Author's Notes: Surprise! I got around to posting this sooner than I thought. I appreciate all your support, and have tried to reply to everyone personally. If I haven't gotten to you yet, I will! I really look forward to all your comments.
A friendly reminder; this is BDSM, slash, hurt-comfort and angst. If you aren't interested in those topics, this story is not for you, so don't read it!
Alex Phillips nearly fell out of the steel chair into the floor when the door banged open; Gibbs stalked in, dropped a file on the table and sat down, crossing his legs. Fornell followed, scraping another chair loudly across the floor before straddling it backwards.
Gibbs flipped a folder open and removed picture after picture, laying them across the table in front of the man, who shifted slightly and scratched the side of his face. "Tell us what happened to them," Gibbs demanded calmly.
Phillips' trembling fingers moved the pictures around so he could look at them better. "I don't know these men." Gibbs shook his head in disbelief and sighed dramatically. "Honestly, I've never seen them before," their suspect reiterated. "Check the pictures you took from my apartment – they aren't the same men."
Fornell tilted his chair closer. "You expect us to believe that you had nothing to do with these men disappearing? After you tried to kidnap Agent DiNozzo and then we find a stack of clandestine photos in your possession? You're going to have to do better than that lame story."
"I wasn't trying to kidnap anybody! I just wanted to….you know, play with him a little," Phillips smiled eerily. "You're both Doms, you understand. I would've let him go if he'd told me no."
The NCIS agent's blue eyes flashed. "He did tell you no," Gibbs growled.
People like this man made him sick. Phillips thought a sub deserved whatever he wanted to give out whether the other person was interested or not. The thing with Dr. Sawyer just made it all that much worse, now every idiot off the street wanted to play like a top, with absolutely no clue how to do it. Even though slavery was still illegal, a lot of novice Doms didn't understand that being submissive wasn't synonymous with giving up complete control.
The idea of Phillips doing anything with DiNozzo was repulsive. How could Tony be so oblivious to his affect on Doms? Abby and McGee were both subs, but somehow they didn't seem as vulnerable as Tony - there was a damaged quality to his senior field agent that hadn't been there before his time as Agent Afloat. A protective surge swelled up in Gibbs that he hadn't experienced in years. He wanted to grab this smug bastard and pound his face into the metal table for even considering putting his dirty hands on Tony. Without asking him. He felt eyes on him and turned to find Fornell staring. Gibbs forced himself to focus, to remember this was a case and not personal.
"You work at the Pentagon; you have high-level computer access. It wouldn't be difficult to track these men, find out about their law enforcement backgrounds. You have several incidents of domestic abuse and restraining orders already in your file." Gibbs scanned a document and looked up. "Your apartment is being torn apart as we speak. If there's any evidence to connect you to these men, we'll find it. Give us the details now and it will go a lot easier for you."
The suspect arrogantly flexed his arms and leaned back, lacing his fingers behind his head. "That's the best news I've heard so far; I might be an asshole but I'm not stupid. Search all you want, there's nothing to find, except for maybe a few more pictures of your boy toy agent that I took last night. He really does have a mighty fine ass. So tell me, do you two share him? Cause if you do, I'd really like to watch."
Gibbs uncrossed his legs and leaned threateningly across the table. Fornell laid a hand on his arm. "It's not worth it, Jethro. Don't let him bait you."
Gibbs looked at Fornell then stood up and walked behind Phillips, leaning down to whisper in his ear. "You're a pathetic wanna be Dom who doesn't know the first thing about taking care of a sub. When I find a way to throw you in jail, we'll see what the other boys think about your sweet ass. I might even come by and watch them show you how much they like it." Gibbs smiled pleasantly and gripped the suspect's shoulder firmly.
Phillips stared at the hand digging into his skin, his posture sagging. "Get your fucking hands off me - I want a lawyer."
NCISNCISNCIS
Fornell stepped in front of Gibbs, preventing him from storming down the hall. "You've got to get yourself under control, Jethro. I didn't mean to throw you so off balance by pointing out the thing you have for DiNozzo. Forget I ever mentioned it and get back to the work obsessed bastard I know and love who only thinks about the case and nothing else."
