Author's Notes: First, let me apologize for posting this so much later than I normally do. I just had the perfect storm of work, family, and graduate class assignments that left me with absolutely no time whatsoever. I read all of your wonderful reviews and still plan to try and respond to them. They keep me going when I get this overwhelmed, so keep sending them and hopefully I'll be able to reply like I want!
Second, I know that some of you are really anxious for Tony and Gibbs to be totally out of this mess and back together. I do give them some nice moments once they return to DC, and there is a schmooshy happy ending. So do not despair! Trust that we'll get there more quickly than you might think.
So, here you go. Thanks for being patient with me and I hope you like the chapter.
WARNING: BDSM, non-con, dub-con, kink, slash. Don't read if this offends you.
Chapter 18
Gibbs laid Josh down in a shallow bed of grass. The boy looked up at him and coughed, flecks of blood spattering his face and the collar of his shirt.
The kid was so young, barely old enough to shave and call himself a man. And he was dying.
The former marine had seen it happen enough times to know; he'd held the shattered bodies in his arms and comforted them through the final moments of their tragically short lives. Josh would never graduate from college, get married, or grow old. There was nothing that could alter his fate.
Like most of the dying boys Gibbs had escorted out of this world, Josh faced it with dignity. He coughed again, and smiled wanly.
"Could I have some water?"
Gibbs rummaged in the backpack and found a bottle, opening it and holding Josh while he took a few sips.
"I wish…..I wish we could've gotten Tony out," he whispered tiredly.
There wasn't much Gibbs could say to that. "Me too," he agreed. He was trying hard not to think about what might be happening to Tony now that Nakamura had him. If he let his mind focus on that, he would leave Josh here to die alone and try to launch a suicidal assault on the compound by himself. Instead, he busied himself checking the gaping wound in Josh's stomach; the shirt was saturated, and blood still leaked steadily from the ragged hole.
Josh flinched at the light touch and pushed Gibbs' hands away. The boy's eyes rolled up toward the sky and he gazed at the bright stars. "It's a beautiful night. I signed up…..for astronomy…..next semester." He sighed heavily and struggled to take another breath. "Can you tell my Mom….I love her?"
"I'll tell her," Gibbs promised, and took the boy's hand in his own. "I'll tell her what a brave man she raised."
A shudder passed through his lanky frame and Josh seemed to melt into Gibbs' lap. He gasped a few times and squeezed Gibbs' fingers and then his eyes fixed straight ahead.
Gibbs sat there and held the boy's lifeless body, trying to figure out how this had all gone so wrong. He considered if there was a way to conceal the corpse from scavengers, but he didn't have the tools or the time. There was nothing he could do now except keep moving and keep his promises, to Josh and to Tony. Gently he laid Josh on the ground, stood up, and jogged deeper into the forest.
NCISNCISNCIS
"We've been pulled from the investigation." Vance's tone was clipped and precise; he scanned the document and placed it back on his desk before steepling his fingers and making eye contact with each of them. "I realize this is a disappointment to you, but we have to accept that we have done everything possible to resolve these disappearances."
He was careful with his words, purposefully not mentioning the missing agents. Tony had been gone for weeks; Gibbs had never returned from his "sabbatical" and had been gone almost as long. No one had heard from him.
The fiasco with Nakamura had ensured their team would have no further involvement with the task force. They were officially banned, and the investigation was being turned over to higher authorities in the FBI.
McGee and David didn't respond, their shoulders slumped despondently - they had obviously taken the botched assignment hard. Fornell and Sacks were getting their own reprimand in an office on the other side of DC. He understood how much they wanted to find their teammates, hell, he wanted to find them, too, but his hands were tied and at this point the best thing he could do would be to help them keep their jobs.
"You're on cold cases for the next few weeks. I'm not sure yet how we're going to handle the Major Crimes Response Team if….." He struggled to determine what to say next that wouldn't create more upset. "If this isn't resolved soon. We'll reevaluate the situation within the next month."
