Author's Notes: Sorry this took so long to post, but I've been insanely busy. Plus, I was reworking some of the chapter; I'm not sure I'm happy with the last few pages, but you can let me know if it worked. I'd keep tweaking it if I had more time!
Thanks, thanks, thanks for all the reviews! They are so encouraging and keep me inspired to work on the story. I really feel like you are all a part of the writing process for me.
Hope you enjoy this chapter and I look forward to your thoughts!
Tony took a shuddering breath and tilted his chin up insolently. Gibbs wouldn't give up, he knew it. The silver haired bastard would fight them tooth and nail, and so would Tony. He calmed his stuttering heartbeat and choked back the fear that threatened to overwhelm him.
"No…" he coughed and caught his breath. "No…..never." It certainly wasn't eloquent, but it was enough to make his point.
Steve cursed in frustration and drew his fist back; Tony turned his face away to try and avoid the blow. Instead of the punch across his cheek he felt a strike to his exposed midriff – it pushed what little air he had out of his body and left him gasping. Through the haze Tony could see Steve winding up to lash out again, but something stopped him. Josh had stepped in and grabbed his arm.
"If you kill him Rick is going to have your hide," the younger man explained reasonably. "Calm down and think this over."
Steve was shaking, his face purple with rage and frustration. He held his arm stiffly and stared at Josh, indecision marking his features. Finally his heaving chest slowed down and he seemed to regain a modicum of control.
He ran a trembling hand across his cropped hair.
"You're right. You're right." He turned away from Tony as if unable to bear the sight of him anymore. "Give him some water but don't let him down." Steve glanced at Tony over his shoulder, the level of hate in his eyes a bit frightening to the NCIS agent. "If he wants to push the limits, then fine, we'll see how long he lasts."
Steve stomped off the podium and across the yard. DiNozzo sagged in relief at avoiding what would probably have been a severe beating.
His attention was drawn to Josh who approached him with a damp towel; the young man pressed the cloth between Tony's chapped lips. The moisture evaporated quickly against the dry, flaking skin; DiNozzo thought he'd never experienced anything so wonderful in his life. He practically sucked at the fabric trying to get every drop into his arid mouth.
Josh sighed and took the towel away, wetting it again and giving him some more. Tony tried to be skeptical of his captors' motives, but he was too worn out and dehydrated to think about it that much, eternally grateful for whatever relief he could get without selling out.
"I don't know why you're putting yourself through this," the young blonde said softly. "Eventually you'll give up; there's only so much your body and mind can take. Then they'll get what they want anyway."
Tony frowned when the wet cloth was removed again. "Please….." he said quietly, hoping no one else could hear his begging. "Just….just a little more. Please."
Josh glanced around to make sure no one was watching, then tilted the cup up so Tony could take a few sips. "Is that better?" the young man asked, genuine concern in his voice. No one had cared what happened to him in so long, the sound surprised Tony.
"Why….why are you helping me?" Even after the water, his head felt like a bowling ball attached to his neck that was nearly impossible to hold up.
Josh blinked and flushed with embarrassment. "Rick is my uncle. I thought this sounded cool when he first told me about it; he said I could practice being a Dom and make some money for college." Josh snorted. "This place is nothing like what I thought it would be. It makes me sick. Being a Dom is one thing, but I don't get off on treating people like animals."
Tony was surprised; Josh had never once acted any different than the rest of them. He tried to ignore his skepticism and take the words at face value; maybe the kid was telling the truth – it wasn't like he didn't have his own closet full of crazy relatives. "Then why are you still here?" he croaked, his voice tattered and torn.
The young man's eyes grew big. "Have you seen Rick? He's one insane dude. If he even suspected I didn't support this racket 100% he'd fucking kill me, family or not." He shook his head. "No, I have to stay until the end of the summer so I can use the excuse of going back to school. It's the only way I can get out of here alive."
Tony's thick tongue darted out in an attempt to moisten his lips. This kid was just another hapless victim of these crazy psychopaths. "Thanks," he murmered. "You don't have to try and help me anymore. I don't want you to get hurt."
Josh let his shoulders droop. "I wish I could do more. You're a nice guy, Tony. Just do what they want, ok? You aren't proving anything by disobeying them. Besides, Steve's a few cards short of a full deck himself. I don't know what else he might do to you if you keep defying him. He sees it as some kind of insult to his manhood."
I don't know what he's going to do either, Tony thought anxiously. There was a wild look in Steve's eyes that didn't bode well for his future.
"Hey, he's coming back," Josh whispered. "Think about what I said, Tony. Do whatever they want; I don't want to watch you die."
Tony almost wished he could give in that easily. But he knew for him that would be worse than dying. Right or wrong, he would never, ever submit one ounce of himself to these men.
