Two Wolves - 13/19

[xanthefic]

Two Wolves
By Xanthe
Chapter Five: Big Bad Wolf

He dreams about the same two wolves from before, but this time they are lying in a forest on a table of stone. It’s night-time, but there is a full moon overhead, illuminating them. One has fur as white as snow, while the other’s fur is as black as the night sky. Tony steps back behind a tree and watches them.

Their paws are bound together with chains, and they are growling at each other furiously, unable to attack because of their bonds. All they can do is snap and growl, trying to bite each other.

A movement from the trees catches Tony’s eye, and he watches as Gibbs emerges and walks slowly towards the stone table.

The snarling of the wolves doesn’t seem to bother him. He stands over them and places a hand over each of their muzzles, squeezing hard. The wolves shake their heads, trying to dislodge him, snarling and yelping, but Gibbs just stands there, immovable. He looks powerful and commanding and exerts total control over the wolves, forcing them into submission by sheer strength of will.

Eventually they are subdued, becoming quiet under his stern touch, and only then does he release his grasp on their muzzles. The wolves are now silent and obedient, looking up at him adoringly, like tame dogs. Gibbs waves a hand and their chains fall away. They jump off the table and take their place next to him, one on each side, looking completely at home there, as if it is where they have always belonged.

Suddenly, Gibbs looks up, straight at him, and Tony takes a startled intake of breath. Gibbs looks completely different now. His hair is no longer shorn; it reaches down almost as far as his shoulders, shining silver grey in the moonlight. His eyes are a lupine shade of yellow, and his body is sleek and powerful. He looks as if he is at the height of his powers; dark and light combined, strong and compelling. He throws back his head and howls at the full moon overhead, revealing his sharp, white fangs.

Tony wakes up, the gasp of surprise dying in his throat, to find the pain is just as bad as it was when he fell asleep. He also needs to piss, so he has to find a way to brave the pain and get up. He slowly draws his hand away from Gibbs’s embrace, missing the comforting contact immediately. Then, just as slowly, he manages to lever himself up onto his hands and knees, growling as the movement sends shock waves of pain through his body. He glances down to see if he’s woken Gibbs and finds him gazing back at him, eyes wide open, looking completely alert and awake.

“Did you sleep at all?” Tony asks.

“No.” Gibbs sits up and rolls his shoulders back, stretching, and Tony senses immediately that there is something different about him. Something has changed during the night, while he was sleeping.

Gibbs gets up off the floor with the lethal, prowling grace that Tony remembers from the pit.

“Gibbs…what’s going on?”

Gibbs turns his head suddenly, and it must be the pain making him hallucinate, or the lingering after-effects of his dream, because Tony has a vivid mental image of a wild grey wolf, yellow eyes blazing, teeth bared. He takes a startled intake of breath.

“Tony, come here.” Gibbs beckons him over, and Tony slowly crawls towards him, his body protesting every single movement, and comes to rest at Gibbs’s feet. Gibbs crouches down in front of him and cups his head between his chained hands.

“I need you to trust me,” Gibbs tells him.

“I will. I mean…I do. I always have.”

“Good…because it might get worse before it gets any better. They might hurt you some more. They probably will hurt you some more. Can you handle that?”

“Yes.” Tony says it quickly and without hesitation. “You’ve got a plan, Boss?” He feels himself falling almost immediately into second in command mode in response to the strong sense of leadership he’s getting off Gibbs.

Gibbs stands up again. “Yes. We’re not just playing to survive, or escape anymore, Tony. That’s what we were both doing before, and it didn’t work for either of us. We’re playing to win now.”

“Okay,” Tony says slowly, wondering what the hell Gibbs has in mind.

“I don’t just want to survive. I don’t even just want to escape. I want *justice*, Tony. I want to bring these bastards down – all of them.”

Tony feels the shiver start at the base of his spine and creep all the way up to his head, making the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end. “Oh yeah. You’re back. Now *that* sounds like the Leroy Jethro Gibbs I used to know.”

“He was always here. I just forgot who he was until you reminded me.”

Tony can feel his grin stretching from ear to ear. It’s the smuggest, most irritating grin in his entire repertoire of smug, irritating grins.

Gibbs taps the back of his head lightly, in place of a head-slap. “This isn’t going to be easy, Tony.”

“I don’t care. Just tell me what you want me to do.”

