Hiding in Plain Sight - 4/21

[xanthefic]

Hiding in Plain Sight
By Xanthe
Part Four

Ducky closed his eyes and opened them again, but the words on the page were still blurred. He took off his spectacles and rubbed his eyes but the tiredness remained. He sighed, and glanced at his watch; it was nearly midnight.

"I suppose I've done enough for the night," he murmured. The answer was in here, somewhere, if only he could find it, but he knew from many years' experience that he'd get nowhere by staring at an autopsy report until he fell asleep over it. The others hadn't yet returned and he felt like taking a walk. This city really was remarkable – the architecture alone was astonishing. He could also do with a nice cup of tea.

Ducky decided to walk down to the cafeteria he had visited earlier in the day. "I hope I can remember the way," he said to himself. "And I wonder if they're open at this time of night? Ah well, I can at least go and find out!"

He found his way easily enough, and the room, with its beautiful view over the sea, was open. There were no staff – just jugs of hot water and percolating coffee, and an array of snacks. He helped himself to some hot water and a tea bag, and then glanced around – and saw, sitting in the corner reading, the somewhat stiff and uncomfortable figure of Woolsey, dressed impeccably in a suit and tie.

"Ah – I see I am not the only one burning the midnight oil," Ducky said, going over to him. "May I join you, Mr Woolsey?"

"By all means." Woolsey waved to the seat in front of him. "Although actually I was just about to retire for a nightcap – would you like to join me for some fine Scottish whisky, Dr Mallard?"

"Ah – those words are music to my ears," Ducky said. “And it sounds infinitely preferable to tea!” Woolsey beamed at him and got up. Ducky left the cup of tea on the table and followed the base commander. "So - why the suit and tie?" Ducky asked as they walked.

"This? Oh…I went to the party on the mainland earlier. I'm quite new in this command position and I felt I should show my face, that kind of thing," Woolsey said.

Ducky couldn't help thinking that Woolsey would have stood out like a sore thumb dressed in the rather formal suit he was wearing. "I didn't stay long," Woolsey said.

"Why ever not?" Ducky asked. "It sounded like enormous fun."

"Yes. Well…to be perfectly honest, I'm not terribly comfortable at social events," Woolsey told him. Ducky could imagine that was the case. The poor man looked as if he had trouble fitting in anywhere – which was a shame, as he was clearly an educated man and a highly competent administrator. He just lacked confidence in his social skills and Ducky suspected there was a reason for that.

They reached the door to his quarters and he waved his hand at the door lock and then gestured Ducky inside when it opened.

Ducky stepped into the most orderly set of quarters he'd ever seen. Nothing was out of place – even Woolsey's slippers were laid out with military precision beside the bed. There were several books on shelves; Ducky read the titles while Woolsey fixed them both a drink.

"That's quite a collection you've got here," Ducky said. "All the classics of course – but these are the ones that interest me most, Mr Woolsey – the entire collection of Ian Fleming's James Bond novels?" He picked up one of the novels and held it up, with a raised eyebrow. "And somewhat well thumbed too, by the looks of it."

"I love them," Woolsey confessed, looking slightly shame-faced. "I've read them so many times that I practically have them memorised."

"Ah," Ducky said, accepting his glass of whisky and taking the seat he was being offered. "I think, Mr Woolsey, that beneath that very neatly ordered exterior there lurks the heart of an adventurer!"

Woolsey blushed, looking flustered. "Oh, I don't think so…well, I suppose I did end up here, in a completely different galaxy, but no, really…"

Ducky gave a gentle chuckle. This man really was delightful and he had no idea just how delightful he was. "Don't worry. Your secret is safe with me," he said, tapping the side of his nose.

Woolsey gave a bashful smile, sat down opposite him, and leaned back, swirling his drink around in his glass.

"Cheers," Ducky said, raising his glass.

"Bottoms up!" Woolsey said, and then he looked unbearably embarrassed. "Uh, that is…"

"It's fine," Ducky chuckled. "I'm all in favour of upturned bottoms! My, this is fine stuff," he said, taking a sip. Woolsey glowed visibly. "So you haven't been here long?" Ducky queried, making polite conversation.

"No - just a few months - it was all a bit unexpected really. I wouldn't have come if I'd still been with Jane, obviously, but the divorce all happened rather suddenly and then I just thought – there's nothing left for me here, perhaps I should try something new. I mean, if we'd been married Jane wouldn't have come – she wouldn't have liked this at all. But she even got custody of my dog – well, I suppose he was our dog, but I used to look after him, take him for walks, feed him. Still, she wasn't to be argued with on the subject and I suppose I gave in. I always did give in to her." He looked suddenly very sad.

"My dear fellow…" Ducky began, wondering how his innocent attempt to make polite conversation had led to such a startling outpouring. He felt rather sorry for the poor man – clearly he had been very badly hurt, and the wounds were both deep and recent.

"No…I'm sorry. I'm going on far too much. It's just…I couldn't sleep which is why I went to the cafeteria but nobody was there and I haven't really, to be honest, made any friends here. Well, of course it's difficult when you're in a command position, and I don't find it easy anyway, but even so, I replaced a very popular commander and I've locked horns a few times with General Sheppard who is one of those tops I find quite intimidating and…oh dear, I really shouldn't be telling you all this."