He stopped speaking and stared, indicating the conversation was finished. The agents glanced at one another and turned toward the door. McGee paused, leveling a firm gaze at the Director. "Would you at least tell us if the FBI agents following Nakamura have turned anything up? He's the best lead out there right now."
Vance blinked and gave his head a quick shake. McGee might not assert himself on a regular basis, but he did when it counted. The Director realized his agents weren't going to like his answer, so he decided to make it short and to the point. "Nakamura has gone off grid. He slipped the agents who were assigned to him and has been unaccounted for since."
The junior agent's face paled. "They lost him? How? Without him we have nothing!"
"We are no longer involved in the investigation. It's up to the Bureau to figure out where he's gone." He sensed the despair his comments had caused and tried to make up for it; he wasn't completely heartless. "Try not to worry, something will come up and when it does I'll make sure you're informed about it."
"Do you think…..?" Ziva averted her gaze before looking back up. "Do you think Tony is still alive? And Gibbs is with him?"
Vance rubbed the side of his head and decided to answer as honestly as he could. "I don't know, I just don't know."
NCISNCISNCIS
Rick dropped into the leather chair behind his desk, too exhausted to even pour himself a drink. He recognized that he was a callous man, but finding his nephew's bloody body had been a shock. It wasn't that he felt particularly close to the kid, but it was another reminder of his repeated failures; the losses were piling up at a rate difficult for him to comprehend. He never would have imagined that training one slave could lead to so much turmoil.
They had searched the woods for several more hours after discovering Josh, until it had become so dark that continuing the manhunt would have been dangerous. The man he had known as Leroy Jackson had disappeared as thoroughly as possible, not even leaving a trail behind.
The trained psychiatrist could not believe his own gullibility. How could he have ever been deceived by that man? Steve had warned him, and his dead partner had been correct all along. Rick had seen what he wanted to in Leroy - a comrade, a like mind who could understand him. As usual, it had all been a lie. Rick had learned years ago not to trust people because they would turn on you in the end. His brief academic career was a perfect example of the lack of loyalty displayed by the human race.
Leroy Jackson. That wasn't even the man's real name. Now Steve was dead, and despite his partner's shortcomings they had been friends a long time. He had been the one person Rick could trust implicitly, and that was lost forever.
He wanted nothing more than to rip Leroy's head off with his bare hands. Since that wouldn't be possible, he would settle for second best – taking it out on Leroy's beloved DiNozzo. The slave would pay a high price for his teammate's betrayal.
Chances were good that Leroy was dead somewhere deep in the woods; they were hundreds of miles from civilization and the silver haired NCIS agent had been wounded. It would require a superhuman effort to walk out of the unforgiving terrain alive under the best of circumstances, but with few supplies and a serious injury it was nearly impossible. His body would be ripped apart by scavengers and his bones scattered in the undergrowth. Yet, on the possibility Leroy did make it back to the real world, steps would have to be taken to ensure they were protected. The camp would be closed and all evidence of their existence removed. Nothing would be left behind. He would take Anthony and the other slaves to the auction, collect his sizable profits, and set up in a new location. Somewhere warmer, maybe in the south. He needed a more comfortable climate anyway.
A quick rap on the door was followed by the entrance of Nakamura who scowled at him, his face pinched like an angry baby. "You did not find him?"
Rick sighed in defeat. "No, but I don't think he'll last long. We shot him and he's days away from anyone who could help."
Nakamura snorted. "Do not underestimate the man. He is very persistent." The Asian tossed a folder on his desk. "That is all you need to know about Leroy Jethro Gibbs. I thought you might find it helpful."
Rick opened the envelope and withdrew a pile of documents. Maybe he would have that drink as he got to know his enemy. Just in case he was still alive after all.
Nakamura hadn't moved, and Rick glanced at him. "Is there something else?" he asked.
A wicked grin split the other man's face. "We have some business to finish."
Rick placed the papers on his desk; they could wait until later. Right now, he would keep his potential buyer happy and exact some revenge in the process. He stood. "Follow me."
