Two Wolves - 8/19

[xanthefic]

Tony is slowly learning that any intimacy he shares with Gibbs in the night is gone by the morning. The next day everything is back to normal, with Gibbs growling and glaring, and Tony goofing off to try and provoke even the slightest hint that Gibbs is human and not the fighting automaton this place wants him to be.

Even two days into this ordeal, Tony is wondering if the only way to cope is to shut down and turn in on yourself, the way Gibbs has done. The unrelenting routine of every single day must get to you after a while. First the showers, then the dining room, and the food that’s healthy but always the same, day in, day out; then into the gym all day, with brief rest periods for water and lunch, and finally dinner, another shower, and then bed. There is nothing to look forward to, no change to the routine, and no end ever in sight. It’s soul-destroying.

Occasionally, a fighter gets called to the infirmary for a check-up, or someone gets punished for not completing his training regime fast enough. The combination of drugs and bored, helpless, frustrated men doesn’t make for a peaceful environment and fights break out regularly. Tony is never sure what sets them off, but suddenly raised voices will turn into snarling, the men sounding like dogs, followed by the brutal crunching sound of fists slamming into flesh and bone, before the guards break it up.

Fight Night looms for all of them at the end of the week, an ordeal they all hate and fear. The fighters are worked hard in the gym all week, herded and confined into stalls and denied any entertainment during their down time, and then at the end of the week they’re forced out into the pit, where they might die or be raped. It’s hardly surprising they fight among themselves.

Tony has an appreciation for Gibbs’s self-control. The man strides through it all like the colossus of pit legend that he is. He never initiates a fight, gets involved, or breaks them up. If the guards yell at him, he treats them to his death glare and slowly does as he’s told as if it’s by his own choice. He gives them no excuse to punish him, but he doesn’t talk or laugh with them, or try to make friends with them, either. Tony is sure that some of them are scared of Gibbs; only their whips, guns and tazers keep them brave around him.

How much does it cost him though, Tony wonders, as he watches Gibbs put in another good time on the treadmill. The trainers still haven’t taken any notice of Tony. His arrival this late in the season, and his broken fingers, make him completely useless to them. There is nothing for him to do but hang around and observe, the way Gibbs taught him to observe. It’s what he does best. It’s his job.

Tony notices which guards are on duty and how often they’re rotated. He talks to each of them, trying to get a sense of their strengths and weaknesses. Some chat to him quite easily, talking about their families, sports, movies, sex…and others just grunt and look away. Maybe they’re ashamed of what they’re doing, or maybe they know he’s trying to get them to see him as a real person, not just another prisoner to be herded and hit.

The other fighters like to talk to him too, during their breaks. He’s someone new, someone to break up the tedium, and he tries to keep them entertained. He’s always loved playing the clown, and this audience is more appreciative than his usual duo of a disdainful Ziva and an eye-rolling McGee.

There’s something incredibly un-erotic about being surrounded by so many naked men. Tony has enjoyed plenty of gay porn in his time, but a gym full of fit, naked guys is a hell of a lot more alluring on celluloid than it is when you’re living it and your life is at stake.

Being around a permanently naked Gibbs is definitely distracting though. Tony tries not to ogle him, but he can’t help but notice how long Gibbs’s legs are and the tight curve of his ass when he walks. His body is hard all over, toned to perfection by the gruelling fitness regime.

After lunch, Frank nods Gibbs over to a rowing machine, and Tony leans against the wall, turning over the problems in his mind. Hurrell is right; Gibbs is the key to escaping. He commands the respect of all the other fighters and is the only one who would be able to get them to work together in order to make a bid for freedom. Tony needs to get him onside to make any escape attempt work. But Gibbs won’t even talk to him about it. He shuts down every conversation on the subject and goes ballistic every time Tony mentions getting his hands on a cell phone.

Tony is so lost in thought as he mulls this over that he doesn’t notice the two fighters coming up to him.

“Hey, Tony,” Greg says, leaning against the wall in front of him. Greg’s a good-looking guy, tall, with dark curly hair and big brown eyes. He’s one of the better fighters in Scott’s stable, just behind Hurrell and Gibbs himself. Matt is Greg’s stall-mate; he’s slighter in build, with short blond hair, and he takes up position behind Tony, standing close. Too close. They’re both in his space, and it’s clearly deliberate. “So…is the wolfman fucking you?” Greg asks, jerking his head in Gibbs’s direction.

Glancing down, Tony notices that Greg has an erection. He’s becoming used to the sheer amount of erections he’s seen since he arrived here. His own cock has remained resolutely soft; this environment is freaking him out too much, and although he could allow himself to get turned on at night, when he’s alone with Gibbs, that’s a complication they could both do without. Gibbs at least can blame his sexual arousal on the drugs; Tony has no such excuse.

“Aw, c’mon, guys.” Tony shoots one of his disarming grins over his shoulder at Matt.

“Matt and I share the big stall at the end of the hallway. If you’re bored with the old man, you could bunk with us,” Greg suggests. He moves his hand down to caress his hard cock, grinning at Tony.

“I don’t think the ‘old man’ would like that,” Tony replies, glancing over at Gibbs. Gibbs seems to sense his gaze on him and looks up…and his expression darkens.

“So he is fucking you? I knew it! I always wondered when he’d break and start fucking one of us!” Matt exclaims.

Tony is still looking at Gibbs, who is going so fast on the rowing machine it looks like he’ll break it.

“What’s it like?” Greg asks softly, and Tony almost laughs out loud at the wistful look in Greg’s eyes. “He fucked me in the pit a few weeks ago, but I wondered how it’d be if he, well, if he actually liked you?” Greg’s cheeks are flushing.

“Ah, the legend that is Leroy Jethro Gibbs.” Tony gives one of his infuriating grins and taps the side of his nose. “Sorry, Greg – I’m just not a kiss and tell kind of guy.”

Greg laughs. “Okay, but if he’s not doing it for you, you’re welcome to bunk with us.”

“Yeah – it’s not so boring with you around,” Matt adds.

Gibbs finishes his assigned workout and jumps off the rowing machine. He has that look he gets when he finds someone screwing with his crime scene, or he’s in a pissing match with Metro over jurisdiction. Tony is familiar with it from long experience.

