Author's Notes: Thanks for all your kind words and support! I'm in the process of replying to everyone, but with work, my graduate class, and some issues at home it's been a challenge. I love to read your reviews, and it's my goal to respond to them all, it just sometimes takes a few days. But my heartfelt thanks for each one.
Remember, WARNING, BDSM, slash, non-con, dub-con. Those themes get more intense as the story progresses, and if you are not interested don't read! Poor Tony is in for a tough time, but Gibbs is not going to give up on finding (and taking care of) our favorite agent!
Fornell led the away to a small office where Agent Sacks waited for them. "We found out about the body a few hours ago – LEO's managed to get a partial print that confirmed him as the missing marine."
Gibbs stared at the pictures of a partially decomposed corpse lying amid tall grass, leaves, and mud displayed on Sacks' computer. The ravages of exposure to the elements and scavenging animals made it difficult to determine the identity of the person by sight. "Where'd they find him?" Gibbs asked, closely inspecting the images on the monitor.
"About two hours north of here along I-95. He appears to have been dumped out of a vehicle into a marshy area near a lake – he was somewhat submerged in water and it's been in the 90's the past few days plus it rained at night, which accounts for the deterioration of the body. A couple of hikers stumbled across him this morning," Sacks explained.
"Did the LEO's find any other evidence?" Fornell asked, pulling up a chair and sitting down, hunching over for a better look at their new lead.
Sacks shook his head. "Not much. The water and heat have done a job on any trace evidence and no one remembers seeing any unusual activity in the area."
"What was the cause of death?" Gibbs inquired.
"It's going to be hard to tell due to the condition of the body. Our forensics department is backed up and it could be a few days before they get to it."
Gibbs turned to Fornell. "Send the body to Ducky and Abby. They'll get us something."
The FBI agent scratched the scruff on his chin. "Alright, I'll pull some strings and see what I can do – but I expect results. This will cost me a few favors."
Gibbs smiled grimly. "If there's any evidence left, they'll find it."
Fornell stood and motioned to Sacks. "Come on, let's request this in person; it might go over better and it won't look so much like I'm turning our case over to NCIS if I'm there to sweet talk my way through it." He paused and held up a hand to Gibbs. "You stay here. Surprisingly you're not the most popular guy in the building."
With a lopsided smile Gibbs dropped into the seat Fornell just vacated. "I'll sit quietly and wait like a good boy while you go spread your charm." Sacks chuckled until Fornell shot him a less than amused glare.
After the agents left, Gibbs pulled out his phone – Tony still hadn't called him. Maybe it had been over the top to ask DiNozzo to check in when he got home, but the churning in his gut hadn't ceased and he knew it would only go away when he was sure Tony was safely tucked into bed. Promising himself not to act irritated when the younger man answered, he pushed his senior field agent's number. A few rings later, Tony's smooth voice asked him to leave a message following the beep.
Gibbs held out the phone and frowned, his stomach turning a somersault. He had been certain Tony would follow his directions until he got to the apartment later tonight. Sure, DiNozzo had been acting out lately, but he doubted the man would risk pissing him off any further after the discussion in the elevator. One thing he could always count on was Tony following explicit orders. Not expecting a different result, but trying just in case, he called again, the phone once more going directly to voicemail.
"Damnit, DiNozzo, you better be asleep with your phone on silent," he grumbled out loud.
He considered what to do – it wasn't prudent to run out of an ongoing investigation to do a bed check on a wayward agent that he'd decided he might have some unprofessional feelings for. If Tony was nothing more than another agent, he wouldn't even consider leaving to make sure DiNozzo had arrived home safely only hours after a dead body had been located. As always, the job took precedence. Besides, until they determined if there was anything else to their relationship besides being coworkers, it would be brazen to show up on Tony's doorstep to find out why he hadn't called or answered the phone. The last thing he wanted to do was scare Tony off, and considering DiNozzo's reactions to the sub label, it was highly possible. This needed to go one step at a time.
He'd have to wait, which wouldn't be easy. He always got overprotective with a sub, and he could no longer deny those feelings for DiNozzo. Maybe Tony would call back soon, and if not he'd rip him a new one tonight. This was the kind of crap that was going to have to stop, relationship or not. DiNozzo needed to be on an extremely short leash, preferably one that ended with him at the other end.
Fornell and Sacks returned, indicating the body and evidence were on its way to NCIS.