Gibbs rolled his eyes. "First of all, there is no thing I have for DiNozzo, got that Fornell? I don't like any Dom who tries to take advantage of subs, and you know that. So quit trying to make this about Tony, ok? Hell, according to DiNozzo, he isn't even a sub anyway so it doesn't matter." In his heart, Gibbs acknowledged the argument was less than honest, but he wasn't prepared to bring himself to admit anything to the FBI agent. Even if he did have feelings for Tony, they sure as hell weren't Fornell's business.
This kind of complication was exactly why he'd created Rule Twelve to begin with, he reminded himself.
The FBI agent put his hands up in mock surrender. "You got it. We'll simply ignore the fact that every time Phillips even mentions Tony you get some kind of crazy look in your eyes and for a second I thought I was going to have to pry your fingers out of his shoulder. Personally, I vote you go order DiNozzo into a conference room and fuck his brains out so you can both stop thinking with your dicks and start thinking with other parts of your anatomy that would do a better job at solving this case."
Gibbs' phone rang before he could reply, but it didn't stop him from viciously glaring at his colleague. "Yeah. You've checked everything? Alright, come on back." He stuffed the phone in his pocket. "Nothing at the apartment directly ties Phillips to any of the missing individuals. They're bringing in his laptop to see if McGee can find anything on the hard drive. It's possible this guy isn't our perp."
"Great," Fornell banged a fist into the wall. "If that's true we're back to square one. No motive, no leads, nada. These victims didn't disappear into thin air. They're all good men and deserve better than this." He looked down at his feet. "How can I face their families and admit we never found a damn thing?"
Gibbs patted his friend on the back, commiserating with his frustration. "We'll catch a break, Tobias. We won't give up until we do. That's something else you love about me – I never give up and neither will you."
Fornell grinned appreciatively. "You know, Diane would probably disagree about us not giving up. We both ran away from her at the first chance."
"Shit, Fornell," Gibbs gave him a half-smile. "No one said we had to be martyrs."
NCISNCISNCIS
Tony slowly walked down the sidewalk sipping his hazelnut double-shot espresso hoping the extra caffeine would be enough to get him through the rest of the day. He felt like crap, between the headache and lack of sleep; it was amazing he was even still awake at this point. There hadn't even been an opportunity for a nap at his desk.
A couple strolled past, a Dom dressed in a perfectly tailored suit holding a leather leash while his collared sub, also dressed in a three-piece suit, chatted easily at his side. They appeared content and happy. It struck Tony as completely ironic that by embracing such extreme roles so many partners had found a way to make their relationships work. He tamped down the confusing hint of jealousy blossoming in his stomach. He wasn't a sub, no matter what everyone else seemed to think, and he definitely wasn't a Dom. Any relationship involving those identifications would never work out for him.
Over the years Abby had diligently tried to convince him that the roles were cathartic, ending disagreements before they began because there was no more tension created by both parties trying to be in control. The Dom received satisfaction from figuring out the best way to take care of his partner's needs, and the sub actually did the same thing, just through submission instead of domination. It was yin and yang, sweet and sour, salt and pepper – two diametrically opposed pieces that complimented each other perfectly.
In Tony's experience, nothing like that existed and searching for it amounted to a waste of time. He hadn't told Abby that, unwilling to dash the hopes and dreams of his best friend who still firmly believed in romance, life partners, and probably leprechauns at the end of rainbows.
He entered the building, nodded at the security guards as he passed through the metal detector and caught the elevator. When he arrived at the bullpen, Gibbs was stomping around in a semi-rage. "What now?" he mumbled, stopping at the edge of his desk trying to gauge the current mood of his boss.
"Where the hell have you been?" the lead agent asked when his hard blue eyes found Tony standing bewildered at his desk.
"I went to get coffee," he explained, pretty certain he knew what had stoked Gibbs' rage this time. The last he'd heard, getting coffee wasn't a crime, but it was if your boss didn't think you could walk across the street by yourself. Considering Gibbs' temperament, further elaboration was probably useless, but he decided to make one last attempt at justifying his behavior. "What's wrong? Did you want some? I would've picked up a couple for you guys but I didn't know how long you'd be in interrogation and it seemed stupid to let it get cold. I'll go back out…." He turned toward the elevator but Gibbs grabbed his arm. Tony glanced down as the coffee sloshed over the edge of the cup, the hot liquid running over his hand and onto the floor.
"What's wrong is that you left your cell on your desk." Gibbs picked up the small piece of plastic and threw it into the trash with an impressive clatter. "If you can't remember to take it with you I guess you don't need one anyway. No one knew where you went and you were unreachable. Do those rules you memorized mean anything to you?"