~*~

Tony’s eyes are too bright and even in the darkness of the stall Gibbs can tell he’s feverish. He’s been drifting in and out of delirium all night long judging by the mutterings in his sleep, and Gibbs knows he can’t tell him the whole plan in case he blurts it out by mistake. So he decides to tell him just a little piece of it.

“I need you to take whatever Ellis does to you next. It won’t be nice, but trust me, it won’t last long.”

“Okay.” Tony smiles up at him like a happy puppy, and Gibbs wonders if there is anything he can do that will make Tony lose faith in him.

“Then I’ll be leaving for awhile, but I’ll be back. You have to trust me on that too.”

“Sure.”

“I’ll tell you more later. Can you trust that I’ll do that?”

“You’re the boss, Boss.”

At that moment the klaxon sounds and the lights are brightened in the hallway outside, flooding the room with light through the window in the door. Gibbs crouches down beside Tony again to take a good look at him. Tony’s face and the front of his torso are covered in mud and there are still a few leaves and twigs in his hair from his brief escape attempt. Gibbs scrapes a bit of caked mud from Tony's cheek with his fingernail.

“I’m fine, Boss,” Tony tells him, trying to push him away.

“Yeah. Right. Now shut up and hold still.” Gibbs takes a firm hold of his head and turns him around so he can get a better look.

Tony’s shoulders and back are streaked with lacerations and covered in blood, and it’s clear he needs urgent medical treatment. The dirt must have got into the open wounds, causing an infection. There are beads of sweat on his forehead, and Gibbs can see all too clearly that he’s running a high fever.

“It’s not so bad. I’ve had worse,” Tony tells him. He’s shivering, even though Gibbs can feel the heat radiating from his torn skin.

“When?” Gibbs asks incredulously.

“Okay, not worse maybe, but nearly dying from the plague sucked big time, and this is about the same as that.”

Gibbs is sure Tony is digging in deep right now just to stay in the moment, and he wishes he could spare him what comes next. “You’ll do fine, Tony. I’m gonna make sure of that.” Gibbs presses a kiss to Tony’s forehead. It’s burning up, and he knows the fever is a bad one.

Tony crawls over to the toilet to piss, hanging onto the wall, barely able to stand long enough to finish. Gibbs wishes he could at least help hold him up, but he’s chained too far away to be any use. He can only watch as Tony staggers back to the mattress and falls down on it.

A few seconds later, Ellis comes into the stall with the same ugly grin on his face that he had the night before. Ellis picks up the hook Gibbs pulled away from the wall the previous night and holds it up angrily.

“It was getting in the way.” Gibbs shrugs.

Ellis delivers an entirely predictable backhander across his jaw, making him fall sideways.

Gibbs grunts and pulls himself upright again. “I want to see Scott,” he says firmly, spitting out some blood from his split lip.

“Aw, does poor little Leroy wanna go running to the big boss and complain about how we were mean to his pussy boy yesterday?” Ellis makes a face at him. “Not gonna happen, Leroy. You have zero stock with Scott right now. He’s not gonna care that we whipped Tony. He knows Tony will be leaving soon; you’re lucky he even bothers feeding him.”

He glances down at Tony, where he’s lying on the mattress on the floor.

“How you feeling, DiNardo? Oh, wait, it isn’t DiNardo – it’s DiNozzo, isn’t it? Lying little shit.” He prods his foot contemptuously into Tony’s side, making Tony grunt.

Gibbs gets between them immediately. “Bring Scott here. Tell him I won’t fight in the pit again unless I see him today.”

Ellis actually laughs in his face. Gibbs holds his ground, fixing him with the kind of hard glare that’s shut up better men than Ellis in the past. The smile finally fades from Ellis’s face. “Aw, you mean it! You actually think you have some bargaining chips around here!”

“I do.” Gibbs holds the glare.

“Nah, you don’t. All we have to do is rough up this pussy boy here, and you’ll agree to anything we say.”

Ellis takes hold of Tony’s hair and pulls his head back. Tony gazes at him from those bright, feverish eyes, a grin on his face. “Go on…do it,” he urges.

Ellis slaps him hard across the face, holding him in place by his hair, first one way and then the next. Tony just giggles in response, and Ellis hesitates, confused. Then his face darkens, and he draws his fist back to strike…and that’s when Gibbs leans in to growl into his ear.

“Touch him one more time, and I won’t fight again. Kill him, and you have no hold over me at all. I’ll throw the fight on Fight Night. There’s a lot of money riding on me, Ellis. You wanna have to explain to Scott why his champion threw the fight?”

Ellis hesitates, his fist still raised.

“Think about it,” Gibbs says darkly.