"You better get something out of this fast Gibbs, or I'm going to look like an idiot for sending everything your way. I know Mallard and Abby are good, but they need to work a miracle on this one," he complained.
"Have some faith, Fornell, you know Abs and Ducky are the best," Gibbs assured him.
Fornell ran a hand through his thinning hair, looked at his watch, and sighed. "Sacks, go home. I'll call if we get a break. Gibbs will give me a ride back to the Navy Yard." The younger agent glanced between the two men, before closing down his computer and heading for the door, the older agents following. "So where'd you send your boy to?" Fornell asked when his agent was out of sight.
"Home to bed. They aren't much good to us if they're exhausted," Gibbs replied, hoping Fornell wouldn't ask too many questions about Tony's absence.
"Shit, Gibbs, I've seen you work that kid for days straight without so much as a bathroom break. You planning on joining him in that bed sometime soon?" Fornell suggested with a leer.
Gibbs coughed. "Could you keep your mind out of the gutter for five minutes? DiNozzo was dead on his feet and needed to rest; that doesn't mean I have an ulterior motive to sleep with him."
Fornell laughed, pausing at the top of the staircase leading to the lower parking garage. "Sleep is definitely not what I was thinking you might do. Let's go see how much we can get accomplished so you can get out of here, too. We don't want to let DiNozzo get lonely." He skipped down the stairs, taking them two at a time, grinning at Gibbs' discomfort.
The lead agent scowled and followed his friend to the car.
NCISNCISNCIS
There was a droning sound in Tony's head; it thrummed on and on and he couldn't figure out where it was coming from. His cheek was pressed against a smooth, hard, and uncomfortable surface – it definitely wasn't the soft down of the feather pillow from his bed. He heard a thumping noise, before his head flew several inches into the air and came back into contact with the hard surface with a bone jarring bang that flashed stars across his vision.
"Shit," he hissed through clenched teeth and opened his eyes, confused when all he saw was black. All his senses abruptly returned, and he realized he couldn't move; he was lying on his side with his hands bound behind his back. He tried to raise his head up and knocked it painfully into another hard surface above him. Stretching out, his bare feet bumped into the same unyielding barrier below. He was in some kind of crate that was small, cramped, dark, and hot. Sweat pooled beneath his skin, and he quickly figured out he was completely nude.
Jesus, what the hell happened? He searched his addled mind to try and gauge how he'd ended up in this situation. Jumbled up memories were all that came back to him; Gibbs in the elevator, walking across the parking lot at his apartment building, the face of a man he didn't know. He flexed his sore arms and tried to stay calm.
Small spaces didn't work well for him. He didn't have a phobia, but ever since childhood he'd never liked being in confined areas he couldn't get out of on his own. As a kid, he'd gotten stuck in an armoire while playing hide and seek with some cousins; he'd only been in the tiny closet for about fifteen minutes, but it had felt like hours. He could feel his heart rate increasing, and he took a breath and blew it out slowly, forcing himself to not panic.
Oxygen. He wondered if there was enough air in this little metal coffin to keep him alive for very long. He had no desire to suffocate – he did have a phobia about that ever since the plague.
Alright, Anthony, just keep it together and think. More memories emerged, and he recalled the men on the path with him and the sharp pain in his arm. He'd been drugged, but why?
The case. Steve from the bar had somehow followed him home. He guessed he was now going to find out exactly what happened to the missing men – he always liked to be the one to break a case, but this was ridiculous. Count on the DiNozzo luck to put him in the wrong place at the wrong time. How long would it take before someone realized he was gone?
Gibbs. He was supposed to call when he got to his apartment, which he hadn't done before his new friends showed up. Surely the boss would be onto the problem within hours. They had some kind of appointment….date….whatever, to discuss things tonight, and Gibbs was not going to be happy when he didn't find Tony at home. Gibbs had been exuding uber dominant vibes when he'd laid down his plan for the evening, and not being able to follow through with them was certain to infuriate the older man. Tony just prayed there was sufficient evidence left behind to show he hadn't gone willingly or simply stood Gibbs up.
Damn, he'd wanted to find out what Gibbs had planned to say.
