Two Wolves - 19/19

[xanthefic]

Mrs Patel is sweet and welcoming. She makes him tea, and he sits on her couch and looks at all her photographs of Rajul, from when he was a baby to when he graduated from high school.

Tony hopes it helps her to know Rajul loved her and that his last thoughts were of her. He isn’t sure if that’s any comfort, but he wants her to know that her son was with someone who was kind to him in his last few minutes. He doesn’t tell her the details of her son’s death; no parent needs to know something as ugly as that. Tony has seen the FBI report, and he knows what Fornell’s team told her. She’ll find out more when it goes to court, and he hopes she’s ready for that. He warns her, gently, what it might entail, and she nods, blinking the tears out of her eyes.

Finally, he says goodbye and emerges into the sunlight. It’s a beautiful late fall day, much warmer than it has any right to be at this time of the year.

Tony walks slowly towards his car, waiting until Mrs Patel has closed the door behind him. Only then does he allow his shoulders to sag. He pauses beside his car, breathing heavily. That was painful but necessary. He didn’t want to re-live the events of that horrible day, but he promised Rajul he’d do this, and he’s glad he did.

Still, it hurts. He rests his arms on the side of the car, feeling the soreness in his shoulders. It’s like someone has taken handfuls of his skin and is twisting it, pulling him down. He takes a few deep breaths, steadying himself…and is taken completely by surprise when he feels two hands descend on his shoulders, soothing the sore skin.

“Ssh, I’ve got you,” a familiar voice says in his ear, and he relaxes, smiling to himself as he remembers his own words of yesterday being whispered back to him.

Gibbs’s fingers feel so good, digging into his aching shoulders, and Tony surrenders to the massage for a couple of minutes. Then he turns. Gibbs looks…like Gibbs again. Tony isn’t sure what the difference is, just that the white wolf is back, balancing out the dark one. He thinks it’s that same white wolf he’s got to thank for Gibbs being here right now and giving a damn about him.

It’s interesting that the white wolf burst into life when he was threatened yesterday and now again today, when he’s feeling so low after visiting Mrs Patel. Then again, he’s always known that Gibbs’s white wolf has a streak of protectiveness a mile wide. That’s one of the main ways Gibbs has always shown his love. He’s not the kind of guy who’ll make any flowery declarations; this is how his white wolf expresses itself.

“Did you follow me?” Tony asks.

“Yeah.” Gibbs shrugs. “I was driving over to your place and got there just as you came out with the flowers…wondered where you were going. My gut said it was bad, so…”

“You followed me. It’s kind of a habit you have.” Tony gives a little grin, remembering so much of their shared history, going right the way back to when he was a cop in Baltimore.

“Well, now you can follow me.” Gibbs jerks his head at his car, and Tony doesn’t have a chance to ask him where they’re going because Gibbs strides off.

Tony drives after Gibbs to a marina a few miles away and gets out of his car.

Gibbs goes into the marina office, emerges a few seconds later with a basket, and jerks his head at Tony again. “This way.”

Tony follows Gibbs down to the water and watches him jump on board a big, white yacht. Gibbs turns and holds out his hand to help Tony climb on board too.

“Nice.” Tony stands on the deck, glancing around.

“Belongs to an old friend. He said I could borrow it for the afternoon.” Gibbs puts the basket down. “Food,” he mutters.

Tony sits down and watches as Gibbs takes the boat out onto the open water. The sun feels good on his face, and he feels himself relaxing, really relaxing, for the first time in months.

They end up in the middle of nowhere. There’s just blue water all around them, no other boats in sight, and the sun shining overhead. Gibbs stops the boat and comes over to him.

“Take off your clothes,” he orders.

Tony glances up at him in surprise. “What?”

“Clothes.” Gibbs jerks his head impatiently, holding up something in his hand. Tony squints through the glare of the sun and sees a bottle of massage oil. “Somethin’ I’ve wanted to do for a few weeks,” Gibbs mutters. “Watching you walk around with those aching shoulders.”

Tony grins and undresses, and then he lies down on the towel Gibbs has placed on the front deck.

He’s not exactly sure what he’s expecting, but he had no idea that Gibbs knew how to give such fantastic massages. Gibbs’s fingers are strong and sure as they slide into his shoulders and neck, digging in just deep enough to give relief without being painful. Tony sighs and spreads out, allowing Gibbs to have control over his body. It feels so damn good to be here, under the sun, having his shoulders massaged by such strong, expert hands.

He feels Gibbs’s lips on one of his scars, and then feels him trace it down from shoulder to thigh, bestowing dozens of tiny kisses on it as he goes. Tony has a sudden, vivid memory of doing the exact same thing to Gibbs several weeks ago, infusing each kiss and each long, deep sweep of his fingers with all the love he possessed.

Now Gibbs is returning the favour. Gibbs is not a man who can speak easily about those things he cares about the most, but he can show it; and right now, after weeks of being shut out, Tony knows that Gibbs is telling him exactly what he means to him.

That knowledge brings a lump to Tony’s throat, and he swallows down hard and wipes his face on the towel.

“You okay? Going too hard?” Gibbs asks.

“No…just right,” Tony replies softly.

He allows himself to drift off as those deft fingers and gently caressing lips show him just how much Gibbs loves him; after an hour or so, he is in absolutely no doubt about how deep that love is.

Finally, Gibbs draws back, and Tony turns over to see him gazing down on him with a satisfied smile on his face.

“One more thing.” Gibbs picks up Tony’s hand and gently massages the fingers he once broke, slowly, one by one, easing out the stiffness. Tony looks up at him as he works; Gibbs has that same look of intense concentration on his face that he always has when he’s working on building something in his basement.

Tony remembers how Gibbs held him down and broke these fingers, one by one, all the time asking Tony to trust him, even though Tony didn’t know why he was doing it. Tony did trust him. He always has. He always will.

