, after so much disorienting tenderness, is something they do understand.

Gibbs is still fixing him with that steadfast gaze, never once breaking eye contact. Tony nods and clings onto him, one arm wrapped around Gibbs’s body for support as he breaks Tony’s third finger. Tony screams and buries his head in Gibbs’s shoulder.

“Trust me, Tony,” Gibbs says softly – and then he breaks his pinkie.

~*~

Gibbs doesn’t spare the crowd a second glance as they burst into cheers of approval at his brutality.

Tony is lying crumpled in the sawdust beside him, and he’s clearly in no shape to go anywhere.

One of the guards gets into the pit and throws a net over Tony, preparing to drag him out, but Gibbs has no intention of allowing Tony to endure that indignity. He shoves the guard aside and squeezes Tony’s arm to get his attention.

“Gonna carry you, Tony. Hold still.”

Tony nods, that indefatigable gleam of pure Tony shining in his eyes, even though he’s shattered right now.

Gibbs pulls Tony to his feet, net and all, and slings him over his shoulder. Tony’s heavy, but Gibbs can handle the weight. He shifts to a more comfortable position, then walks back towards the holding pen with his head held high.

“Didn’t want the bastards to see you couldn’t walk out of there,” he tells Tony as he puts him down. He swipes the net aside, and Tony slumps against the bars of the pen; he’s clearly in shock, but he’ll live.

“Thanks, Boss.” Tony gives him a faded smile, and Gibbs wants to find out every single damn thing about what is going on. How did Tony find him, why is he here, and what’s his plan – because Gibbs is sure there’s some kind of plan. He wants to know what the hell has been happening out in the real world, but now isn’t the time or place.

He crouches down beside Tony and gently wipes a streak of blood from his face. It isn’t much comfort, but after what they were just forced to do together, Gibbs is wary of getting too close. He has no idea how Tony feels about him right now.

Their respite is only brief, as one of Scott’s guards arrives to prod them out of the holding pen. Tony is out of it and can’t even stand. Gibbs isn’t surprised; between being brutally fucked and having his fingers broken, he wouldn’t expect Tony to be able to walk right now. The poor bastard is new to this. Without saying a word, Gibbs hauls Tony up, swings his arm over his shoulder, and helps him walk to the truck.

He can see Scott hurrying towards them as they reach it. He puts Tony down against the wheel and stands in front of him, guarding him. It feels strange having someone to care about after all these months of not allowing himself to care about anyone.

Scott looks furious as he charges up to them. “Damn it, Leroy, what the hell was that?” he explodes when he reaches them.

Gibbs shrugs. “Well, you said I should put on more of a show after a fight.”

Scott gazes at him for a moment and then all his puffed up anger seems to dissipate. He gives a loud belly laugh and slaps Gibbs heartily on the arm. “I did, didn’t I? I didn’t mean anything like that, but it definitely shook up the crowd! What an evening! First the refusal and then that; people are calling it the best Fight Night ever!”

He glances down at Tony. “So, this is the new fighter you’ve won for me, huh? He showed some promise before you pulverized him.” He kneels down beside Tony and takes a good look at him, his gaze raking over Tony’s naked body, and Gibbs has to bite back the protective growl that rises unexpectedly in his throat. “Did you have to break his goddamn fingers, Leroy?” Scott says plaintively, glancing up at Gibbs. “I won’t be able to put him in the pit until they heal!”

“Yeah. Shame.”

Gibbs looks down at Tony who looks straight back up at him, a spark of gratitude flashing in his weary eyes. Now he understands why Gibbs broke his fingers. It wasn’t easy, but it was the only way Gibbs could think of, on the spur of the moment, of keeping Tony out of the pit. It’s a short-term solution but it’s bought them a little time.

“What’s your name, son?” Scott asks, and Gibbs realizes that Scott doesn’t have a clue who Tony is and what he means to him. That means Walid kept him in the dark – and with good reason. Scott thought he was sending Gibbs to fight a newbie – a fight he’d easily win. If Scott had known he was actually going to face someone he knew, a close friend and co-worker…well, then the outcome would have been more unpredictable.

Gibbs decides that keeping Scott ignorant of Tony’s identity is the best way forward, and Tony’s no fool; he’s figured the same thing out for himself.

