Author's Notes: Thanks for continuing to read and review! The story really goes into some dark places now, but I want to assure you this isn't going to be thirteen more chapters of Gibbs trying to find Tony. The plot makes a shift in a few chapters that moves things in a somewhat different direction that I think you'll appreciate.
Continue to let me know if you're enjoying it; I really love to hear from you!
WARNING: BDSM, slash, non-con, dub-con, intense adult situations.
Ziva watched Gibbs out of the corner of her eye, continually fascinated by the man who was so unlike anyone else she had ever known. Her father was all bluster and arrogance, her brothers had been hot-headed and impulsive, her lovers had been distant and cold. Gibbs could be all these things at times, yet the sum of his parts was so much greater than these individual pieces.
He was without a doubt the best man she had ever been lucky enough to have in her life.
Although impulsivity born of a bad temper could sometimes land him in hot water, like today, he also possessed the capacity to settle in for a long wait, exhibiting the kind of patience most people did not possess. It was as if he fought to get to this point, but once he accepted that patience would be required, he embraced it and let it filter through his entire being.
She supposed this is what he had been like as a sniper, hiding in the brush or the dense jungle for hours, maybe even days, tolerantly anticipating that split second shot, when it was all or nothing and everything was on the line. He was a true predator, similar to a panther whose ferocity wasn't known until he sprang from his rest to attack his prey.
The panther sat as his desk, ramrod straight, hand curled around a cup of coffee that he sipped from occasionally. He didn't pretend to be working, didn't stare mindlessly at his computer screen, doodle, or busy himself with paperwork. He merely sat, watching, waiting, and, she had no doubt, planning what he was going to do next.
An instant message appeared on her computer screen.
What do you think Vance will do to him? McGee asked. Ziva let her dark eyes flip up to her partner, who glanced at her surreptitiously, while continuing to type on his keyboard.
I do not know, but Nakamura appeared to be very angry when he and his attorney arrived. It is possible Gibbs might be fired for this type of action, she responded. I heard Fornell tell Sacks that Gibbs dangled Nakamura off a balcony.
I've never seen him this upset, except for maybe after Kate died, and then he had Tony around to take some of the edge off, McGee continued. How long has been sitting like that?
Since he sent Fornell and Sacks away – about an hour? He has not said a word.
The phone on Gibbs' desk rang, abruptly breaking the silence. "I'll be right there," he said, before standing up and draining the last of what must have been very cold coffee. He crushed the cup and threw it in the trash as he strode to the stairs without looking at either of them.
When he disappeared onto the second floor, McGee walked over to Ziva's desk. "What will you do if Vance fires him? Will you stay and work for someone else?"
She tilted her head thoughtfully. "No, I do not believe so," she replied honestly. What would be the point? "And you?"
McGee twisted his mouth and let his shoulders slump. "I guess I'd look for a transfer to another team, maybe do something in cybercrimes." He picked up the small American flag from her desk and twirled it in his fingers. "I don't think I'll do much of anything until we find Tony. I can't imagine moving on until he's back, you know? He might annoy the hell out of me some days, but I still owe him a lot. He wouldn't quit looking for either one of us."
Ziva blinked a few times and nodded. She had to admit that despite all of Tony's faults, loyalty was not among them. She could count her true friends on the fingers of one hand, and Tony was among the few who held that special place in her heart. "You are right, of course. I would stay until we know what happened to him, as well. Let us hope that is not a decision we have to make, yes?"
McGee returned the flag to her desk. "Yes," he agreed, sitting back down.
Ziva sighed. Now it was their turn to wait.
NCISNCISNCIS
Gibbs slammed his way into the second floor men's room; the man standing at the urinal took one look at him in the mirror, zipped up, and fled quickly. The lead agent walked over to the sink and splashed water on his face, blotting it off with a paper towel.
The meeting could have gone worse, he supposed. Nakamura's attorney had demanded his immediate firing, which Vance, to his credit and Gibbs' surprise, refused to do, spouting something about Gibbs being under 'extreme emotional distress' due to his close friendship to his missing agent. Nakamura had fumed, his beady eyes darting from face to face as his cheeks grew redder when he realized he wasn't going to get his way. Gibbs couldn't stop a chuckle when the small man stamped his foot like a disappointed child.