“Come here.” Tony grabs Gibbs’s hand and pulls him down beside him onto the towel. Then he reaches out and undoes one button on Gibbs’s shirt.

Gibbs doesn’t stop him, so Tony moves on to the next, and then the next.

“You okay with this?” Tony asks quietly, unzipping Gibbs’s fly. “I mean…without the drugs, without the danger, and without the ‘we might die tomorrow’ atmosphere? You ready for this?”

Gibbs grins and presses Tony’s hand against his cock, which is rock hard. “How does that feel?”

“Pretty ready.” Tony grins back and finishes stripping Gibbs’s clothes from his body.

Then he takes Gibbs’s face in his hands and kisses him deeply. The sun bathes them gently as they lie naked under its warm rays, caressing each other slowly. It’s been weeks, but Tony wants to savour their first love-making as free men. He doesn’t want it going too fast; he wants to enjoy it.

He explores Gibbs’s body in the daylight for the first time. He covers his skin with dozens of kisses, enjoying the scent and feel of Gibbs’s body under his fingertips and lips.

Gibbs rolls over on top of him and gently stretches his opening with his fingers, smiling down on Tony the entire time. Tony is so relaxed that by the time Gibbs sinks his hard cock into him, it feels instantly pleasurable.

Gibbs makes love to him slowly, taking his time, kissing Tony repeatedly as he moves inside him. The sky is blue behind Gibbs’s face, framing him, making his blue eyes seem an even deeper shade. They both reach climax at almost the same time, and instead of being a brief moment of pleasure snatched in the midst of an on-going nightmare, it feels relaxed and peaceful.

Afterwards, Gibbs rests his head on Tony’s chest, and Tony wraps his arms around Gibbs’s body, and they lie there for a long time in the gently rocking boat under the warm rays of the late afternoon sun.

Eventually they move, their muscles protesting at having to shift. Gibbs withdraws from his body, and they cover themselves in blankets and devour the contents of the picnic basket.

Then they lie down on the deck of the boat, wrapped up in each other’s arms, and gently kiss as the sun goes down around them.

Tony can feel Gibbs tracing his fingers gently over the scars on his back, and he remembers lying in their stall the night he was whipped, with the blood drying on his skin, and how Gibbs crawled across the floor to be as close to him as possible and held his hand all night long.

Gibbs made a promise to him that night, and now, lying here on the deck of the boat, wrapped up in Gibbs’s arms, Tony knows that Gibbs remembers that promise too.

~*~

It’s getting late by the time they return to the marina. They stop beside Tony’s car, and Gibbs hesitates. Then he leans in, plants a kiss on Tony’s cheek, and pulls back.

“Night, Tony.”

He turns to go, but feels Tony’s hand on his arm, pulling him back.

“Hang on. That’s it? It’s late, and it’s an hour’s drive home for me but twenty minutes to your place. Why don’t I stay over with you tonight?”

Gibbs thinks about the half-eaten containers of food in his living room, the mattress in his bathroom, and the many empty bottles of whisky everywhere, and shakes his head. “Not yet.”

“Why not? After the day we just shared.”

“It was good. Let’s quit while we’re ahead.” Gibbs turns on his heel and walks back to the car, feeling Tony’s gaze burning into his shoulders as he goes.

Gibbs looks around for a bottle of whisky to help him sleep when he gets home and finds there are none left. He thinks about it for a moment, but the dreams are too vivid for him to handle a whole night of them. One or two is manageable, but he has no intention of tossing and turning the entire night with a head full of them, which is what happens when he doesn’t drink a good half a bottle of Jack before going to bed.

He shoulders his jacket back on, grabs his keys, and opens his door…to find Tony standing outside, hand poised to knock.

“Going somewhere?” Tony asks, with a raised eyebrow.

“Walk. Fresh air.” He shrugs. “You following me, Tony?”

“You followed me. Fair’s fair.” Tony gives a sweet smile.

Gibbs glares at him. “You said you weren’t going to push.”

“I said I wasn’t going to push because I was going to wait for you to come to me. You did. So now we’re in different territory.”

“Go home, DiNozzo,” Gibbs growls.

“No. See, you can boss me around all you like at work – that’s fine. I don’t mind. I kinda like it.” Tony grins. “I’m sure as hell used to it. But when we’re on our own time, we’re equals, and you don’t get to tell me what to do. Haven’t you figured that out yet?”

“It’s my damn house, and you’re not coming in,” Gibbs says firmly, cutting to the chase.

“Fine. I’ll sit on the doorstep until you invite me in.” Tony shrugs. “See, I figured out what today was all about. It’s okay for you to look out for me, but you won’t let me do the same for you. You have to be the big, bad wolf all the time, don’t you? You can never show fear, or vulnerability, or let anyone in to help you, and as long as you do that, we’ll never have a relationship of equals.”

God, he needs that drink now! Right now. Gibbs shoves Tony to one side, steps out of the house, closes the door behind him, and then locks it, which he never usually does but he doesn’t want Tony snooping around in there while he’s gone.

“I was wondering why all your marriages after Shannon failed,” Tony says quietly.

Gibbs stiffens. “You’ve gone too far, DiNozzo.”

“No, I haven’t gone far enough. They fell in love with you because they thought you cared about them, and I think you actually did. I don’t think you find it hard to care about people, Jethro. But you won’t let them care about you in return. That’s what happened with all those ex-Mrs Gibbses, isn’t it? That’s why they all left.”

Gibbs clenches his fists angrily. “You don’t know shit, Tony.”