He just had to hold on and pray the team found him before it was too late.
NCISNCISNCIS
Gibbs arrived at the bar early, intending to warn the baby-faced cop to make himself scarce for the next few weeks; he was desperate to find Tony, but his conscience wouldn't allow him to be an accomplice to kidnapping. He figured if it came down to it, he'd have to help the kid get away even if it meant losing his best chance at finding DiNozzo. His senior field agent had spent his entire adult life protecting others, and he was certain Tony wouldn't want him to sacrifice someone else for his freedom.
It didn't make the choice any easier.
When the boy failed to show up, Gibbs was relieved. He hoped the young cop had been called away for work and was somewhere Rick couldn't find him. He toyed with the idea of calling McGee to get the kid's phone number and address, but Rick chose that moment to stride in and greet him. The slave trader's relaxed attitude indicated his evening had been far from disappointing.
Duncan shook Rick's hand. "It's just like you to steal away the only good employee I've managed to hire in months."
"His references are impeccable. If Leroy is as good as everyone says I'll send you a finder's fee."
The club owner laughed. "I'll be waiting on my cut." He patted Gibbs on the back. "I hope you enjoy the camp, Leroy. I've only been there once, but it was a trip I'll never forget."
Gibbs grunted in reply, not in the mood to make small talk and delay their departure any longer.
Rick glanced at his watch, also eager to start their journey. "We need to get going," he announced to Duncan. "We've got a long drive ahead of us."
Gibbs nodded his goodbye to the club owner and followed Rick outside to a nondescript blue van. Townsend stopped and folded his arms. "You carrying any weapons?" he asked.
The NCIS agent frowned, unhappy with the prospect of going into an unknown situation unarmed. Unfortunately his options were limited so he reluctantly took out his SIG and handed it over.
Rick made sure the safety was on and stuck the gun in the back of his pants. "That all?"
Gibbs nodded, failing to mention the knife he had strapped to his ankle. Rick held out his hand. "I need your cell phone, too."
"Are you paranoid, or what?" Gibbs commented, finding the phone and holding it out.
Townsend placed the phone in his pocket. "Even with your references, the fact is I just met you. I'd be a fool to not be cautious; your items will be returned after we arrive at the camp and I've gotten to know you better."
There was no way to disagree with Rick's logic, so Gibbs let the issue go. If he needed a weapon later, he'd have to take one. Getting to the camp was the main priority; everything else would have to be improvised.
"Let's hit the road," Rick commented, and jogged around the van to climb into the driver's seat. Gibbs joined him on the passenger's side, waiting until the engine was running before revealing what was on his mind.
"What about the cop you were going to pick up? Did you change your mind?"
Rick smiled gleefully as they made their way cautiously through the empty streets, heading for the interstate and out of town to the north. "I already took care of it," he replied. "I saw an opportunity to grab him and took it. The operation was flawless – I even made sure he was in a location without any cameras on the surrounding buildings. There shouldn't be any way to trace his disappearance."
"You already have him?" Gibbs asked somewhat disbelievingly. "Where?"
Rick tilted his head toward the back of the van. "Got him in a crate back there. He's drugged, so he won't cause us any trouble for a while."
Gibbs thought about the kid lying helplessly in the back and felt his stomach tighten into a knot. He wanted to find Tony, but not like this. It went against everything he believed in.
"Have we got very far to go?" he asked, giving his companion a sideways glance.
Rick settled comfortably into his seat, one hand on the steering wheel and the other resting on the window edge. "Oh, yeah, it will be quite a while. Our camp is about as far into the woods and still in the United States as you can get. We don't want to take any chances on being discovered. The most important thing right now is obeying all the traffic laws so we don't get pulled over. I don't know how many idiots get caught for speeding or running a red light and then their real crimes are found out during the car search. Slow and steady and we'll get there in about ten hours."
Gibbs' eyebrows rose into his forehead but he didn't respond. Maybe in that amount of time he could figure out a way to release their victim but not piss Rick off in the process.
"So tell me more about your operation. What exactly am I getting into?" He wanted as much intel as possible before arriving at their destination.
Rick's grey eyes darted toward him then back to the road. "I've been training slaves for about eight years…..I had a sub I'd trained for myself, but he wasn't working out anymore. I met someone who wanted a slave and offered me a good price, so I sold him and made a nice profit. I realized it was an untapped market and I'm a good slave trainer," he chuckled darkly, "except for this new s.o.b. I'm hoping one of my men will be able to get him under control while I'm gone."
"I'd always heard this kind of thing existed, but I never believed it," Gibbs offered. "How much of a risk am I taking that we'll get caught? Even with the Sawyer movement, human trafficking is still illegal."