It was time for Anthony to start making restitution for Leroy's deception.
NCISNCISNCIS
"Get up."
Tony tried to figure out who was bothering him and why he'd fallen asleep on the floor. His thoughts jumbled together and didn't make much sense, but he knew he was cold and sore. A foot nudged his ribs and he cried out at the shard of pain it caused.
"I said to get up."
Someone grabbed his arm and hauled him to his feet. Blinking furiously, he recognized Rick and several guards standing in front of him. The events of the last few hours returned and he guessed the slave trainer was pretty pissed for a reason. He prayed the angry glare meant Gibbs had truly escaped. He tried to stand up straight, but the pain in his chest stabbed with every pitiful intake of air. It didn't take a medical degree to diagnose some cracked ribs.
"I promised my guest a chance to see what you've learned and I don't intend to disappoint him." Rick tilted his head at a guard, who lowered his weapon in order to pull Tony's wrists behind him and snap them together.
Tony didn't speak, choosing not to antagonize the angry Dom any further, but he stared at him pointedly.
"Eyes on the floor." A smack on the back of the head punctuated the command, and Tony looked down, trying not to fall over in the process. He figured there was a pretty good chance he had a concussion from the earlier attack, and his ribs now felt like they were on fire.
"Move." One of the guards poked him with his gun and Tony stumbled forward.
By the time they had walked through the maze of hallways he was gasping and covered in sweat. Every time he nearly fell someone hit him, so he made sure to stay on his feet, but he wasn't certain that was going to be possible much longer.
A sense of déjà vu swept over him as he stood outside another set of double doors, much like he had not so long ago. They opened, and Nakamura waited inside wearing a red silk robe tied at the waist with a gold belt. Tony was feeling a bit hysterical anyway, and he started laughing at the ridiculous sight.
"Why are you laughing?" The way Nakamura's face scrunched up made him laugh harder, and Tony just couldn't quit regardless of the agony it cost him.
"Shut up!" Nakamura looked at Rick indignantly. "Make him stop!"
A gun butt to the stomach ended Tony's chuckling and he fell to his knees wheezing.
"You will show respect," Rick warned, shaking his chin and swatting him on the head again. He reached a hand to one of the guards and picked up a long plastic rod. Tony had been accustomed to the riding crop, and he suspected this was a new and improved version. As Rick held the end of the rod toward him, it clicked in his addled brain that this was something much worse.
He tried to lean back but it was too late and the rod touched his skin, sending a shockwave of electricity through his system. He cried out and rolled on his side, squirming to try and relieve the pain surging along his nerve endings. Panting, he attempted to focus on Rick who towered over him holding the rod menacingly.
"It's a cattle prod, modified of course to suit our purposes. I've made sure everyone knows to use it when you get out of line. The days of special treatment are over." He lowered it to within inches of Tony's skin. "Do you think you can behave, or do I need to give you another reminder?"
Tony closed his eyes and shook his head. Survive. He had to survive.
Now it was Nakamura's turn to laugh. "Bring him inside. I have waited on him for a very long time."
There was nothing Tony could do. He was drug along helplessly into the spacious bedroom. His arms were released from behind him and stretched apart, attached to chains descending from the ceiling. His ankles were similarly bound, and hysteria welled up once more. As he dangled in the air he felt like Faye Ray waiting for King Kong to pay a visit. All that was missing was the sound of tribal drumbeats; however his heart was pounding out a pretty good rhythm on its own. He laughed again, high-pitched and thready, and found this position hurt his ribs even more, and there was no way to escape the agony caused each and every time he breathed.
Rick circled him, tapping the cattle prod against his hand. "Laugh while you can; you will be a good boy for Mr. Nakamura. And if he likes you enough, he will bid on you at auction and become your master for the rest of your life."
Tony's laughter died on his lips. "He'll never be my master," DiNozzo spat. "I have no master."