He can see the cogs working in Ellis’s mind. Much as he loves beating up on Tony, he doesn’t want to risk Gibbs making good on his threat.

“You can take a wolf to water, but you can’t make him drink,” Gibbs adds. “You can throw me into that pit, but you can’t make me fight.”

Ellis releases Tony’s hair, and Tony drops to the floor with a thud. Ellis glares at Gibbs and then turns and stalks out of the room.

“So far, so good.” Tony smiles up at him. “Like the way you played that, Boss.”

Gibbs crouches down beside him and gently smooths down his hair where Ellis yanked on it. “We have a long way to go yet, Tony.”

He gets up again and a few minutes later Frank enters the stall. “What the hell is this about, Leroy?” he asks, planting all five feet nothing of himself in front of Gibbs and glaring up at him. “You know this won’t get you anywhere!”

“You know my terms.” Gibbs shrugs. “Get Scott down here, or I don’t fight.”

Frank laughs at him. “You’ll fight, Leroy. You’re a natural born fighter. You can’t help yourself. We put you in that pit, you’ll fight.”

It’s Gibbs’s turn to laugh now. He shakes his head, chuckling softly to himself. “Oh Frank, you know fighting, but you don’t know much else, and you sure as hell don’t know me. Get Scott down here, or I’m not going to train, and I’m sure as hell not going to fight again.”

“Don’t be an idiot!” Frank hisses, glancing at Tony. “They’ll kill Tony if they have to, Leroy, to make you fight.”

“If they kill Tony, I definitely won’t fight,” Gibbs replies firmly. “Because I won’t have anything to fight for, Frank.”

Frank rocks back on his heels, a thoughtful look on his face.

“I know you’ve got a lot riding on me to win,” Gibbs tells him. “Not just next Fight Night, but in the grand finale of this shitty tournament, and we both know that’s close now. You’ve staked pretty much your entire life savings on me winning, haven’t you, Frank? You’re all a bunch of gamblers – that’s how you ended up in this freak-fest.”

Frank looks angry, but Gibbs can see that comment hit home.

“Go get Scott, Frank. That’s all I’m asking. It won’t do anyone any harm, and that way nobody has to get hurt.”

“We could shoot some of the other fighters – the weaker ones. He’ll cave soon enough,” Ellis says from the doorway.

“You think I care about any of them?” Gibbs asks. “You ever see me talk to them, or take an interest in any of ‘em?” He has been talking to them since Tony arrived, but he doubts Ellis has noticed that. His reputation for aloofness is well established.

“You liked that kid Brian…”

“And you made me shoot him. So now I don’t get close, which means I won’t give a damn if you kill the whole damn stable. But I’m betting Scott won’t be happy if you do that. He’s proud of how big his stable is now because I’ve been winning fighters for him all season. All those fighters are worth money, even those who can’t fight for crap. The pit always needs fodder, doesn’t it? And people will gamble on anything, even if it’s just who’s the weakest fighter on the circuit. I bet Scott plans to sell some of his weaker fighters during the off-season – there will always be some idiot out there who wants in on this game who’ll buy them. But Scott can’t do that if you kill them.”

Frank glances at Ellis, and Gibbs can see that’s another point that’s hit home. Frank sighs. “Let’s just get Scott down here. Let him talk some sense into Leroy.”

“Unchain me first,” Gibbs orders as Frank starts walking to the door.

Frank nods at Ellis who gives him an angry look but comes over to him and unchains him anyway. Then they both disappear, locking the door behind them, and the waiting game begins.

Gibbs goes and pisses first, desperate to relieve his aching bladder. Then he drinks several scoops of water from the basin to refresh himself. He’s hungry – they both missed dinner last night and now they’ve missed breakfast too – but he feels alert and alive, the same way he does before going into the pit every Fight Night. This is going to be the fight of his life, and he has to play it every bit as well as he always does in the pit.

He wets one of the blankets in the basin and then goes over to Tony. First he wipes some of the mud from Tony’s face, while Tony just sits there, looking up at him, letting him do it. Then Gibbs turns him around. “Lie face down,” he orders.

Tony does as he’s told, and Gibbs straddles his back and begins gently washing it. Tony is shivering in earnest now, and Gibbs knows that fever has a real hold on him.

When the blood is washed away, he finally gets a good look at the damage. It isn’t pretty; if Tony survives he’ll be scarred for life, but if he gets antibiotics to treat the fever he’ll bounce back quickly enough. Gibbs has learned never to underestimate Tony’s indomitable spirit and sheer zest for life.