Ultimately, Vance had to take some type of punitive action. They compromised on a two-week suspension without pay and a reprimand in his file. That didn't bother him as much as being told he could no longer investigate Tony's case, and the rest of the team was being pulled, too. The investigation would be turned over to another NCIS team and they were to stay out of it.
Nakamura had ranted vehemently in Japanese, clearly displeased with the outcome of events. As he stomped away, continuing to rave, Gibbs acknowledged to himself that he should have never lost control earlier. He'd allowed that smug, shit-eating grin to push him over the edge; in his gut he had no doubt Nakamura knew exactly where to find Tony. They would never get the Asian businessman to talk since he could hide behind his money, his power, and his friends.
After he finally proved Nakamura's involvement, he might actually drop him off the balcony. It gave him something to look forward to.
Ziva and McGee stared expectantly as he reentered the bullpen, however they both had been with him long enough to not immediately ask what Vance had decided. They gazed when he went to his desk and shut down his computer, straightened a few papers, and turned to face them.
"Been suspended for two weeks," he announced without preamble. "Vance has my badge and gun. You two are on cold cases until I get back."
"What about Tony?" McGee asked. "We can't just quit looking for him."
Gibbs thought it was fairly impressive that their Probie had grown a spine without him seeing it. It would've never happened without Tony. The senior field agent's specter cast a shadow over everything they did.
"His case has been assigned to another team." Gibbs headed to the elevator. "I gotta go tell Ducky and Abby. Meet me for lunch at the Chinese place down the street."
The silver doors closed and he shut his eyes briefly. They were a good team, and he despised dragging them into his less than sanctioned plans. But there was no way in hell he was going to sit on his ass while Tony's fate rested in the hands of another team. He'd give them the opportunity to bow out if they wanted, and wouldn't hold it against any of them if they did. His own career didn't mean shit to him right now, but they had their futures to consider.
When he entered autopsy, Ducky smiled at his arrival. "Ah, Jethro, I assume you want to know if I've been able to gather any new information from our poor marine." The ME stepped back and frowned. "I'm sorry to say, but there is nothing new. This young man has been quite uncooperative with revealing any of his secrets, such as who was responsible for his death and why." The doctor stopped talking when he saw the dour expression on his colleague's face. "I take it there is something else you've come to see me about."
Gibbs curled his lips back and let out a huff of breath through his teeth. "I got a little carried away with a suspect in Tony's disappearance. Vance suspended me for two weeks and ordered me off the case."
Ducky walked next to his long-time friend and put a hand on Gibbs' shoulder. "That is a complication. What do you intend to do now?"
"Use my free time wisely. I need to talk to Abby then I want everyone to meet at Mr. Chow's." He turned to leave.
"Jethro," the ME called, and Gibbs stopped. "I can imagine how you must be feeling right now. Even though you and Anthony were never officially more than co-workers, it doesn't take a psychic to see how you take a great deal of unofficial responsibility for him. I often wondered if perhaps there was more to it than meets the eye….."
"Not now, Duck," Gibbs responded, not turning around to let his long time friend have a chance to see if his comment had hit a mark. "The only thing I want to think about is getting him back. I'll deal with anything else later." He continued his progress out the door, already around the corner by the time the doctor let out an exasperated sigh.
Gibbs found Abby working silently; the lack of music was never a good sign where the Goth was concerned.
Abby's shoulders were tight, her head bowed. Gibbs came up behind her and wrapped his arms around her thin frame.
"Did you get fired?" she whispered.
"Nope. Suspended. Two weeks."
"What are you going to do about Tony?"
"I need some help with that," he answered in her ear. "Wanna go for a walk with me?"
Abby's head shot up at the unusual request. "Sure."
The two of them exited the building and headed for the sidewalk leading to the river.
"I need you to do something for me, but if you say no I'll understand," Gibbs explained as he leaned against the railing. "I need a false identification set up; name, background, the works."
Abby crossed her arms, considering his request. "You plan on looking for Tony without backup?"
"There's no other way. Vance isn't going to approve anything beyond a bare bones investigation. I need to go in deeper if there's any chance of finding out what happened to DiNozzo."