Gibbs prowls rather than walks over to them, every muscle in his body taut and angry. Matt makes a speedy exit, sprinting towards the drinks table, but Greg is trapped; he can’t go anywhere without running straight into Gibbs. He backs up against the wall as Gibbs closes in on them.

Gibbs doesn’t say a word. He just moves in close, getting into Greg’s space. His hands are bunched into fists by his side, and the death glare is set at full blast.

“Hey, it’s okay, I didn’t mean anything,” Greg mutters. “I was just talking to Tony.”

“Talking to Tony with your dick?” Gibbs growls, glancing down at Greg’s now rapidly wilting erection.

“No harm in talking,” Greg says faintly. “Hey, c’mon, Wolfman! That’s all it was. Just talk!”

Gibbs’s glare doesn’t fade even a fraction. “You talk to him that way again, and I’ll make it so you can’t ever ‘talk’ again.” He glances contemptuously at Greg’s cock, making his meaning clear. “Got that?”

“Got it, Wolfman,” Greg replies faintly, his erection completely disappearing; Tony doesn’t blame it.

Greg finally dares to creep away to the drinks table after Matt; Gibbs all but snarls at his retreating heels.

Tony folds his arms over his chest, unsure if he’s amused, freaked out, or turned on by that none too subtle display of dominance; maybe all three.

“Did you want to piss on me too?” he asks, as Gibbs turns back towards him. “You know, mark your territory more clearly?”

Something dark and savage flares in Gibbs’s eyes and his fist comes flying towards Tony – and lands on the wall just a fraction of an inch beside his head. Tony doesn’t react. He doesn’t flinch or move. He just stands there, holding his ground, gazing steadily at Gibbs, staring into those dark eyes. Slowly, the savage expression fades, Gibbs’s eyes clear, and someone Tony recognizes is back again.

“I wasn’t going to hit you,” Gibbs says, which is as close to an apology as Tony knows he’s going to get.

“I know. I’m used to you cock-blocking me,” he replies in a hard tone of voice.

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

“You figure it out. You’ve been doing it for ten years now, only usually with more subtlety.”

Gibbs looks completely mystified.

“EJ, Paula…any pretty girl I meet working on a case.” Tony shrugs.

Gibbs blinks, an expression of confused surprise on his face. He doesn’t have a chance to respond though, because at that moment Frank interrupts them.

“Leroy – that was another PB. You’re really stepping it up. Good work!”

Frank places a hand on Gibbs’s shoulder and guides him away. Tony watches him go; he can almost see the cogs turning in Gibbs’s mind, and he wishes he hadn’t just said that.

~*~

Gibbs spends the rest of the training session beating a punching bag into submission. He’s too angry to focus on anything beyond how good it feels to pound his fist into something as hard as he can.

“You’re in the best shape you’ve ever been in, Leroy,” Frank says, holding the punching bag in place. “I gotta tell you, when you first arrived I never pegged you for the winner you’ve turned out to be.”

The anger is coursing through his veins, and Gibbs likes the way it feels. He unleashes it on the punching bag, landing punch after punch.

“We’re so close. Just a few more fights, and we’ll win the entire season,” Frank adds.

“I’ll win the entire season,” Gibbs corrects him, throwing his fist into the punching bag again. “I’ll win it for you, Frank.”

Frank shrugs. “Means we got your training right, your meds right…it’s a team effort, Leroy.”

“Is that so?” Gibbs raises an eyebrow. “Does that mean that you, or Scott, or Tanner are going to walk out into that pit next Fight Night instead of me then?”

Frank laughs. “Always love your fighting spirit, Leroy. It’s what sets you apart ‘cause it ain’t that you’re younger, fitter, or stronger than the other fighters I’ve trained. What makes you a winner is what’s inside. I’ve never met a fighter stronger than you are mentally, and that’s where it counts. You’re brutal, Leroy; a real killer.”

Gibbs buries his fist in the punching bag, but he can’t keep his gaze from wandering over to where Tony is standing. At least he’s alone, but what the hell did Tony mean by throwing that cock-blocking comment at him like that? It’s hard enough being in this place without having Tony to protect, and the idiot has no idea what the other fighters would like to do to him, given a chance. Tony hasn’t been here long enough to know. He doesn’t understand what the drugs and desperation do to you and how sex is on your mind all the time.

An image flashes into his head of Greg pounding his cock into Tony’s ass. Suddenly, he finds that he’s taken Greg’s place, and is looking down as he fucks Tony into the mattress. Tony looks back over his shoulder, wetting his lips with his tongue as Gibbs thrusts into him, burying himself balls deep in all that tight heat.

A wave of sexual frustration so strong it hurts makes him go at the punching bag in a frenzy. He hits it so fast and hard that Frank has to step back out of the way. It feels satisfying; the dark wolf likes to be fed.

Later that night, when they’re alone in their stall again, there is an awkward, strained silence between them. Gibbs watches as Tony moves around the stall, rearranging his mattress and blanket. Gibbs’s mood is resentful and brooding. He wants something; he’s not sure what, but he can feel the dark wolf rising inside.

He could have Tony. Scott has told him that he can have any of the fighters he wants – he’s just never wanted any of them before. But he wants Tony. And nobody would stop him, not even Tony. He knows that. He could give in to the dark thoughts inside his head, take what he wants by force, hold Tony down and…

He remembers Tony’s face looking up at him in the pit a few days ago. “Don’t make this rape…”

And he wouldn’t. He couldn’t. His dark mood breaks like a wave crashing against a rock. He comes to and finds his body shining with sweat. Tony has got under his blanket and is looking at him thoughtfully. Neither of them has spoken a word to each other since their altercation in the gym earlier.

“I don’t know how to keep you safe,” Gibbs says quietly, breaking the silence. He leans against the wall, crossing his arms over his body, hugging himself.

“I’m 39 years old. I’ve been in law enforcement most of my adult life. You taught me how to fight, and you’ve seen me fight – and win – against some really bad-assed guys. Why do you think I need protecting?” Tony asks.

Because…

Gibbs can’t find the answer amid the confusion of his own emotions. He knows Tony can handle himself, even here. He knows that if Tony can disarm a bad situation with an easy smile and a joke then he will, but if that doesn’t work he can handle himself in a fight better than most. Gibbs never had any qualms about allowing Tony to handle plenty of tense situations back at NCIS, so why here?