The roaring noise changed slightly and Tony's head flew up and crashed down again; he stifled a moan. His head had been pounding from the bar fight, and now it felt like the percussion line from a marching band had taken up residence in his skull. A wave of nausea rolled over him, and he willed it down, not wanting to throw up in the tiny space. The way his body shifted again indicated he was riding in a vehicle. There was no way to tell how long he'd been unconscious or how far they had travelled. He was definitely in a world of trouble.
Strangely, he was frightened, but not terrified. No matter how bad it all looked right now, Gibbs would find him, if for no other reason than to chew him out for not being available for their talk.
Hopefully someone would get him out of here before he had to take a piss – that would not be pleasant at all. He closed his eyes and tried to rest, distracting his mind with thoughts of what he would do once the lid of this crate was finally opened.
He certainly didn't intend to play the cooperative victim for very long.
NCISNCISNCIS
"Whatcha got for us, Duck?" Gibbs flowed through the doors of autopsy carrying his ever present cup of coffee, followed closely by Fornell who sipped from a bottle of water.
The Medical Examiner raised his head, peering at the agents from behind his glasses. "Ah, Jethro, Agent Fornell. I've only recently made the acquaintance of our young lad; however I believe I can give you some early information regarding the cause of his demise."
Ducky motioned the two men closer, indicating they should lean in over the dissected corpse. "You see here." The doctor pointed at the man's lungs with the end of a scalpel. "There are obvious signs of swelling and overdistention in all orbs of the lungs as well as…." He moved to the other side of the room where a partially decomposed eyeball rested on a microscope. "…. petechial hemorrhaging within the eye. Suffice it to say that the poor boy died from asphyxiation, but unfortunately at this time I cannot determine exactly the method used to end his life. However, I can rule out strangulation since there are no ligature marks on the neck and the hyboid bone is not broken. I'm leaning toward choking, aspiration, or perhaps he was gagged and suffered from severe lack of oxygen. Hopefully Abby's tox screen will shed more light on the subject if it turns out there are any traces of drugs in his system that could account for a depressed breathing rate."
"Good work, Ducky," Gibbs said, turning to head out of autopsy and over to the lab.
"There's more," the ME announced, his thick brogue indicating he wasn't ready to let the two of them escape that easily.
"Our victim shows evidence of a severe beating. There is significant bruising on his face, torso, and buttocks. I also see indications of restraints used around his wrists and ankles. Whoever took him did not treat him kindly prior to his death. It reminds me of a case in Edinborough, a fine young man was found beaten in an alley behind the theatre….."
"Ducky," Gibbs interrupted, firmly but not unkindly, "later, ok?"
"Oh, of course, the hour is quite late for such a story. I shall share it at another time when matters are not so pressing and the conversation is not occurring in the wee hours of the morning."
"Thanks, Ducky. Why don't you head home for some sleep and you can pick up on this again tomorrow. Abby still here?" Gibbs inquired, already fairly certain of the answer.
"Yes, our lovely forensics expert is using her affair with caffeine to sustain her through the darkness of night to find the answers you seek." Dr. Mallard removed his apron and cap. "I'm sure she'll have some information for you at this point."
Gibbs left Ducky to finish up and led the way to Abby's lab. Even at this hour, the sound of vibrating drums, wild guitar rhythms, and screaming lyrics reverberated through the hallway as they approached.
Fornell grimaced. "How can you stand that?"
Gibbs smiled. "Can't argue with the results." He quietly walked behind the pig-tailed scientist and kissed her cheek, holding a Caf-Pow in her line of vision.
"Perfect timing," Abby declared, taking the drink in one hand and reaching for a print out with the other. A line of empty Caf-Pow containers sat at the edge of her table; Gibbs quirked an eyebrow and Abby bounced on her toes. "Consider it a work related necessity. Do you think I could start expensing them?"
"If you found something good, I'll see what I can do," Gibbs replied, squinting at the screen showing numbers and lines. "Does this mean something?"
Abby's red lips curled into a smile. "Of course it means something. It means that our FBI agent was really doped up when he died. I found high levels of midazolam in his system; it's a powerful sedative normally only used prior to anesthesia. It doesn't take a lot to render a person semi-conscious, and there was enough in the blood sample to take down a horse. It's highly likely the medication contributed to decreased oxygen intake and was a factor in his death."
Fornell peeked over Gibbs' shoulder at the screen. "How long have you two had the body? An hour? It would take me a week to get these results."