Tony peered into the can at the broken phone, thoroughly convinced that Gibbs had lost his mind. "Sorry, Boss, I'm just really tired and I guess I didn't realize I left it. It won't happen again." Cause I'll be gone, he added to himself. He used two fingers to pick up the phone and assessed the dangling parts and wires before dropping it back into the trash with a thud. "I didn't think you needed to keep tabs on me that much." He met Gibbs' gaze with an unwavering one of his own.
Gibbs stared hard and humphed, his entire body thrumming with irritation. "Do you have anything to report on Phillips or have you spent all your time chatting up the barista at Starbucks?"
Tony flicked his tongue against his teeth, trying to control his temper. He carefully sat his coffee down and wiped off his hand before going to a filing cabinet and retrieving a box with a new cell phone. "I made some phone calls before I left and it seems Phillips has a clean record other than the restraining orders and domestic violence charges. His bank accounts are normal, except for a lot of internet purchases from various BDSM sites and he does have quite a few memberships to some interesting online chatrooms. He's never been married, has no kids, and even though his co-workers think he's a son of a bitch they didn't think he'd ever have enough kahunas to kidnap anybody." Tony shrugged, not really caring that his information didn't amount to much. He'd done the research like he was supposed to do. He removed the SIM card from his old phone and popped it into the new one. "If you're looking for a smoking gun, I didn't find it."
"That doesn't mean one isn't out there." Gibbs took a seat behind his desk, the lines in his face easing some but still showing signs of agitation. Tony couldn't figure out what the hell was going on with the older man.
"Did you get anything out of Phillips during the interrogation?" Tony eventually asked, directing his question at Fornell who appeared a bit more reasonable than Gibbs; the FBI agent lounged behind McGee's desk eating some pretzels he'd found in a drawer.
"The man's a complete asshole – he lawyered up so we won't be able to get to him again for a while. Doesn't sound like McGee and Ziva found much in his apartment, either."
Tony tried to catch a glimpse of Gibbs without being too obvious, desperate to ascertain if the lead agent actually believed he was too out of control to even walk down the sidewalk unsupervised. The silver-haired man tapped a pencil impatiently but never raised his eyes to meet Tony's. "He might not be our guy," Gibbs said, also directing his comment at Fornell. "We need to broaden our search. What could possibly be the motive for these kidnappings?"
"It's not money," Tony answered, refusing to be quiet, "or there would have been ransom demands."
"If it's not money then I'm betting on sex – those are the two things that make the world go round," Fornell offered sagely, letting his eyes dart between the two investigators.
"How come there's no sign of them afterward – no body, nothing?" Gibbs prompted, getting into the rhythm of the discussion despite himself.
Tony leaned on his desk and crossed his ankles. "They're being taken somewhere else; somewhere no one is looking for them."
Fornell smashed up the empty pretzel bag and threw it in the trash. "Face it; they could be anywhere – locked in a basement, buried in a backyard, tossed in a vat of acid, sold into slavery. Hell, we've seen it all from these crazy psychos."
Gibbs sat back in his chair. "Well, my gut's telling me the psycho in interrogation doesn't have anything to do with the kidnappings. The DiNozzo charm just netted a dumbass."
"You know, it's not like I was trying to pick someone up," Tony seethed, arms folded. He was completely done with Gibbs' thinly veiled insults.
Gibbs laughed tonelessly, frustrated that Tony seemed so unconcerned about how close he'd come to being abducted. "You'd flirt with a damn priest if he grinned at you, DiNozzo."
"What the hell are you implying, Gibbs?" Tony couldn't hold it in any more; he approached Gibbs without the normal caution that usually restrained his actions. If he was going to transfer, what the hell did it matter anyway? He was tired of being Mr. Nice Guy. "Why don't you stop skirting around and call me a whore and get it over with?"
Tony had never seen Gibbs' face turn red until this moment, and it wouldn't have surprised him if comic-book steam had rolled out of his boss' ears. It was a little too late to realize he might have gone too far.
Fornell stepped up before Gibbs had a chance to do more than move out from behind his desk and advance a few feet toward his senior field agent. "Settle down, boys," he warned, placing a hand on Gibbs' chest to hold him back. "Let's not do this right now." The tension was so thick it vibrated in the air. Tony clenched his fists, determined to go down fighting if Gibbs decided to take this any further.