Because…

Because these guys are naked and hopped up on drugs that make them so horny they would literally fuck anything. Because those tense situations back at NCIS weren’t usually about sex, and when they were…Damn it, Tony’s right. When they were, Gibbs hated it. He hated Paula, and he hated EJ, and he hated them because they were pert and pretty, and Tony was sleeping with them. He did everything he could to step between them and Tony. He stepped in front of anyone who might take Tony away from him. Cock-blocked, just like Tony said. But why? What the hell is wrong with him? Why did he behave that way all those years?

Because Tony belongs to me.

The realization is new, but somehow it isn’t a surprise. He’s been fighting to keep Tony by his side, loyal only to him, since the minute he first met him. It’s taken this nightmare situation to force his tactics out into the open and make Tony finally call him on it.

He goes quietly over to his bedding and lies down beside Tony.

“You figure it out?” Tony asks softly.

“Yeah.”

“Wanna talk about it?”

“No.”

What he wants is to hold Tony down and explore his body with his fingers, his mouth, and his hard cock, but he won’t do that. It’s bad enough that he’s screwed up Tony’s life all these years without realizing it. It’s even worse that he enjoyed fucking his very heterosexual senior field agent in the pit a few days ago. And worse still is the fact that he wants to do it again. He wants to do it so much that the desire is burning him up inside.

It’s just another thing he has to control. He can do that. He just has to feed it to the dark wolf and then, when he gets out in the pit on Fight Night, let it all out there. It’s the only way he knows how to handle it.

When Tony puts his hand on his hard cock in the night, Gibbs thrusts into those skilful fingers, keeping his eyes tightly closed, and tries not to think about how much more he wants.

~*~

Their usual routine of Gibbs putting in personal bests in his workouts, while Tony watches or spots him on the weights, is disrupted a couple of days later when Ellis comes over to Tony in the gym.

“You – DiNardo!” He shoves the butt of his gun against Tony’s shoulder and forces him towards the door. Tony glances back and sees Gibbs watching, his expression tense, but there’s nothing either of them can do about it.

Tony is pushed out of the gym and back to the hallway where their sleeping quarters are located. Ellis takes him to a small washroom at the end of the hallway.

“Clean up,” Ellis orders, pointing his gun at a bucket and mop. “You’ve got a few broken fingers – doesn’t damn well stop you working,” he adds, in answer to Tony’s questioning look.

Tony fills the bucket and takes it along to the first stall. The place smells as stale as the stall he shares with Gibbs, but it doesn’t take long to mop down the floors. Cleaning the toilet isn’t exactly a job he relishes, but he makes the best of it, trying to engage a monosyllabic Ellis in conversation as he works.

He knows from the little Gibbs has said that Ellis is the guard he is the most wary of, so he keeps his approach light. He told Gibbs he can handle himself, and he can, but that’s with the other fighters – not the guards. He’s acutely aware that Ellis has a gun. If the man wanted to hurt him, or rape him, there’s not much Tony can do about it. He has prepared himself mentally for the possibility of being raped at some point in this place – he won’t like it, but he thinks he can endure it.

He’s more worried about what Gibbs’s reaction would be if he was raped. Gibbs is teetering on a knife-edge right now, and Tony isn’t sure which way he’ll go. There’s something feral and ferocious always lurking just beneath the surface. Tony thinks maybe that’s always been the case; the difference is that Gibbs always used to be able to control it, but now the drugs, imprisonment and abuse have worn that control down.

Tony is afraid of losing Gibbs altogether to the dark stranger within. Right now, it seems that Gibbs only allows that dark stranger out in the pit, but supposing something tipped him over the edge? If Gibbs lost control with the guards then they might shoot him, and Tony would lose him forever. Tony’s not going to let that happen. If Ellis or anyone else rapes him, he won’t tell Gibbs about it. He’ll just handle it.

Some of the stalls are disgusting, the blankets covered in shit, urine, semen, or a combination of the three. He throws them out into the hallway as instructed; presumably they’ll be washed and new bedding supplied.

When he gets to one of the stalls he’s surprised to find it has an occupant. A young man, probably no more than twenty years old, is lying on his back, his face badly bruised. His skin is sallow and his breathing laboured. Tony vaguely remembers him being thrown into the truck after Fight Night, although he didn’t look so bad then. The young man moves his head feebly when Tony walks in.

“Uh…sorry…I didn’t know anyone was here,” Tony says uncertainly.

He isn’t even sure the man has heard him because he just closes his eyes and turns his face away, and Tony works around him.

“Who is that guy?” Tony asks Ellis when he leaves the stall.

“New fighter. Hurrell won him in the pit last Fight Night.”

“He looks in a bad way,” Tony glances back at the stall. “Shouldn’t he be in the infirmary?”

“Tanner’s examined him. If he lives, he lives. Otherwise.” Ellis shrugs. “He’s no use if he can’t fight. We’ll give him a week or two.”

“Then what?”

“Then, if he’s no better, we’ll shoot him,” Ellis says, as if it’s the most normal thing in the world.

Tony feels a cold shiver run down his spine. Gibbs has told him repeatedly how brutal these people are, and he’s seen it with his own eyes too, but all the same, each new piece of evidence shocks him. Do you ever get used to it? Has Gibbs got used to it? The Gibbs he knows is a justice hound; he hunts down bad guys not just because it’s his job, but because on some level it’s who he is. For Tony, it’s about fighting crime and upholding the law, but for Gibbs it’s always been personal. Living here must be soul-destroying for him in so many ways.

After he’s finished clearing out the stalls, he’s given new bedding to distribute. Then he’s shoved down a different hallway, back towards the massive room he hasn’t been in since he arrived.

There’s a truck waiting there. The back doors are open, and a man is carrying a crate out of it.

“Supplies. You can help unload,” Ellis grunts, pushing him towards it.

Tony doesn’t recognize the man unloading the truck. He isn’t dressed like the guards, and he isn’t carrying a whip or a gun. He looks at Tony nervously, as if he’s unsure how to behave around him.

“Hey, I’m Tony.” Tony holds out his hand as if they’re being introduced at a party, not in this weird setup, with him naked, and the other guy fully clothed.

“Uh…Pete,” the truck driver says nervously, giving his hand a quick shake and then dropping it.