Rick pursed his lips, reaching out with the cattle prod to flick the ring on Tony's nipple. It wasn't quite healed yet and it hurt when it moved. "I beg to differ, my boy. Leroy was your master, whether you acknowledge it or not. You can't help but submit – it's in your nature." He trailed the rod down Tony's chest, letting it slide against his balls and up and down his cock. Tony nearly stopped breathing – he couldn't imagine what it would feel like if Rick sent a charge through that part of his body. He tried to keep his face impassive and not reveal any of the fear that gripped him completely, but doubted he was very successful.
Rick smiled, pleased with whatever he saw on Tony's face. "Now that Leroy is gone, you can submit to someone else. You will submit to someone else."
The fear encompassed him absolutely. "What do you mean – now that Leroy is gone? What did you do to him?" Tony screamed, not caring that it took every ounce of air in his body to get the words out. He forgot about the cattle prod, Nakamura, and everything else. All he wanted to know was whether or not Gibbs had escaped.
"Did you really think he could get away from here? He's dead, boy. I shot him myself. Now it's time for you to accept that and move on."
Tony shook his head disbelievingly. "He's not dead. You're a lying bastard. I'd….I'd know if he was dead."
Rick laughed and grabbed Tony's face, leaning in to force a kiss on him. DiNozzo squirmed and tried to turn his face away. Eventually Rick pulled back and studied him. "Pathetic. But whether or not you believe me isn't important. You have no choice but to accept your fate." He motioned for Nakamura to join him. The small man's eyes gleamed as he bounced a flogger against his palm. "Enjoy your evening; let me know if there is anything else you need."
"I have everything I want right here," Nakamura replied, smacking the flogger lightly against Tony's thigh. "Thank you."
Tony watched, his mind numb, as Rick and his guards left the room, shutting the door behind them.
NCISNCISNCIS
A week of cold cases had not done much to improve the mood in the MCRT bullpen, even though they had managed to resolve two investigations and give two families closure regarding their loved ones. Gibbs would have been proud.
Abby turned off her equipment, carefully following her routine for shutting down major mass spec and the other babies she spent most of her time with. When everything was done, she picked up her long black leather trench coat and slid into it, grabbing the pink and black purse that Tony had given her on her last birthday.
She froze, staring at the purse, remembering the box that had been wrapped in skulls and crossbones paper – she had no idea where he'd found that. There had been so much tissue inside the box she had accused him of not putting a present in at all. He'd laughed while she tossed paper all around like a tiny tornado, finally discovering the dainty purse at the bottom. She'd squealed in delight, amazed that he had been paying attention the first time she'd seen it in a thrift store in Dupont Circle.
He had accepted her hugs and kisses with grace, grinning devilishly at her as she hung the purse on her shoulder and spun in circles around the room.
"So you're happy?" he'd asked.
"Deliriously," she'd replied.
"Well, then I can't imagine what you'll think after you look inside."
She frowned and stopped spinning. "Inside? You put something inside?" Like a kid on Christmas morning she unzipped the purse, covering her mouth at what she found waiting for her.
"Oh, Tony, this is….I don't know what to say!"
He wrapped his arms around her back and squeezed. "Say you'll go with me."
"Of course I will! I just don't know how you were able to afford it!" The tickets to the Humane Society ball were expensive since they were a fundraiser that helped support events throughout the rest of the year. Abby had wanted to go for a long time, but had never been able to come up with the money for tickets. She had hoped Tony hadn't spent too much; how he could afford all his expensive suits and nice cars she had never been able to figure out.
As usual, he had sensed her mood before she put it into words. "Not one objection, Ms. Sciuto. I know someone who helped me get the tickets for free, so you don't have to worry about the cost. Just pick out something really hot and outrageous to wear and make sure it matches this." He swung the purse on her arm and smiled, his grin lighting up his face in that way that only Tony could manage. His emerald eyes had sparkled, and something about the memory broke her heart.
Abby sat down on the stool in front of her computer, clutched the purse to her chest, and sobbed.