“I’ve been watching you for ten years, Gibbs. I know more than you think. You were still hurting about Shannon and Kelly, but you never let any of your exes into that pain. You refused to let them help, like you refused to let your dad help after your mom was killed. It’s the lone wolf in you, I get that.” Tony shrugs. Then he leans in. “But I refuse to be an ex-Mrs Gibbs, Jethro. I’m here to stay, so you’d better figure out how to make a place for me in your lair.” He jerks his head at the house.

Gibbs shoves his keys into his pocket. He won’t take the car. He intends to drink too much to make that sensible. He’ll walk down the road to the nearest bar instead.

“You want to stay out here, then fine,” he growls at Tony. “But I’m going out.” He prowls down the driveway and then glances back. “Don’t damn well follow me, DiNozzo.”

“No intention of it.” Tony sits down on the doorstep and leans his head back against the door. “But I’ll be here, waiting, when you get back. One of these days you’ll finally get it through your thick skull that I’m not going anywhere.”

The bar is only a few minutes away. He’s often been here when he needs to get out of the house and nurse a quiet drink alone. He sits down at the bar and settles in for a long night ahead. If Tony is still there when he gets back, at least he’ll be too drunk to have a conversation with him.

“Hey, Gibbs,” the barman says, putting a glass of bourbon in front of him.

“Hey, Bill.” Gibbs downs the drink in one fiery gulp.

“Haven’t seen you here in a long time; you been away?”

“Yeah.” Gibbs shoves the glass back at Bill and gestures his head for a refill.

“Did you get married again?” Bill asks. “Only you’ve got that same look on your face that you had when you were getting your last divorce.”

Gibbs grunts, remembering how often he used to come down here during his messy break-up with Stephanie.

“Women, huh?” Bill grins, putting another whisky in front of him.

Gibbs grunts again. Women, men – it makes no difference. The common denominator in being lousy at relationships isn’t gender – it’s him.

He isn’t sure how many whiskies he’s consumed when someone sits down at the bar beside him an hour or so later. It’s late and the bar is practically empty, so he’s annoyed as there are plenty of other seats.

He turns to look at his unwanted company and his stomach does a queasy flip.

“Hi, Gibbs,” Sam Hurrell says. “It’s good to see you again.”

Gibbs stares at him. “Tony called ya?”

“Yes. He figured you’d be here – said it was the closest bar within walking distance.”

“You’ve gotten fat, Sam,” Gibbs says, downing another whisky.

Hurrell grins. “Yeah – I know. Jan keeps feeding me, and it’s so good that I can’t stop eating after months of chewing though that shit they fed us as Scott’s place.” He gives Gibbs a critical stare. “And you’ve gotten thin,” he says. “You’re much thinner now than you were when I last saw you. Frank would never have let you get this thin – he had to keep you bulked up enough to win in the pit.”

Gibbs clenches his jaw and jerks his head at Bill to bring him another drink.

“I eat, you drink…there are all kinds of ways of handling it,” Hurrell says, sitting back in his chair.

Gibbs takes a gulp of the drink Bill puts in front of him.

“I’ve thought about you a lot these past couple of months since that final Fight Night,” Hurrell tells him softly. “Wondered how you were doing. Me and Jan met up with Tony a few times, and he said --”

“You met up with Tony?” Gibbs glances sideways at Hurrell. Tony has seen Greg, Hurrell and Rajul’s mom, while he’s seen nobody. He’s just tried to shut it away and pretend it didn’t happen.

“Yeah. Tony and Jan got close while you and I were away.”

Gibbs turns in his chair and takes a good look at Hurrell. He is fatter, but he’s a big guy and carries it well. It actually suits him, as if this is how he’s supposed to be. His hair has grown back in a soft shade of light brown, and he looks completely different to how he did back at Scott’s stable. His shoulders are relaxed, his face has lost that anxious look, and while he might not exactly be at peace yet, he looks as if he’s getting there.

“You’re not doing too well, I think, old friend,” Hurrell says softly.

“And you are?” Gibbs glares at him.

“I have good days and bad. Nobody ever said it was going to be easy.” Hurrell shrugs. Then his face lights up. “But here – see – some good came out of it.” He gets his wallet out of his jacket pocket, opens it, and takes out a photo, which he places in front of Gibbs. It’s a picture of Jan, holding a little girl. “Her name’s Melissa,” Hurrell tells him, a genuinely happy smile curving at the corners of his mouth. “She’s Steve’s daughter,” he adds.

Gibbs gazes at the little girl in the picture. She’s got blonde curly hair and a sweet smile. He can see Steve’s features in her and it makes his gut churn. He really doesn’t want to remember that night.

“Me and Jan took a trip to meet Steve’s girlfriend Tanya, and Melissa. They’re doing okay, but struggling financially, so we’re helping out. We’ve become close.” He picks up the picture and puts it back in his wallet. “I owe it to Steve to make sure his little girl is okay,” he says quietly.

Gibbs nods and takes another gulp of his drink. “I never said…” he pauses and then forces himself on. “About that final night…I never said, because I didn’t see you again after, but you did a great job, Sam.”

“You gave me the confidence, Gibbs. There was only one guard, like you said there would be, and I took him out. I freed all the fighters – it all went down exactly like you planned.”

“Always knew you could do it. You should believe in yourself more.”

Hurrell gives him a beaming smile. “I’ve wanted to see you for a while. I wanted to say thanks – for that and for everything else you did for us. You took the brunt of it all, you came up with the plan that got us rescued, and you got us all organized. We only got out of there alive because of you.”

Gibbs stares into his drink.

“I’ve spoken to several of the fighters since we were rescued, and you’re a legend to them, Gibbs. They know we’re only free because of you, and they know you took one hell of a beating in the pit that night because you were buying time for us. So thank you. From all of us.”

The noise of that final Fight Night comes crashing back into his head. Everything was at stake; his life, Tony’s, Sam’s, all the fighters in Scott’s stable and in all the other stables. He fought his heart out in the pit that night, and he can still hear the sound of the crowd baying for his blood. He takes a deep, heaving breath inwards.