Abby stood taller and laced her fingers together with satisfaction. "We might be small, but I like to go with the adage that size doesn't matter. It's what you do with what you've got. Don't you agree, Bossman?"
Gibbs' gave her an indulgent half-smile. "Absolutely, Abs. Like I said earlier, Tobias, you gotta love the results. Did you find anything else?"
The cheeky grin disappeared from Abby's face as she turned serious. "I found some fibers but that's all and I haven't been able to identify them yet. It does take more than an hour to do some of this work, Gibbs."
"It's no problem, Abby. You go home and take a break. We'll start again in the morning."
"You are such a Papa Bear, taking care of your cubs," Abby gushed as she gave him a hug of appreciation. "I'll leave if you promise to hit the sack, too. Promise?"
"I promise, Abby." He patted her rump. "Now scoot."
She giggled, turning off machines while they headed for the door.
"Hey, Gibbs," she called, stopping him before he entered the hallway. Fornell nodded his understanding and went on ahead.
"Yeah, Abs, what is it?" he asked, noting how she nervously twisted her hair.
"Have you heard from Tony? Ziva said you sent him home, but when I tried to call he didn't answer and that's just not like Tony, you know? I wanted to make sure he wasn't still upset about the whole club disaster, and…." She hesitated. "I kind of got the feeling he might be planning to do something really stupid and I wanted to try and stop him before it was too late."
Gibbs looked down at her; Abby joked about his instincts being similar to magical powers, but she wasn't far behind him. "He was planning to do something stupid, but I'm taking care of it. I'm going to check on him as soon as I'm done here and I'll make him call you back. Ok?"
A playful smile danced on her lips. "You're going to his place? To check on him? I like the sound of that!"
He pulled a pigtail. "Stop it with the innuendo – I only plan on talking to him. But I have to admit it's a conversation that's long overdue. Now let me wrap things up so I can get out of here."
Abby turned him around and patted him on the butt. "On your way, mister. Give me a call and tell me how it goes!" She practically shoved him out the doorway. Gibbs was still chuckling when he exited the elevator into the bullpen.
He found Fornell sitting with his feet on Gibbs' desk and his eyes closed. McGee was lying back in his chair snoring softly. Ziva had curled up on the floor using a jacket as a pillow. Gibbs knocked Fornell's feet to the floor, ungraciously waking the man.
"Come on," Gibbs said while the FBI agent rubbed his eyes. "I'll drop you at your place."
"What about them?" Fornell asked, waving his hand at the sleeping agents.
Gibbs strode out of the bullpen. "They look too cute to wake up. I'll bring 'em doughnuts in the morning."
"You're all heart, Gibbs. All heart. DiNozzo's a lucky man."
Gibbs rolled his eyes.
NCISNCISNCIS
"Come on, man, I need to stretch my legs. We've been driving for hours and I don't know about you, but I could use a break."
Steve stared dispassionately at his partner; Josh had been whining for a while and he was getting sick of listening to it. The lanky young man was his boss' nephew, so he had to put up with him, but it didn't mean he had to like it. He supposed there was no choice but to stop – they needed to check on the cargo anyway. There was no sense repeating the fiasco that occurred the last time they'd done this.
He maneuvered the van down an off ramp and through a small town, taking winding back roads until he found a secluded area that afforded a fair amount of privacy, the only light provided by their headlights and the crescent moon.
"Alright, get out and take a leak. Then we'll have a look at our newest acquisition."
Steve hopped from the cab of the van and lit a cigarette, allowing the smoke to fill his lungs and ease his nerves. He liked to pick up merchandise in DC because of the plethora of military and law enforcement personnel to choose from, but this latest trip had turned into nothing short of a fucking nightmare. The first sub they'd selected had fought like the trained marine he was, and they had been forced to get unusually rough with him, ultimately injecting him with an extra dose of meds. When they had stopped several hours later to give him some water, the man had been dead. Steve still didn't know if it had been the beating or the drugs that killed him, but in the end it didn't matter. They hadn't been able to deliver, and it left them both in an extremely tenuous position. They couldn't go back empty-handed, so it forced them to return to DC and try again. Fortunately their Japanese buyer hadn't minded to make another selection.
The man they'd picked this time had been quite a coup; if everything went well with his training, their Asian friend would pay an enormous sum for the new slave. And if something fell through with that deal, there were dozens of others waiting to make a sizeable bid on such a handsome member of law enforcement. They just had to make sure not to fuck up before they delivered him to the camp.