NCISNCISNCIS
Days and nights merged together into a seamless stream of time that passed by him in a blur. He fell back on instincts honed in years of training exercises and battlefield experiences that returned to him like the ability to wake up with the sunrise and fall asleep under the stars. He hunted for food using the knife Josh had left in the backpack and the gun he had managed to hang on to after his escape, but he had to limit dependence on the weapon due to a lack of ammunition. It had been days since he had last heard the dogs barking behind him, but he had to be prepared just in case.
He'd managed to kill a few squirrels and raccoons, and had supplemented those delicacies with some slugs and the occasional fish. He'd dug for roots and scavenged for vegetation just like an animal. He'd slept in caves and buried himself under piles of leaves for warmth and huddled under branches when it rained. It had been a blessing there had been no snow. Regardless, the cold had seeped into his skin and wouldn't let go. The temperature wasn't low enough to freeze him to death, but it was frigid enough to leave him constantly shivering and miserable.
His arm throbbed ruthlessly, reminding him of the fact he had nothing more than crude homemade bandages to stop the bleeding and poultices made out of roots to prevent infection. The injury wouldn't have been severe in a world of sterilized emergency rooms and antibiotics; out in the wild it could be a matter of life and death. Gibbs tried to be careful with it, yet there was no way to avoid using the limb in his daily struggle to survive. He only hoped the damage wasn't too severe.
At least he hadn't been shot in the leg. Mile after mile he walked, using the lake as a guide. He wasn't sure how far he'd traveled or how much farther he had to go, but he knew he had to keep moving. His clothes were ripped and torn, his shoes dirty and worn, his skin scratched and bleeding. He'd lost weight, so much that he'd tightened his belt past the last hole and been forced to make a new one with the knife.
His ankle was tender and swollen after he fell and twisted it a few days before and it hurt with every step he took, but that had to be ignored. Beyond wrapping the joint with a strip of his shirt to try and brace it there wasn't much else he could do. He had no choice but to continue walking and believe that soon he would reach the edge of the forest and find some sign of life.
Tony was depending on him. He would walk to the end of the earth if he had to.
At night, when he lay down to rest, he would think about the possibility that Tony was dead. There was no way to know what Rick and Nakamura had done to his agent over the past week while he wandered around in the woods. He had little doubt those two would take out their rage and fury on Tony with no remorse or regard for the man he loved more than anyone else in the world. The best he could hope for was torture and rape, but at least Tony would be alive. They would deal with the aftermath together.
Gibbs tossed a hand over his head and closed his eyes, the sound of lapping water, the rustling wind, the shuffling of possums and mice receding as he remembered Tony's soundless declaration of his feelings. He couldn't have imagined what it would mean to him until it happened. He would have done anything for Tony anyway, but now there was absolutely no choice in the matter.
His jaw clenched when he considered if he found out they had killed Tony. He didn't know if anything could compare to the dark time after Shannon died, but he was sure this would be just as bad. At least Shannon had known he loved her more than life; Tony would die without ever being sure of Gibbs' true feelings. How could he live with himself with that burden weighing him down? It would be unbearable.
A functional mute. That's what Tony called him, and DiNozzo was right. He almost never said what he needed to when the time was right. This time, he might have wasted his only chance to tell Tony the truth.
The moon appeared from behind a cloud, casting a glow over the trees and bushes and a cold breeze blew over him. He pulled the jacket he had packed for Tony closer around him, and let it fight off some of the chill of the night. In the morning he would start his trek again; if he remembered correctly he should be close to the edge of the woods and near a small town. Then he would go back and bring a hell down on Rick and Nakamura that neither man had ever known before.
NCISNCISNCIS
The confined space Tony found himself in made it impossible to stretch out his long frame. He flexed and released the muscles in his legs and arms trying to alleviate the cramping that had started several hours ago and didn't want to let up. Metal wire pressed into his naked flesh, digging into his skin without possibility of relief. His ribs continued to ache, and he hadn't been able to breathe right for a week. A ragged cough tore through his throat, leaving him wrung out from the exertion.