“Tony,” he replies. “Tony DiNardo.” He glances up at Gibbs, who gives a tiny nod of approval. If Scott knew the truth he might keep them apart, and Gibbs desperately wants news from home.

“Well, Tony, you’re new around here, so I’ll let Leroy here show you how it works. My name is James Scott, and you belong to me now. I think you’ll be an asset to my stable, in time. It’s annoying that this had to happen so close to season end though.”

Scott puts a finger on Tony’s jaw and turns his face sideways, examining his bruises, and Gibbs clenches his fists tightly by his sides.

“Tony didn’t show the same killer instinct you showed even in your very first fight, Leroy, but he gave you a few rocky moments in the pit, and I haven’t seen another fighter do that up until now,” Scott says as he examines Tony’s injuries. “I was watching him closely, and he has something all the best fighters have.”

“Yeah? What’s that?” Gibbs raises an eyebrow.

“He has heart, and that’s an important quality in a fighter. You had him down, but he got up again, and he taunted you, found a few weak spots. We’ll have to work on those, Leroy. But Tony DiNardo definitely has potential.”

Scott gives Tony an assessing look, his eyes raking up and down Tony’s body. “He’s too fat of course – we’ll get him trimmed down, and we’ll work on his strength, get him lifting weights...”

Gibbs isn’t hearing any of it. His temper is on a knife-edge, and he’s putting everything into not hauling Scott’s sorry ass away from Tony and sinking his fist into the bastard’s fat face. He knows the drugs are partly responsible for his anger, but the depth of his sudden protectiveness surprises him all the same.

Tony, meanwhile, is looking at Scott with an outraged expression on his face.

“Hey, did you just call me fat?” he asks, and Gibbs finds himself laughing at the very pointed look Tony is giving to Scott’s fat gut. He’s forgotten when he last laughed, or even what it feels like. There hasn’t been anything remotely funny about the past five months. Only Tony could make him laugh at a time like this.

“Don’t worry, Tony – we’ll soon have you slimmed down for the pit,” Scott says, wrapping a hand around Tony’s bicep. “And we’ll get these pumped up nice and firm too.”

Gibbs can see Tony’s look of disgust at being viewed as a piece of meat – and so can Scott, who gives one of his hearty laughs and pats Tony’s arm. “Better get used to it, son. Your old life is over. I own you now, and if you fuck with me I’ll get one of these nice men to take you out back and flay the skin from your bones. Got it?”

He jerks his head in the direction of the guards, and Gibbs takes a protective step forward. Tony glances up at him and the startled look in his eyes forces Gibbs to calm down.

“Got it,” Tony says quietly. “I won’t give you any trouble, Mr Scott.”

“Good. Then you and I will get along just fine. Now, about those fingers – Dr Tanner will take care of them.”

Scott levers himself up from where he’s crouching in front of Tony and nods at the young doctor, who is hopping around nearby, high as a kite as usual. Gibbs wouldn’t leave him in charge of a dog, let alone trust him to set Tony’s broken fingers, but he knows from experience that Tanner is as good as it gets.

“When he’s done, get them chained up ready for the journey home,” Scott orders the guards, and then he walks back in the direction of the pit.

“Oh man, when he cracked your fingers, and they went snap, snap, snap, snap…and the crowd went nuts…so good… such a great night…” Tanner giggles happily as he disappears into the truck to get his medical kit.

“Shit. Is that guy for real?” Tony glances up at Gibbs.

“Oh yeah.”

“Great. Walid’s doctor is a drunk, and this one’s a cokehead,” Tony says in a disgusted tone.

“What d’you expect? They only hire the kind of doctor who can’t get a job anyplace else,” Gibbs replies, crouching down beside him. “Tanner does seem to know something about medicine at least, and he’s all you’ve got, Tony.”

“Not all,” Tony says firmly, and Gibbs gives a nod in return, understanding.

Tanner returns to Tony’s side, opens up his kit to get out what he needs, and then turns back to take hold of Tony’s hand.

“This is gonna hurt like a mother!” he announces cheerfully.

Gibbs puts an arm around Tony’s shoulders and pulls Tony’s face against his neck. “Brace yourself, Tony.”