Josh loped back toward the van. Steve reached inside and grabbed the small rifle he'd wedged in the seat next to him. He nodded at the young man, who produced a handgun from the back of his pants. Josh was so green the older man wasn't even sure if the kid knew how to use the weapon, but he didn't say anything to the fidgety boy. Steve opened the rear doors and climbed into the empty cargo area, stooping next to a long metal storage crate. He lifted the lid, peering into the empty bin. Placing his gun on the floor, he pressed on the bottom of the crate, listening for the pop that meant the false panel had released. Sliding his fingers in the cracks, he pried the thin layer of metal up until it rested against the inside of the box.
The man inside blinked up at him warily, his face a mask of uncertainty and fear. There was something else in the green eyes that Steve couldn't readily identify, and at this point he wasn't taking any chances – their victim was a trained federal agent after all. His own military background had taught him not to take any unnecessary risks, so he cautiously lifted his weapon off the floor. "Get out," he ordered tersely. "And don't think we won't shoot you if you try anything dumb, like running."
NCISNCISNCIS
Tony assessed the situation as quickly as he could, considering that he still wasn't thinking all that clearly. The effects of the drugs continued to course through his veins, making him stumble when they helped pull him out of the crate. His skin was slick with sweat and his legs trembled with each step, but within a few minutes he found himself standing outside of the van with the cool night air raising goosebumps on his exposed flesh. He'd never really minded to take off his clothes, but right now his nakedness made him feel vulnerable and somewhat defenseless standing bound next to the two fully clothed men.
"Here, drink this." Steve shoved a bottle of water in front of him, tilting it so Tony could drink without the use of his hands which remained secured behind his back. The liquid felt like heaven going down his parched throat and he gulped it eagerly.
All too soon the water was removed. Tony eyed his captors disdainfully, letting his gaze rest on Steve. "If you'd wanted a date that bad, all you had to do was say so. This is a bit extreme if you want my opinion. Maybe try Craig's List next time. Or you could go with ; they have a pretty high success rate even for assholes with no personality."
The taller man laughed. "You have a smart mouth, boy. I think that's the first thing I'm going to work on getting rid of." He grabbed Tony's jaw, squeezing tightly, forcing Tony to stare him in the eye. "You'll soon find out the only thing that pretty mouth of yours is good for is to suck the dick of your master." He shook Tony's head and let go.
"Now you need to piss and then it's back to your chariot, princess."
Josh tugged him next to a tree; Steve reached around from behind to grasp his penis. "I think you could use some help here."
There was no way he would let this man touch him. With a primal growl Tony lurched free from Steve's grip and lunged unsteadily into a thicket of bushes. They had driven here; he just had to reach the road and maybe help nearby if he could only move fast enough to find someone.
The effects of the drugs, his restrained arms, and the lack of shoes, all combined to slow him down. Branches slapped his face and rocks dug into the soles of his bare feet. The world around him swam in and out of focus and he lost his footing, tumbling roughly down a small embankment before landing on his side in a small stream, an agonizing pain piercing his ribs where he'd smashed into a large rock.
Before he could catch his breath hands were on him, pulling him upward to stand soggy and dripping in the shallow water. Steve's face loomed into his line of vision. "Next time you try something like that I'll shoot one of your balls off, you understand me?" His face contorted in anger and he shoved his gun into Tony's crotch to make sure his message was clear.
Tony gasped heavily and tried to pull himself together. "Sounds like my balls are an important part of the overall package, so I think they're fairly safe." The acerbic retort rolled off his tongue before he gave it much consideration; goading people was so ingrained in his personality it would require a lot more than Steve's threats to make him change.
The backhanded slap across his face stung more than Tony expected it would, and he licked a salty trickle of blood off his lip.
"Get him back to the van," Steve ordered his companion. "I'm tired of this shit."
Josh moved to comply, forcing Tony to walk back up the small hill. Tony decided he'd had enough; if they got him in the van again he had little chance of ever getting out of this in one piece. He struggled against Josh's grip, trying to pull away.
"Get your fucking hands off me!" he shouted. "Help! Help!" The possibility of someone hearing him in this isolated area was dim, but he had to try something. Desperation fueled him as he continued to yell and fight, kicking Josh in the shin and kneeing Steve in the nose when he bent to help his friend.