"It's okay," Ducky said gently.

Woolsey looked up, blinking, looking for all the world as if nobody had ever been kind to him in his entire life.

"My dear boy, it really is okay," Ducky said firmly. "You can tell me anything you like – it will go no further than this room. As for making friends – I very much hope that you will consider me one."

Woolsey blinked again, and then gave a rather shy little smile.

"Thank you," he said. "I would like that very much."

~*~

Abby sat in the second row of seats in the puddle jumper, gazing at Evan Lorne's hair, where it sat, flat, on the nape of his neck. It was nice hair and she longed to touch it. Evan Lorne. She played the name over and over again in her head. Lieutenant-Colonel Evan Lorne… she felt a surge of pride over his title – clearly her stranger from the beach was very good at his job. She could believe that. She had liked his air of easy but easy-going authority right from the start.

Then her gaze fell on Gibbs, sitting beside Lorne, his mouth set in a grim line. She heard his words to her from earlier in the evening, echoing around in her head.

"Abby – don't go far. You're not as experienced in these situations as the others…"

She'd disobeyed him and caused him anxiety; so much so that he'd had to come looking for her. She didn't think there was any way she'd be going to bed without a sore, well spanked bottom this evening. She hated the thought of Gibbs having to spank her; she was always such a good sub – she wasn't like Tony who got into trouble on an almost daily basis. Besides, Gibbs's spankings really *hurt*.

Aware of Gibbs's mood, nobody said anything as they flew back to the city. Abby loved the way Lorne's hands moved across the control panel as they flew. They were such nice hands; firm but artistic.

They reached the city, landed, and got up to leave the jumper, but Lorne placed a hand on Gibbs's arm, stopping him.

"Sir, I realise this might not be the appropriate time to ask, but…I've taken a real shine to Abby, and, if she's in agreement, I'd like to ask your permission to see her again. Perhaps take her on a date?"

Gibbs glowered at him and Abby bit on her lip, but Lorne seemed undaunted. Her heart gave a little zing – he'd taken a shine to her? And he was willing to stand up to Gibbs-in-a-bad-mood in order to see her again? Gibbs glanced at her.

"Well, Abby?" he asked.

"Yes please!" she said, with a big, wide grin at Lorne.

"Very well, Lieutenant-Colonel Lorne. You can present yourself to me tomorrow in my quarters and we'll discuss it. I'm not making any promises at this stage but I'll consider it," Gibbs said tersely. He turned away again but Lorne stopped him.

"Sir," he said.

"Yes?" Gibbs growled, turning back - and looking extremely annoyed at being called back a second time. Lorne stood his ground.

"I meant what I said earlier. Please don't punish Abby. She didn't mean anything," Lorne said, and Abby's heart did a flip of pure joy.

"I told her not to go far and she disobeyed me, putting herself in jeopardy in the process. She was just lucky it was you she met on that hillside tonight and not someone else, Colonel," Gibbs said tersely. Lorne nodded.

"I understand," he said. "I know she did wrong but she does too, don't you, Abby?"

She liked the way he said her name. She nodded, eagerly.

"I'm really sorry, Gibbs," she said contritely, adding, in her head, please don't spank me! and crossing her fingers behind her back. Her top turned to her, a stern look in those usually benign – towards her at least – blue eyes.

"Abby, how am I going to keep you safe if you won't remember stuff like this?" he told her. "If a spanking helps drive the message home then I'll do it. I'd rather you were crying over my knee than dead in a ditch somewhere. Can you imagine how I'd feel – how any of us would feel - if it was your body lying on a slab for Ducky to autopsy? Seriously? Can you?"

Abby had a sudden glimpse of just how worried he'd been, and her throat constricted.

"You're right," she said, with a firm nod. "Thank you, Evan but I think I deserve whatever Gibbs wants to hand out."

"Oh for god's sake." Gibbs rolled his eyes. "You are impossible, young lady," he told her, putting his arms around her and pulling her close, then kissing the top of her head.

She saw him glancing at Evan over her head, and then at Tony, both of whom were giving him hopeful looks. Nobody would interfere with a top's right to discipline his collared submissive, especially not after the stunt she'd pulled earlier this evening, but both Tony and Evan seemed to be willing Gibbs not to spank her. McGee just looked petrified, both by Gibbs's bad mood and by the prospect of Abby being spanked. She thought that if Gibbs did spank her then McGee might just fade away in terror at being in the vicinity.

"Okay," Gibbs said, finally, with a sigh. "You get this one for free, Abby – but if anything like this happens again you'll be over my knees so fast you won't even know about it until you're staring at the carpet. Understood?"

Abby grinned and kissed him. "Yes, Gibbs! And I promise I won't do anything like this again!"

She felt a little starburst of happiness explode inside; she'd met a wonderful top and Gibbs wasn't mad with her any more – all was right in her world.