“D’you get flashbacks – to the pit?” he asks.

Hurrell nods. “All the time. And nightmares – incredibly vivid nightmares that make me wake up screaming.”

“Yeah. Me too.” Gibbs strokes the side of his glass with his thumb and then turns to look at him. “How d’you get through it, Sam?” he asks hoarsely.

“With Jan’s help,” Hurrell replies, leaning forward. “She’s been incredible. I told her everything – all of it, even the…” He flushes. “Even the stuff I’m most ashamed of. She doesn’t judge me. I’m doing a good job of that all by myself.”

Gibbs gazes at him, suddenly overwhelmed by how good it is to see him again. “You shouldn’t,” he mutters. “You’re a good man, Sam. One of the best I’ve ever known.”

“Thank you,” Hurrell says softly. His eyes are glowing with pride, and Gibbs is aware just how much those words mean to him. Hurrell places a hand on Gibbs’s wrist and speaks quietly and urgently. “Listen, Gibbs, one thing I do know, more than anything else, is that I couldn’t have got through this alone – and you can’t, either.”

“I’m not used to being so damn weak. I can’t do this shit, Sam,” Gibbs says despairingly.

“Sure you can. You’re a Marine.” Hurrell smiles at him. “Besides, you’re forgetting something, Gibbs. Something important.” Gibbs raises a questioning eyebrow. “The strength of the wolf is in the pack,” Hurrell reminds him softly. He gets up and puts a hand on Gibbs’s shoulder, squeezing firmly. “And Tony’s your pack, Gibbs. Let him be your strength.”

He squeezes again, and then he turns and leaves.

Gibbs stares into his glass for a long time after he’s gone, just gazing into the amber liquid. He thought the fight was over, and he’d won, but he’s still fighting, and he’s so tired of it. He thought he’d beaten Walid, but somehow he’s still imprisoned, only the prison is of his own making now; and for as long as he stays walled up inside it, Walid is the winner.

He’s taken one blow too many, and he’s staggering around, punch drunk, unable to stand properly. He wants to lie down. He wants to give in. He wants to stop fighting.

He finishes his drink with one last gulp, and Bill walks over. “You want a refill?” he asks.

Gibbs shakes his head, feeling something inside him finally give. “Nope. I gotta go home,” he says. “Someone’s waiting for me.”

~*~

It’s a long wait, but finally Tony sees Gibbs walking unsteadily up the driveway. Tony gets up, but Gibbs doesn’t say a word to him. He doesn’t even look at him. He just gets out his keys and fumbles drunkenly with the lock. The door swings open, and Tony waits, wondering if he’ll be spending the night on the porch.

Gibbs walks into the house and then pauses. “You comin’ in or not?” he mutters, holding the door open.

Tony gives a small, satisfied smile and follows him into the house. Gibbs turns on the light, and Tony blinks, taking in the mess of take-out boxes littering the living room. Most of them are half filled with food, some of it seriously stinking. He takes a step forward and almost trips over something that rolls away and clangs into something else. Looking down, he sees half a dozen empty bottles of whisky.

He glances up at Gibbs to find him looking at him, a defiant challenge in his eyes, clearly expecting an argument. Tony doesn’t give him one.

“C’mon…I’m beat, and you’re drunk on your ass. Let’s go to bed,” Tony says.

Gibbs nods and then stumbles drunkenly straight into the coffee table. Tony grabs him, pulls one arm over his shoulder, and walks him up the stairs towards the bedroom.

“Goin’ the wrong way,” Gibbs mumbles as Tony kicks the bedroom door open. Tony glances inside and sees the bed is missing a mattress. “This way,” Gibbs says, pulling him towards the bathroom.

Tony opens the bathroom door and sees the big mattress crammed into the tiny space, with a couple of pillows and a blanket on top. There are empty bottles of Jack strewn all around.

Gibbs leans against the bathroom door, a mulish look in his eyes, and Tony is all too well aware of just how much he hates showing any sign of vulnerability.

“Got something to say, Tony?” Gibbs demands belligerently.

“Yeah; let’s get some sleep.” Tony shrugs off his clothes, leaving them in an untidy heap in the bathtub, and then he lies down on the mattress.

Gibbs looks down on him for a long moment, and then suddenly he breaks into a low, deep chuckle.

“What’s so funny?” Tony asks.

“I just finally got it,” Gibbs replies, holding onto the bathroom wall while he undresses. He slings his clothes into the bathtub on top of Tony’s and gets under the blanket beside him.

Tony pulls him close, holding him tight, trying to ignore his painfully thin midriff and the ribs he can feel beneath his fingers. Somehow, here, lying on a mattress in the bathroom surrounded by empty whisky bottles, those ribs feel far worse than they did on the boat a few hours ago. The context changes everything.

“You finally got what?” Tony murmurs into the hair that is thankfully growing back as soft and silver as before.

“I finally got it into my thick skull that you aren’t going anywhere.”

Gibbs gives a tired, defeated smile, and then he slings an arm around him, buries his face in the crook of Tony’s neck, and falls fast asleep.

~*~

Gibbs dreams the helicopters and trucks didn’t come. He dreams he’s lying beaten in the sawdust with Walid standing over him, and that the FBI and NCIS don’t show up this time. Walid stakes him out on the ground, tying him down in the sawdust.

They make him watch as they herd Sam, Tony, Greg, Matt, and all the other fighters into the pit and force them to kneel down, execution style, their foreheads touching the ground.

“You lost, Wolfman,” Walid tells him. There’s a gun in his gloved hand, and he holds it against Sam’s head and pulls the trigger. Sam’s head explodes, and he falls forward, his blood staining the sawdust.

“NO!” Gibbs howls, but it’s pointless. He lost, and Walid has won.