“Pete huh? My cousin’s called Pete. Well, we call him Petey, but only because it annoys the shit out of him.” Tony grins.

Pete casts an anxious glance at Ellis, but the guard is sitting with his feet up by the door, listening to the bashed up little radio he carries around with him. Tony blocks Ellis out with his body, forcing Pete to look at him.

“So, do you bring all this stuff in, Pete?”

“Yeah…uh, I’m not sure if I’m allowed to talk to you.”

“Sure you are. If Ellis doesn’t like it, he’ll let us know,” Tony says with an easy, reassuring grin.

It takes them a long time to unload all the crates, and Tony does his best to draw Pete out as they work. He finds the guy is married, has seven kids, and is badly in debt. Scott is clearly paying him well to bring supplies into the stable, and he’s not about to jeopardise that by telling anyone what’s going on here.

Tony accidentally drops one of the crates, causing some mild confusion that enables him to slip his hands into Pete’s pockets…to find that he isn’t carrying a cell phone. Damn it, maybe Gibbs is right, and nobody ever brings a phone into this place.

He isn’t about to give up though. He glances over to see that Ellis has his eyes closed and is humming along to a song, and he takes advantage of the moment to go around the front of the truck and climb up into the open driver’s door.

He quickly goes through the glove compartment but there’s nothing there except the usual crap people carry around. Then he sees a little box under the passenger seat. He pulls it out, and there he finds a wallet, some keys, a smart card, and…a cell phone.

“Gotcha!” He scoops it out of the box; if he goes fast, he can punch in that number and then put it back where he found it and leave McGee to do the rest.

“Hey!” Pete appears at the door. Tony glances over to see Ellis opening his eyes at the sound. Damn it! There’s no time to dial the number. “What are you doing?” Pete asks angrily, reaching for the phone.

“S’okay, Pete.” Tony shoves the cell phone back into the box and pushes it under the seat. “Just looking for some chocolate, buddy! They don’t give us any here, and I miss it!”

Pete looks uncertain, but Ellis is coming over so Tony slides out of the truck and grabs the nearest crate of supplies. He winks at Pete, giving him a pleading look, hoping that the past couple of hours spent bonding with the guy and listening to all his whining about how his wife won’t give him enough sex means Pete won’t say anything to Ellis.

“What’s happening?” Ellis demands as Tony hoists the crate away, pretending to work.

“I was just saying to Pete that I wish there was chocolate in these crates!” Tony announces cheerfully.

Pete still looks uncertain, and Tony has an anxious moment waiting to see what he’ll do. If he tells Ellis where he found him and what he found him with, then he’s not sure what will happen. A beating? Worse? He remembers that guy back in the stalls that Ellis had no compunction about killing. With his broken fingers, he doesn’t have much stock around here, either. How much would Ellis care about putting a bullet through his head?

“There’s no chocolate,” Pete says finally, going along with his lie, much to Tony’s relief.

Ellis grunts, seemingly accepting the situation. “You done here?” he asks. Pete nods. “Good. Then fuck off.”

Ellis pokes his gun warningly into Tony’s back, and Tony watches as Pete retrieves the smart card from the box in the truck and then goes over to the hangar-sized doors and slips the card into the lock. The doors open slowly, and Pete returns to the truck, gets in, and backs out of the stable.

Tony catches a brief glimpse of the outside world before the doors swing shut again. It might be mid-afternoon in here but it’s night out there, and all he can see in the darkness is the outline of some trees in the distance.

Tony turns back towards Ellis just in time to see the butt of his gun coming his way. It slams into his jaw and sends him falling to the floor.

“Don’t fucking ask for chocolate again,” Ellis growls.

It’s not anywhere near as bad as it could have been, so Tony just rubs the ache out of his jaw. It was worth it. He’s disappointed that he didn’t get the chance to make the call – but at least now he knows where to find a cell phone.

~*~

Gibbs glances anxiously towards the door. He hasn’t seen Tony for most of the day, and he’s getting more and more worried.

At first, he assumed they were taking Tony to the infirmary for a check-up, but then, when he didn’t come back, he started getting anxious.

He doesn’t like that it was Ellis who took Tony out. Of all the guards, Ellis is the one Gibbs dislikes the most. He has a mean, sadistic streak, and if he’s got it into his head to make Tony his newest victim, then Tony’s life won’t be worth living.

Gibbs slows down on the treadmill. He can’t stay focused on his time; he’s too worried about Tony. Frank set him a long run, and usually he’d stay in the moment, forcing himself to concentrate so he completes on time and avoids punishment. Now his focus is shot to pieces; his concern about Tony is overriding everything else.

The worry gnaws away at him. He looks up every time the door opens and closes. There aren’t any clocks in the room, but he can see from the various timers on the gym equipment that several hours have now passed.

Where the hell is Tony? And what are they doing to him? He feels his powerful protective streak rearing up. Maybe he should just get the hell off the treadmill and go looking for him…but his survival instinct wars with the protective instinct, telling him what a bad idea that is. He wouldn’t get to the door before the guards tazered him, and then what the hell use would he be to Tony? He’s no use to him here, either though. Just running on the spot while God knows what is happening to Tony.

Supposing Tony needs him? Should he at least try to get out there and help him, even if it does mean taking on several armed guards? Supposing Tony’s in trouble? Supposing….

The treadmill comes to a stop, making a loud pinging sound, and Frank strides over.

“What the hell, Leroy?” He glances at the display showing the details of the workout. “This is the slowest time you’ve ever done. What the hell is the matter with you?” His expression changes, becoming anxious. “Are you ill?”

Gibbs knows just how much Scott’s entire operation has riding on him; he can see it in Frank’s eyes. The wizened little trainer looks genuinely concerned that he might be ill. If Gibbs goes down, then Scott is out of contention to win the tournament, and the money dries up. It’s possible that Frank, Tanner, and all the rest are out of jobs if that happens. Maybe Scott would sell his stable of fighters rather than keep them all over the down season. Maybe he can’t afford to keep them over the down season unless Gibbs wins.

“Leroy?” Frank’s tone has become belligerent. “Christ, even Stuart ran faster than you today. You’re nowhere near the time I set for you. What the hell is wrong with you?”

The door opens, and Gibbs’s heart skips a beat as Tony walks into the room. There’s a dark new bruise on his jaw amid all the fading yellow ones, and he seems more subdued than usual, but apart from that he looks fine.