~*~

John Sheppard paused in the doorway to Rodney's lab and gazed at his husband for a couple of minutes. He always loved watching Rodney work, especially when Rodney didn't know he was being watched. His sub's beautiful hands, always restless, moved at 100mph as he typed, drank coffee, wrote up an equation on his whiteboard, and reset three different machines - all seemingly at the same time.

Rodney was dressed for an evening out in tight black chinos that showed off his fine round ass perfectly, and a bright blue shirt that brought out the colour of his eyes. He even wore a smudge of eyeliner and John loved seeing Rodney in eyeliner.

"Hey," he said at last, having drunk his fill of watching his beloved sub.

Rodney jumped and then swung around, startled at being interrupted in his thoughts. He was completely alone in the lab and had obviously been lost in his own little world.

"Oh, it's you," he huffed, seeing John. He turned his back deliberately on his top and bent over his experiment – which didn't have the desired effect of giving John the cold shoulder, offering, as it did, a fantastic view of Rodney's firm bottom.

"Still annoyed with me?" John said, coming into the room and leaving the big box he'd brought with him on the desk by the door.

"It's the Athosian Festival of Deliverance!" Rodney lamented. "It's the best festival in the Athosian calendar – the one with all the really good food and not the crap one with all the oatmeal where they mourn the dead and sing gloomy songs all night. I can't believe you wouldn't let us go. I got all dressed up especially too."

"You could have gone, Rodney," John pointed out.

"Not without you. You do all the cool socialising and it's no fun eating when I'm not sharing your plate. Besides, it was at Collar Bay and we could have…you know…"

"Re-lived your collaring?" John raised an eyebrow. "We do that every year on its anniversary, Rodney."

"I know! But still! You know how much I love that place and we don't go there that often considering it's only a short jumper ride away and you are a bloody pilot!" Rodney moaned.

John stood behind him and ran his hands over Rodney's lush ass where he was bent over his work.

"And it's no use thinking that fondling me will get you anywhere!" Rodney said.

"Really?" John squeezed Rodney's buttocks gently and Rodney bit back a low moan.

"No!" he said, standing up and depriving John of the easy target.

"You gonna refuse me my rights, Rodney?" John asked, wrapping his arms around his husband's waist and nibbling on Rodney's ear. Rodney sighed and melted back against him.

"Well obviously not, no," he replied. "But I want you to know I'm very, very annoyed with you."

"Did you eat anything tonight?" John asked, his hands sliding up to caress Rodney's nipples into firm points through his shirt.

"When all that was on offer in the cafeteria was cardboard sandwiches because they hadn't bothered to cook knowing that everyone was going to be feasting on the mainland tonight?" Rodney ranted. "No! I didn't! I decided I wasn't hungry and I'm never not hungry so that's all your fault too."

"Okay. So if you're not hungry you won't want this big box of food I had Lorne bring back from the feast on one of his ferrying trips," John said.

"No I'm not…whaaat?!" Rodney turned and looked at him. John grinned, and kissed his sub's surprised mouth.

"You can thank me later. On your knees, with your mouth," he said. "Because this deserves a truly spectacular blow job."

He went and retrieved the box, placed it on a spare desk, and began unpacking the contents.

"Oh my god! Oh my god!" Rodney hopped around the desk like a demented squirrel. "You are the best top in the world."

"Yes I am," John agreed.

Rodney gathered him into a hug and gave him a big sloppy kiss and then went back to hopping around the table, surveying the contents of the box. There were many different kinds of Athosian delicacies, one big plate and a set of cutlery. John piled the food high on the plate and took a bite, savouring it. Rodney stared at him, a look of intense longing on his face as he surveyed his top eating. John piled up the fork again and then took another mouthful. Rodney's face fell.

"You're not going to feed me?" he asked, so crestfallen that it was all John could do not to laugh.

"I thought you were very, very annoyed with me," John said. "Eating when you're that annoyed will give you indigestion."

"JOHN!" Rodney yelled. John grinned, and then relented.

"Okay – on your knees beside me and worship appropriately at my feet and I'll consider it."

Rodney shot him a dirty look but John thought it had been awhile since he'd really taken Rodney down. They had so much fun together that he often forgot to really ground Rodney, and his brilliant, irascible sub sometimes needed that. Maybe he sometimes needed even *more* than that, John thought to himself, uneasily, but he pushed that thought aside.

Rodney got to his knees beside him and settled there, lifting his face up like an innocent cherub, gazing hopefully at the food. John filled a fork full of Rodney's favourite delicacy and held it out to his sub; Rodney took it in his mouth like it was ambrosia.

"Good boy," John murmured approvingly, and Rodney nuzzled his knee affectionately as he chewed.

"Oh god this stuff is good!" Rodney said after he swallowed. John fed him for some time, loving the little humming sounds of pleasure that his sub was making as he enjoyed the meal.

John took a few mouthfuls himself, but he wasn't really that bothered. That bad feeling in his gut was still there; something wasn't right and he wasn't sure what. He'd kept in touch with Gibbs every hour, and he'd kept a strict rota of where all his marines were, which had been hard given that everyone was coming and going all night. He'd drummed into them, in several briefings, that they were not to take any risks, or accept a one night stand from any unfamiliar partners, however good-looking and charismatically toppy he or she might be. He didn't know what more he could have done and he was exhausted by the night's work as he'd been rushing back and forth, here and there, for the past few hours.