A crowd of people gathers around, closing in on him. He can see Scott, Ellis, Tanner, Mac, Frank, McGuire, Pete…all of them getting closer and closer, looming over him, looking down on him.

Walid gives the gun to Scott, and he steps forward and places it against Tony’s head. Gibbs struggles against the ropes tying him down, trying desperately to get free. “Don’t kill him! Don’t damn well kill him! Not Tony! No!”

Tony raises his head and looks straight at him. “Don’t worry about me, Boss,” he says, with a crooked little smile. “I’m not going anywhere.” Scott takes aim, pulls the trigger, and....

“Hey…it’s okay,” a voice says, and Gibbs wakes up, gasping for air, the scream dying in his throat. Tony is leaning over him, stroking his hair gently. “That was one hell of a dream. You’ve been whimpering for ages. I wasn’t sure whether to wake you up or not.”

“Wasn’t a dream,” Gibbs says gruffly, getting up and going over to the basin. He fills it with water and splashes it over his face, shaking from the nightmare. He can still smell the sawdust and feel it under his fingertips from where he was scrabbling to get free. He washes his hands, scrubbing his fingernails to get rid of the sensation.

Then he crawls back onto the mattress, gets hold of Tony, and pulls him close, inhaling the scent of his hair. Gibbs holds on tight until his shaking dies down. It wasn’t real. Tony is alive and well and safe in his arms right now.

“You have them a lot?” Tony asks. “The nightmares – is that why you sleep in here?”

“Every night,” he replies. “Whisky helps. A bit. It’s not why I sleep in here though.”

“Then why?”

Gibbs gives a wry grunt of a laugh. “I have no idea.”

“I can see why you kept me out.” Tony strokes a hand through his hair. It feels good. It reminds Gibbs of his mom. “Nightmares, drinking too much, not eating enough, sleeping in here…anything else I should know about?”

“Yeah. I can’t go into the basement,” Gibbs replies honestly, looking at Tony in the small, dark room. Being in this enclosed space reminds him of the intimacy of their time in the stall, and it’s easier to open up and talk in here, like he did back there. Tony continues stroking his hair gently. “Can’t stand the smell of the sawdust.” Gibbs shudders. “Threw up in there when I first got home.”

“No wonder you had to return to work so soon. That basement is your sanctuary, your den; it’s where you go to lie low, lick your wounds, and heal yourself. We’ll find a way to get it back.”

“Yeah?” Gibbs says hopefully. He hasn’t been able to do that for himself because he can’t stand to be down there, but maybe Tony can find a way.

“Yes.” Tony kisses his mouth firmly. “I promise.”

~*~

They wake up late the next day, and after a leisurely lovemaking session they finally crawl off the mattress, take a shower together, and get dressed. Tony doesn’t want to put his suit back on again, so Gibbs throws him a pair of his sweatpants and a tee shirt to wear.

Tony raids Gibbs’s fridge and cupboards and manages to find enough ingredients for a good brunch, determined to get some flesh back on Gibbs’s bones. He watches Gibbs eat, noticing that he manages a little, but not as much as he’d like.

“Not good?” He gestures with his fork at the plate of eggs, bacon and sausages in front of Gibbs.

“Tastes like…” Gibbs hesitates. “Sawdust.” He grimaces. “You gonna kick my ass about it?” He gives a questioning little grin, and for the first time Tony gets the sense that Gibbs finally sees them as equals. He’s so used to being the one in charge that he hasn’t found this process easy, but he’s getting there now.

“Nope.” Tony shakes his head. “You’ll get your sense of taste back eventually, but I figure it’ll take time. I can wait. I’m a very patient man, Jethro.”

“You are? Since when?” Gibbs asks incredulously.

“I’ve been waiting patiently for you for ten years,” Tony points out, stealing an uneaten sausage from Gibbs’s plate. Gibbs has to cede that point to him.

After brunch they clean the place, throwing out the food containers and piling up the bottles in a box to take for recycling.

“I’m going to go home, get a few clothes,” Tony tells Gibbs when they’ve finished.

“You moving in now, DiNozzo?” Gibbs raises an eyebrow.

“Makes sense until we’ve figured a few things out,” Tony replies with a shrug. “That okay?”

Gibbs’s answering smile makes it clear it is. Tony returns home and packs up a couple of suitcases of clothes. An idea occurs to him, and he grabs his iPod and decides to stop off at the mall on his way back to Gibbs’s place.

He finishes up and glances around his apartment. He’s only brought enough for a few days, but somehow he knows he won’t be coming back to live here again. Eventually, he’ll move the rest of his stuff over. He’s been in love with this man for ten years, and he meant what he said. He’s not going anywhere; he’s with Gibbs to stay.

He returns to Gibbs’s house a couple of hours later, with his TV and DVD player as well as the suitcases and his shopping. Gibbs is out taking the bottles for recycling, so Tony orders in Chinese, Indian and Mexican food for dinner, as well as pizza, just to cover all his bases.

Then he goes down into the basement to set up what he has planned.

Gibbs returns home half an hour later, almost tripping over the suitcases in the hall. “I thought you said a few clothes?” he says, looking bemused.

“Oh, these are just enough for a few days. I’ve got two more closets full at home!” Tony tells him cheerfully.

“Why does anyone need this many clothes?” Gibbs demands, as they fill up the closet in his bedroom to bursting point.

“Because some of us actually like to dress nicely,” Tony tells him, with a pointed look at his baggy old NIS sweatshirt. He remembers Jan telling him how she reformed Sam’s wardrobe, one item at a time, and decides to do the same with Gibbs. The man is far too good-looking to hide under those cheap, shapeless clothes.

The food arrives, and Gibbs stares at the vast quantity in disbelief. “Are we expecting company?”