He opened his eyes despite the darkness that was all he had been able to see for more hours than he could count. A small sliver of light in the far corner of his prison gave him something to focus on but it wasn't much. He wasn't even sure how long he had been confined to this misery.
Every inch of his body hurt; his existence had turned into a cacophony of ceaseless agony. Nakamura was a master at inflicting pain without leaving any lasting marks on the outside but left a litany of injuries on the inside. He'd been beaten with more implements than he knew existed, bound night and day, fondled, and forced to perform acts that he would spend the remainder of his life trying to forget about.
He wasn't entirely sure if that was possible.
The only blessing had been the fact that Nakamura, no matter what he did, couldn't follow through with raping him. The man was completely impotent, and no amount of kissing, rubbing, or stroking could get him hard. The situation infuriated the little Asian, causing him to take out his frustrations on Tony any way he could think of, from the cattle prod to the creative use of various dildos.
Tony shuddered. He had to stop thinking about anything except getting through the next minute. Rick had staked a claim on him every day, taking pleasure out of showing him just who the real master was in his new life. Every time Rick came to see him Tony tried to transport himself out of the situation by thinking about Gibbs, about his friends, about home. He considered giving up, but something deep inside wouldn't allow it, and he clung to life like a drowning man.
The latest turn of events had tested his resolve and he still couldn't predict if he would survive it. They had forced him into a cage that had been secured in the back of a semi. Tony had shouted, protested, reminded them that they wouldn't make any kind of profit if they killed him. Nothing worked.
Rick had smiled benevolently and shut the door of the trailer, leaving him locked inside with no way out. There were a few bottles of water and that was it. It reminded him of the horrendous trip to the camp, when Steve had left him inside that box for hours on end. He searched for inner strength to help him get through it again. If Gibbs had been here…..they kept telling him Gibbs was dead, but he refused to believe it. That faith was the only thing keeping him going, and he couldn't entertain any other thoughts. No, Gibbs was alive, and his boss would find him again.
At least he had the satisfaction of knowing that Steve wasn't around to torture anyone anymore, himself included.
He slept, promising that he wouldn't dream, and woke up screaming, the images of Rick and Nakamura looming like giant specters ready to pluck his very heart out.
Fighting to stay awake, Tony kept his mind distracted by reviewing the cast and plots of his favorite movies, starting with A for All About Eve to Z for Dr. Zhivago (he realized that title didn't exactly fit but he was making the rules so he allowed it). He had moved on to television shows and was trying to come up with one for U when the door was opened and light streamed inside. He watched Rick approach warily, concerned when he saw the man carrying a needle in his hand. Damn, he hated needles.
A guard moved close and reached through the cage, grabbing the collar that still adorned Tony's neck. He pulled DiNozzo flush with the wire and held him immobile while Rick fished for his arm. Tony tensed and made an effort to pull away, but several days without food had left him weak and sluggish. The fight was barely worth the struggle, and he ended up pinned against the wire mesh. Rick gave him the injection with little fanfare, sitting back on his heels and waiting while the drug took effect. Tony slid back to the bottom of the cage and stared at his captor incredulously; fantasizing the most vicious ways he could to kill the twisted Dom. Horror movies weren't his favorite genre, but recreating a scene out of Saw might suffice.
Tony could tell within minutes of the medication hitting his bloodstream that he wasn't going to cause any problems any time soon; he felt the waves of numbness wash over him until he was suffocated under an ocean of lethargy. His arms and legs tingled and his head felt stuffed with reams of cotton. What small amount of strength he possessed drifted away, and he let his eyes fall closed.
"That's a good boy," Rick cooed pleasantly. "I guess I won't need this after all." He handed the cattle prod to the guard.