“How is it?” Tony asks, glancing up at him.

“Looks worse than it is. You’ll be fine.” Gibbs flashes him a grin.

Tony gazes at him hazily, and Gibbs knows he’s fading again. “Like it when you smile, Boss. Always did.”

“That’s good, Tony. I’ll give us both something to smile about real soon. Now go to sleep.”

He throws the dry blanket over Tony’s shoulders, sits down beside him, and gently pulls Tony’s head onto his lap. He strokes Tony’s hair soothingly, combing out some dried mud with his fingers. Tony gives a little sigh and closes his eyes, relaxing against him. Gibbs doesn’t like the sheen of sweat building up on his forehead, but he can’t do anything about it. He can only sit there, gently stroking him, while Tony falls asleep.

What feels like a few hours pass, and Tony sleeps through it, his rest punctuated by fever-dreams judging by the way he murmurs and cries out, thrashing about under the blanket. Gibbs holds him and whispers to him, calming him when he gets particularly agitated. He’s rambling on, muttering something about wolves and snakes and stone tables, and he frequently cries out some kind of warning to him.

“Gibbs – over there! Gun! Jethro!”

“Hey, it’s okay. I’m here. I’m fine.” Gibbs hopes Scott will hurry the hell up, because Tony’s condition is deteriorating, and he needs that medical treatment soon.

If his plan doesn’t work, then Tony will very likely die… No. He won’t let himself think that way. He has to be like he is in the pit, never oiling his asshole because he won’t allow for even the possibility that he’ll lose. He won’t lose against Scott. He’s known the man for months now; he’s studied his strengths and weaknesses and knows exactly what makes him tick.

He hears footsteps in the hallway outside, and he carefully lifts Tony’s head and places it on the pillow, then gets up. Tony moans softly and mutters something in his sleep.

“Ssh…sleep. It’s okay, Tony. I’ll be back soon.” Gibbs soothes his hand through his hair one last time. Then he remembers something. He leans down and speaks into Tony’s ear. “You will not die. Hear me, Tony?” He pats Tony’s head gently, and Tony opens his eyes and looks straight at him.

“Hear…you…Boss.”

“Good. You will not die,” Gibbs repeats firmly. Then he presses a gentle kiss to Tony’s forehead and stands up to face the coming fight.

He’s taken to a room he’s never been in before. It seems to be some kind of office. Scott is waiting for him, standing beside a desk, looking sweaty and flustered.

“What the hell is this all about, Leroy?” he demands as Gibbs enters the room. “I thought you and I had an understanding!”

“What kind of understanding would that be?” Gibbs quirks an eyebrow. “I win for you in the pit, and in return you beat up on the people I care about?”

“I told you; you win for me, and I’ll see you spend the off season in luxury!” Scott takes a handkerchief out of his pocket and presses it against his forehead. “I’m not happy about you making demands, Leroy. I’ve treated you well.”

Gibbs snorts. “Get real, Scott. You haven’t treated me well. You’ve just been along for the ride. Walid’s men kidnapped me, and you bought me because I was cheap, and you wanted in on this game. You had no idea I’d turn out to be so damn good at fighting out there in the pit. You got lucky, that’s all, and you can get unlucky again whenever I choose.”

“That most certainly isn’t the case!” Scott says indignantly. “I’ve been playing a very smart game; Prince Walid said so himself!”

Gibbs gives a derisive laugh. “Walid is playing you, Scott. You’re an idiot if you can’t see that.”

Scott goes red in the face. “How dare you! Prince Walid and I are friends! He said I’m worthy to join the elite, to be welcomed into his inner circle, reserved only for those he trusts completely.”

Gibbs snorts. “Well, he would. You own the one fighter who stands between him and the kudos of winning this entire thing.”

Scott stares at him, open-mouthed.

“Come on, Scott! Use your brain! Walid wants to win, and you’re the one person who can stop that happening. Why else do you think he suggested that you put Tony in the pit against Mac and make me watch? He’s hoping it’ll screw with me so much that I’ll lose my fight.”

“Walid is an honourable man. He wouldn’t…” Scott hesitates.

Gibbs rolls his eyes. “Of course he would, man! Wake up! This is more than just a game to him – you’ve seen that. He wants to win!”

“The winner does take home a sizeable purse and a percentage of the takings. Then there is the gambling take,” Scott says uncertainly.

“I don’t think Walid gives a damn about that; he has money coming out of his ears. For him, it’s about the winning.”

