Rating: M

Characters: Leroy Jethro Gibbs, Tony DiNozzo, Tim McGee, Abby Sciuto, Ducky Mallard, Jimmy Palmer, Ziva David, Leon Vance, OMC, OFC

Pairings: Gibbs/Tony

Warnings: Rape/non-con, torture, violence, trauma, angst, slash, swearing, mild Ziva bashing (She behaved horribly towards Tony at the end of season 6. I never liked her after that.)

Spoilers: Parts of the end of season 6 and the beginning of season 7

Disclaimer: I don't own these characters, I just like to play with them.

NCISNCISNCISNCISNCIS

Tony shivered, feeling the metal of the cuffs on his wrists and ankles cut into his skin as the entire weight of his body slumped forward, suspended from the wall only by short chains. He was no more than an object now. Left to hang uselessly, like some grotesque piece of art.

The damp, musty smell of the basement mixed with the metallic smell of Tony's blood, and the ammonia odor of his urine. He would be punished for pissing himself. He was sure of it.

The collar felt heavy around Tony's neck, and he wondered if, with his lungs compromised as they were, death would take him swiftly, or slowly and painfully. Taking a forced breath through the pain that had gripped his entire body, Tony guessed it would be the latter.

A blindfold shrouded Tony's world in darkness. Earplugs deafened him. In this existence of blind silence, Tony's only companion was fear. A fear heightened by unknowing. Was he in here alone? Or was somebody close, just waiting to hurt him or somehow violate him?

Tony wondered how long it had been since Mark Ellsworth had kidnapped him from the bar. Two days? A week, maybe? Down here, he had lost all sense of time. He wondered if anyone was looking for him. Did they even notice he was gone? Did they care?

Of course they didn't. That's why Tony didn't fight back, even when he had still had the strength to do so. There was no one that would miss him. No one that wanted him in their life. No family to speak of, and no real friends. After all, if he couldn't trust Gibbs, who could he trust?

His entire life was an illusion, and now it was about to end at the hands of the boy he had disappointed. The boy who had counted on him. Trusted him to keep his family together as best he could. And Tony had let him down terribly.

Dying at Mark's hand was no less than he deserved.

Tony whimpered as he felt a hand grab his face, while another hand tugged at his hair, forcing him into a rough kiss.

As a tongue forced itself down Tony's throat, leaving him breathless, he could feel another set of hands releasing him from the cuffs that bound him to the wall. Feeling himself go boneless, he was now held up only by the fingers in his hair and the rough, possessive kiss.

Crying around the tongue that was choking him, Tony felt a stinging slap on his bottom. Moments later, he could feel himself being hoisted up over a shoulder.

Having lost all sense of shame, Tony couldn't stop himself from crying. He just hoped that, whatever Mark and Kyle had planned for him, this would be what killed him.

NCISNCISNCISNCISNCIS

Tony's eyes shot open, and he looked around frantically, confused for a moment, before he realized where he was.

He wasn't in that cold, dark basement anymore. Jethro had saved him from the bad men. They couldn't hurt him now. Jethro would keep him safe.

"Jethro..." Tony squeaked, looking out the open bedroom door into the hallway. He needed Jethro now. Needed to feel the security of the older man holding him. Needed Jethro to make the nightmares go away.

Slowly sitting up, Tony took a few calming breaths, trying to separate past from present. His eyes told him that he was home, safe with Jethro. But his emotions were still caught in his nightmare, unable to shake the vivid memories of what had been done to him.

Hearing the sound of an old movie playing on the TV, Tony let out a relieved sob. The sound was a comfort. A reassurance that Jethro was near.

Finding courage in that thought, Tony stood, slow and careful. With each step forward, he thought how much better he'd feel snuggled up next to Jethro. And wouldn't he be surprised to see Tony approach him all by himself, without any help or prompting?

But then...maybe Jethro didn't want him to.

Jethro had taken such good care of Tony; watching and guiding him. Making sure he didn't fall. To be so careless like this, walking around unsupervised, might just anger or disappoint Jethro. Tony would do anything to make the older man happy. But should he have asked before making such a reckless move as walking on his own.

Gripped by fear, uncertainty and indecision, Tony placed a hand on either side of the doorway, barely able to keep himself upright as his breathing sped up, and tears fell unbidden from his eyes.

"Hey...Tony."