The cage door was unlocked and DiNozzo was lifted out and practically carried from the trailer to another building. Tony took a breath of warm ocean air, wondering exactly where he'd been taken. There was a long, industrial building that resembled a nondescript and possibly abandoned warehouse. It had to be the auction site; there wasn't anywhere else they would go. Too quickly he was inside again, a metal door clanging shut behind them, and the smell of the sea was gone. It made his yearning for home more tangible than before, and in his altered state he could feel tears pricking his eyes. He was nearly at the end of his endurance. Rick gripped his arm tightly enough to bruise, and pulled him along.
He was ushered through dim passageways into a brightly lit room that hurt his eyes after so long in darkness. His cuffs were attached to a ring in the ceiling, and he'd barely made an attempt to get his bearings, when a biting stream of water hit him in the chest. He sputtered and spit as the hose was aimed at every inch of his flesh, rinsing him off from head to toe. It felt like being flayed alive, the water pressure was turned so high and it was icy cold.
"Stop! For God's sake, stop!" He cried out at tormentors he couldn't even see, and wasn't sure if their laughter was real or imagined. If anything, the water struck him with more force, until all he could do was hang limply in his chains and pray for it to be over. He couldn't fight them anymore, and he wasn't sure why he'd been trying.
When the water stopped he was shaking violently, unable to control the tremors coursing through his body. He hoped the auction was in a few minutes, because no one would ever bid on a half-drowned, nearly dead mess like him. A cough welled in his chest, and he gave in to its demands, letting the sound roar in his ears while he was released and left to fall to his knees in the floor.
"Dry off." A towel was tossed on his shoulders and he tried his best to get the cold water sopped off his body, but he was shaking so much that it was nearly impossible so he gave up and huddled on his knees, waiting for whatever they had planned for him next.
"Come on." A leash was clipped to the collar and he was led out of the shower and down another hallway to a room with a single bed that he was shoved on to. He didn't even try to protest despite his fear of being assaulted again. He was just too tired. Without consideration for how it might look, he curled onto his side and closed his eyes, grateful for the pathetically thin mattress.
Someone placed a hand on his head and he didn't fight the touch. "What the hell have you done to him, Rick? This boy is nearly unconscious and he has a fever."
Rick cleared his throat nervously. "Yeah, well you wouldn't want to deal with him when he has any fight to give you, trust me."
A hand lifted his chin, tilting his face so it was turned toward the light, and Tony could make out a bearded face and a pair of glasses peering at him. "I'm sure he's pretty under better circumstances, but I doubt he could even stand on the stage like this. What did you give him?"
A conversation occurred while he was pushed flat on the bed. Tony struggled to stay aware, unsure of what this other man wanted; there had been too many people who had treated him like a piece of meat to be traded back and forth. He tried to sit up, but was shoved back again and the cuffs on his wrists were attached to bolts on the side of the bed. He tugged at the restraints listlessly, unable to piece together what was happening, but couldn't escape the dread that was building in his belly.
Hands roamed his body, but not in a sexual manner like he had become used to. This touch was much more clinical and precise, examining and palpitating sensitive areas that made him squirm. He coughed again, unable to stop for several minutes. His head was lifted up and a cup pressed to his lips forcing him to drink.
"How bad is it?" Rick asked with concern.
"His lungs sound awful and I think he has a couple of cracked ribs. I'll have to note that on the auction dossier. You realize the fact he's sick will bring down the price."
Another conversation took place that Tony couldn't follow, but as he blinked he saw the doctor place a wad of bills in his pocket. "I think his condition just got upgraded. It's always a pleasure doing business with you." A sly smile crossed the bearded man's face.
Rick chuckled in agreement. "I just have to keep him alive for the next few days and then he isn't my problem anymore. Can you do anything to make him more presentable?"
The doctor talked some more and then Tony felt another sharp prick in his arm. "We'll keep him on high doses of antibiotics. It should help deal with the congestion, but there isn't anything I can do about those ribs. If he gets knocked around anymore one of them is likely to puncture a lung."
There was a short pause. "I plan on keeping him sedated and caged until a few hours before the auction begins. I don't need any more trouble out of this one."