Rick gave an amused grin – he obviously had no moral or legal problems with the enterprise. "I can understand your concern, but we're safe. There's a network surrounding the practice, with several large auctions that take place in various parts of the country, usually near a port to make transportation easier. It's a lot simpler to transport a slave on a ship than any other method."
"Are most of your clients from other countries?" He continued to ask questions even as the information he was gaining made him nauseous; he stared out the window to avoid having to look at the man next to him. It was hard to accept people could actually do this to other human beings.
"That's the beauty," Rick replied sagely, unaware of Gibbs' inner turmoil. "We don't sell domestically – too much risk. All our clientele come from abroad. There are a lot of people around the globe willing to pay a ridiculous amount for an American slave. And of course, there is my specialty…..law enforcement officers. I get an even better price for slaves who served in some type of military or federal agent capacity. There's something erotic about forcing GI Joe or Elliot Ness to go to his knees and suck your cock." The deep chuckle from low in his throat echoed in the quiet van.
DiNozzo must be like catnip for this demented bastard. His senior field agent's handsome All American boy looks would be the epitome of what Townsend wanted to sell to the highest bidder. Throw in Tony's noncompliant attitude and background as a fed – he would definitely make them a lot of money. Gibbs wondered how far Nakamura would go to get his hands on DiNozzo, to force the former cop to sit in the floor like the silent sub always trailing in the Asian's wake. He couldn't imagine silencing Tony's voice for any significant amount of time; it was one of the things he found perverse enjoyment in even when Tony was prattling on about something inane. Of course, there were moments he could think of nothing better than a break from the idle banter only DiNozzo could conjure up, but eventually he missed it. Those diatribes about movies, television, music, minute-by-minute accounts of his day – Gibbs found himself missing them desperately while Tony had been away as Agent Afloat. He supposed it was only in its absence that he had come to appreciate what he had lost.
Rick was glancing at him out of the corner of his eye. "Sorry," Gibbs mumbled. "I was woolgathering."
"The past is with us wherever we go," Rick stated evenly. "I was a psychiatrist before this line of work caught my attention."
That little background tidbit surprised Gibbs, but he didn't let his face show it.
"You were a shrink? Does being able to psychoanalyze your recruits help any?"
"Sometimes," he responded cryptically. "It's good to know a person's trigger points."
Gibbs grunted noncommittally.
"Don't tell me you have a thing against psychiatry. Believe me, Leroy, people like you spend more time than you realize observing and evaluating your opponents. You call it reconnaissance and I call it analysis."
"You're a long way from psychiatry now," Gibbs commented, trying to keep the disdain from seeping into his voice. How someone at one time dedicated to helping people could go this far astray, he didn't know.
"That's the truth," Rick agreed, his expression unreadable as he changed the subject. "We'll stop in a few hours and stretch our legs. I'll pick some place isolated and we can let our newest addition out to relieve himself. It can get messy back there if we wait too long."
Gibbs stared straight ahead; the presence of this man was enough to make him ill, but he couldn't let that get to him. He'd ride shotgun for the devil himself if that's what it took to find his missing agent, consequences be damned.
NCISNCISNCIS
Fornell strode off the elevator and into the bullpen, stopping in the middle.
He in turn gazed at both of the seated agents who had stopped working to look at him; Ziva appeared bemused and McGee's eyes were somewhat uncertain.
"So what have you got?"
McGee flicked a glance at his partner who issued him an enigmatic smile – it wasn't quite the same as having Gibbs grill them on a task, but it was close and somewhat reassuring all the same.
Ziva stood and approached the FBI agent. "I am assuming you would like information regarding Tony. We might ask you the same question."
The older man pursed his lips. "Right now I've got a whole lot of nothing. My leads are going nowhere and Gibbs has pulled a vanishing act. Care to explain?"
McGee joined their conversation, standing close so they could keep their voices low. "He didn't tell you?"
"Tell me what?" The confused expression on Fornell's face quickly morphed into disbelief. "That idiot. He went after DiNozzo, didn't he? How? What angle is he working?"
Ziva shook her head. "We do not know exactly. He left immediately after receiving a two week suspension for what happened with Nakamura and we have no way to contact him. Besides, if he had wanted you to be aware of this he would have told you himself." She folded her arms.
"The reason he didn't tell me is because I might have stopped him from doing something so insane without any backup. I guess I shouldn't be surprised considering his fondness for DiNozzo and all."
McGee raised his eyebrows questioningly at Ziva, who gave a slight tilt of her head in return.
"What do you mean, fondness for DiNozzo?" McGee asked. "Tony's been on Gibbs' team for years, of course he cares what happens to DiNozzo."