Tony grins. “Nah…I just figured that if I give you enough options there’ll be something here you want to eat.”

“You’re my mom now?” Gibbs rolls his eyes.

“Mom, dad, insanely handsome boyfriend…I don’t give a damn as long as you eat.”

“Insanely handsome?” Gibbs raises an amused eyebrow, and Tony laughs.

They sit down on the couch with the massive array of take-out in front of them, and Tony notes that his strategy is working, and Gibbs picks a little from all food choices, eating more than Tony suspects he’s done in weeks.

They watch a movie, and then Tony gets up and goes down to the basement for a few minutes to get it ready, before returning to the living room. “C’mon. Time for bed.” He holds out his hand.

Gibbs sighs. “I know the way upstairs, Tony.”

“Yeah, but we’re not going upstairs,” Tony says quietly. “C’mon, Jethro. Trust me.”

~*~

Gibbs allows Tony to haul him to his feet and lead him along the hallway to the basement. He’s already figured out that’s where they’re going, but he has no idea what Tony has in store for him. He stiffens as he gets to the doorway. He’s getting used to Tony seeing him so vulnerable, but he really doesn’t like the idea of throwing up in front of him.

“S’okay,” Tony says, pushing the basement door open. “Just trust me.”

He leads Gibbs into the room, and Gibbs pauses at the top of the stairs, stunned. The entire basement is decked out with lit candles, glowing prettily in the dark. Down below, where the boat used to be, is a soft pile of sawdust, and on top of that is a mattress, complete with fresh pillows and blankets.

“I thought we could try making love down here; it might be a good distraction,” Tony says, leading him down the stairs. “The mattress is from the guest room, so if it doesn’t work, or you don’t want to stay here, then we can just go back upstairs to the bathroom to sleep. No pressure. Take it in your own time.”

Gibbs stops at the bottom of the stairs, hesitating. “Feel like a damn idiot,” he mutters. “Stupid to feel like throwing up because of the smell of sawdust.”

“Actually, scent is the single strongest prompt for memory,” Tony says. “Read it in a porno mag once. See – some of us do read them for the interesting articles.” He winks and holds out his hand. Gibbs takes it and allows Tony to draw him over to the centre of the room. “One more thing.” Tony takes an iPod out of his pocket and plugs it into the set of speakers on Gibbs’s workbench. He presses a button, and a familiar song starts playing softly in the candlelit room.

Tony holds out his hand. “Wanna dance?” he says with a grin. “They’re playing our song, Jethro.”

Gibbs gives a little laugh, shaking his head wryly; only Tony could think up something like this.

“Don't know much about history, don't know much biology, don't know much about a science book, don't know much about the French I took. But I do know that I love you, and I know that if you love me too what a wonderful world this would be,” Sam Cooke croons from the iPod.

“You think I’m looking at this the wrong way?” Gibbs asks as he takes Tony’s hand.

“Actually, no.” Tony pulls him in close, and they start slowly swaying around the room in time to the music. “I think you’re starting to look at it the right way, Jethro.”

He kisses Gibbs’s lips gently, nuzzling into him, and Gibbs rests his hands on Tony’s butt and tries to relax and forget about the smell of sawdust. Somehow, the smell doesn’t seem as bad now, and he finds he can ignore it while Tony is holding him.

They dance for the duration of the song, the candles flickering around them, bathing them in their soft glow. Tony alternates kissing him with crooning along to some of the lyrics, his breath tickling Gibbs’s neck.

When the song ends, Tony starts unbuttoning his shirt, kissing him repeatedly as he undresses him. Gibbs returns the favour, undressing Tony in turn.

When they’re both naked, Tony gestures with his head to the mattress. “Want to try it?”

“So far, so good.” Gibbs nods, prepared to at least try.

Tony takes his hand, and they sink down on the mattress together. The scent of the sawdust overwhelms him immediately, as it’s all around them, but this time Gibbs doesn’t find himself instantly back in the pit.

Tony’s kisses keep him grounded in the here and now, anchoring him, demanding his attention, and he explores Tony’s body with his mouth and hands, focusing on it intently, the way he always does when they’re making love. He loves how responsive Tony is, how he arches up into him, and how he moans and whimpers with pleasure, never holding anything back, letting Gibbs know exactly what he likes.

The candles give Tony’s skin a soft, dappled effect, and Gibbs loves the smooth sensation of all that golden skin under his fingertips as he works his way over Tony’s body, claiming it and making it his.

“Here.” Tony fishes out a tube of lubricant from under the pillow and hands it to him. Gibbs takes it, leans over him…and then stops. “Problem?” Tony asks. “Want to go upstairs?”

“No.” Gibbs flips Tony over so that he’s on top and hands him the lube. “Well, you said it was good,” he mutters, gazing up at him expectantly.

Tony takes the lube with a smile. “Oh, it’s good, but are you sure?”

Gibbs nods, wordlessly. He doesn’t want to think about this too much; he just wants to let go and allow it to happen. He opens his legs as Tony leans over him, looking down on him. There’s a halo of candlelight around Tony’s head, and he looks…insanely handsome. Gibbs grins at that thought and relaxes into the mattress.

Tony slides the tip of his lubed finger inside him, and Gibbs forces himself not to tense up. It actually feels fine, and he opens up some more. Tony leans down and kisses him as he slides his finger back and forth, getting into a rhythm.

Gibbs’s cock is hard and starting to leak; the sensation is exquisitely pleasurable, and he finds himself wanting more. Tony pushes another finger inside him and continues to finger fuck him while kissing him repeatedly at the same time. It feels so damn good that he opens up even wider. Tony slides a third finger inside him, and Gibbs feels himself getting impatient.

“Get that hard cock of yours inside me, DiNozzo,” he growls at last, unsure he can hold on much longer if Tony doesn’t get in him soon.