He nods at Tanner over Tony’s head, and Tanner giggles gleefully and pulls the first finger back into place. Tony gives a hoarse scream into Gibbs’s neck, and Gibbs holds him tight, stroking his hair gently. It’s all he can do – nothing is going to make this less painful.

It seems to take forever for Tanner to set each finger, but finally he’s done, and Tony has a white bandage covering his hand – his face is almost the same colour.

Gibbs isn’t sure why it hurts so much to see them wrap their chains around Tony and tie him up in the back of the truck. It never hurt him to see the other fighters in chains, but with Tony it does. Gibbs takes the seat beside Tony. He might be chained, but he’ll protect Tony any way he can.

A little while later, the truck door opens, and Hurrell is prodded inside. Gibbs was worried he might not be able to do what it took to win his fight after what happened to Steve, but his knuckles are torn and bloody, and there’s a dark expression in his eyes. Gibbs can see immediately that he’s just taken out all his grief and anger over Steve’s murder on his opponent in the pit. It’s a method that’s always worked for Gibbs, but he can only imagine how much it cost Hurrell to embrace his dark side.

“You okay?” he asks, but Hurrell ignores him. After he’s chained into place, he rests his head back on the truck wall and closes his eyes. He looks like a man utterly defeated, even in victory.

Gibbs is aware of Tony studying Hurrell and sees the look of dawning realization on Tony’s face.

Tony turns to him. “That’s…”

“Yeah. I know.”

“Sam? Sam Hurrell?” Tony leans forward as much as his chains allow.

Hurrell’s eyes open wearily. “Yeah.” His voice is dull and disinterested.

“My name’s Tony. You don’t know me, but I know all about you. Jan’s told me everything about you these past five months. She’s an amazing woman, and she loves you very much. I know she’d want me to tell you that.”

Hurrell stares at him. An expression of savage anger flares in his eyes and fades just as quickly. “Shut the fuck up,” he snaps, and then he closes his eyes again.

“People keep saying that to me today,” Tony mutters, sitting back again.

“Leave him. It’s been a hard day,” Gibbs says.

“Tell me about it!” Tony gives a little laugh. “First I got drugged, then I got kidnapped, and then I had a weird conversation with the mad hatter in charge of this whole Alice in Fight Club Land. After that some big bastard threatened to rape me, I saw some poor kid get killed in front of me, I had to fight you in the pit, I had the least enjoyable first time sex ever, and my fingers were broken and then mended by Doctor Giggles. Tell me it doesn’t get any worse than this, Gibbs.”

“Wish I could.” Gibbs gives a wry shrug, and Tony sighs. He looks pale and exhausted. There are dark bruises on his jaw from their earlier fight and caked blood on the side of his face. “Damn it, I wish you weren’t here, Tony,” Gibbs says quietly.

“Me too, Gibbs. Me too.”

They’re quiet for the next hour or so as the truck fills up with fighters. Then they’re on the road again, back to Scott’s stable. It’s a long drive, and Tony falls asleep, his head lolling against Gibbs’s shoulder.

Gibbs would do anything for Tony not to be here, but some small, greedy part of him is glad that he’s got Tony back by his side. He’s been deprived of so much for the past five months, but he realizes that the one thing he’s missed the most is the man who has had his six for the past ten years.

Across the truck, Gibbs can see Hurrell watching them. On the journey out here, Steve was resting against Hurrell, like Tony is resting against him now, but Hurrell is going back alone. Gibbs has almost despised Hurrell for his need to take care of his fellow fighters, but now he thinks he understands the man a little better, just as he suspects Hurrell understands him a little better too. Somewhere during the course of the night they swapped roles and each of them walked in the other’s shoes.

Gibbs closes his eyes and allows his head to drop sideways, so that he can feel Tony’s thick, soft hair under his cheek.

He thought that Tony had forgotten about him, but he was an idiot. Tony is and always has been his loyal St Bernard; he would never forget. Now he’s back by his side, where he belongs, and Gibbs thinks he can survive anything with Tony here.

~*~
End of Part Six
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Part Seven

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Posted by

jayfray18.livejournal.com

Meeting just as I thought, but not as bad as I imagined - if thats possible.

I'll comeback to leave a more detailed feedback later - still need to get the kids ready for school!

Posted by

Xanthe's Story Journal

Two Wolves - 6/19

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