"You little prick!" Steve screamed, wiping blood from his face as Tony continued to squirm and flail as much as he could with his hands tied behind him. They finally shoved him onto the floor of the van; Steve climbed on his back with the full force of his weight and pinned him down roughly. "Get another shot! I'm not putting up with this crap all the way to the camp."
Josh hesitated. "That's what got us in trouble last time, Steve. Are you sure that's a good idea?" The NCIS agent bucked in the air in an effort to dislodge the man on top of him.
Steve slammed Tony's head into the floor, using his forearm to keep him from moving. Tony stifled a groan, unwilling to give them any satisfaction from knowing that he was in a significant amount of pain. He hoped the knife like sensation in his chest wasn't actually a broken rib or two. He attempted to pull in a full breath, but between the pain and Steve's knee it was nearly impossible. "Just give him half a dose and make sure it's in the muscle."
Tony listened as Josh rummaged around in the cab of the vehicle then returned, climbing in beside them. He leaned over Tony's legs and wiped an alcohol swab across his butt cheek.
"Stop it!" Tony managed to mumble, struggling again. "Get the hell away from me!"
"Calm down, princess," Steve instructed, tightening his hold on DiNozzo's writhing form. "You're gonna feel much better in a few minutes."
Tony flinched when the needle pierced through his skin and plunged deep into the muscle of his ass. Within seconds it was removed, but Steve didn't loosen his grip until Tony felt his body relax, his heart rate slow, and his eyes grow heavy as lead. Steve moved off of him and said something to Josh, but Tony couldn't understand the words. He felt disconnected and the world around him moved in slow motion. His head lolled when they lifted him up and lowered him back into the crate. He tried to protest, maybe even beg them not to close the lid, but he couldn't speak and barely registered it when the moonlight faded and disappeared, as he was once more shut into his tiny cramped prison.
Gibbs will find me, he repeated silently into the darkness, a desperate mantra that was all he had to hold on to. Gibbs will find me.
NCISNCISNCIS
Gibbs pulled into the parking space next to Tony's latest car. DiNozzo had a tendency to acquire a new automobile every few years; between car bombings and auto thefts he didn't hold on to one for very long. The most recent toy was a candy apple red Camaro – Gibbs knew it well since it had sat in his garage during the months Tony was away as Agent Afloat. Every few weeks he'd started it up and driven around for the day, ostensibly to keep the car in good working order, but he had other motives as well.
The car reminded him of Tony. It smelled like him, the radio stations were pre-set to stations he listened to, the leather seat was molded to fit his body. It was while driving Tony's car Gibbs first discovered he might have stronger feelings for his senior field agent than he had ever acknowledged. Even then, he'd ignored the stirrings in his stomach and heart, preferring to believe it was the companionship of a good friend he missed. Today in the elevator he finally faced the truth that it was definitely something more.
He locked his car and walked along the manicured path to Tony's apartment. When DiNozzo joined NCIS Gibbs would have never in a million years imagined being attracted to him. Despite the fact he always saw the top notch investigator and brave officer of the law that was at the heart of Tony's persona, it had taken him far too long to appreciate the thoughtful friend and loyal partner that was hidden underneath the fancy suits and movie quotes. He was a hell of a lot more handsome as a man than he had been as a boy and it was time to deal with the connection between them that refused to be ignored.
Gibbs knocked on the door once, rapping harder and faster when he didn't get a reply. He flipped out his phone and called, still receiving no answer. Concern gnawed at his gut. There was no way Tony would have gone somewhere else when he knew Gibbs was on his way over, he just didn't believe it.
Producing the key to Tony's apartment, he opened the door and stepped inside. The entryway was dark and quiet - the rest of the apartment turned out to be the same.
Years of working crime scenes had attuned him to the feel of things not quite right, and all his instincts came to attention as he made his way slowly through the eerily silent home. There was no sign of Tony anywhere; his keys weren't on the table by the door, there were no shoes tossed by the couch, no suit jacket folded carefully over a chair. With trepidation Gibbs inched his way down the hall toward Tony's closed bedroom door. He prayed the younger man was on the other side, curled up fast asleep and snoring softly. Carefully he turned the knob and let the white six panel door swing open.
The comforter lay crunched in a ball, pillows were strewn askew, and some sweats were tossed on the dresser. Tony was nowhere to be found.