Scott dabs his handkerchief against his forehead again, wiping away the sweat dripping down his face. “Even assuming you’re right, Leroy – what should I do about it?”

“Don’t let him play you! Because you’re a winner too, Scott! You want to win, don’t you?”

Scott gives a slow nod. “Unlike Prince Walid, I must admit the purse on offer would make a difference to me. I have sold some of the fighters you won for me, Leroy, and they made a very nice sum, but do you have any idea how expensive it is running a stable?”

It’s all Gibbs can do not to roll his eyes again. “Yeah. I bet. And I bet also that you’ve staked a lot of money on me winning. I know Frank has. You’ve gambled a hell of a lot on me taking Mac down in the final, haven’t you? More money than you can afford to lose.”

Scott purses his lips but doesn’t answer that.

“Thing is, Scott, do you want me to win or not?” Gibbs demands. “It’s that simple.”

Scott turns to him, and there’s a greedy look in his eyes. One thing Gibbs has always known about the man is his greed. He saw it the first time he met him.

“Of course I want you to win! I’ve invested a lot in this stable. I’ve become a major player. I deserve to win.” He puffs out his large chest.

“Yeah, you do,” Gibbs says softly. “And I can win for you, but I have some terms.”

“You have terms?” Scott looks indignant again. “You’re mine, Leroy. You’ll do what I tell you.”

“You’d think, huh? But no.” Gibbs prowls forward, and Scott takes a step back, and then another, until he’s flush against the desk.

The guard by the door moves forward, but Scott waves him away. “Look, Leroy, I know you; you want to win as much as I do,” he says, a cunning look creeping into his piggy brown eyes. “I don’t believe you’re even capable of throwing a fight. Do you really want to get fucked, and jeered at, and pissed on, and dragged off to some other stable where nobody gives a damn who you are? Trust me, you would be treated far worse than you are here. You’d have to start at the bottom and work your way up again, and you wouldn’t like that.”

“No. I wouldn’t.” Gibbs gives a soft little smile – and then wipes it instantly from his face. “But I’ll damn well do it if you don’t give me what I want!” he roars into Scott’s face.

Scott edges away from him and plops himself down onto a chair. “And what is it that you want, Leroy?” he asks quietly. “Not your freedom – I won’t give you that – or Tony’s freedom, either. It’s against the rules of the game to set a player free, and, well, not exactly in our best interests.”

“Oh, I know that.” Gibbs gives an impatient jerk of his head. “Here’s what I want, Scott. I want you to order your men to leave Tony alone. He suffers so much as a scratch, and I’ll throw the next fight.”

“Ah…Tony DiNozzo…he’s your Achilles heel,” Scott says knowingly. “He’ll be your downfall one day, Leroy. You see, you care about him. Maybe you even love him?” He raises an eyebrow, looking at Gibbs searchingly. Gibbs just gazes back at him stonily. “And that makes you weak,” Scott says.

“No – that makes me strong,” Gibbs replies. “Took me a while to see it, but it’s Tony who makes me strong, and bastards like you who try to make me weak. You got me all wrong, Scott. Remember how you whispered all that crap in my ear – about how my anger over my mom, and my wife and daughter were what made me such a good fighter? You were half right – I am angry, but I’m only that angry because I loved them so much. Now think about Tony – they’re dead, but he’s still alive. If I get that angry about dead people, think what I’m like about the living.”

“Hmmm…interesting.” Scott considers this for a moment. “But then surely, by your own admission, all I have to do is threaten Tony’s life, and you’ll do whatever I say.”

Gibbs laughs. “And if you kill him, you have no hold over me at all.”

“But if we hurt him, we can ensure your continued co-operation.”

“You’ve already hurt him. Am I co-operating?” Gibbs raises an eyebrow.

“I see. So we have something of an impasse. What are the rest of your terms, Leroy? I’m sure that isn’t all.”

“You’re right. You won’t put Tony into the pit. Not next Fight Night, not ever.”

“Then he becomes useless to me. Why would I keep him?” Scott spreads his arms.

“To keep your star fighter happy,” Gibbs snaps. “And you want me happy, Scott, because only by keeping me happy will I win for you.”

“Go on.” Scott leans forward and places both hands on his knees. Gibbs isn’t fooled by the man. Scott is no Walid, but he has a kind of low cunning; he’ll have some terms of his own.

“I want a visual on Tony at all times, including in the pit. So he sits up in the bleachers with you.”

“Really?” Scott nods his head musingly. “And?”