“Leroy!” Frank snaps, slapping his cheek to get his attention. “You’ve never failed a workout before. Do I need to call Ellis over?”

Gibbs knows that means a beating for sure, but Frank has never yet had him beaten, and he thinks the old man has a certain amount of respect for him. Frank also won’t want to weaken him before the next fight; they used to beat him all the time when he was new, and they didn’t think he’d win, but now he’s their champion they won’t want to handicap him this close to the next Fight Night.

“Leroy – you’d better fucking answer me, or I will call Ellis over. What the hell is going on? The past few days you’ve put in your best ever workouts, and now you just did your worst? What’s happening? What’s causing it?”

“Tony,” Gibbs answers honestly. He forces himself to tear his gaze way from Tony and look at Frank instead. “You want me to do well, Frank? Then you make sure Tony is in the room where I can see him at all times.”

“What the fuck?” Frank looks at him, and then over at Tony, and then back at him again. “You gotta be kidding me, Leroy.”

“You ever known me kid you, Frank? You can have Ellis beat me if you like, but it won’t make a damn bit of difference. You asked me why I scored so high before and why I just scored so low, and that’s your answer. When Tony’s in the room, I score high. When he’s not, I score low. You want me to do well, then just make sure Tony’s here, and I will.”

Frank looks like he’s not sure whether to laugh or punch Gibbs in the face. In the end, he goes for the former, giving a growling laugh of disbelief, accompanied by a shake of his head.

“Well, I’ll be damned. Never took you for a sentimental man, Leroy. You in love with that kid or something?”

“Call it what the hell you like. Just do it,” Gibbs says stonily.

Frank gives him an assessing look and then shrugs. “Look, I don’t give a fuck about your love-life. Scott’s paying me to make sure you deliver in the pit. If having the kid in the room helps you do that, then it’s no skin off my nose.”

“Then tell Ellis and all the other guards. Make sure they know.”

He can see Tony walking towards him, and he wants to go over there, examine that bruise, and find out what’s been done to Tony in the time he’s been missing. That protective instinct rises up again, so strongly that he wants to growl and lash out at someone.

“Go and tell them now,” he tells Frank insistently. “When you’re done, I’ll be ready to beat the crap out of the punching bag.”

Frank looks startled by his tone, and he glances over at Tony and clearly sees his bruised jaw for the first time. He looks back at Gibbs and his eyes widen as he sees something in his expression that Gibbs knows he won’t ever have seen there before. “I’ll go tell them,” he says quietly.

He strides over to Ellis, giving Tony a quizzical look as he passes him. Gibbs stands there, forcing himself to wait and let Tony come to him. The last thing he wants is for Tony to freak out at him for being overbearing the way he did the other day.

“You okay?” he asks softly when Tony reaches him.

Tony gives him one of his big, shiny smiles. “Me? I’m fine.”

“No, you’re damn well not.” Gibbs puts a gentle finger on Tony’s bruised jaw, and Tony winces. “Who did it and why?” Gibbs works hard at keeping the white hot rage down, channelling the anger away until he can release it safely in the pit on Fight Night.

“Ellis. Because I asked for some chocolate.” Tony gives an evasive shrug, and Gibbs knows that’s not the whole story.

The dark wolf inside of him rises, and he turns to glare at Ellis, wanting to go over there and tear off his head with his bare hands.

“Gibbs.” Tony’s fingers fasten around his wrist, gripping tightly.

The dark wolf is hungry, wanting Ellis’s blood. He can almost taste how good it would feel to rip into Ellis’s flesh with his fists and teeth. The growl rises in his throat, low and guttural. He starts to move, feeling his body shift into a predatory prowl, the way it always does in the pit.

Tony yanks on his wrist, forcing him to stop. Gibbs stands there, his body quivering, wanting to be let loose to have his vengeance.

Tony leans in close. “Jethro,” he says, directly into Gibbs’s ear. Nobody calls him that here, but that’s not what brings him back; it’s the way Tony says his name that does that. There’s an intimacy in his voice that reminds Gibbs immediately of the warmth of Tony’s breath on the back of his neck in the night, and the little whispered words of encouragement he croons in his ear as he’s jerking him off.

The dark wolf disappears, and he finds himself smiling at Tony. It’s a tight, strained kind of smile, especially when he sees that bruise again, but it’s a smile all the same. Tony returns it, a look of relief flooding into those green eyes.

“Yeah, I’m here,” Gibbs says quietly.

“Good – and you’re not going to go over there and do anything stupid to Ellis, are you?” Tony grins, making a joke of it, but Gibbs can see a shadow of doubt in his eyes all the same.

“Not today,” he grunts. “See that punching bag?” Gibbs jerks his head at it, and Tony nods. “For the next half an hour, that’s Ellis,” Gibbs tells him.

He strides over to meet Frank by the punching bag, leaving Tony behind.

“Is it done?” he demands.

Frank nods. “It’s done. Tony will be in the room whenever you train from now on.”

“Good.”

Frank takes off his jacket and slings it over a nearby chair. “Come on then, Leroy. I wanna see the difference it makes when Tony’s in the room!”

Gibbs doesn’t say a word. He just goes over to the punching bag, imagines Ellis’s face, and then smashes punch after punch into it. It hurts his knuckles, and it hurts his wrists, and soon the sweat is pouring off him, but he needs to release the anger.

The thoughts from the other night repeat over and over again in his mind as he punches: “Because Tony belongs to me…because Tony belongs to me…”

And Ellis touched him. Gibbs will make him pay for that, one day, just as he’ll make them all pay. Just as he made Hernandez pay for what he did to Shannon and Kelly, and how he’s made countless scumbags pay over the years, during the course of his job. Justice, Gibbs-style, demands nothing less. But for now, the punching bag will have to do.

It’s a long time before he’s anywhere near spent, but when he looks up some time later, he sees Tony standing by the chair where Frank slung his jacket. He watches as Tony glances around to check that nobody is looking and then slips his fingers into the jacket pockets.

Gibbs fights down a wave of fury and forces himself to strike up a conversation with Frank in order to cover for Tony, his temper at boiling point again. Damn it! It’s hard enough trying to keep Tony safe as it is, and Tony sure as hell isn’t helping.

The day’s training session is soon over and after wolfing down his dinner he prowls angrily back to their stall, still fuming.