Out of force of habit, Gibbs checked the bathrooms and guest bedroom, but he already knew the apartment was empty. Where before he had moved cautiously and soundlessly, now he whipped into a flurry of action. He strode out the front door and down the steps toward Tony's car. He still had a key to that, too. Maybe it would provide some clue to where Tony had gone.
Deciding to try one more time, he punched Tony's phone number again. The ringing in his ear was echoed by a faint ringing close to him. He pulled the phone away and looked around, trying to locate the chiming sound. The ringing stopped as the phone went to voice mail. Gibbs hit the buttons forcefully, moving toward the side of the building where the sound had come from. When the ringing started again, he stomped through some bushes into a shadowy area separated from the rest of the apartment complex. Several garbage cans lined the brick walls.
Gibbs' heart sank when he realized the ringing was coming from inside one of the bins. Not wanting his growing suspicions to be true, but afraid not to take appropriate precautions, he slid a plastic glove out of his jacket pocket and slipped it on before lifting the trash lid.
What he saw nearly stopped his already racing heart. DiNozzo's cell phone lay on top of a pile of crumpled clothes that he immediately recognized as Tony's. He picked up the phone and snapped it open; his and Abby's missed calls filled the screen. Apparently Tony hadn't answered or used his phone since he'd left the Navy Yard. Gingerly he shifted the clothes around; everything Tony had been wearing tonight was in there, all the way down to his belt and socks.
A hard, icy ball formed in Gibbs' stomach. Wherever he was, Tony was naked, exposed, and had no one to watch his six. He had turned out to be the perfect bait after all, and the kidnappers had abducted him right in front of Gibbs' eyes.
NCISNCISNCIS
Tony couldn't recall exactly how many times he'd been taken out of the van, had water poured down his throat, pissed, and then was given another injection. He was in a stupor, moving zombie like wherever they pushed him. He had started shaking a while back, and the trembling coursed through him repeatedly, pulling at the muscles that had stiffened from being in the same position for so long. His chest ached, and each breath he took seemed too slow and shallow, never giving him enough oxygen to clear the confusion from his mind.
This time, when he stood outside the van on shaky legs that threatened to give out at any moment, things were different. The sun shone brightly in the sky, forcing him to blink after so many hours in total darkness.
Josh took his arm and led him in the direction of a small pier where a boat and a man with a neatly trimmed goatee, dressed in snug leather pants and a black t-shirt, waited. The lines in his face put him in his mid-fifties, but the muscles in his arms indicated the excellent condition of his body despite his age. Steve approached with his arms wide, embracing the long-haired man with a pat on the back.
"Whaddya think, Rick?" he asked, turning Tony to face the new person. The sudden movement created a wave of vertigo that left Tony swaying dangerously.
The salt and pepper haired man snorted. "I think you've nearly overdosed another one. Are you trying to kill off all our merchandise? Hey," he reached out and cupped Tony's cheek, giving Steve an irritated glance. "Hey, boy, you with us?"
"Don't…..don't touch….me," DiNozzo slurred and tried to pull away.
"Oh, my boy, you're going to have to get over that. You are a pretty one." He let a thumb lightly trace Tony's jawline. "Josh, grab a blanket out of the berth."
The younger man gave Steve a shrug and did as he was told. Steve's forehead creased. "You're going to cover him up? You always said to keep them naked from the very beginning."
"The way he's shaking, I'd say we need to do something. I don't think we can afford to lose any more potential profit. Do you?" The steady gaze from his slate grey eyes made his point clear.
"No, no we can't," Steve agreed nervously, uncomfortable with the reminder of his earlier screw-up.
"Besides, I think this boy might be the best new sub you've found in a long time." He gave Tony an appreciative perusal, his hands trailing gently over the firm body, already considering how much money he'd be worth. "We need to keep him safe and healthy. Here…" He took the blanket from Josh and draped it over Tony's shoulders. "Is that better?"
Tony managed to look up at him. This man, Rick, was one of them, but he had tried to help… "My….my arms…." Tony whispered, accompanied by a weak cough. "They hurt."
"Yes, well I think it would be safe to take care of that. You aren't going anywhere, are you?" Tony didn't answer, his eyes drifting closed. He was so tired; all he wanted to do was sleep and ignore everything that was happening. He dimly registered that his arms were released, tingling sensations announcing the return of circulation.