“He wears clothes on Fight Nights.” Gibbs shrugs. “I don’t want anyone gawping at him.”

“My, my, you are a possessive lover – for I assume you are fucking him?” Scott raises an eyebrow. “I understand you better now. You’re trying to protect a lover. That makes sense to me. Tell me, Leroy. Were you fucking him before, back at NCIS, when you both worked together as federal agents? Isn’t it frowned upon for a boss to be fucking a subordinate?”

He gives a nasty little smile, and Gibbs feels his hands closing into fists. Channel the anger, focus it, and use it against your opponent.

“Or did it start in here?” Scott asks with a leering smile. “If it did, then it’s likely the drugs are the reason behind your current little infatuation, nothing more. Without them, you’d feel nothing for this boy, although he is pretty, I’ll grant you that. But can you honestly say that if you weren’t locked up in here you’d give him a second thought? That you’d pass on the chance of a woman with firm tits and a nice, juicy cunt?”

He makes an obscene motion with his finger, but Gibbs refuses to rise to the bait.

“Wouldn’t it be stupid to throw all that away, to allow yourself to be beaten to a pulp in the ring and fucked up the ass just because you mistook a passing infatuation for love?” Scott demands.

“Tony also needs urgent medical treatment,” Gibbs continues, his face like granite. “He gets it immediately our conversation is over. He gets whatever medical treatment he needs going forward, and you stop drugging him.”

“Anything else?” Scott raises a facetious eyebrow.

“Yeah. Pizza. He wants pizza – pepperoni, sausage, extra cheese.” Gibbs leans back against the wall, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Oh, it must be love.” Scott smirks. “These are very interesting demands, Leroy.” He steeples his fingertips together thoughtfully. “To be honest, it’s no skin off my nose to agree to them if it will keep you happy. As you have pointed out, you are my star fighter.”

Gibbs grunts, waiting for Scott’s conditions.

“And I have no objection to giving you a carrot, to ensure that you keep winning in the pit. However…” He leans forward again, a sly look on his face. “I am also a great believer in the stick as well as the carrot, Leroy. You have told me what motivates you, and I think I can ensure that you will be as motivated as possible when you enter the pit.”

He glances up, a smile creasing his plump cheeks.

“You’re a soldier, aren’t you, Leroy? A Marine? See, I read somewhere that soldiers fighting for their homeland and loved ones fight much harder than those who are simply paid to do battle, because it’s more personal to them. They have more to lose.”

Gibbs nods. He knows the truth of that, and he’s seen it first-hand. He can guess what’s coming next.

“So, here are my terms, Leroy. You can have your medical treatment for Tony, and your clothes for him, and your pizza.” He gives a little snort at that, waving his hand dismissively in the air. “And I’ll happily have him beside me when you fight in the pit, so you can see that he is safe and well. But I think it is important that you fight for something out there. So, to ensure you are properly incentivized, understand this: if you lose, I will drag Tony down into the pit and invite anyone who wants him to rape him while you watch. When they’re done, I will take great pleasure in putting a bullet in the back of his head myself. That is what will happen if you lose, Leroy; that is the solemn promise I make to you.” He puts his hand on his heart and raises his eyes up to the heavens.

Gibbs grunts. It’s obscene but nothing less than he expected.

“So, do we have a deal?” Scott asks.

“We have a deal.” Gibbs nods. “How many fights do I have to win?” he asks. “How many more fights until the end of season finale?”

“Just two more, my boy. Next Fight Night is our penultimate one, and then we have the finale, where, if you and he both win your next fight, you will face the fireman.”

“I’ll win,” Gibbs says grimly.

Scott’s eyes narrow. “Oh, for Tony’s sake, I do hope so.”

~*~

Tony stirs blearily as the door opens. He has a hazy impression of Gibbs standing over him and then he’s lifted up. He thinks it can’t be possible that Gibbs is lifting him up in his arms like a child and carrying him out of the door and along the hallway, because he knows he’s pretty heavy. Then he remembers all the training Gibbs has been doing, and he thinks maybe it is possible, but he’s too tired to open his eyes and look.

He still hurts but it’s a hazy kind of hurt now, like he’s not really inside his body anymore. He rests his head against a neck, which has to be Gibbs’s neck because it smells like Gibbs and the hard body he’s pressed against feels like Gibbs.

He’s placed gently on a soft bed and a glass of water is pressed to his lips. He drinks it down, and he thinks an IV is shoved into his arm, but he’s not sure because he falls asleep before he can find out.