Gibbs licked his lips and rolled his shoulders before returning to his desk silently, blue eyes blazing. Tony took the cue and did the same, like boxers returning to their corners before another round. Fornell sighed dramatically and shook his head before sliding back into McGee's chair. He mumbled something under his breath that Tony couldn't understand, but he thought he heard the words fuck and get it over with.
The elevator dinged and McGee and Ziva walked out, eyes scanning the scene nervously, both quickly picking up on the discontent. Somewhere during their time away from the office they had managed to change clothes – McGee had found a baggy NCIS sweatshirt and Ziva was now wearing a pair of jeans and a t-shirt.
Fornell waved at the agents from the spot behind McGee's desk.
"Hey, Boss," McGee said, glancing at Gibbs before turning his head to frown at the man sitting in his chair. "Fornell," he acknowledged the FBI agent. Ziva slipped into her own seat without a sound, dark eyes assessing the unfolding situation.
"Take that computer down to Abby and see what you two can get off it." Gibbs barely looked up as he said it.
"Sure, Boss," McGee agreed. He pointed at the trash, moving closer to Fornell. "Did you get those pretzels out of my desk?" he asked the FBI agent.
The older man gave him a friendly and unrepentant smile. "I was hungry. Gibbs never takes time to eat."
"McGee." The younger man turned around and Gibbs threw a packet of saltines at him; McGee nearly dropped the computer trying to catch them with one hand. "Get out of here," he ordered.
"Gotcha, Boss." He gave Tony a petrified gaze as he passed by.
Tony grunted in compassion, sat down at his computer and opened the NCIS website, found the document he wanted and started filling it out. He had to go now, while most of his memories consisted of a Gibbs who, although a bastard, had cared about him in his own warped way. Not a Gibbs who saw him as nothing more than a problem-causing slut who had to be monitored twenty-four hours a day.
Ignoring the tight fist constricting his chest, he continued typing.
NCISNCISNCIS
Fornell faced away from the room while talking to Sacks on the phone, updating his partner on the development with Phillips and trying to find some connection between their only viable suspect and the missing men. Even without anything solid, the computer tech was still their best bet and they weren't ready to cut him loose just yet.
Ziva sifted through background information Fornell had provided on the victims for anything that might link back to Phillips. With her long hair pulled into a ponytail and all the make-up washed from her face she looked less like an Israeli assassin and more like a doctoral student or a young soccer mom. She kept her gaze focused on the papers in front of her, shuffling them back and forth and occasionally checking something on the computer screen. Every now and then her eyes would dart up to Tony, she would watch him for a few seconds, and then she returned to her work.
Gibbs had thought for a long time that she and Tony would end up romantically involved, but so far there was no sign of anything happening beyond good natured flirting, and truth be told Tony did flirt with most everyone. More often than not, the two agents were at each other's throats over something, fussing and fighting and never able to agree. It was like they had skipped to the end of the relationship without the good stuff at the beginning. Somehow, despite the occasional tension between them, they had managed to stay friends.
The same couldn't be said for him and DiNozzo; their friendship was strained beyond the breaking point. He shouldn't have lashed out at Tony the way he did earlier, insulting him unnecessarily; he regretted it but he couldn't take it back. When he hadn't been able to locate Tony the overprotective urge building in him had gone haywire, sending his normally stoic responses beyond their limits. It seemed that every button he had was getting pushed by the younger man and something was going to have to change before they both snapped.
He watched Tony, typing on his computer in what would be considered a snail's pace by some but for his senior field agent was a pretty fast clip. Tony's brow furrowed in concentration as he backspaced then retyped a line. He hadn't assigned Tony anything to do and the younger man hadn't offered a suggestion in his typical fashion, so he had no clue what held Tony's attention. His senior field agent had refused to even look at him over the last few hours.
He'd been hard on DiNozzo, dishing out serving after serving of tough love, refusing to give an inch as he watched his protégé struggle. Fornell was right; he needed to get his reactions under control or he stood a very real chance of doing more harm than good. It didn't make a lot of sense, but he had a terrible feeling that something bad was going to happen to Tony and his gut was churning uncontrollably. He couldn't explain it and it was driving him crazy.