"You okay?" Rodney asked, and John realised he'd let out a loud, heartfelt sigh.

"Just…worried," John murmured.

"I knew it! It's those bloody NCIS agents, poking around, asking dumb questions," Rodney fumed. "As if this is THEIR command and not yours."

"Rodney – that's not why I'm worried," John told him, shaking his head. Rodney's loyalty was flattering, if a little over-zealous in this instance. "I'm worried because it's been over a month since the last murder and we're due another one. Tonight has been chaotic, lots of people coming and going. It would be the perfect opportunity for our killer to strike again. I suppose I could have told the Athosians to cancel the ceremony, or forbidden anyone from the base from attending it, but our people work hard and this is one of those great nights that everyone loves. I didn't want to be heavy-handed about it but I can't help wondering if I've done the right thing."

"I'm sure you have," Rodney said firmly. "You always do."

"Anyway, I thought you liked Abby," John said, changing the subject because worrying wasn't going to be any help. "You raved about her earlier. So they're not ALL bad."

"No, she was nice. Gibbs scares me though and I don't like DiNozzo at all," Rodney said.

"I can't figure out Gibbs. You say Abby told you he's not sleeping with any of them?" John shook his head. "They're a nice-looking bunch of subs. You'd think he could at least have some fun with them."

"The way you had fun with a bunch of different subs before you collared me?" Rodney asked, a glint of mischief in his eye. "Maybe not everyone likes to play the field so vigorously, General Tightpants."

"If you remember I was celibate for a whole year before I met you," John told him reprovingly.

"So maybe Gibbs is celibate too – for whatever reason," Rodney shrugged.

John nodded absently, one hand tangled in Rodney's hair where he was kneeling beside him. He worried away at his bottom lip with his teeth, wishing he could shift that anxious feeling in his gut.

"I think…I'm just going to do the rounds one more time," he murmured. "Check on my marines, make sure everyone is okay."

"What about the truly spectacular blowjob?" Rodney said, leaning forward and nudging at John's crotch with his nose.

"It can wait," John sighed.

He reached down, took hold of Rodney's head, and bestowed a deep kiss on his mouth. Then he got up and walked towards the door. He hesitated in the doorway, and glanced back at Rodney.

"You gonna be okay here on your own?" he asked, that anxious feeling flaring in the pit of his belly at the thought of anything happening to Rodney.

"I'll be fine." Rodney rolled his eyes. "This is my lab, John. Nobody is going to hurt me in here. Although, if it'll make you feel better I'll lock the door when you leave and I won't let anyone in unless I know them."

"That would make me feel better, yes," John told him.

"Seriously? I thought it was overkill myself," Rodney said, coming over to the door all the same. "John?" He put his arm around John's waist and pulled him close, holding him tight. John felt the kaeira energy flow between them as Rodney sent waves of reassurance his way through the lifebond they shared. "You sure you're okay?" Rodney asked softly. "Just, I've never known you turn down a truly spectacular blowjob before."

John gave his sub a wry grin at that. "I know." He shook his head in amazement. "And yes, I'm fine. But I'll feel better when we've caught whoever is killing my marines."

"Okay." Rodney kissed him and the kaeira fizzed happily between them.

John tore himself away and left the lab – but he stood outside the door and didn't set off down the hallway until Rodney had locked the door behind him. Rodney was his lifebonded partner, and John loved him more then he'd ever loved anyone in his life. Rodney *was* his life, and the thought of anyone so much as touching Rodney caused a familiar red mist to rise inside him. His protective instinct, when roused, was always fierce and while it was so strong as to send him almost insane where Rodney was concerned, it was also pretty formidable where any of the other people under his protection were concerned as well.

Three of his marines had died so far; three people under his command whose bodies he'd had to return to Earth to their folks; three people he had failed to protect.

John swung his arm angrily against his thigh and set off at a run back towards the puddle-jumper bay to take a look at the inventories of who had been coming and going all night.

He'd catch this bastard. He had to.

~*~

"So, how did it go?" Ducky asked, as his colleagues returned to their suite of rooms, looking perhaps a little dishevelled and worse for wear.

"You still up, Duck?" Gibbs asked.

"I can never sleep when you lot are off somewhere, potentially doing something dangerous," Ducky replied.

He noticed the hard lines of tension across Gibbs's shoulders and the set of his mouth. Something had happened; he was glad now that he had waited up for them. Gibbs had told him that he had a bad feeling in his gut about tonight – and Ducky had never yet known Gibbs's gut to be wrong.

"Where's Ziva?" he asked, anxiously.

"She pulled a sub," Tony said, a leer playing around his extremely mobile lips. "The boss let her go off and play. It's always one rule for tops and another for subs," he muttered, but the complaint didn't pass Gibbs by.

"You could have played if you wanted, Tony. All you had to do was ask. That's what she did," Gibbs snapped.

"No need, boss. I was out there, doing my job, just like you asked," Tony replied. "No time for anything else – not that there was a shortage of offers."