Abby smiled at him weakly. "You know I'll do anything I can to help. You just have to promise to be careful. I couldn't stand losing both of you."
He reached out and took her hand. "I'm always careful."
She grinned and raised a perfectly arched eyebrow. "Rrrright. When does this off the grid op get started?"
"Tonight," he answered. "Come on. It's time for lunch."
Abby didn't let go of his hand as they strolled down the pier, light glinting off the water.
NCISNCISNCIS
Tony sat in the corner of the room, once again on his knees with his hands secured behind his back. He tried not to squirm, since he already had enough stripes from Rick's riding crop to qualify him as an exotic animal. Besides, the cage in the other corner was not a place he wanted to spend any amount of time. His stomach grumbled, and he ignored the ever-present hunger pangs and dry mouthed thirst; this morning he refused again to kiss Rick's boots, so there was no substantial food or water anywhere on the horizon for him. He vaguely wondered if they would actually let him starve to death or die from dehydration just to prove who was in charge.
Training. He still couldn't quite get his head around it. Steve, Josh, Rick, and several other self-ordained masters selected subs and worked them over using the various pieces of equipment in the room where he had been brought after exercise time. Tony wasn't completely naïve and oblivious, he quickly recognized the spanking bench, St. Andrew's cross, and many of the devices currently occupied by the men he'd been confined with.
He wanted to close his eyes, but every time he tried to take a mental break someone noticed and swatted him with the crop or whatever else they had nearby; snot-nosed Josh even liked to use the back of his hand. There was barely a spot on his body that hadn't been hit with something, and he was certain by the time he got to lay down on his cot again he'd be sore from head to toe. Even the position of kneeling had strained his muscles in ways that protested with cramps and aches. Still, he was so much better off in his out of the way spot than the other 'slaves' in the room.
One man had been secured to the spanking bench and was flogged by Josh, before the slimy young trainer dropped his pants and buried his dick in the marine's ass, the sound of groaning filling the room until Josh screamed, "Oh, yeah," and fell on top of his victim.
Another slave received similar treatment on the St. Andrew's Cross, a cock ring keeping him hard when he was told not to come while he was stroked and petted. Eventually Steve sucked him off with a wicked grin on his face, all the while denying him the pleasure of release. The slave hung in his bonds and panted, apparently torn between his physical needs and the desire to follow his master's instructions.
Tony watched it all in a mild state of shock; it was systematic abuse, and the abusers justified it by calling it training. If he could get his hands on one of their guns he'd show them training they'd never forget. Cold rage burned through his veins like none he'd ever felt before. He knew what it was like to be the recipient of abuse you couldn't stop, and he doubted if it would trouble him at all to shoot each and every one of these pricks point blank in the head. After it was over he'd probably make a sandwich and take a nap.
The poor boy who had been whipped the day before was the next lucky soul to attract their attention; Steve screamed at the young man to get hard, but the kid's uncooperative penis lay flaccid and limp with no intention of playing on command. For some reason the trainers seemed to be harder on this man than the rest, and Tony wondered if they were trying to make an example of him to keep the others in line. If that was the case, it appeared to be working, since none of the other slaves had made the tiniest effort to disobey. Tears trickled from the boy's eyes as he apologized and whimpered, standing in front of his tormenters with his hands and feet spread wide by bars. The longer it went on the angrier Steve became, grabbing a paddle and repeatedly striking the boy on his thighs and buttocks, demanding he behave like a slave was supposed to. It was complete insanity, and Tony couldn't stand the sight of it any more.
"Stop it!" Tony yelled, shaking all over. "Can't you see you're only scaring him? How the hell do you expect him to react when all you do is scream in his face and beat him? What the fuck is wrong with you people?"
Steve turned his furious glare in Tony's direction, and DiNozzo realized he probably should have kept his mouth shut. It was too late for that now, though, so he'd take advantage and maybe the frightened kid could pull himself back together again while the attention had turned in his direction. He was used to deflecting things onto himself, anyway.
Steve turned to Rick, who silently nodded his approval, and the muscle bound man stalked over to Tony, who refused to lower his gaze, meeting Steve's glare with his own.