At the same time he felt an inexplicable anger at DiNozzo, a need to prove to himself and to Fornell that his old friend's observation was wrong, and he didn't have any more connection to Tony than any of his other agents. So he kept DiNozzo physically close while at the same time emotionally pushing him away. It was a crappy thing to do, and certainly wasn't helping DiNozzo settle down any.
He'd never denied there were legitimate reasons his last three marriages had ended in disaster.
Tony got up from his desk and walked to the printer, rubbing the back of his head and moving slowly. It occurred to Gibbs that instead of sitting here acting like an ass, he should take DiNozzo home, feed him a decent meal, make him sleep for about twelve hours, and then have a talk about the tension growing between them. Dealing with the situation honestly would make them both feel better. But he couldn't do that – they had this case to solve, and the invisible walls they'd both built made that kind of interaction impossible.
Tony caught him staring, and instead of letting his focus shoot away he stared back, his intense green eyes practically glittering as they tried to analyze Gibbs. Abruptly, the lead agent made a decision and stood up.
To hell with it. He was a Dom, after all, and following his instincts was what made him a good one. Dancing around the issue was slowly driving them both insane. It was time to address the problem straight on. "DiNozzo, with me."
Ziva's lips tightened and she looked over at Tony with concern. DiNozzo shook his head slightly and rose to follow Gibbs, hesitating before picking up the piece of paper he'd just printed. They entered the elevator together, Gibbs stopping their descent within seconds. "What's going on with you?" he asked, facing Tony who stood rigid and stiff across from him.
"I could ask you the same thing," Tony answered curtly.
"I don't understand. All you did for months was beg me to find a way to get you home and now that you're here, you're out of control. One minute you're a competent agent, the next you're worse than a four-year old who ate too much Halloween candy.
It doesn't make sense, and frankly I'm tired of trying to figure it out."
They younger man shook his head in frustration. "And you're any better? Most days I don't know whether to expect you to be a mother hen or a fighting cock. You either want me glued to your side or you can't stand to have me around. How should I react?"
Gibbs couldn't deny the accusation, so instead he gave voice to his growing worry. "I'm beginning to think you don't want to be here anymore."
Tony cleared his throat, studying the floor. "I've never wanted to leave, but…..things have been different since I came back."
"Yeah, DiNozzo, things are different. For one, Vance is watching you're every move just looking for a reason to send you away again. Are you trying to give him one? Cause it sure as hell seems like it from where I'm standing."
Biting his upper lip, Tony glanced at the ceiling, then directly at Gibbs. "Isn't that what you want?"
Gibbs didn't immediately respond, his blue eyes frowning in disbelief. "What? I worked my ass off to make Vance bring you home. Why would I do that just to send you away?"
The dam broke and Tony let his fears come tumbling out. "I was the last one you came after; you made sure to get Ziva and McGee here first. Abby begged you to bring me back, and you can't say no to Abby. That's the only reason I'm here now."
Tony's flat tone indicated he truly believed what he was saying, despite the fact it was ludicrous in Gibbs' opinion. He was also truly amazed that Tony had picked up on the fact he had felt some barely acknowledged ambivalence about bringing him back, but only because of his own issues with being close to the senior field agent, not because of anything Tony had done wrong. Figuring it out without really knowing it was a hallmark of the intuition that made DiNozzo such a good investigator.
"Are you serious? That's the most ridiculous thing I've ever heard you say, and trust me, you've said a lot of stupid things over the years," Gibbs responded, unwilling to share his internal monologue with the other man.
Tony's laugh was bitter and broken, his green eyes haunted and hollow. "Well, that's inspiring. If I'm such an idiot, why don't you head slap me? Oh wait, that would require physical contact, and I'm fairly certain you can't bring yourself to do that anymore. You might not remember, Boss, but I told you years ago when I left Baltimore that when Tony DiNozzo fucks up, he does it in a blaze of glory. I guess you never imagined I'd take someone you loved down with me."
Jenny. Her specter loomed over them like a discontented spirit. "Tony," Gibbs' voice softened, as he witnessed the unhealed wound reopen and he clearly saw the pain, guilt, and remorse Tony had been carrying around inside him all these long, lonely months. At this rate, Tony was never going to forgive himself and Gibbs had done precious little to make it any easier for him. He had to alter the course of the situation so he bit back all of his usual caustic comments and tried for something more supportive, even if it was beyond his normal range of communication. "How many times do I have to say that I don't blame you for what happened to Jenny?"