Gibbs's eyes flashed, and Ducky could feel the tension in the air. Now he really was worried. Tony usually needled at Gibbs for a reaction and this was no different – it was Gibbs who was behaving differently. He looked as if he was close to breaking point, and Ducky had never known Tony succeed in pushing him that far before. Maybe he was just tired, or maybe the evening had taken its toll on him. It couldn't be that easy being a dominant with five collared subs to take care of in this strange place, so far from their usual environment.

Ducky made a mental note to tell Tony to dial it down a bit while they were here, unless he wanted to spend the rest of their time in the Pegasus galaxy standing instead of sitting, and sleeping on his front at night.

"Okay people, go to bed," Gibbs ordered. "It's late and I want a full report tomorrow morning. Set your alarms for 09:00. That'll give you six hours sleep."

"Night Gibbs." Abby threw her arms around her top and kissed him before going to her room.

"Boss. Ducky." Tim waved his hand in the air and retired to his room.

"Sure you don't want any company in there tonight, boss?" Tony asked, nodding in the direction of Gibbs's bedroom. "It's a pretty big bed for one person. You might get lonely."

Gibbs didn't respond with his usual weary good humour to that. He just shook his head, tersely.

"Goodnight, DiNozzo," he said firmly.

Tony stood there for a moment, hands on hips, assessing his boss, and then sighed.

"Well okay then. You know where I am if you need me." He waved his hand nonchalantly in the air and retired to his own room.

"Ducky." Gibbs nodded in Ducky's direction and then walked stiffly into his own bedroom, shutting the door firmly behind him.

Ducky watched him go, noting the tense way he was carrying himself. "Oh no, my dear friend, I don't think you get off that easily," he murmured to himself.

He made some coffee, ensuring that it was as strong as Gibbs liked it, and then went to his top's door and let himself in, without knocking – he had no intention of taking no for an answer and he knew that 'no' was exactly the answer Gibbs would give if he gave him the opportunity.

He found Gibbs standing by the bed, gazing at the contents of the little box in his hands. Gibbs glanced up when he came in, looking as if he was readying himself to be angry, but then the anger faded, and he just looked locked up in himself, tight and vulnerable instead.

"Ah. Shannon's collar," Ducky murmured, recognising the box. Gibbs carried it wherever he went.

Ducky went and looked at the collar over Gibbs's shoulder. He had seen it before but not so close up. It was plain gold, and there was nothing showy about it but there was an elegance to its simplicity.

“Soul meets soul," Ducky read out the inscription on the inside of the collar. “That’s Shelley isn’t it? ‘Soul meets soul on lover’s lips’? How beautiful.” It was also a little unexpected. He knew that beneath that tough exterior lurked a man who felt things deeply, but he had never known Gibbs to read poetry.

“Yeah, I guess – poetry’s not my thing but Shannon loved it,” Gibbs murmured, tracing over the inscription with his finger. “She loved this line in particular – always said I was her soulmate.”

Ducky noticed the piece of twisted metal on the collar, where one of the bullets that had killed Gibbs's first spouse had hit. "Jethro, how long are you going to do this to yourself?" Ducky asked. "She's been dead for fifteen years. You have to let her go."

"I've tried, Ducky," Gibbs replied. "I've even tried getting married again – three times, as you well know."

"Well, that, my dear boy, is because you're a romantic," Ducky told him. "And you tried to find with them what you had with her which is why it never worked."

"I know, I know," Gibbs growled. "And that's why I have no intention of trying it again. I'm a hard top to be with, Ducky, you know that. I ask a lot – Shannon understood me but my other spouses didn't. I hurt them, Ducky, because I was always looking for her in them."

"Well, it didn't help that you only married red-haired women," Ducky pointed out. "What you had with Shannon was hardly likely to be repeated just by marrying someone who looked like her. What you need is to take a sub for who they are, not who they remind you of."

"No, what I need is never to take a sub in that way again," Gibbs said firmly.

"Oh Jethro," Ducky sighed. Gibbs shut the box with a snap of his fingers and replaced it back in his luggage. Ducky glanced around the room. "You haven't unpacked, I see. You should have asked one of your agents to do it for you. I'm not entirely sure what perks you get out of having them wear your collars, Jethro. You certainly exercise few enough rights."

"They get what they need," Gibbs replied. "Don't they?" he asked, gazing at Ducky searchingly. Ducky traced a finger over his own collar, and smiled.

"Yes, they do," he murmured. "Ah, Jethro, what is this habit you have of picking up waifs and strays and collaring them to keep them safe?"

Gibbs gave a wry smile. "You think I have a rescue complex, Duck?"

"Well, it does sometimes appear that way," Ducky replied with a chuckle. "Oh, I brought you coffee," he gestured.

"At least one of my subs is looking out for me," Gibbs grunted, sitting down on the side of the bed and taking a sip of the coffee.

"What happened tonight, Jethro?" Ducky asked, sitting down on the bed beside Gibbs. "You had a bad feeling in your gut and then you came back all tense like this." He placed both his hands on Gibbs's shoulders and found them as solid as rock when he tried to massage them. He persisted anyway, and Gibbs loosened up a little as he worked on him.