As soon as the door is slammed shut behind them, he turns on Tony.

“What the hell did you think you were playing at, you damn idiot?” he roars. “I saw you back there, fishing around in Frank’s pockets! I’ve told you, you won’t find a cell phone. None of them brings a cell phone in here – not Frank, not the guards, and not Tanner. When the hell are you going to start listening to me?

“I listen.” Tony shrugs.

“But you don’t believe me – is that it? You’ve been here a few days, and you think you know better than me how it works around here?”

“No. What I think is that you’ve given up, and I don’t blame you for that, but I’m not going to give up. I still want to be rescued.”

“And you think I don’t?”

Tony gazes at him thoughtfully. “I’ve watched you training, Gibbs, and I’ve seen you in the pit. It’s like you’ve found your spiritual home here.”

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

“How much do you really want to escape, Gibbs?” Tony asks, one eyebrow raised. “Oh, sure, you don’t like it here. You don’t like them telling you what to do, ordering you around, deciding what you eat and when you can piss…”

“Damn straight I…”

“But you like the fighting.”

Gibbs rocks back on his heels. “That so, Tony?”

Tony nods, slowly. “Yes, I think it is. When Hurrell told me you’d gone native, I didn’t believe him, but now I’m not so sure. See, there’s a hunger inside you, Gibbs. It was there at NCIS too, only you didn’t have the opportunity feed it so much.”

“You’re saying I’d choose this life?” Gibbs asks incredulously.

“No, I don’t think you’d choose this life,” Tony says musingly. “I think you’d accept your freedom if it was offered to you, but maybe you won’t go after it very hard because there’s some part of you that gets fed out there in the pit every week. Some part of you enjoys it, is consumed by it, and wants to taste what the pit has to offer.”

“Which is?”

“A place to lose control and give in to all that anger you’ve got inside,” Tony replies, his eyes hard and serious. “You’re an angry man, Gibbs. You’ve been angry since the day I first met you, and in the pit you get a chance to let that anger out, to really let rip, and to do it in a way nobody can blame you for because you have no choice.”

Gibbs crosses his arms across his chest and gazes at Tony stonily. “You done, DiNozzo?”

“No.” Tony gives a swift, apologetic smile. Only Tony could hammer away at him this hard while still smiling; it’s classic DiNozzo. “You want to win, Gibbs. You want to win every fight, and you want to win this entire tournament and be crowned their champion. You want to go up against Mac in the final – you’re itching for that. You want to crush the hardest opponent they can throw at you. You want to feel invincible, to experience the rush and the adrenaline surge of being out there, pounding your fist into someone’s flesh. It makes you feel alive, Gibbs.”

Gibbs fights down the rising tide of his own temper. “Oh, you’re definitely done now, DiNozzo.”

“No, I’m not. See, I understand – the drugs, the relentless routine of this place, the whippings, the training, the constant supervision – they’ve worn you out, and you’ve had to shut down parts of yourself to survive. I get it.” Tony leans forward, his eyes shining with intensity. “But the Gibbs I knew wouldn’t sit back and wait the season out on the off-chance that he’ll get moved somewhere nice afterwards! Were you hoping for a pool and some servants maybe, Gibbs? Do you think that’s what Scott’s gonna give you if you win?”

“You don’t know shit, Tony,” Gibbs says stiffly.

“Maybe not, but how do you see this ending? Because after this season, assuming you win, there’ll be another one, and another one, until one day you lose – and then they’ll they take you out back and put you down, like a dog that’s served its master well but is no longer fit for purpose.”

Gibbs leans back against the wall, the anger fading into something cold and hard inside. “That really what you think of me, Tony?”

“No! That’s the whole damn point! The Gibbs I know is still in there somewhere – I’m sure of it. I just want find him and bring him back.”

“Well, the DiNozzo I know is sure as hell the one standing in front of me right now; the one with the half-assed plan to get in here and no damn plan for getting out again. You thought you’d just come in here and wing it as usual, didn’t ya, Tony? Flash the smile around, steal a cell phone, and hey presto! We’re free!”

A flush rises to Tony’s face and a guilty look creeps into his eyes, and Gibbs knows he’s hit a nerve.

“Then when all this is over, and you’ve played the hero and milked it for all it’s worth, then you can go back out to your nice, easy life, screwing whatever piece of skirt catches your eye because you can’t commit to anyone or anything,” he adds savagely.

“I committed to you,” Tony says quietly.

“What?”

“I’ve been working for you at NCIS for ten years now. Never worked any place longer than two before you came along. And let me tell you, you’re a damn difficult bastard to work for, but I stuck it out all this time. I even turned down the chance to lead my own team because I thought, idiot that I am, that you might actually need me.”

“Then why the hell did you stay?” Gibbs growls. “If it was so damn tough, and you could have done so damn well without me, sunning yourself in Rota, looking at all the pretty girls in bikinis on the beach; why the hell stay in DC with this ‘damn difficult bastard’?”

“Why the hell do you think?”

“I don’t know!” Gibbs yells, exasperated. “You seem to feel I’ve fucked up your life and ruined your career, but you could have left whenever you wanted. I never damn well made you stay!”

They’re silent for a moment, glaring at each other resentfully across the stall, chests heaving.

“Look,” Tony says eventually, spreading his arms wide in a gesture of peace-making. “If we can just find a cell phone…”

“A cell phone, DiNozzo? Really? That’s your answer to this? You had five damn months and a cell phone is the best you could come up with? Couldn’t Abby inject you with a GPS tracking device, or McGee cook up some gizmo, or couldn’t you at least have come up with some plan better than a cell phone?” His voice drips sarcasm.

Tony’s face is pinched and miserable. “We tried,” he says wearily. “We tried, Gibbs. We experimented with everything we could lay our hands on; every piece of high-tech equipment I could beg, borrow, requisition or just plain steal from the military. But it’s all detectable. If Abby put a tracker under my skin, they’d easily be able to pick it up. You can’t make something that McGee can trace hundreds of miles away, but is invisible to the guys with guns standing next to you. It just doesn’t exist yet. Not that I could find anyway.”