Fornell sighed in exasperation. "For a couple of top-notch investigators you two can be kind of dense. Or maybe you just don't want to acknowledge what's been right in front of your faces all this time. Lord knows there's enough of that going around." He scratched his head. "Seriously, with all your computer tech savvy," he nodded at McGee, "and your elaborate spy contacts," he assessed Ziva., "you don't have a damn thing? What about Sciuto and Mallard? Either of them living up to the genius status Gibbs is always bragging about?"
McGee shifted nervously and Ziva stared at the floor. McGee spoke first. "Sorry, Tobias, we have no idea where they are. Nakamura's smart enough not to use cell phones registered in his name and none of his credit cards are showing activity, so I'm guessing he's using cash. I'm sifting through his financial holdings, but they're so complicated it might take me a month to get anything sorted out."
Ziva blinked sadly. "None of the people I have contacted are willing to say anything. I get the feeling we are being blueballed."
Fornell frowned at her comment and looked helplessly at McGee. "I think she means stonewalled. It kind of sounds the same," McGee interpreted apologetically.
"Whatever," Ziva added irritably. "You know what I mean; I get the impression some of them might have information but are afraid to speak openly."
Fornell bit his lip before speaking. "Alright. Sacks and I are continuing to investigate any possibilities we can find. I'll be in touch if anything breaks. You'll do the same?"
"Of course," Ziva answered.
McGee opened his mouth but closed it when Vance turned the corner and moved purposefully over to them.
"I heard you were in the building, Agent Fornell. Is there anything I can do for you?"
Fornell remained unperturbed by the interruption. "I just popped in to visit with my friends, see how they're doing without their Papa Bear around. I was actually on my way out." He faced the agents. "McGee, David." He turned to go, ignoring the hard glare Vance gave the two MCRT members.
"I'll see you to your car," Vance suggested stonily, joining Fornell in the elevator. Fornell's eyes narrowed, but he didn't speak as the shiny metal doors slid shut.
McGee let out a huge breath of air. "You know if Vance finds out we're still investigating this case, we're both going to end up assigned to a team in Outer Mongolia."
Ziva looked thoughtful. "I have only been there once, and I did not think it was so bad." She laughed at McGee's expression. "I am teasing. You are right, and we will not get caught. Tony…..and Gibbs…..are counting on us."
NCISNCISNCIS
Tony had slipped into a state of near oblivion. He drifted in a murky haze where he couldn't feel the people touching him, couldn't feel the whip hit his body, couldn't hear the words Steve hurled out to taunt and torment him.
When he blinked his eyes open the images he saw were jumbled, distorted, and out of sync with what he felt he should be seeing. Forms loomed large then retreated into tiny specks, sounds were at once sharp and metallic, then elongated and slow – it was like being in a carnival funhouse without the fun.
A smack on his face brought everything into distinct focus again.
"Release him," Steve ordered. "Rick can deal with him when he gets back tomorrow morning. This guy is obviously too stupid to save his own life."
Tony decided that, coming from Steve, he'd take the insult as a compliment.
Suddenly his arms were loose and stinging painfully. He remembered watching a documentary once about killer bees that traveled by the thousands and could kill a man in a matter of seconds. Funny the useless information that came to his mind in these types of situations. It was the kind of stuff that might only prove useful if he was abducted by the producers of Who Wants to be a Millionaire.
His legs were freed next, and he immediately collapsed to the wooden floor of the podium. He took heavy breaths, trying to readjust to the ability to move after so many hours in one position. His muscles spasmed beneath his skin, twitching like currents of electricity surged through his tingling limbs.
Out of his blurry vision, he could see Steve's black leather boots moving in front of him once more. Tony raised himself up on unsteady arms and collected his strength; Steve turned away, talking to Josh, and DiNozzo realized this was his one chance to do something unexpected, to play the wild card and possibly change the potential outcome of events. It was beyond a long shot and would probably get him killed, but that didn't scare him very much right now.
Adrenaline and anger surged along his veins, and with a mighty heave born of intense rage, Tony lunged forward, knocking Steve off his feet and onto his back. Moving as quickly as someone in his condition could manage; Tony slipped behind his tormentor and wrapped an arm around Steve's neck. He was glad they were on the ground, since he didn't have to worry about being able to stand and could focus all his effort on breaking the man's neck. Tony locked his arm into position and squeezed, hoping the sparring time with Gibbs had been worth more than just letting him get a glimpse of his Boss' ass.
Steve scrabbled at Tony's arm but couldn't shake him loose, inspiring Tony to tighten his hold even more. A soft whimper escaped Steve's lips as his struggles decreased. Tony grabbed a handful of Steve's hair and positioned himself to deliver a sharp twist to Steve's head, just like Gibbs had shown him years ago.