"I still have a bad feeling," Gibbs said. "And nothing happened – not really. I had a strange encounter with some kind of Athosian prophetess. Shook me up a bit. She said something about me being blocked…"

"Well she's not far off there," Ducky murmured, sinking his fingers more firmly into Gibbs's tense muscles.

"Yeah – which makes me worried about the other thing she said. She told me I'd arrived here with five but would go home with only one."

"Ah. Hmmm – and you think she's referring to us, and now you're afraid we'll be killed?" Ducky asked.

"I don't know what to make of it – but you know how I feel about the people under my care and protection, Duck." Gibbs gave a little groan as Ducky's fingers found a particularly sore spot.

"Yes, I do."

"And then Ziva went off into a typical Ziva deep end so she'll be hell to sort out when she comes home. And just to make the evening really memorable, Abby ran off with a stranger and we spent half the night looking for her. She was okay when we finally caught up with her, but with my gut feeling, and what that Athosian woman said – I was pretty worried, Ducky, I don't mind admitting that."

"Ouch." Ducky grimaced. "That really was very naughty of Abigail. I'll have a word with her myself tomorrow – unless you're going to be spanking her to high heaven, in which case I'll dig out the special ointment, sit beside her and give her a more gentle piece of my mind."

Gibbs grunted. "I allowed myself to be persuaded not to spank her, but she's just lucky she stumbled across the deputy base commander who took care of her and who specifically asked me not to punish her. Plus, Tony was giving me the puppy dog eyes on her behalf."

"Well, nobody likes to think of Abby being in trouble," Ducky said.

"Yeah. And I admit I hate doing it. She's such a big kid and has the kindest heart of anyone I ever met," Gibbs sighed. "Still, she deserved a hard spanking and should have got one."

"I'll remind her of that point when I speak to her then," Ducky said, making some inroads into the tension in Gibbs's shoulders but finding yet more knots underneath.

"So what did you get up to, Ducky?"

"I went for a walk down to the cafeteria and bumped into Mr. Woolsey. We ended up retiring to his quarters for a nightcap. I got back just an hour or so before you did. He really is a very sweet fellow, hopelessly mixed up of course but delightful with it."

"Yeah. He reminds me a bit of you, Ducky," Gibbs said, and his hand came up and covered Ducky's where it was working his shoulder.

"Me?" Ducky frowned.

Gibbs turned and smiled at him. "You – when I first met you," he murmured. Ducky felt the familiar stiffness inside at being reminded of how he had once been. "No confidence, babbling a bit too much, worried about saying the wrong thing," Gibbs said softly.

He reached out, and gently touched the side of Ducky's face. "If I could punch him again for what he did to you I would," he whispered.

Ducky caught Gibbs's hand in his own, and kissed it. "No need," he replied. "You have done more than enough for me, Jethro my love."

Gibbs's blue eyes were shining with an intensity that Ducky knew all too well, and Gibbs's hands were suddenly firm on his shoulders, pulling him close, and then Gibbs's lips were hard on his mouth, demanding entrance.

Ducky sighed, and surrendered to the kiss, his hands sliding around Gibbs's solidly muscled body. Damn, but if only this wasn't always so *good*. But then, with a top like Gibbs it was always going to be good. The man was a virtuoso of a top, both in and out of the bedroom.

The kiss was long and deep, slow and comfortable rather than passionate. Ducky could feel the tension in Gibbs's taut body as he caressed him, and he knew this wasn't going to help and that one of them had to do the right thing.

It took all of his strength to break away from the kiss and put a finger over Gibbs's mouth as he came back in for a second.

"Let's not do this, Jethro," he said softly.

"Do what, Ducky?" Gibbs murmured throatily, his eyes fixed on Ducky's mouth.

"Comfort sex, Jethro. We promised ourselves we wouldn't do it again," Ducky reminded him.

"But it works," Gibbs replied with a wry grin.

"At the time. But we both always feel bad about it in the morning. You feel like you've taken advantage of me and I feel…well, I do feel kind of used, Jethro."

"Used?" That brought Gibbs up short. "I'd never do that to you, Ducky."

"I know." Ducky shook his head. "But, all the same…I know you love me, my dear boy, and god knows I love you too, and I *really* love the feel of your expert hands on my body, but we're not *in* love. We just do this to keep each other company, and alleviate the loneliness, or take the edge off the angst. Whatever it is, it's selling ourselves short and you know it."

"You're my sub, Ducky," Gibbs said, his eyes fixed on the collar Ducky wore around his neck. Ducky laughed.

"Oh Jethro, you know I'd never refuse you sex if you wanted to take it as your right – I do wear your collar after all. I'm just reminding you of the pitfalls, my dear boy."

Gibbs gazed at Ducky hungrily for a few seconds, and Ducky felt a tingle of anticipation run through his body. Wrong though it might be, they were both adults and knew what they were doing and he was always ready and willing to have sex with his beloved top. Then, finally, the gleam faded from Gibbs's eyes and he sat back, with a sigh.