"Unlock these cuffs and I'll show you an ass-kicking you'll never forget," Tony seethed, completely indifferent to the consequences of his actions. These people were absolutely out-of-their minds crazy and he refused to give in to their demands. "You won't fight me one-on-one like a real man will you? It's easy when you've got everybody all tied up with guns pointed at them. No wonder you can't get anybody hard."
"You like working that mouth, don't you princess? Well I promised to show you what that mouth is good for." He leaned over and pressed a hard kiss to Tony's lips. When he pulled away, Tony spat at him, grinning at the saliva Steve wiped away with the back of his hand.
That hand swept forward and connected with Tony's cheek, the sting burning deep into his skin. Steve grabbed Tony's hair and pulled him forward with one hand, the trainer fumbling to release the button on his pants with the other.
Tony's anger receded enough for him to figure out that he was in deep shit. His mind went absolutely blank and his body went totally numb. It was like he separated from himself and floated away, watching the entire scene from somewhere high above near the ceiling.
He heard the zipper on Steve's pants, saw the man's engorged dick fall out of the leather and bounce in front of him, felt the meaty flesh slap against his chin, tasted the salty pre-cum leaking from the tip. He gagged, bile rushing up his throat, the acid eating his esophagus.
"You puke on me and I'll make you lick it up like a dog," Steve threatened, pushing his cock past Tony's lips and into his mouth.
Tony tried to jerk his head back, but Steve shoved him closer, the tip jamming the back of his throat. He strained against the cuffs, letting them dig into his skin as he struggled for some kind of control.
Tony couldn't breathe, couldn't think, couldn't accept this was real. He heard someone wail and realized it was him. Zeke was there again, slamming into him while tears ran down his face and snot ran out of his nose. It was a dream, a nightmare, an out-of-body experience. His chest heaved painfully as he tried to find air, but there wasn't any and his lungs stabbed with each aborted attempt.
His mouth filled with something thick, wet, and slick; Steve cried out his pleasure. "Fuck, yes," he said, pulling Tony's hair again, before slipping out.
Immediately Tony vomited in the floor, causing Steve to jump back. He swayed on his knees as black dots danced in front of his eyes and he struggled to not pass out.
Rick was there, grabbing his upper arms and steadying him. "Take it, Tony, take it because we want you to." But Tony couldn't take it, he couldn't, not again, not like before. His chest felt like it was caving in on itself.
"I can't…..I can't breathe," he whispered, feeling his body disconnect and drift away once more. It was much easier than dealing with the here and now.
"You're hyperventilating. You have to calm down." Someone unhooked the cuffs and a blanket was thrown over him. "Don't breathe so fast."
Gibbs. He needed Gibbs here. Gibbs could always help him get things under control again. "How did Zeke get…..here….he's…he's dead." Tony mumbled. He wasn't making sense; it wasn't Zeke who had just…..oh, god, what had been done to him? He vomited again, ignoring the disjointed yelling around him while his stomach twisted itself into knots.
For the first time since he had been brought here, he was truly and completely terrified that he might not survive until Gibbs found him.
NCISNCISNCIS
Abby opened the door to Gibbs' house without knocking; the door, always unlocked, swung open easily. "Gibbs?" she called out, not sure whether to head down to the basement or upstairs to the bedroom.
"Up here," he called back.
Bedroom. She bounded up the stairs and found Gibbs placing neatly folded clothes into a rucksack lying open in the floor.
"You got what I need?" he asked, pausing to look at her.
"It's all right here." She waved a large manila envelope at him.
"Let's see your handiwork." He sat down and patted a spot on the bed next to him.
Abby smiled and plopped down with her thigh pressed against his, Gibbs' warm body a comfort against her fear and anxiety. She had already lost Tony; she couldn't stand the thought of losing Gibbs, too. Regardless, she hadn't hesitated to do her part to help Tony, and neither had Ziva, McGee, or Ducky. Opening the envelope, she removed the contents and showed them to her silver haired boss.
"One fake driver's license, just as ordered." He took the piece of plastic to inspect it. "Ziva came up with the name – I thought it was a good choice."
A picture of him beside the name Leroy Jackson peered back. "Nice touch."
"If anyone runs your prints they'll find out you're a retired marine corps drill sergeant who's been working security the last few years in bdsm clubs. Will that work?"