He dreams he’s in the forest again, but it’s the middle of the day this time, and the sun is overhead, beating down on him. He’s lying on the stone table, under the full force of the sun. He’s naked, and it’s so hot he feels like he’s burning up. He tries to get off the table but it hurts when he moves, so he gives up and just lies there, feeling the sweat dripping down his face.

Something blocks out the sun, giving him some blessed relief from its scorching rays. He looks up and sees a big, grey wolf standing over him, and he thinks he should probably be scared but somehow he isn’t. He just smiles and reaches up to pet the wolf’s fur. The wolf growls at him and nudges the back of his head with its snout, but he still isn’t scared; he just keeps running his fingers through all that soft grey fur.

The wolf leans in close and opens his mouth, his white fangs gleaming. Unafraid, Tony bares his neck, happily surrendering to the wolf’s bite. But instead of biting him, the wolf gently fastens his jaws around Tony’s neck and drags him from the table. The movement hurts, and he whimpers like a cub and clings on tight. The wolf lopes away from the table, carrying him gently in his mouth, dangling from his jaws. He takes Tony away from the sunlight and deposits him under a bush. Then he sets about cleaning him with firm, wet licks of his tongue.

When Tony wakes up, his head is clear. He still hurts like hell, but he no longer feels like he’s burning up. He blinks and looks around. He’s in a room somewhere; it’s small but not as small as their stall, and he’s lying on an actual bed, not a mattress on the floor.

He looks down to see that his entire torso has been bandaged, and then he looks up to see Gibbs standing beside the bed, looking down on him.

“You back with us?” Gibbs asks.

“Yeah. Think so.” Tony reaches out a hand, and Gibbs hauls him upright. “Where are we?”

“Room off the infirmary.” Gibbs jerks his head at the door. “Tanner’s been pumping antibiotics into you via the IV for the past couple of days. He said the fever had gone and took out the IV a couple of hours ago, while you were sleeping. How are you feeling?”

“Much better,” Tony says firmly. “So…how did it go?”

He takes the plastic cup of water Gibbs gives to him and drinks it down thirstily, loving the sensation of the cool wetness on his parched throat.

“Good.” Gibbs nods. He takes the empty cup from Tony’s hand and puts it back on the basin. Then he gazes at Tony searchingly. “Look, Tony, Tanner gave me a couple of painkillers to give you, if you want them.” He holds up the white pills. “But, thing is, we both know you go loopy on painkillers, and I can’t risk telling you the plan if you take them.”

“I don’t need the painkillers,” Tony says firmly. “I want to hear the plan, Boss.”

Gibbs flashes him a smile, like he never doubted his reply for a second.

“Is the room safe?” Tony asks anxiously, glancing around.

“It’s safe. I checked. There’s the usual guard outside the door, but there are no bugs or cameras in here.”

It’s pretty much an empty room save for the bed, basin and toilet, so there aren’t exactly many places to hide any recording devices. Tony nods at Gibbs to continue.

“I got Scott to agree to medical treatment for you. That’s why you’re here. He also agreed that nobody will lay a finger on you going forward. And you don’t have to fight in the pit next Fight Night. You don’t have to fight in the pit ever again.”

“Really? Wow.” Tony gives a low whistle. “Can you walk on water too, Boss?”

Gibbs rolls his eyes at him. “You are never to be out of my sight at any time, so I can see you’re okay, and when I fight in the pit you’ll sit next to Scott, watching, so I can see you then too. You also get to wear clothes on FIght Nights.”

“Clothes?” Tony can feel his eyes lighting up. “Damn it, Boss, what did you have to promise Scott in return for all this?”

Gibbs shrugs. “I have to win. That’s all.”

Tony knows Gibbs too well. “Or?” he asks quietly.

Gibbs folds his arms across his chest. “Or they rape you, and when they’re done raping you Scott shoots you in the head,” he says bluntly.

Tony frowns. “You know, Boss, your definition of ‘good’ and mine must be entirely different.”

Gibbs leans in close. “Scott takes a cell phone to Fight Nights, Tony. I saw it,” he murmurs into Tony’s ear. “He’ll also be distracted by what’s going on in the pit. And I didn’t just ask for you to wear clothes because I can’t stand the thought of all those people staring at ya – although that was part of it.” He gives a wry grin, and Tony rolls his eyes. “Clothes will also give you a chance to hide the cell phone.”

“You want me to steal a cell phone? After all this time telling me not to do just that?” Tony glares at him.