Tony laughs. “Damn, you’re bossy.”

“That’s never gonna change. Equals – yeah – but I’m still me.” Gibbs grins up at him.

Tony lubricates his cock, and Gibbs watches, fascinated by the sight of Tony’s hand wrapped around his cock, the head disappearing in and out of his fingers. Then Tony positions himself between Gibbs’s thighs.

“Tell me if you want me to stop,” Tony says, before pushing in gently a little way.

There’s a burn, but it’s got a pleasurable edge. Gibbs lies back, relaxing as Tony pushes in further, and allowing him in. It feels uncomfortable, and he gives a little grunt, feeling full and stretched, and not entirely sure that he likes the sensation. Tony pauses, looking down on him, and then takes hold of his hand and squeezes, before pushing in the rest of the way until he’s fully inside him. Gibbs gasps, trying to force his body to adjust to the intrusion.

Tony squeezes his hand again. “Still with me?”

“Yeah. Just do it, Tony,” Gibbs says, from between gritted teeth.

Tony moves his hips a little way back and then pushes in again, and Gibbs feels an explosion of pleasure rocket through his nerve-endings.

“What the hell was that?” he whispers, looking up at Tony, startled.

“Prostate.” Tony grins.

“Shit…that is nothing like how it feels during a doctor’s exam.”

Tony’s grin widens. “Told you it was good!”

Gibbs releases a long, shuddering breath. “Good? It’s…” He doesn’t finish that sentence because Tony pushes in again and a firework display seems to ignite in his senses.

Tony is looking far too smug as he thrusts in and out, gazing down on him with a knowing little smile on his lips. Gibbs sinks deeply into the mattress, looking back up at him, enjoying the little kisses that Tony drops on his mouth every so often.

It stopped being uncomfortable some time ago. Now every inward thrust just sends sparks through his body, making his cock rigid with pleasure. He wraps his hand around it and pumps it in time to Tony’s thrusts, losing himself in the sensation.

As he lies there, looking up at Tony, with the scent of sawdust all around him, Gibbs thinks there’s a certain irony to the fact that he tried so hard to stop himself being fucked in the sawdust back in the pit, only to end up on his back, surrounded by sawdust, being fucked anyway.

This is nothing like the pit though. This is a special kind of intimacy, to be shared only with someone he loves and who loves him in return. There are no gawking spectators and no threat of death hanging over them; there is just him and Tony, sharing something intensely private and pleasurable.

Tony speeds up, and Gibbs is barely sure where that pleasure is coming from now as the nerve endings in his cock and his ass combine to create one big overload of sensation. It all explodes at the same time, and he comes over his own fist and belly.

When he comes to, Tony is lying in an exhausted heap on top of him, his head angled to one side on Gibbs’s shoulder, gazing at him from gleaming green eyes.

“So, was I right, or was I right?” he asks, looking as irritating as only a Tony DiNozzo who has been proved right can be.

“Smart-ass.” Gibbs slaps the ass in question fondly.

Tony gives a happy, gurgling laugh and slowly pulls out of him. He gets up and goes around the room, blowing out all the candles, and then he returns and drops down beside Gibbs on the mattress. Gibbs pulls the blanket over them both, and they share another long, deep kiss.

“So, I was thinking, I could make you a closet,” Gibbs murmurs sleepily. “For all those damn clothes of yours.”

Tony smiles and snuggles in close against his chest, and Gibbs holds him tight as they both fall asleep.

~*~

It’s dark in the basement without the candlelight, and when Tony wakes up a couple of hours later he wonders where he is at first. Then he remembers; he’s wrapped up in Gibbs’s arms, where he belongs. The actual place doesn’t matter, as long as he’s with Gibbs.

He stretches out, luxuriating in the feel of Gibbs’s firm body against his own. It’s been a long, hard road to get here, but now he finally has this grey wolf tamed enough to lie quietly beside him. Tony doesn’t kid himself that Gibbs will ever change; he’ll always be stubborn, grumpy, and ornery, as well as loyal, brave, and protective, and Tony wouldn’t want him any other way. Gibbs is the sum of his parts, good and bad, and Tony knows he can’t have the white wolf without the dark. He wouldn’t want that anyway.

He glances up and sees Gibbs’s blue eyes shining in the dark room.

“You awake?” Tony whispers.

“Yeah. You woke me up. You’re thinking too loud.” Gibbs taps the back of his head in a mock head-slap. “What’s going on in there?” Gibbs asks, stroking Tony’s hair where he just tapped.

“Not much. I was just thinking about wolves,” Tony says, resting his chin on Gibbs’s chest. “You?”

“I was thinking about fighting,” Gibbs replies.

Tony sits up a little way, feeling uneasy.

Gibbs pulls him down. “Damn it, DiNozzo – you’re letting in cold air.”

“Fighting?” Tony rolls over onto his side, next to Gibbs, and gazes at him expectantly.

“Yeah. Been fighting a long time, Tony. Fought my dad, fought my ex-wives, and fought Walid. I’m a stubborn bastard, and I never once gave in – until I fought you.”

Tony smiles. “Well, like I said, I fight dirty.”

“So do I.” Gibbs grunts.

“Well, maybe this was one fight you didn’t want to win.”

“Yeah – against an opponent who refused to give up.”

“Couldn’t. Too much to lose,” Tony says softly. He trails his fingers over Gibbs’s stomach, enjoying the fact that nobody else on Earth could make this particular wolf roll over and show them his belly. This old wolf is his, and Walid found out the hard way just how dangerous a Tony DiNozzo in love can be.

“Think I finally met my match.” Gibbs strokes his hair again.

“Winner takes it all, huh?” Tony says with a grin, placing his hand possessively on Gibbs’s chest, over his heart.

Gibbs pulls him close and kisses him. “And the loser.”