"So…..so tired." He felt himself slumping forward; Rick placed a thick arm around his waist to hold him up.
"Come on, let's get him settled. He'll probably sleep for the next forty-eight hours anyway." They moved Tony onto the boat and helped him lay down on a small couch in the cabin.
Rick turned to Steve, staring at the bloody lip from earlier. "Did he do that to you?"
"Yeah, that's why we had to give him so much medication. He fought too hard." Steve brushed his fingers over the wound.
Rick gazed at Tony and ran a hand through his sweaty hair. "Our customers like a little fight, especially in a sub as attractive as this one. We'll break him like a wild stallion – it'll make him a much better slave when it's all said and done. You did good Steve, real good."
Tony stirred, and in his hazy dreams felt the hand on his head, the course skin touching him lightly, and imagined it was Gibbs who held him, Gibbs who soothed him, and Gibbs who would make everything alright.
NCISNCISNCIS
The lead agent watched out of the corner of his eye as Ziva held Tony's folded clothes reverently, leaning near enough to smell them but not touch what was now classified as evidence. She carefully placed the garments into a plastic bag and sealed it, giving McGee a sad half smile as he walked over next to her.
"He will want these back and I will not be held responsible if they cannot be worn again. He will be insufferable."
McGee tilted his head and nodded his understanding. "Yeah, DiNozzo without his clothes is like a knight without his armor."
Ziva took a deep breath and looked at McGee dead on. "We will find him, yes?"
The agent who had stopped being a probie years ago gave her arm a reassuring squeeze. "Yes, we will. You know Gibbs won't ever give up, especially not on Tony."
Their boss turned his head away before they glanced over at him and pretended to stare at something on the ground. It didn't prevent him from hearing her soft reply.
"He will spend the rest of his life searching for Tony if he has to," she agreed.
Gibbs was reminded of a movie – The Searchers with John Wayne. The Duke had spent years trying to find Natalie Woods' character, refusing to quit even when every one else had given up. In the end he found her, brutalized by Indians and not even sure who she was any more, but he had brought her home. Ziva was right; nothing would get in the way of him finding DiNozzo.
A bittersweet chuckle escaped his lips; he'd finally come up with a movie reference and Tony wasn't around to share it with.
Footsteps interrupted his thoughts. "I got here as fast as I could, Jethro. What the hell happened?" Fornell and Sacks waited expectantly for him to explain the urgent phone call he'd place less than half an hour before.
"DiNozzo's missing. Found his clothes and phone in that trash can." He pointed behind him. "No one saw anything, there are no fingerprints, and the apartment doesn't have surveillance cameras. We've got nothing."
"How long do you estimate he's been gone?" Fornell kept his voice even and calm.
"Six or seven hours – I don't think he stepped foot inside his apartment. My guess is they grabbed him on the way in." Gibbs' gaze stayed steady and cold. He marveled at his own ability to compartmentalize his feelings; it was a skill learned years ago when faced with a loss so great it threatened to consume his soul. Do the job. It was the best way, the only way, to help Tony now.
McGee and Ziva joined them. "We have collected everything we can think of, including the trash can. Maybe Abby can find something we did not see," Ziva reported. "What do you want to do now?"
The sun broke over the horizon, bathing them all in its pale glow. Gibbs wondered if the sun was shining where Tony was, and if he could see it. McGee and Ziva were good agents, but Tony wouldn't be asking him what to do next; he would instinctively know.
Gibbs looked at them – he addressed Ziva first. "Put a BOLO out on Tony; check any place you can think of – hospitals, police stations, homeless shelters. This has something to do with Dominants and submissives; McGee check websites that cater to that sort of lifestyle. No idea is too implausible." He was desperate; they had to look anywhere and everywhere.
"What are you going to do?" McGee asked. There was a time he wouldn't have spoken up, but Tony had taught him how to express his mind more, even to Gibbs.
"I'm going with Fornell and Sacks to canvass local D/s bars. It's a long shot but someone has to know something."
Fornell nodded. "Let's go." He gave Gibbs a once over. "But I'm driving this time."
They headed for their cars, Gibbs sliding into Fornell's back seat. He'd come back for his own car later. He didn't want to talk to anyone right now, didn't want to be forced to interact. This was his fault; he'd been worried but sent Tony home anyway.
He'd ordered him straight into the hands of a kidnapper, and based on their progress in the case so far, he might never get him back this time.