“This is part of a wider plan. You steal the phone, go to the restroom, and make the call. Those temporary toilets are too small for a guard to go in with you, so they’ll stay outside. After you’ve made the call, you delete it from the phone’s memory so Scott doesn’t find out. Then you go back up to the bleachers and return it to Scott’s jacket, so he never knows it’s gone.”

“You have enormous faith in my talents as a thief,” Tony says musingly.

“I do, Tony, yes.” Gibbs gazes at him steadily.

Tony gives him a big grin. “So you should! I’m an excellent thief. Did I ever tell you about the time I stole my housemaster’s stash of porn from the locked filing cabinet in his study? That stuff was good! I sold half of it and made enough to keep me in Oreos and Hershey bars for the rest of the term. Although I kept the best half, obviously. Of course they did find out it was me eventually, possibly because I bragged about it so much.” He grimaces. “Man, the housemaster had a mean right arm. I didn’t sit down for weeks after that, and…” He comes to a halt as Gibbs taps him lightly on the back of the head.

“Yes, Boss. Sorry, Boss. Your own right arm is pretty mean too,” he adds, smoothing down the hair on the back of his head ruefully. “So, what happens next?”

“Next we have to keep them all there for as long as possible to give McGee a chance to get to us. So you need to steal the phone as early in the evening as you can. But we can’t just rely on that. Regardless of whether we get rescued or not, we’re going to screw up Walid’s evening. That’s where Sam Hurrell comes in.”

“Sam?”

“Yeah. You have to be my go-between, Tony. I can’t train the fighters myself because they watch me too closely, but Sam can. He’s a Marine, and he knows how to organize men. He’s also going to be out in the truck after his fight, while I’m in the pit.”

“Hang on…how do you know that? How do you know which of you will fight first?”

“Because we’re going to do this on finale night, and any finale I’ve ever been to they save the headline act until last. So, I’ll be in the pit, fighting Mac, and Sam will be in the truck. My guess is there won’t be many guards out there – everyone is going to want to watch the big fight. So Sam is going to have to find a way to overpower the guard, get the key off him, and release all the fighters.”

“If anyone can do it, it’s Sam,” Tony says firmly.

Gibbs nods. “That’s what I figured. I’ll draw out the fight with Mac as long as possible, but while everyone is watching us fight, Sam has got to free and arm as many of the fighters as he can.”

“Then what?” Tony asks.

Gibbs shrugs. “Then we hope the cavalry shows up in time to stop the whole thing becoming a bloodbath. But I’m not coming back here after that fight, Tony, and I’m not going to any other stable, either. I either die out there, or I go home. Those are the only choices I’m giving myself.”

Tony shivers, and Gibbs puts a hand on his shoulder. “You okay?”

“Fine…just…those poor suckers think they know the wolfman, but they don’t, not really. They’ve never really seen him in action before, but I have. They won’t know what’s hit them.”

Gibbs gives a little grunt at that, but Tony thinks he looks pretty pleased all the same.

“It’s dangerous. I’m asking everyone to put their lives on the line,” Gibbs says quietly. “Do you think they’ll do that for me?”

Tony gives an incredulous laugh. “Shit, Gibbs, they’re just waiting for you to ask!” He hears footsteps outside the door and stiffens anxiously. “There anything else I need to know?” he asks quickly, as the handle on the door turns and the door opens.

“Yeah…are you hungry?” Gibbs goes over to the door, grabs a box from the guard’s hands, and closes the door again. He turns, and Tony gets a whiff of baked cheese so strong his salivary glands go into overdrive.

“Oh man…please tell me that’s pizza! I’ve been jonesing for pizza for weeks!”

“Oh yeah! It’s pizza.” Gibbs has a shit-eating grin on his face. “Pepperoni, sausage, extra cheese do for ya?”

He opens the box and slings it on the bed, and Tony shoves his nose into it and inhales the scent dreamily.

“I love you, Boss,” he murmurs as he tears away a slice of the hot pizza and crams it into his mouth. “Oh God, this is good…oh shit…” He’s aware that he’s making positively orgasmic noises as he eats. He glances up to see Gibbs smiling at him. “Christ, Jethro, you got me medical treatment, clothes, a free pass out of the pit, and pizza,” he says between mouthfuls. “Didn’t you ask for anything for yourself?”

“Don’t be an idiot, DiNozzo,” Gibbs growls, still smiling at him. ”Everything I asked for was for me.”

~*~
End of Part Thirteen
Part Fourteen
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