The gentle voice came like a faint echo through Tony's anxious whimpers. It wasn't until Tony felt the steadying touch of of Jethro's hands on his shoulders that reality came back into focus.

Opening his eyes, Tony was surprised to see that Jethro didn't look angry or disappointed. Instead, he looked concerned. Scared, even.

"J-Jethro...Bad dream...I - I..." Tony began, struggling to find his voice.

"It's okay, Tony. Take your time," Jethro said kindly.

Tony nodded, sniffling. "Snuggle?"

"Sure." Jethro gave Tony a warm smile, leading him back to the bed.

Once the two were seated on the bed, Jethro didn't hesitate to pull Tony into his arms, holding him like a child. In response, Tony nuzzled his face into Jethro's chest, welcoming the contact.

"I'm sorry," Tony whispered, resting a hand upon Jethro's shoulder.

"Sorry for what?" Jethro asked, carding his fingers through Tony's hair.

"I...I wanted to see you. S-so I got out of bed and walked. But you never said I could. Maybe I shouldn't have..."

"That's enough of that, Tony," Jethro shushed him. "I'm proud of you for making the effort. To tell the truth, I don't think you need my guidance anymore. You've been walking just fine on your own these last few days."

Tony looked up innocently into Jethro's eyes. "You're not mad at me?"

"What? No, Tony. Of course not," Jethro reassured. "I'm gonna tell you something now, and I never want you to forget it. No one but you has any say in what you can or can't do with your body. How you move, where your feet take you...that's all up to you. You're nobody's puppet, Tony."

Tony sighed, resting his head on Jethro's chest. "I don't like being scared all the time."

"I know you don't." Jethro kissed the top of Tony's head softly. "And I wish I knew what to do to make you believe that you're safe with me. I'm not gonna leave you, Tony. As long as I live, I promise I'll make sure you're taken care of."

"Thanks, Jethro." Tony smiled, hugging Jethro tighter. For the moment, he felt quite comforted. But it was a bittersweet comfort, as memories that felt somehow unreal served as a constant reminder that he used to be someone very different. Someone he knew he could never be again. Blinking back tears, Tony wondered how Jethro could ever care about someone as weak and pathetic as he was.

"I'm proud of you," Jethro said, as though reading Tony's mind. "I know it's not easy for you, remembering what Ellsworth and Taylor did to you and...remembering how I hurt you. But you're not hiding from it. And that takes real strength."

Tony didn't know what to say. He was so happy that he had made Jethro proud. Because there was nothing that Tony wanted more than to please the man who meant more to him than anything in the world. The man who saved him when he was scared and hurting. The one who, with a loving and gentle patience, helped Tony find his way back to himself.

Jethro had done so much for Tony. It was the very least that Tony could do to make him happy.

Tony smiled contentedly, breathing in Jethro's unique smell; coffee, sawdust, and a lingering smoky smell from the steaks he had grilled earlier. Held here in Jethro's arms, Tony felt safe and grounded. It was a nice feeling. One that he needed to hold on to, at this time when memories were overwhelming, and the thought of being left alone for even a moment terrifying enough to send Tony into a panic.

"Can you stay here?" Tony asked shyly. "I mean...can you cuddle with me all night?"

Tony felt uneasy at the silence that followed, and the noticeable change in Jethro's breathing made him wonder if he'd asked too much of the older man.

"I'm sorry," Tony said sheepishly, extracting himself from Jethro's arms and lying down on his side. "That was weird."

Tony heard Jethro's breath hitch behind him, as if he was coming out of some kind of daze.

"No, Tony. It's not weird at all," Jethro said, his tone almost apologetic. "Of course I'll stay here and cuddle with you. Anything to help you feel safe."

Tucking Tony in, Jethro placed a soft kiss on his cheek, draping his arm lovingly over Tony's body. And Tony couldn't help thinking how different he seemed from the Jethro he had been remembering. That Jethro was rarely this gentle and kind. Only once, if Tony's memory was to be believed; when he'd had the plague. Yet another time when he had been scared, powerless and vulnerable. But even then, Tony couldn't remember this level of tenderness. This was a new Jethro. A different Jethro.

As Tony closed his eyes, wrapped in Jethro's protective warmth, he noticed a strange flutter in his heart. New kinds of feelings for Jethro that he was too tired to try and understand. But Tony decided that he didn't need to understand these new feelings just yet. All that mattered was that they made him happy. Jethro made him happy.

In this moment, life was perfect.