Another set of feet rushed forward. "You're going to kill him!" Josh yelled, attempting to get Tony's attention. DiNozzo looked up, green eyes wild with fury and indignation.
A grimace twisted Tony's usually charming features. "Good," he growled through clenched teeth.
Several guards ran up on the podium and joined Josh, who stood watching without intervening. Steve suddenly wrenched his body to the side and forced a weakened Tony to lose his grip.
It took little effort for the guards to pull Tony loose, since his strength was quickly waning. The chokehold was effective, but he didn't have the stamina to sustain it and he doubted he could have worked up enough force to snap a toothpick let alone Steve's neck. Steve took the opportunity to crawl away, gasping and clutching at his throat.
"You piece of shit," he rasped. Josh took a step back, wary of the older man's ire. Tony knew he was in for a serious reprisal, but the livid shade of purple Steve had turned was definitely worth it. He would have given anything to kill his tormentor.
"I've never been attacked by a slave before," Steve said as he struggled to his feet; prowling over to Tony and delivering a harsh kick to his ribs. Tony curled up and groaned, his battered body not quite prepared to take the additional abuse. Steve used his foot and rolled Tony onto his back, the brown-haired man cringing when his torn flesh was pressed onto the wooden surface. The heavy boot rested flat on his chest and forced him to maintain contact with the floor; Tony gasped and his eyes flew wide as the pressure on his ribs increased and the pain in his back flared unrelentingly.
"What have you got to say now, pretty boy?" Steve watched him dispassionately.
Tony wished he could supply an appropriately annoying reply, but he couldn't seem to formulate any coherent words and continued to gasp and wheeze. His sight wavered and he knew the fight to stay conscious was not a battle he was going to win. His eyelids fluttered and the last thing he noticed before everything went black was the heavy boot heading straight toward his temple.
NCISNCISNCIS
Rick patted his pockets before he finally located his ringing phone and tugged it free from his pants. "Yeah," he said gruffly. At least Gibbs could respect his lack of frills – there was nothing else about the man he could find redeeming. "He did what? You're kidding me." There was a pause while Townsend listened, his jaw tightening as he ground his teeth. The hand gripping the phone turned white. "Keep him restrained and locked down – I'll personally deal with his punishment when I get back." He glanced at the clock on the dashboard. "About six more hours. He'll regret his behavior; we've been far too lenient and it's time to get him under control once and for all. I'll take care of it – I don't intend to let this incident go."
Gibbs took slow and even breaths despite the concern he felt listening to the conversation. He reigned in his emotions, forcing his body to stay loose and relaxed; his face a mask of only mild interest that would be expected of anyone. Nothing more, nothing less.
"Problem?" he asked smoothly.
Rick cursed under his breath. "That new guy I told you about. Steve's my best trainer and even he can't get the whelp to heel. I stand to make a small fortune on breaking this guy, and I intend to collect."
"What's his background? Is he law enforcement?"
"NCIS," Rick answered. Gibbs responded with a blank stare since he didn't trust his voice to reply.
"As a former marine you should have heard of them; it stands for Naval Criminal Investigative Service. He's basically a federal agent for the Navy."
Gibbs kept his eyes on the road as his heart lodged in his throat. Tony.
Rick kept talking. "Pretty thing; green eyes, thick brown hair, tanned skin. I still don't understand how he's held out so long, especially with his background."
The only sign Gibbs gave of his increasing anxiety was the muscles bunched at the base of his jaw. Damn, he needed a cup of coffee.
"His background?" the agent prompted, not sure he wanted to hear the explanation.
"I suspect he experienced some type of sexual abuse as a child; even in the short time we've had him I've noticed most of the signs. He had a fairly serious flashback when we first got him. I hoped those memories would've pushed him right over the edge. I guess I was wrong."
Good job, DiNozzo, Gibbs thought. He'd often wondered what nightmares his senior field agent endured growing up, but it still didn't make hearing someone else say it out loud any less shocking.
The side of him that wanted to protect Tony from all the pain of the past and from whatever was happening to him right now reared its head. He had to see DiNozzo soon, had to know that Tony was alright and that his agent hadn't been beaten down too much. He was grateful that from the sound of it DiNozzo hadn't submitted to them yet.
"What will you do to punish him?" Gibbs wasn't sure he wanted to hear the answer, but he had to be prepared to deal with it.
Rick clicked his teeth. "I don't know, but I'll think of something appropriate. He's got to be broken; I won't have his disobedience influence the others."
They continued to ride in silence, each man lost in his own thoughts. After several hours the van was directed down an off ramp toward an out of the way exit.