Tony blinked uncertainly, a spark of hope glimmering in his eyes before the shutters closed it down and the hardened edge returned. "Actions speak louder than words, Gibbs. I can tell when I'm not wanted." Tony stared at his feet again, then lifted the paper in his hand for Gibbs to take. "I've already sent this to Vance. You should both be happy."
The lead agent snatched the document and skimmed it. "DiNozzo, what the hell are you thinking? This is a damn transfer request."
"I know you'd never ask me to leave, so I decided I'd do it for you. I….." Tony closed his eyes and Gibbs got a good look at the smudges underneath them. This had gone straight to hell right under his nose. "I want to go before things get any worse, while we're still kind of….friends. It's best this way." His voice was firm yet soft, and Gibbs realized he'd given this decision a lot of thought. Gibbs could see Tony's resolve in the way he held his shoulders square and his body taught, ready to sacrifice everything he held dear.
Tony's willingness to walk away from everyone he loved touched something inside Gibbs' heart that had lain dormant for years, something that had been battering at him for months now and he'd been trying to ignore. Wrestling with the feeling, attempting to pretend it was anything other than what it was had been the source of all his anxiety, all the pressure he'd been experiencing.
The lead agent took a deep breath and regained command of his emotions; Tony was a lot more confused than he'd imagined and he should have stepped in much sooner instead of refusing to accept what was directly in front of him. That mistake was about to end. Every instinct in his body screamed for him to take control of this situation now. Jackson Gibbs always said, in for a penny, in for a pound. The knots that had been tying him up inside unraveled with his decision.
He held the paper up and carefully ripped it down the middle. He didn't know how this was going to end, but it wasn't going to end with Tony transferring to another team or going to work for Fornell. Tony belonged to him, and it was time to deal with what they both realized on some deeply subconscious level. "I don't accept your transfer, DiNozzo." Tony opened his mouth to say something and Gibbs interrupted. "No, I haven't been head slapping you, and I'll explain my reasons for that later, but it isn't because of Jenny. Right now I'm ordering you to go home, go to bed, and I'll come over in a few hours. We'll talk this out." His tone held the commanding inflection that brooked no argument.
Tony stared at him like he'd grown a third eye or sprouted an extra head. "What do you mean we'll talk?" Tony asked, clearly astounded at the idea. "Leroy Jethro Gibbs doesn't talk about anything. He yells or smashes things or stomps out of the room but he never, ever talks."
Gibbs didn't speak, instead he moved close to Tony, backing him up against the wall of the elevator until they were nearly nose to nose. Tony's legs spread apart and Gibbs lodged himself between them, letting his body pin his subordinate in place. Briefly he was overwhelmed by Tony's scent; peppermint and toothpaste and some expensive cologne he couldn't identify and probably cost more than a year's supply of Old Spice. He breathed in a lungful of the smell and let it surround him, savoring the unique aroma that he'd never allowed himself to enjoy before. If he was going to break the rules, he might as well go all the way.
What had Tony said? When I fuck up, I do it in a blaze of glory. Gibbs could identify with that. This would either be the best choice he'd ever made or a catastrophe on a colossal level. Maybe he'd blame Fornell if he ended up getting fired for sexual harassment.
Tony appeared to have frozen, his arms plastered against the cool metal and his breathing non-existent. He didn't blink, didn't flinch, didn't make a sound. Only his eyes remained alive as they sought for a reason for this unexpected maneuver.
Gibbs held his gaze for a long second before finally speaking. "There's quite a bit we need to sort out, DiNozzo, so get rested up for a long night. I don't talk much, but when I do I expect to lay it all out on the table. Anything you've wanted to say to me, tonight's the night to say it. There's one thing I can guarantee – you won't be going to another team. You're staying with me until I'm good and ready to let you go. You got any questions?"
Tony swallowed, his Adam's apple bobbing up and down. "Only about a million," he whispered.
Gibbs laughed, the first real laugh he'd had in ages. It convinced him he was doing the right thing. "I'll walk you to your car." He turned away and restarted the elevator, nudging a somewhat glazed DiNozzo out the door and into the garage. He was surprised by Tony's silence and compliance; neither were normal DiNozzo qualities, especially after all the fighting and arguing Tony had been putting up just a few minutes earlier. Tony's previous anger had dissipated as quickly as a summer storm, replaced by confusion and uncertainty. Gibbs could understand the reaction; his agent was seeing a side of him that rarely got into the light of day.