~*~

He dreams he’s trotting through woodland, the moon dappling his grey coat. He feels strong and sure-footed as he runs across the grass. He’s sleek, fit and muscled, and he has a mate by his side.

Tony runs with him, barefooted, just as strong and sleek as he is. They run through glades and streams, laughing as the water splashes on Tony’s bare feet, and Gibbs’s paws.

They reach the edge of the woodland and pause. Over there, out on the flat, open grassland, lies danger and darkness, but it’s a darkness Gibbs knows he has to face. He pads out slowly from the safety of the trees and walks towards it.

He finds himself in a hollowed out pit and there is sawdust under his paws. Enclosing the pit are bleachers; empty, silent, and eerie.

He stands there, in the middle of the pit, puts back his head, and howls at the moon.

Gibbs wakes up with a start. A couple of hours must have passed since their last conversation, and Tony is fast asleep beside him. Gibbs gets off the mattress and goes upstairs to use the bathroom. On his way back, he glances out of the window to see that there’s a full moon shining outside.

He knows what he has to do. He goes back down into the basement and quietly gets dressed. Then he crouches down beside Tony and nudges him awake.

“I have to go somewhere,” he says.

Tony sits up, his hair sticking up at a dozen different angles at once. “You want me to come?”

“Yes.” Gibbs doesn’t hesitate. He’s done pushing Tony out. He needs him for this, and he isn’t too proud to admit it.

Tony gets dressed, and they go out to the car together.

“You know the way?” Tony asks, and Gibbs nods, not even needing to question how Tony knows where they’re going.

“Yeah, I looked in McGee’s files when he was at lunch one day.”

The drive takes a couple of hours, and they arrive when the night is at its darkest, just before dawn. There’s nothing here, on this site where that last Fight Night was held, just open grassland. There is still a faint smattering of sawdust though, showing where the pit once was.

Gibbs parks beside the pit and gets out. Tony makes no move to join him; he understands that there will always be a part of Gibbs that is a lone wolf and there are some things he must do alone.

Gibbs goes over to where the pit once was and walks around it, scuffing the sawdust with his boots. It looks so different now. There are no bleachers, or holding pens; no trucks or hotdog vendors. There’s no referee, no commentator, and no Walid, sitting up there on his throne, playing at being an emperor. There is no Scott, looking down on him, and no Frank cheering him on. There are no stable owners, biting their nails nervously as they watch their fighters perform. There’s no baying mob, crying out the name he was given in this place.

“Wolf-man! Wolf-man! Wolf-man!”

Gibbs prowls around the outside of the pit, remembering how it felt to stand here, just before a fight, the adrenaline making his heart pump fast. He remembers stepping out into the pit, and the roar of the crowd.

“Wolf-man! Wolf-man! Wolf-man!”

He remembers how much a part of him enjoyed it, even while another part of him hated it. He remembers feeding that part that enjoyed it, in order to survive.

He is both dark and light wolf, like everyone else. They are both inside him, and he needs them both. He hugs them both close as he walks around the pit. They kept him alive out here. The dark wolf helped him find the anger to fight and gave him that killer instinct that helped him win, while the light wolf reminded him what it’s like to love and gave him something to fight for instead of against.

He pads out into the middle of the pit, remembering that final Fight Night with the rain pouring down and the helicopters flying in.

He remembers other Fight Nights too; his first one, when he didn’t know what hell awaited him; and the Fight Night when they threw Tony into the pit against him.

He remembers Steve being murdered that night, and he bows his head in remembrance of all the fallen: Ben, Brian, Rajul, and all the many others whose names he doesn’t know. So many lives so pointlessly sacrificed. He grieves for them all.

Then he remembers the things he did because he had no choice if he wanted to stay alive and keep others alive. He allows himself to feel the great sense of guilt and shame that he’s been carrying around inside. That opens up the floodgates and other emotions rush in, demanding to be felt too: pain, sadness, grief, terror, shock, confusion, anger, and hatred, all crowding in.

He falls to his knees, throws back his head, and howls at the moon, giving cry to all his anguish. A terrible thing happened to him and right here is where he must face it. They captured him, beat him, abused him, and forced him to commit acts that went against his nature. They stole a part of his soul and kept it captive until Tony came along and freed it.

His howls turn into wrenching sobs, and he cries for a long time, his body shaking.

Then it’s over. He’s done. Spent. He’s fought his last battle in this pit.

He hears a sound behind him and then Tony appears. He sits down in the sawdust beside Gibbs and puts an arm around his shoulders. It’s cold, but Tony warms him, and they sit there quietly for a long time.

“I was an angry kid who lost his mom,” Gibbs says eventually, looking straight ahead. “I became an angry man who lost his wife and daughter. I’ve been angry too long. It kept me from living. It pushed away the people I loved. My dad, my ex-wives…you.”

The pit was his catharsis. It’s where he got that anger out, punching away at faceless strangers in place of old enemies, over and over again.

“I don’t want to be angry anymore.” He glances at Tony, who is gazing at him silently. Tony nods, understanding him, the way he always has.

What happened here changed him. He tried to pretend it didn’t and carry on as usual because he didn't know how to handle it, but he won’t do that anymore.

“You’ll have to lead the team for a while,” Gibbs continues. “I’ll go and see Fornell next week. There’s a lot to tell him. Might take some time.”

“Sure,” Tony says quietly. “Take as long as you need.”

“And I have other people to see. Brian spoke about his father, and Ben had a wife and a couple of kids.”

“I’ll come with you, if you want?” Tony offers, and Gibbs nods, wondering why it’s always been so hard for him to accept help before. It seems so easy now.

They sit there together, watching the first faint rays of dawn painting the horizon a rosy pink, and Gibbs thinks that it really is a wonderful world.

He turns to Tony. “Let’s go home,” he says.

The End

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