In between worrying about Tony, Gibbs had been wracking his brain for a way to release the hostage in the back without tipping his true identity to Rick, or to make his new employer think he was too much of a screw up to take into their fold. Without a weapon, his options were limited and for now his best bet might be to do nothing until they reached the camp. He would have to protect the kid from the inside.
When Rick hopped out his side of the van, Gibbs followed, making his way around the back. A wave of compassion swept over him when the dark haired boy was pulled out into the moonlight, eyes blinking and legs shaking nervously. The kid attempted to hold himself tall, a testimony to his training as a cop. He opened his mouth when he noticed Gibbs, but shut it quickly at the slight shake of the older man's head.
"Someone's going to come looking for me," the officer said firmly. "You should just go ahead and let me go now before this gets any worse for you."
Gibbs maintained his silence and Rick laughed. "Thanks for your concern, but I think we've got everything covered. Now take a piss and I'll give you some water."
The guy didn't have much choice since he was bound by leather cuffs locked together in front of him, and he didn't put up much of a fight either. Gibbs doubted Tony had been so easy to handle. After the young man relieved himself, Gibbs led him to the van again. He looked over his shoulder at Rick, who was standing on the outside of the vehicle. Gibbs climbed in to pull the boy up. When he did, he leaned close to the kid's ear. "Stay calm and I'll try to help you."
The kid stumbled and appeared startled, but he nodded his head and said nothing as he was forced inside the trunk. Gibbs had done what he could to reassure the boy; he couldn't risk anything else or both their lives might be at stake.
Once again the silent ride resumed. Rick turned on the radio, changing stations until he found a call-in show featuring a psychiatrist. The older man entertained himself by explaining how the therapist's advice was almost always wrong, and Gibbs added a few grunts to the conversation when a response was required. The hours slid by slowly; eventually it was time to stop again. Gibbs held his breath as the van doors were opened and the cop was lifted out of his tiny compartment.
When the young man swayed precariously, Gibbs was sure he was too out of it to do anything. Then suddenly, with speed and agility he would have never imagined, the kid burst to life, barreling a shoulder into Gibbs and running straight ahead into the forest.
"What the hell?" Rick yelled, and took off after him. Gibbs pulled himself off the ground and joined the pursuit. He hoped like hell the kid could run fast.
The sounds of snapping brush and heavy breathing filled the night air. Gibbs followed the sounds, stopping momentarily when a cry pierced the darkness. He surged ahead, coming out of a thicket of bushes to stand at the edge of a ravine. Rick stood at the top, gasping for air, and a crumpled body lay at the bottom.
Rick glanced at Gibbs. "He fell. Do you think he's dead?"
Gibbs didn't know for sure, but guessed it was likely. Guilt washed over him in a crushing wave. Damn.
"I'll go check," Gibbs said, starting down into the gulley before Rick could stop him. It took several minutes to reach the kid's side; he sighed deeply when he got close enough to realize the boy's eyes were wide and sightless. The young man's head was twisted at an unnatural angle, his neck broken.
Gibbs didn't move as Rick stepped past him and knelt by the body. "What the hell was he thinking?"
The NCIS agent shrugged, trying to accept that he had done all he could for the boy. He pushed aside any feelings of regret to deal with later.
"I have no idea," Gibbs stated, glancing around him. "Is this typical of the way you operate? Cause I can't say I'm overly impressed."
Rick shook his head and frowned at the implication he was incompetent. Barely controlled anger rolled off him in waves. "This is a total fuck-up. We need to get out of here before we run into someone and it gets any worse." He stood, regaining some control. "I've got a shovel and a tarp in the van – let's take care of the body."
Gibbs followed the ponytailed man out of the ravine, forcing himself not to think about what they were about to do. He made a silent vow to return here when this was all over and see the boy had a proper burial.
Rick, however, would receive no such mercy. If things worked out the way he planned, there wouldn't be enough of Townsend left to fill an urn.
NCISNCISNCIS
Tony's existence had boiled down to just one thing; taking the next breath. It should have been simple, but the plague had taught him otherwise. Sometimes the lungs decided not to cooperate, and they could stubbornly refuse to follow orders.
When he was able to think somewhat coherently, he figured it was more his ribs than his actual lungs that were causing the problem. He didn't know if any of his ribs were broken, but they were damaged enough to make taking a deep breath of air next to impossible. The pallet in his cell didn't provide much comfort, although it was better than the wooden platform outside, and he could at least curl on his side and rest his tender back.
He made sure not to move, staying in the same position he'd managed to crawl into after Steve and his cronies tossed him into the cell again. He ignored the sounds of guards and other slaves walking back and forth along the hall as the day's activities continued. He didn't acknowledge the overwhelming thirst and constant pangs of hunger. He blocked out the pain in his muscles from his arms and legs being stretched taut for so long. He didn't pay attention to the pounding radiating from the side of his head where Steve had kicked him. And he pretended he couldn't feel the hands that had violated him over the previous hours.