Gibbs shakes his head in disbelief. “Even if you got your hands on a cell phone, then what, Tony? You have to dial the number, put the phone back, and hope nobody saw you. If whoever you stole it from figures out what you’ve done, then Scott just picks this place up and moves us all somewhere else. He’s done it before. He can have the fighters out of here in five minutes flat, and the rest packs up and follows on later. You don’t know where we are, or how long it would take McGee to get here. It’s a lousy fucking plan, DiNozzo!”

“I know that! I knew that when I came in here, damn it!”

“Then why the hell…?”

“Because I had to find you! Even if I couldn’t get you out, I needed you to know that we hadn’t forgotten you. That I hadn’t forgotten you! I needed you to know that we were on it, Boss; that we were looking for you and had been all these months, and that nobody had given up on you.”

Gibbs bites back the cutting retort that’s on his lips. There’s something desperate about the way Tony is looking at him right now, and, as his words sink in, Gibbs feels himself calming down.

“Okay, Tony. I get it,” he says wearily. And he’s glad Tony’s here; he hopes Tony knows that because he’s sure as hell not going to tell him.

“And I have to find a cell phone because I came here to get you out,” Tony adds fiercely. “And I intend to do that, Gibbs. I came here to rescue you, not rot in here with you. I will find a cell phone, and I will get you out of here.”

“I already told you, none of the guards…”

“And I believe you, but that doesn’t mean there isn’t another cell phone in this place! Listen, Gibbs, they made me unload supplies from the truck this afternoon, and I got talking to the guy who drives it, and…”

“His name’s Peter Papadakis, but his friends call him Pete,” Gibbs interrupts. “He’s Greek; his dad’s called Jimmy; he’s got seven kids, and he’s always whining that his wife won’t give him enough sex, although maybe with all those kids they should have less.”

Tony is looking at him, an astonished expression on his face.

“What? You think I haven’t scoped this place out? You think I don’t know it inside out, DiNozzo?”

“But you don’t know the best bit!” Tony says excitedly. “See, he’s got this little tin he keeps under the passenger seat of his truck and inside…”

“He keeps his wallet, a set of keys, the smart card that opens the main doors, and his cell phone. Yes, Tony, I know,” Gibbs says wearily.

Tony looks like a puppy that’s had its favourite toy taken away. “You know?”

“Yeah. I know.” Gibbs shrugs. “Like I said, you’ve been here a few days, but I’ve been here five months. You seriously think I haven’t found out every single thing about this place?”

“Then why won’t you try to escape?”

“Because there IS no escape. That’s what you need to understand, Tony. There is no way out. Believe me, I know – I’ve been looking for it for long enough.”

Tony sighs and slumps back against the opposite wall. “Of course you have. I should have known that. And I should have known you knew all this already. I’ve been an idiot.”

“Wouldn’t want you any other way.” Gibbs flashes him a grin. “So, no more fishing around for cell phones in people’s pockets – yes?”

“Oh, I wasn’t looking for a cell phone in Frank’s jacket!” It’s Tony’s turn to grin now.

“Then what…?”

“I was looking for this!” Tony turns his hand palm up to reveal a small bottle of the oil Frank carries around to rub into his fighters’ muscles when they get tight.

“Why the hell did you want that?”

“Because I only ever see Frank pounding away at you, digging in, or doing that weird Swedish choppy stuff.” Tony makes sawing motions with his hands. “And I wanted to do something different.” He opens the top of the bottle and takes a cautious smell, wrinkling up his nose. “Okay, so it’s not exactly the nicest scent in the world, but it’s oily, and that’s the main thing.”

Gibbs raises an eyebrow.

“They treat you like a piece of meat,” Tony explains. “Prime steak admittedly in your case, but still like something to hammer into shape for the pit. To them you’re just the wolfman, their prize pit asset, but never Leroy Jethro Gibbs, a real person. They view you as someone who lines their pockets – an object to be shaped, and trained, and kicked around to do what they want. They don’t see you.”

Gibbs stares at him, speechless. Tony bites on his lip anxiously.

“Okay, so maybe I am an idiot, but I wanted to give you a massage, Gibbs!”

“A massage?” Gibbs repeats blankly.

“Yes!” Tony says defiantly. “Not like the ones Frank gives you. Not a sports massage – something nicer. Nobody’s ever nice to you in here, Gibbs! I look at you and think about what you’ve been through, and I figure that after five months of being kicked repeatedly it’d feel good to be stroked for a change instead.”

Gibbs stands there, staring at him, completely astonished. His throat hurts a little, and he isn’t sure why. He turns away, so Tony won’t see him blinking the wetness out of his eyes.

“Gibbs?” Tony says softly behind him.

“Yeah, Tony.” Gibbs clears his throat, getting himself under control, and then turns back again.

“Is it okay? Will you let me?”

“You’ve only got one hand,” Gibbs points out.

Tony grins. “So? There’s a lot I can do with one hand.” He waggles his eyebrows. “Trust me! My one hand is very talented!”

Gibbs gives a little grunt of laughter. “Okay, Tony. Let’s see what you and your very talented hand can do.”

He lies face down on his mattress and watches warily as Tony pours a small amount of the oil into his good hand and then rubs it against the palm of his other hand, just beneath the bandage.

“Where the hell were you hiding that stuff anyway?” Gibbs asks. Tony might be a pretty good pick-pocket, but without clothes there’s no place to conceal his ill-gotten gains.

Tony waggles his eyebrows again. “You don’t wanna know! Now be quiet and let the maestro work!”

~*~
End of Part Eight
Friendly feedback adored!
Part Nine

Comments

[chaoskir.livejournal.com]

This story let me back speechless, mindless, brainless and full with anticipation and the really urgent need to read the next chapter. I'm totally taken aback and don't know what to say but thank Xanthe for this intense ride.

[xanthelj.livejournal.com]

Thanks hon! I know it's a real rollercoaster!

[rosebud-26.livejournal.com]

I've discovered recently that I really like these "dark" type stories. Not sure what that says about me...*shrugs* But I am thoroughly enjoying this story!

And yeah, Tony...don't really want to know where you were hiding that bottle.*gg*

[xanthestories.livejournal.com]

LOL! I must admit I really love *writing* dark type stories - I don't really go to town on it that often but when I do - it's oddly gratifying. And weirdly, I love writing real villains. I loved writing Walid here *g*.

LOL to where Tony was hiding that bottle! HEH!

[karen-jk.livejournal.com]

I love the psychological complexity of this chapter! Awesome!