"That'll do," he answered. "If Vance or anyone else starts snooping, you switch everything back, you got it? I don't want you getting in any kind of trouble over this. Don't worry about me; I can take care of myself." He slipped his own ID out of his wallet and slid the new one in its place. "The only person you have permission to tell is Fornell. Got it?"
"I got it," she replied glumly. Next she handed over several sheets of paper. "McGee tracked Nakamura's recent credit card activity to establish a list of clubs he's gone to since he's been in the states. He goes out a lot, and mostly frequents what we know as leather bars - very old school establishments with strict guidelines as far as Dom and sub behavior is concerned."
"That's good work, Abs." Gibbs kissed her cheek. "Now I need to get ready." He picked up some clothes laid out on his dresser, waiting for her to take the hint and leave. Abby, curious what Gibbs' undercover persona would choose to wear, scooted back on the bed and crossed her legs at the ankles.
"I'll just wait until you're ready. You could use a critique on the outfit. I am an expert in this particular area."
"Abs…."
"Go on now," she advised sagely. "I'll stay right here."
Gibbs shook his head and disappeared into the bathroom. Her decision to wait had been a good one; she gave him a low wolf whistle when he came back out. "Wow, Boss, you're really hot! Not that you don't always look good, with the polos and tshirts and khakis, but this – I'm speechless! Well, not exactly speechless, but more like seriously impressed. Who knew you had this in you?" Standing, she circled him to get a better view. He had on leather pants, a tight black t-shirt, and black boots. A silver chain hung off his belt, he wore a silver bracelet on his wrist, and a silver necklace, too. His hair, a little longer than normal, was combed to the side and spiked some, giving him a modern, edgy vibe. Abby let her mouth drop open before her red lips curved up in appreciation. "Gosh, Gibbs, if you dressed this way for work we'd have to close down the building due to your supreme sexual energy. Poor Tony would probably go into an apoplectic state of shock!"
Gibbs chuckled, low and deep. "Give me a break, ok Abs? I gotta be able to fit in with these people if I'm going to have any hope of finding Tony. Believe me, once this is over you'll never see these clothes again."
The Goth pouted, her lip stuck out a bit. "Fine. But promise me you'll be careful. And safe. And you'll call me."
"I promise Abby. Now get out of here so I can get going. The sooner I start the sooner we find our wayward senior field agent."
"You know, Gibbs," she told him as they walked toward the front of his house. "I lost a puppy when I was a kid. It ran away, and I looked everywhere trying to find it. I even put up signs around the neighborhood. Finally I had to give up and accept Buddy – that was his name, Buddy - was gone. Anyway, about a year later, I saw some kid walking a dog that looked just like mine down the street. I was so excited, I started calling his name, but he didn't come to me. Just cocked his head and stared for a while before trotting away after his new owner. He'd forgotten me, Gibbs. You have to find Tony before he has a chance to forget us and how much we need him and love him. I couldn't bear to get him back and have him not remember that he's ours."
"I won't let him forget, Abby. I swear." He got in the Challenger and started the engine, giving her a quick wave.
Abby watched him back down the driveway, not moving until his brake lights faded into the distance, and he was really, truly gone.
NCISNCISNCIS
Tony sat up and unconsciously wiped at his mouth, scrubbing at the bruises on his swollen and puffy lips. He gazed around the room appraisingly. His fear had slowly been replaced by anger again, and he wasn't about to accept this situation without fighting it every way he could find. It was one thing to be abused as a child; as an adult, he refused to believe this was his inevitable fate.
The room was pitch dark; the only sounds came from the soft footfalls of patrolling guards and the equally quiet breathing of the other slaves in cells up and down the hall. It was impossible for him to sleep after what had happened this evening. They had given him a few sips of water before locking him back in here, but it was barely enough to wet his mouth let alone wash away the putrid taste of Steve's cum. He gagged involuntarily and worked up enough moisture to spit into the corner.
He forced his mind away from the memory, unwilling to give in and puke again. Despite his best efforts, his stomach churned and he was almost grateful that he hadn't eaten in awhile. Watching what had been done to the other men in the training room today – Tony had no illusions that what he'd experienced was only the beginning and he was eventually going to be raped. He supposed to a certain degree he already had been.