Gibbs' phone rang right before they reached Tony's car; Fornell's name appeared and he felt compelled to answer. "What?"
"One of these days I'm going to teach you the proper way to answer a phone," Fornell complained. "Sacks called, said he's got something he wants us to see; it sounds important. I'm heading over to the Hoover building to check it out. Where are you?"
"Parking garage. Meet me down here; I'll drive." Gibbs hung up amid Fornell's protests about his driving.
Tony seemed slightly less dazed by the change of events. "I'll go with you," he offered, trying, but failing, to achieve a normal voice.
Gibbs considered touching the cuts and bruises that mottled Tony's face after the bar fight, but resisted. Not yet. Every decision about Tony was suddenly easy, his path crystal clear. He hadn't felt this decisive since Shannon; it was somewhat frightening but mostly exhilarating and for Christ's sake he wanted to laugh again for no reason at all. He owed Fornell a beer. "No, I can catch you up on anything we find. McGee and Ziva won't be there either. You've been at the office for two days straight – go home and sleep. I still have a spare key so I'll let myself in."
Tony shook his head to clear it. "Why are you doing this? I thought you wanted to fire me; that you couldn't forgive me for Jenny…."
Gibbs put a finger on Tony's lips demanding silence; he smiled at his agent's confounded expression - DiNozzo literally had no clue what was going on. There was an off chance Tony might not respond the way he hoped, but it didn't seem all that likely. If it turned out Tony didn't want to pursue anything, or the younger man didn't think this type of relationship could work, he would deal with it then. For now, he was a Dom, and Tony – whether he acknowledged it or not – was a sub close to the edge of self-destruction. And Gibbs wasn't going to let that happen.
He stared Tony down and answered bluntly. "I'm doing this because you need me to." He opened the car door and pushed Tony inside, buckling DiNozzo's seat belt.
"This is crazy," Tony protested. "I can buckle my own damn seat belt." He came back to himself more and pushed Gibbs' hands away. "I told you, I'm transferring…"
Gibbs leaned in the car door, his face within inches of Tony's. "No. You're. Not." The lead agent grinned the brilliant happy smile that he almost never used – the shocked response on Tony's face was beyond priceless. "Call me when you get in your apartment. I've had a bad feeling all day and I want to make sure you get there alright." He turned serious; he wanted to go with Tony, but the case had to be worked and he couldn't lose sight of that; besides, he needed to show Tony he still trusted him. "Make sure you call," he demanded.
"Who are you and what have you done with my boss?" Tony asked suspiciously, eyebrows knitted together. "Abrupt changes in personality are often caused by brain tumors; maybe you need to go the hospital."
Gibbs laughed again, the corners of his eyes crinkling. "I'm fine, Tony, and you're going to be fine, too – I intend to make sure of it. Now go home." He slammed the car door and left behind one very stunned Very Special Agent Anthony DiNozzo.
NCISNCISCNIS
Tony drove toward his apartment without really seeing anything he passed; his mind on autopilot the entire time. What had just happened? One minute he was turning in his transfer request and the next Gibbs had gone nuts, smiling, laughing, and practically sniffing him. It was absolutely bizarre.
He'd been unable to process it, simply going along with everything Gibbs said without comment. It was both his wildest dreams and darkest fears coming true at the same time. They were going to talk? About what? Why now, after all these years? His aching, fuzzy brain still hadn't adjusted to the incident, leaving him uncharacteristically at a loss for words.
Tony looked around and found himself in his parking lot, unaware of how long he'd been sitting in the quiet car. It was dark out, one of those warm summer evenings when bugs buzzed and fireflies flickered under a thick blanket of pinpoint stars. He paused by his car and let the night air soothe him. He was almost too tired to walk the three flights of stairs to his apartment, but nothing outweighed the undercurrent of anticipation rushing through his veins. Maybe Gibbs really didn't blame him for Jenny dying, maybe Gibbs really didn't want him to leave, maybe Gibbs really wanted….. His mind couldn't even complete the statement, because that wasn't possible, was it? Fear fluttered in his chest; what would he do if this conversation went in a direction he'd never dared to imagine it could? What would he say - did he even know what he wanted?
Judging by Gibbs' behavior in the elevator, the older man appeared certain of what he wanted.