"Ah, hell, you know I'd never take sex as a right, Ducky. I just…"

"Jethro, the person you really want to take to your bed is lying next door," Ducky told him. "Go and claim him and you'll feel so much better."

"No." Gibbs shook his head.

"But why not?" Ducky asked, as infuriated as ever by his pig-headed top.

"Because it would mean something, Ducky, and you know it. It wouldn't just be a night's fun and back to normal in the morning. It would change everything between me and Tony."

"Because you're in love with him?" Ducky asked softly.

"Yes, damn it! Because I'm in love with him!" Gibbs exploded, and he swung out his hand and sent the coffee cup flying from the nightstand onto the floor, where it shattered, spilling dark brown liquid everywhere. Ducky flinched. "There – you've made me say it. You've been trying to for long enough!" Gibbs said, and then he winced, and put his hands on Ducky’s shoulders, stroking softly. “You okay?”

"No need to apologise, Jethro," Ducky told him, because that was as close to saying ‘sorry’ as Gibbs was likely to get. "The flinch was a reflex action - I'm not scared of you, even if most of the world is."

"Thank god for that." Gibbs wrapped his arms around Ducky and held him for a moment.

"He's nothing like Shannon," Ducky told him gently. "He's not like any of those women you married who looked just like her, either. In fact, I'd venture to suggest he's as different from any of them as can be! Why won't you take a chance, Jethro?"

"I don't want to hurt him and I will, Ducky," Gibbs replied. "Sooner or later."

"You've stopped trusting yourself as a top," Ducky murmured. He pushed Gibbs back and gazed at him. "Can that be it? Seriously? I mean – you?" It sounded incredible but it was the only thing he could think.

"I screwed up three marriages, Ducky. They all complained that I was a hard top to please, that I was demanding, strict, unreasonable, stubborn, obsessed with my work, and a whole lot of other things. That's three people saying the same thing. No need to screw up Tony's life too and make him the fourth," Gibbs told him.

"It wouldn't be like that with Tony," Ducky reasoned. "Just as it wasn't like that with Shannon. Tony knows what you're like and as for strict – the boy is begging for strict for god's sake! I think he could handle you – those subs you married were more interested in being with a trophy top and earning the envy of other subs than they were really interested in being with you, Leroy Jethro Gibbs, the person. Tony knows you and likes you for what you are. Besides, be honest, Jethro – you didn't really love any of those subs you married, did you?" Ducky raised an eyebrow.

Gibbs thought about that for a moment, and then shook his head.

"I thought I did," he sighed. "But no – I didn't."

"But you do love Tony and you did love Shannon. I'd venture to suggest that matters more than anything else and that love is the key to whether your relationships succeed or fail. As for what your exes said about you after your divorce – that's just sour grapes. I suspect that every single one of them married you knowing you didn't really love them, even if you thought you did, and every single one of them thought they could change you and make you love them. They failed and they were annoyed they failed – that's why they were so negative about you."

"I *am* a very demanding top, Ducky," Gibbs said. "You know that. I’ve never given a sub a safe word in my entire life – I know what they can take – I’ve never understood those tops who can’t read their sub’s signals. I like pushing my subs to the edge, taking them to that place they think they can't reach, making them taste what that’s like. But I demand their absolute trust and absolute submission, Ducky, and there aren’t many subs around who can handle that. They think it’s what they want, but they’re usually too scared to take that final step – and it’s the final step that makes it all worthwhile.”

"I know how you like to play, Jethro, and I agree it’s not for the faint-hearted." Ducky nodded.

Gibbs had only ever given him what he could handle when they had played together, but Ducky knew his top had been holding back, out of respect for his past. What Gibbs needed was someone who was as intense a sub as he was a top, and Tony definitely fit the bill.

"But from what I understand, Tony is into edge play himself," Ducky said. "He’s certainly someone who likes to test limits – his own and those of the people around him! The way he pushes you every day proves that if nothing else. There's something very right about the two of you - you’re an extreme kind of top and he’s an extreme kind of sub. Anyone seeing the two of you sparring the way you do will have seen that – the sparks fly and the chemistry is almost visible. And really, that boy is so desperate for your attention – you should put him out of his misery."

"Oh Tony knows how to pick up willing tops," Gibbs said, with a wave of his hand. "He's fine. He'll find someone else eventually – he's tumbled into enough tops’ beds to have tried a few out."

Ducky laughed out loud at that. "Oh my dear boy you really have no idea, have you?" he murmured.

"What?" Gibbs frowned.

"I'll bet my life on the fact that Tony hasn't slept with another top since he accepted your collar," he said.

Gibbs stared at him. "Tony's always asking my permission to sleep with tops he's picked up," he refuted.

Ducky got up, shaking his head. "He asks to make you jealous, and to goad you into taking him to your bed. He doesn't go ahead and do the deed though, and he won't for as long as he wears your collar."

"That's ridiculous," Gibbs said, getting up too, looking as if he wanted to go and murder Tony in his bed, or else spank the living daylights out of him. “I collared him five years ago. Are you really trying to tell me that Tony DiNozzo could be celibate for five years? I mean Tony? Seriously?"