Even if he got out of this place, was he ever going to feel the same about sex again? It had taken years to get over the hang ups Zeke had instilled in him – this might prove impossible to overcome, and he knew it.
Tony's mind immediately shifted to Gibbs, and that unexpected moment when the older man had pushed him against the wall of the elevator. He had reacted without thought, his entire body humming to life at the close proximity and dominant sexual energy rolling off the older man, all directed straight at him. It had been the most arousing feeling he had experienced in years. And all those possibilities had been shot to hell by this detour into crazy land.
Would he ever get to find out where that intense encounter between him and Gibbs was going to lead? What if Gibbs thought he'd left because he didn't want to take the next step? What if by the time he got out of here there wasn't enough left of him to ever go back to the life he had before?
For a split second Tony could see Zeke passed out in the floor, and the knife he'd held over his tormentor's body. It had required all the willpower in his eleven year old body not to plunge the knife into his tormenter's chest and never stop. Instead he ran, and in a way he'd never stopped. Not until he met Gibbs.
In the last few months, he'd almost thrown away everything he'd built with the former marine, but it was like he'd been pushed by unseen forces, incapable of doing anything else. The more Gibbs had pulled away, the more compelled he'd been to bring the lead agent closer any way he could. He supposed he couldn't live without the connection they had, even if it was manifested through head slaps, glares, and the rare 'atta boy.' He needed Gibbs, like the food and water he was currently being denied, in any way he could have him in his life.
Tony walked over to the cell door and looked out, seeing nothing more than a shadowy figure at the end of the hall. There had to be a way out of here, although he hadn't noticed any weaknesses in their set-up during his tour around the camp. He rubbed the back of his hand over his mouth again, wishing in vain the taste would go away. Moving back to the wafer thin cot he sat and drew his knees up to his chest, trying to keep warm. He wouldn't let Rick and Steve break him. Gibbs would eventually find him, and he had to keep it together until then. They had too much left to resolve between them to give up now, and he wouldn't let Gibbs find a sniveling mess when he got here.
Love, sex, hope – these people took the basic elements of life and turned them into diseased and dirty cancers. For the first time in years he debated whether he should have killed Zeke when he had the chance so one less hateful creature soiled the earth.
It was a mistake he wouldn't make twice. If – no, when - the chance presented itself, he would take out Steve, Rick, and any of the rest of these animals that he could.
He let that thought soothe him as he stared quietly into the darkness.
NCISNCISNCIS
The car in front of him pulled into the parking lot and found a space; Gibbs eased his own vehicle in slowly, cautious to avoid detection. Nakamura got out, along with the driver and his slave, the barely dressed young man moving stiffly as he was tugged along on his leash. The twenty-something boy was so thin his ribs poked through his translucent skin; he held his hands at his sides and kept his eyes downcast, following the feet of the man in front of him. Faded bruises marked his body.
It was hard to tell if the guy was with his owner voluntarily or not; his face held little to no emotion. According to McGee's research, all of Nakamura's other slaves, subs, boyfriends, whatever you wanted to call them, ended up dying under some fairly strange circumstances. If Nakamura killed them, his current slave didn't stand much of a chance either. The agent considered what it took to make someone so subservient, so willing to become dependent on another, to the point of risking death. He might be a Dom, but he had no desire to have a relationship with a mindless zombie afraid to be an independent person. He needed the excitement and challenge from a partner who could tease and push, who benefited from his calm direction and guidance, not someone out looking for pain and punishment.
Maybe he needed a sub who got a lot from a gentle head slap or two.
He prayed that wherever Tony was right now he wasn't getting himself in trouble. Knowing DiNozzo, he doubted that was possible. Regardless, he would be there to help Tony pick up the pieces and move forward with life once he found him. And he would find him.
Gibbs didn't want his best lead to get suspicious, so he stayed in the car, waiting, not exactly sure what he was waiting for. A break he guessed. Deciding it was time to take care of another aspect of his undercover op while he had the opportunity, he opened his cell phone and dialed a number he hadn't used in quite a while, starting the conversation with a firm hello.
"Jethro? Is that really you?"
"I need a favor," Gibbs stated crisply.
"Anything for my favorite gunny. What can I do?"