Tony strolled along the path leading to his building, small trees and shrubs lining the way, accented by muted ground lighting. His mind was so focused on Gibbs that he didn't notice the shadow that fell along the sidewalk behind him.
"Agent DiNozzo?"
The voice startled him and he turned around without thinking, trying to identify the man whose face was partially obscured by the darkness. He heard a scuff and sensed someone else move in on the other side of him. A sharp stinging pain stabbed his arm before he had time to fully assess the situation.
"What the hell?" He grabbed his arm and looked over his shoulder. "Do I know you?"
The tall man smiled disarmingly. "We met last night. Steve, remember?"
Tony connected the dots quickly; in all the excitement over Phillips he'd totally forgotten the other man who'd hit on him at the bar. Steve….the club…..the disappearances….shit. Gibbs definitely had the wrong guy, and as usual the lead agent's gut was right to be worried.
With fumbling fingers, Tony tried to find his gun. It took a few seconds to register that he'd left it and his badge in his drawer at the office. When Gibbs dragged him into the elevator he hadn't known he would be going straight home so he hadn't grabbed the items like he usually did.
He stumbled, unexpectedly light-headed, bumping the man who was now within inches of his back. "Wh…what are you doing here?" His phone, he had to get to his phone and call Gibbs. His breathing hitched faster than normal and refused to slow down. Steve's face swam in and out of his vision and Tony's legs buckled. Steve caught him easily and held him by the arms.
"Oh, he is a pretty one." An unknown man wearing leather gloves tilted Tony's chin up, shooting Steve an approving gaze. "Our Japanese buyer has good taste. He'll bring at least a quarter million, easy."
"What….what are you….need to go….inside," Tony mumbled, feebly batting the fingers away from his face. His limbs were no longer in his control and his head felt like it weighed a thousand pounds. He felt himself being moved along the sidewalk and through the trees; he recognized the obscure alcove behind the building. His foggy brain knew it was hidden from view of anyone else walking along the path, leaving him completely isolated and at the mercy of his assailants. He tried the only tactic he could think of. "Boss….expecting me….can't be…..be late." The way his words slurred out slow and halting was frightening. What the hell had they given him?
"I don't think you'll make it, Agent DiNozzo. You're going on a little trip, so just relax and let us do all the work. Take him so I can strip his clothes off." The other man slid his arms under Tony's and grasped him tightly. Tony could feel the buttons on his shirt being undone, and then cold air hit his naked skin. His addled mind couldn't process what was happening.
"Ssssttop." He struggled, wriggling weakly, but the man simply dug his gloved fingers into Tony's skin. His belt was quickly unbuckled and removed, followed swiftly by his shoes, socks, and pants, leaving him nude and shivering.
"No underwear," Steve commented. "Looks like he was ready for us."
Stark fear gripped Tony when he realized he was more than likely going to be raped within a few feet of his own front door. He willed his body to fight his attackers, but his limbs refused to cooperate. He didn't know what drugs they had given him, but his body was now pliant as a doll's.
"Please…." He whispered, overcome with desperation. Asking them to rethink their plan wasn't quite the same as begging. "Don't do this."
He felt something warm and soft wrapped around first his right wrist then his left. The devices were pulled snug and tight. "Oh, don't worry about anything like that, pretty boy. Someone else is going to pay top dollar for the pleasure of riding your gorgeous ass."
His hands were secured behind him with a soft snicking sound. "Let's get out of here before someone comes looking for him." They grabbed his biceps and led him to a waiting conversion van parked a few feet away; he tried to struggle but had less strength than a child, forcing them to slow only enough to keep him from falling down. Tony's feet felt like they weren't even touching the ground, with every step the world around him lost focus and became more indistinct. His heart slammed against his chest. Don't ever let them take you to the second location. It was a basic safety rule. If only he could attract attention, yell – dozens of people were so close, safe in their apartments; someone could be here in a matter of minutes.
As the doors to the van opened, he knew it was too late. Once he was inside there would be nothing more he could do. Tony made one more attempt to jerk his arms loose, but only managed to trip over his own feet and stumble. Steve laughed harshly, his wide smile a nightmare amusement park clown towering over Tony.
The blackness that had been dancing at the edge of Tony's vision consumed him in an ebony veil and he pitched forward.
His last thought before he completely lost consciousness was of Gibbs, and how pissed his boss was going to be when Tony didn't call.