Ducky gave a little chuckle. "It does seem absurd, doesn't it? But I told you he’s an extreme kind of sub, Jethro, and he really is."

"Oh come on!" Gibbs snapped. "Apart from anything else, Tony’s a commitment-phobe – everyone knows that. Sure, he wants a few nights in my bed, to try me out, but that's all - and that's not what I want. If I take him to my bed I'll expect him to stay there – for keeps - and that's not Tony's style.”

"I wouldn’t be so sure about Tony. He’s a man of some complexity beneath that smart-mouthed exterior," Ducky told him. "He's undoubtedly been promiscuous in the past but I'll warrant that none of the tops he played with ever satisfied him. He was looking for the real deal and now he's found that he won't play with anyone else."

Gibbs stood there looking completely and utterly shocked. Ducky patted his arm.

"Food for thought, dear boy," he said. "Food for thought."

"It doesn't change anything," Gibbs said stubbornly. Ducky smiled, and kissed his top gently on the mouth before walking towards the door.

"I think it does, Jethro. If you'll let it," he replied.

~*~

Carson stirred in his sleep, and then came to with a start. He lay there for a moment wondering what had woken him. Had he heard a noise or had he been dreaming? He was sure he’d heard something. He sat up and gazed around blearily, and then he saw Steven, lying next to him, his naked, firmly muscled body solid and real in his bed.

“Oh thank god,” Carson sighed, feeling a wave of happiness flood through him. He lay down again and took his husband in his arms. Steven stirred.

“Okay, Carson?” he mumbled.

“Fine,” Carson replied, kissing his husband’s ear. “I just woke up thinking I heard something and then remembered you were here – I’ve been six weeks on my own and I think my mind's playing tricks on me!”

“What time is it?” Steven asked.

Carson glanced at the clock on the nightstand. “Quarter to four,” he replied.

“Too early,” Steven slurred, and Carson had to agree with that. He ran his hands appreciatively over Steven’s solid flesh.

“You want to use me?” Steven asked, moving his legs obligingly.

“No, love. I just want to hold you,” Carson whispered. “It’s been so long and I’ve missed this.”

“Wuss,” Steven teased. Carson pinched his bottom firmly.

“I’m not a wuss – I’m a romantic, and you, my husband, have been without a top for too long. I’m going to have to take you down good and proper tomorrow and drum some respect back into you!”

“Promises, promises,” Steven mumbled into his pillow, a grin in his voice. Carson laughed and kissed the back of his submissive’s neck.

“I love you,” he murmured.

“Love you too,” Steven said, and he wasn’t a man for whom the words had ever come easily so Carson relished hearing it.

As he dozed off, he thought he could smell a strange scent in the room, but he was too warm and comfy to move, and, with his arms wrapped tightly around his husband’s beautiful body, he soon fell asleep once more.

~*~

“You still up?” the voice in Rodney’s earpiece asked.

Rodney straightened up from where he’d been bending over some machinery and gave a groan as his muscles protested, but he smiled at the sound of his top’s voice all the same.

“Yeah. I figured you wouldn’t be coming to bed tonight so I might as well keep working on this,” Rodney replied into his radio. “What time is it anyway?”

“Nearly four,” John replied. “Normally I’d come over and order you to bed, but on this occasion…it’s nice being able to check in with you every so often.”

“Where are you now?” Rodney asked, perching on the side of one of the desks and stretching out his back cautiously.

“My office - but I’ll be going out to the jumper bay again in a minute. They aren’t coming back as regularly now but one still turns up every so often and I’m trying to keep an accurate inventory of who is where,” John replied. “Look, Rodney, you should head to bed soon or you’ll be a wreck tomorrow.”

“I like working in the lab on my own,” Rodney said, his mind distractedly going over the problem he’d been working on when John had contacted him. “It gives me time to really think without idiots interrupting me.”

“Sorry,” John said wryly.

“I didn’t mean you!” Rodney grinned. “I mean the idiots they send me who *call* themselves scientists.”

“You do have some say in who you get, Rodney,” John reminded him.

“Well, who they are on paper and who they seem to be in person are sometimes two very different things let me assure you! They sent me this guy recently who was so useless I sent him home again the next day and then there was…” Rodney broke off as he heard a sound behind him. “Is that you?” he said, turning to look at the door, fully expecting to see that John had crept up behind him.

“Rodney – what is it? Who’s there?” John asked, his voice taut and urgent.

“Nobody,” Rodney replied, going over to the door. “I thought I heard someone at the door – maybe someone tried it, realised it was locked and went away again. There’s nobody there now.” He gazed through the little window in the door, just to be sure, but couldn't see anyone out there.

“Are you sure? I’m on my way,” John said, and Rodney could tell by the sound of his voice that he was worried.

“It’s fine. Maybe I didn’t hear anything,” Rodney said. “Seriously, John – there’s nobody here. I’m all alone. It’s fine.”

“I’m coming anyway,” John told him, as Rodney had known he would. Maybe that wasn’t such a bad thing, he thought to himself. They could both do with a break.

~*~

End of Part Four
Friendly feedback adored!
Part Five