He only thought about the next breath.
NCISNCISNCIS
By the time Gibbs arrived at the compound, there was no doubt in his mind that helping Tony escape would be no easily accomplished task.
They had parked the van in a storage facility at the edge of a lake so large he couldn't see the end of it – it stretched before him like a placid ocean of dark murky water, the depths of which he could only imagine. Small fir trees dotted the shoreline, springing up amid a variety of jagged rocks and boulders. Beyond the craggy shore, a forest of dense wilderness grew vast and forbidding, the light from the sun all but disappearing just a few feet into its canopy. Steve had gone to a small marina and removed a boat, beckoning him aboard with a wave of his hand.
Gibbs climbed in, steadying himself as the small craft edged its way into the center of the lake. "Where are we going?" he asked.
Steve navigated the boat with practiced ease. "We have about another hour before we get to the camp. Like I said, it's about as out of the way as I could find; I didn't want to take any chances on being discovered."
"Is it difficult to bring in supplies?" He wanted as much information as he could gather; the thick growth of trees and stark rocky cliffs didn't bode well for getting back to civilization any other way besides on the water.
"Staples are brought in once a month on a larger boat. Otherwise, this little vessel is the only way in or out – escaped slaves haven't been an issue as a result. There are only a few of us who have keys, and I keep a twenty four hour guard on the ship. We're miles away from even the smallest town, and the terrain is pretty unforgiving up here. Trying to walk out would be a fool's mission. There's no way anyone could swim this; it's too deep and cold."
"What about communication?" Rick didn't seem to mind giving him details about the operation, and he wasn't going to be shy about asking.
"No cell phone or satellite reception so internet won't work. We have a couple of land lines, but they aren't the most reliable. We do the best we can, but once you're out here it's pretty much its own world." Gibbs didn't miss his sadistic grin. "I kind of like it like that."
"It's your own private kingdom," the silver haired man observed, turning his face into the wind.
"Something like that," Townsend agreed. "I become a god here, making decisions of life and death, of compassion or punishment. As a Dom it's the ultimate high since I'm the Master of everyone and everything. I make all the rules and dictate the decisions. I think a man like you will enjoy it here, where you can always have others bending to your will."
Gibbs didn't turn around; not risking that Rick could read the emotions on his face. For him, being a Dom wasn't about taking power, but about fulfilling reciprocal wants and needs. It was about protection, and caring, and the willingness to share your basic desires with another out of mutual agreement. This place was the bastardization of all he believed in. He remembered how beautiful Shannon had been when she would stretch herself across his lap for a spanking, the anticipation shuddering through both their bodies. How could he have let Tony be trapped in such a horrible place?
Rick left him to his staring, and the water sluiced past the bow of the boat as mile after mile receded behind them until in the distance Gibbs could make out lights. Eventually they maneuvered into a small slip where he helped Rick secure the boat to a wooden pier.
His companion lifted a quizzical eyebrow. "You seem to know your way around a boat."
Gibbs laughed a little. "Navy man, remember? There's not much about a boat I don't know."
"I knew you'd be useful to have around." Rick slid the keys into his pocket and nodded a greeting to the armed guard waiting for them. Gibbs didn't miss the semi-automatic rifle slung across the man's back – they took security seriously. He followed Steve up a sloping embankment and down a rocky path that wound its way through the trees, coming out next to a tall wire fence topped with barbed wire. "The fence is electric," Rick explained, "but it's turned off when we enter and leave or receive a shipment of supplies." Another guard waited at the gate; the man leaned down and unlocked the entryway when they approached. It took several minutes to pass through the entrance, which was immediately secured behind them. Rick grunted another acknowledgement to the guard and continued walking toward a cluster of buildings.
"I'll give you the tour tomorrow," he stated, unbuttoning his shirt sleeves and rolling back the cuffs. "Right now I have a sub to discipline and some frustration over our lost slave to work off. You can watch since this is the guy you'll probably be working with from now on."
They entered one of the buildings to find several men of various ages playing poker. The men stopped and put their cards down when they stepped into the room. "Gentlemen, this is Leroy Jackson; he's here to try out as a new trainer." There were a few nods in his direction. The veiled looks of displeasure from two or three of the men didn't escape him.
"Steve," Rick directed his attention toward a tall, muscular Marine type with a crew cut and a permanent scowl. "Bring our troublemaker to the playroom; it's time to teach him who's Boss."