[xanthestories.livejournal.com]

Thank you! Psychological complexity is something I love *g*

[dinky-di-1.livejournal.com]

I'm with Rosebud on loving the dark fics. As long as it's got the balance of lightness to bring you back up, which you've perfected here.

I'd love to see this chest heaving conversation take place on the show:
Then why the hell did you stay?
Why the hell do you think?
I don't know!

I don't know where they'd go with it - but I'd love to see it. :D

And when I reached this part...

It’s a lousy fucking plan, DiNozzo!”

“I know that! I knew that when I came in here, damn it!”

“Then why the hell…?”

“Because I had to find you! Even if I couldn’t get you out, I needed you to know that we hadn’t forgotten you. That I hadn’t forgotten you!

... Meatloaf starting singing in my head 'I would do anything for love. I'd run right in to hell and back'. So I went and listened to it.

[xanthestories.livejournal.com]

Thank you for your lovely feedback!

And I am SO with you! I would love love love to see MH and MW have that conversation onscreen. I can so SEE it in my mind's eye. And afterwards I think they'd need to have a great big kiss *g*.

Love that Meatloaf song. Perfect song for this! Although...they do have their own song *g*.

[tingreca.livejournal.com]

Always had a thing for white wolves....



(Because Tony belongs to Gibbs. Yes. He does.)

[xanthestories.livejournal.com]

Of course he does - Gibbs knows that really in his heart *g*

[tibbslover.livejournal.com]

Jesus, Tony is practical asking for it...to be beaten. But I understand his need to find a way out. I hope he gets another chance to unload that truck and maybe enough time to dial that damn number.

[xanthestories.livejournal.com]

Tony does like to do those insanely brave things that risk his own life!

[hab318princess.livejournal.com]

such a broken Gibbs... I'm torn between wanting to scream at him and understanding how he got there - off to part 9 now

[xanthestories.livejournal.com]

Poor Gibbs - he's been through a lot - cut him some slack! He'll get there eventually :-)

[laura-trekkie.livejournal.com]

That's a good question; where did Tony hide the oil?! ;)

I'm loving protective!Gibbs and am glad that he's told Frank and now Tony will be in his sight all the time, which will make him relatively safe. However, it will make it pretty impossible for Tony to find that elusive phone.

It's at once disappointing and reassuring that Gibbs knows all about Pete and his phone. Disappointing, for the fact that, if he knew about it so long ago, it probably means it really isn't a viable option, even though Tony has the benefit of the number to McGee's tracking programme. But it's reassuring, because it's proof that Gibbs did try to get out, even if it was before he really got dragged into the fighting.

Tony really is one of the few people who can get up in Gibbs' face and say it like he sees it. He had some choice words for Gibbs this chapter, though Gibbs hurled a few barbs of his own. Hopefully, though, between what Tony said and the massage he's going to give him, Gibbs will think a little on the situation.

Laura.

[xanthestories.livejournal.com]

Thank you!

And only Tony knows the answer to that question...*evil grin*!

Oh yeah, poor Gibbs - he tried to get out. He wasn't always like this - the place did that to him :-(. But Tony is reminding him who he was and he's getting back to himself, slowly.

[nikitariddick.livejournal.com]

Oddly, this is a tough chapter for me to read... it sets my teeth on edge.... I think it is Gibbs 'tude... I really want to shake some sense into him!

[xanthestories.livejournal.com]

Aw, but poor Gibbs! He's been through so much! He can't just come around and be himself again - he needs Tony to show him how :-)

[navyvet90.livejournal.com]

I was holding my breath when Tony tried to get the cell phone - so close! Of course, Gibbs would have already known about it. Tony knows him so well and should have realized that. Though it seems that Gibbs is realizing some stuff about himself, too. I like how Tony pushes his buttons. Gibbs in protective mode = Rowwrrrr!

[xanthestories.livejournal.com]

Love the rowwrrrr! LOL!

[calileane.livejournal.com]

I couldn't convince myself to read this story.... I just don't do well with dark stories. Even if I try often to read them and have found some that I would have regretted not reading.


As I adore your writing I finally convinced myself and here I am. I couldn't stop reading until this part or I would simply have stopped all together. Two wolves is hard and unforgiving. It speaks of humanity basic instincts, of what is true for all of us, of what scares us because it simply exist.

What made those facts impact more was the way you gave us details you had obviously spent some time researching before. About gladiators and about how if it existed in the past it means it could still exist, as humans have not lost those instincts of fighting and controlling. We can see that with those dogs fights as you wrote.

You absolutely did the best writing ever of Tony and Gibbs minds. It is outstanding. The way they interact... I had a 'wow' moment that began at the first part of this fan-fiction and hasn't stopped since then. You blew my mind with this amazing fanfiction.

I love also the humor in Tony's part. But I laughed the most with the bottle:

“Where the hell were you hiding that stuff anyway?” Gibbs asks.

Tony waggles his eyebrows again. “You don’t wanna know!

I laughed so damn hard with that one. I had been trying to imagine how he could have hid it... and when Tony said 'you don't wanna know' I thought I didn't want either LOL

Gibbs is a possessive bastard, but we love him so much ^^ I can't understand all that made him like he is, but at the same time what I can't understand is the king you have to live through to really understand. So I'm just happy Tony is by his side to bring him back to life, even if I would prefer Tony not being in this situation at all....

P.S: the Two wolves legend was a great eye opener. It is something I believe entirely: those two wolves inside and the one that is in control is the one your nourish. There's also the possibility of giving to one what you give the other in the same amount, but it must be the most difficult things of all. And a choice not many think of.

I adore your work in this. I'm amazed, in awe, Speechless (I know: you can't see it with how much I've said ^^). It's... wow!

Thank you so much for writing Two Wolves and sharing with us. Now I just have to convince myself not to be too scare of reading the next parts.... oops ^^

[xanthelj.livejournal.com]

I am so glad you decided to read this story. I really appreciate you taking that big leap of faith into the unknown for me as I think this story is some of my very best writing. And I love that you felt that way too.

I loved that legend of the two wolves - I heard it years ago and so wanted to incorporate it into a fic - and it worked perfectly here.

I hope you read through to the end - I think you'll find the payoffs worth it and the end of Chapter 5 is too exciting to miss *g*