Gibbs smiled. He didn't have a lot of close friends, but the ones he did have were the kind worth keeping. Andrew had served with him in Desert Storm; after returning to the civilian world he had bought D/s clubs in various cities throughout the country. The clubs were classy, high end establishments with exclusive clientele. When Gibbs had stopped being very active in the lifestyle, the two men had drifted apart some, but that didn't mean his friend wasn't there when called on.
"I might need you to give me a recommendation at some point," he explained.
Andrew laughed. "No problem. What am I recommending you for?"
"A submissive trainer."
Silence greeted him on the other end of the phone. "Did you quit your day job? I thought you liked it at NCIS."
"No, I need to make some connections for a case I'm working. I suspect there's a group kidnapping submissive military men and law enforcement officers to sell as slaves. Seems like there's a market for that particular fetish. I'm trying to get on the inside of their organization, try to close them down if I can." He didn't see any reason to complicate matters by explaining the situation with him and Tony. He'd tell Andrew about that later when they could discuss it properly.
"I've heard some gossip about these guys; nothing concrete, and they usually stay with the harder core clubs. Makes me sick to think about it – of course I'll help out."
"Good. I'm not using my real name; if anyone calls they'll ask about Leroy Jackson."
"Your dad would be so proud. I'll make up something good to say about you, don't worry." His voice was tinged with amusement.
"You better. I didn't haul your ass out of that desert for nothing."
"Believe me, my ass is still very grateful. You make sure you cover that fine ass of yours, alright?"
"Always," Gibbs replied, and ended the call.
Picking up his thermos, Gibbs sipped coffee and settled in. He had to believe that Nakamura would eventually lead him to something. He'd give it a few days, and if nothing turned up, he could always sneak into the man's hotel room and torture the information out of him. As far as he could tell, the 'businessman' didn't deserve any better treatment anyway.
Ultimately, he'd find out what happened to DiNozzo or he wouldn't be going back to the Navy Yard any time soon. And Nakamura…..he just might disappear himself.
NCISNCISNCIS
Tony's stomach grumbled angrily; the smell of breakfast made him salivate like a starving dog. They had given him a few more sips of water, he supposed to stave off complete dehydration, but nothing at all to eat except a slice of bread since he continued to refuse to obey Rick's command to willingly kiss his feet.
The slave who had been so brutally beaten and fucked over the past few days appeared to have broken completely, and was nestled next to Steve's leg like a puppy. The welts on his back were still red and livid, but they appeared to have been treated with some type of cream. The trainer petted him profusely, rubbing his soft blonde curls affectionately. The boy practically preened at the attention, smiling shyly with a rosy blush on his cheeks. "Fuck," Tony muttered to himself from his position trussed up and kneeling on the floor of the dining hall. "He's gone totally Stepford."
"Did you say something, boy?" Rick's voice appeared behind him seconds before the riding crop stung his feet like a swarm of bees. "If you followed this slave's example you might not be so uncomfortable. I'm sure you must be quite hungry."
Starving, actually, but Tony refused to admit that, or confess to being somewhat lightheaded after several days with no significant nourishment and little restful sleep. Instead, he decided to fall back on the skills he could always rely on in a desperate situation. Sarcasm and antagonism.
"I'd never thought about applying for Extreme Makeover, but your program here is almost as good. Much better than Weight Watchers or Jenny Craig, although Valerie Bertinelli is looking pretty hot these days and I have to admit she had me sold on their plan for a while." He was prepared for the swat, and didn't even wince when Rick hit him again. "So tell me, what does it take to make a guy decide to kidnap and sell other men? I've been trying to figure it out, and I've concluded it must be some kind of power complex. Does it give you a thrill to exert that much control over other human beings?
Rick smiled patiently. "As a matter of fact, it does. I've gone easy on you until now, slave, but today we need to start taking your training seriously. You need to learn how to present yourself to your master."
Tony rolled his eyes dramatically. "That might work if I actually bought into this whole master/slave deal, but since I don't, you're wasting your time."
The strike to his lower back drew a thin line of blood.
"We'll see, boy, we'll see."
A few hours later, Tony had started to wonder if he had grossly underestimated his predicament.
The blonde slave named Cody had spent several hours showing him how to slide to his knees and gracefully crawl across the floor before laying down prostrate and waiting for Steve to allow him to rise up again with his palms facing upward on his thighs.