Gibbs twinged inwardly at the use of the term so familiar to him. It didn't feel right hearing someone else use it in reference to DiNozzo. He trailed after Rick as the man strode out of the building in a new direction, stealing himself for what was to come. No matter what condition Tony was in or what punishment they inflicted, it wouldn't benefit his senior field agent in any way for him to reveal his identity by losing control. He had to maintain cover if there was any hope in hell of getting DiNozzo out of this mess. He wouldn't react, wouldn't move, wouldn't even fucking breathe if he could avoid it.
He only hoped Tony didn't take one look at him and give it all away.
NCISNCISNCIS
Tony was startled awake when rough hands pulled him up and dragged him out of the cell, down the hall, and into the training room. He really did try to not make any sounds, but he was certain the soft whimpers and moans were probably coming from him. His vision was still not entirely clear, and he could make out several figures in the room, but none of them were in focus enough to identify. It didn't matter much anyway.
Just take another breath.
He was draped over something hard and smooth, his stomach sliding over slick leather padding. His arms were spread out to each side and the cuffs on his wrists secured; the same was done with his legs and ankle cuffs until he was left kneeling with his ass in the air.
The realization he was secured to a spanking bench hit him and he panicked. He struggled feebly against the restraints; tears welled in his eyes and he fought to hold them back. He was so exposed, Steve could order anything done to him, and there was nothing, nothing, he could do to stop it. He prayed they just beat him; anything else was unimaginable. He wondered if he should have listened to Josh's advice, but it wouldn't have made a difference, this is how he would've ended up anyway, just without the knowledge that he'd done all he could to stop it. It was a small comfort.
His lungs started to burn.
Take another breath.
He turned his face to the side and let it rest on the cool leather beneath him. He would do this; without crying, without begging, without giving them any satisfaction.
NCISNCISNCIS
Standing in a room filled with equipment designed to restrain subs, Gibbs waited next to Rick, impatient to see his agent.
When Tony was dragged into the room, it was obvious he didn't need to worry about his second-in-command blowing his cover. DiNozzo couldn't even stand up on his own – his feet barely shuffled along as they hauled him across the floor toward a spanking bench. Gibbs felt his fingernails digging into the flesh on his palms and he had to force his hands to unclench for fear he would draw blood.
Tony was stark naked, his body already covered in stripes, welts, and bruises. His hair was tousled all around on his head, and dark circles ringed his barely open eyes. Gibbs watched helplessly as they attached him to the bench, feebly tugging against the bonds before appearing to settle down and give up.
Rick moved over to a row of paddles hanging on the wall, picking one that was broad, flat, and drilled through with holes. He patted his hand with it as he walked back over to stand next to Tony.
Gibbs closed his eyes briefly, uncertain he had the willpower to watch the rest of this. He took in a deep breath and let it out slowly, willing his face and body to show no response, to stay completely devoid of any emotion.
NCISNCISNCIS
Tony couldn't understand what was happening. Rick was suddenly there, yelling at him, telling him he was worthless, that whoever had molested him before had done him a favor because no one else could ever want him, that he didn't deserve love, or security, or caring. Tony watched Rick's lips move as the words blurred into a long string of sound.
He nearly howled when the first strike of the thick wooden paddle hit his rear. Instead he bit his lip and closed his eyes, letting the agony crest over him. There was another strike, then another, on and on until he was completely numb and he couldn't concentrate on breathing anymore.
Finally he drew a heavy gasp into his desperate lungs, and thought he smelled sawdust. That was impossible, so he chalked it up to hallucination.
Even so, it reminded him of Gibbs, and as he drifted in a sea of intolerable sensations, he let it surround him, soothe him, and carry him off into oblivion.
NCISNCISNCIS
Rick rubbed his hand over Tony's flaming red ass, caressing the skin before landing another firm smack on the tenderized flesh. Tony stirred and flinched. Gibbs cursed inside his mind and made a solemn promise to one day break that hand in so many places Rick would never use it again.
His chest continued to rise and fall evenly while Rick struck Tony with the paddle; he heard DiNozzo groan in pain and his agent's eyes squeezed tight. As the blows continued, he silently witnessed Tony's mouth open in a soundless scream of agony; his agent gasped and trembled, until it grew clear that Tony had nearly stopped breathing and he looked like a dying fish left to flail on a dock.
Gibbs couldn't stand to watch any more, and he stepped forward, grabbing Rick's arm and stopping the next swing in mid-air. The Dom turned around and faced him, outraged at the interruption, and suddenly Gibbs found a Glock pointed directly at his head, the trainer who had glared at him earlier grinning maniacally like he'd just been given an early Christmas present.
If he died right now, Anthony DiNozzo would never get out of this hellhole.
Gibbs might have just condemned the man he'd come to save to either an early grave or a lifetime of servitude as a slave.