The problems started when they requested Tony repeat the movements.
When he refused, Steve used a cane to knock his knees out from under him and send him to the ground. Tony lay there, seething, ready to fly toward Steve's ankles and put them on eye level – the gun pointed in his face by a wary guard stopped his retaliation leaving him shaking with fury.
"Get on all fours," Steve demanded, shoving Tony over so he could move into position. DiNozzo reviewed his options, and decided if he got his brains blown out he was ok with that.
"No," Tony replied flatly.
Cody watched his rebellion with saucer sized eyes. Tony gave the scared kid a grin to try and alleviate some of his anxiety, but DiNozzo's smile faded with the harsh kick to his still tender abdomen. Tony let out a whoosh of air and fell flat on his face.
"I said to get on all fours," Steve repeated. Rick entered the room, leaning against a wall with his arms folded, silently observing the proceedings.
Tony gathered his resolve, rubbing his stomach gingerly. "I said no," he repeated. "I'm not a pet."
Steve moved to kick him again, but Rick held up a hand, stepping toward them. "Get the restraints," he said calmly. Steve liked the sound of that idea, his face lighting up at the suggestion. Tony sat up and scooted across the floor on his butt until he hit the wall.
"Don't touch me," he warned, letting his eyes dart between the two men. "I'm not going to just let you truss me up without a fight."
"Fight all you want," Steve said evenly. "You won't win. Besides, I kind of like it when a sub shows some spirit."
Steve had gathered up a hand full of chains and cuffs, and approached Tony cautiously. He dropped them to the floor and looked to Rick, who nodded.
Tony kicked out as they approached, landing a solid blow to Rick's midsection and knocking him backward. He managed to elbow Steve in the jaw, hoping from the snapping sound that he might've broken it. One of the guards joined the melee, grabbing one of Tony's arms and pinning it behind him. Tony continued to lash out, but he couldn't stop the three large men from finally subduing him. He was helpless as they tightened straps around his thighs and calves, connecting short lengths of chains until he was forced into a crawling position and couldn't get up. A leash was attached to the collar on his neck, and he considered screaming in rage.
Rick knelt next to him. "Stop fighting us, boy," he cajoled. "In the end, it won't matter anyway."
The next few hours were a humiliating torment; they pulled him across the floor using the leash until his hands and knees were rubbed raw when he refused to actually crawl. His backside throbbed from repeated lashes from the crop and his sides ached where Steve took every opportunity to kick him. He thought they would eventually get bored with trying to make him surrender, but they didn't; he called on every bit of stubbornness he possessed to continue to defy them.
Exhaustion settled in, and eventually he found his muscles trembling and quivering. Steve's boot connected with his side, and he fell over, unable to lift himself up again. "You will crawl, boy," Steve shouted, inches from his face. "On your hands and knees, now!"
Tony ignored him, shutting his eyes instead.
He could hear a muffled discussion as Rick spoke to his subordinate. Tony was so tired he didn't care what they were talking about, and he didn't try to listen. He opened his eyes when his arms were grabbed and he was dragged across the room.
"We'll try again in the morning," Rick said. "But you will be punished for your insubordination."
It took a few seconds for Tony's numb mind to catch on to what was happening. He was still restrained in the same position, unable to stretch out his legs or arms the way they were cuffed together. "Stop," he managed to mumble when he was pushed through the door of a large cage and the wire front was snapped shut behind him. The confining space didn't even allow room for him to turn around; even the floor was wire and it cut into the skin on his legs and arms as he sought a position to rest his aching muscles.
Steve looked in at him without the slightest hint of compassion. "Guess you're more of a dog than you realized. Enjoy your night."
Rick sighed. "I don't want to do this to you, boy, but you leave me no choice. Tomorrow, be more cooperative and you'll be rewarded instead of punished."
They turned and walked away, shutting off the lights, leaving Tony alone in the darkness. He managed to slump to the bottom of the cage, his arms and legs still bent awkwardly, every limb protesting the confinement.
Fatigue clouded his thoughts and he let it filter through his body, slipping toward a restless sleep. He wouldn't give up; he would continue to fight them every step of the way. Gibbs would get here, and when he did he would know that Tony had never, ever given up.
Or that he'd died trying.