Now it was the doctor's turn to laugh. "I have to examine the rest of him, you know. The buyers are going to want to know if he has any issues that might prevent them from getting their money's worth. I can't lie about that – I'd be fired in a second."
Rick grunted. "He's ready to use, trust me, I've sampled the goods myself. But go ahead."
Tony forced his eyes open to stare at the man dead on. His heart was pounding and he sucked in as much air as he could, hate filling every cell of his being.
"Now, now son, don't get so upset. I do this kind of thing all the time and I won't hurt you." He patted Tony on the leg supportively. "Relax, and it will all go much better." One of his wrists was released and he was rolled onto his side.
When cold, gloved fingers touched his butt cheeks, Tony clenched every muscle and he closed his eyes tightly. His mind sought refuge in places more pleasant, and he found himself lying on soft grass in warm sunlight, wrapped tightly in Gibbs' arms, where nothing they did in this room could harm him.
NCISNCISNCIS
Vance placed the report on his desk and rubbed his eyes. He turned his chair to face out the window behind him and stared unseeingly at the shimmering water below. The sun was setting and he usually enjoyed this time of day when he could unwind, but the beauty of the moment was lost on him as his thoughts focused elsewhere.
DiNozzo might not have been his favorite agent, but the man didn't deserve whatever it was that had happened to him. He created havoc, refused to follow protocol, and flaunted his complete devotion to Gibbs, but that didn't change the fact he was a damn good agent willing to sacrifice whatever was necessary to get his job done. He'd proven himself many times over, and even though Vance would have liked him to be more serious during their down times, he had never failed in his assignments.
Even the Jenny Shepard incident hadn't really been his fault. He'd let Tony blame himself because he believed a contrite DiNozzo was easier to handle, but in retrospect that might have been a mistake. Self-doubt and insecurity could eat a man alive, as he knew too well, and he had seen those take root in the younger man, causing the agent to at times reconsider his own natural instincts. Without Gibbs continued support it was hard to tell what would have become of DiNozzo over the past few years. There were moments of greatness interspersed with moments of insanity.
What could Tony have achieved with more support? He pursed his lips and fished a toothpick out of his pocket. Nurturing would never be his strong suit, and coddling DiNozzo's emotional issues would have to be handled by others.
That didn't mean he didn't want the agent found.
Maybe if Gibbs would consider taking the boy on as his sub and quit stringing him along that would make a difference. Vance might be dense about human interaction sometimes, but it would take someone blinder than him not to notice they shared a deep connection. Both might deny it, but it was useless when just standing in the same room with them made it abundantly clear they were already Dom and sub in every way except one.
Jackie would call him a romantic fool if she knew what he was thinking. She had already commented on it after the last office Christmas party when she spent most of the evening watching how the two agents would move in whenever another interested party got too close, casually placing a hand on a shoulder or elbow to silently stake their claim. At the end of the evening after they had arrived home, she had declared it almost painful to see, since they both were so clearly in love and in total denial about it.
Vance had laughed at the time, but the seed had been planted and it didn't take long for him to realize she was, as usual, absolutely right.
He moved back to his desk and collected his papers, placing them into the file. The work could wait until tomorrow – he would spend the evening with Jackie and the kids. Maybe she had some other insights to share with him.
He was almost to the door when the phone on his desk rang. For a second he considered letting it go to voicemail, but with a sigh he gave in to responsibility and picked up the receiver.
His face settled into a hard mask as he listened to the report of a man wandering into a small town near the Canadian border, nearly frozen and half starved to death, but claiming to be an NCIS agent. Without a doubt he knew it was Gibbs.
"We'll be there." He hung up and strode out of his office, all other plans suddenly irrelevant. He would call Jackie after they were en route.
McGee and David, still at their desks long after most others had left, looked up expectantly as he entered the bullpen.
"Grab your gear," he thundered. "I think Gibbs has been found."
NCISNCISNCIS
Tony had no idea what day it was, or even what time. He'd become utterly disoriented, unable to determine how often he had been awake or asleep, when he'd eaten, or how often he'd been let out of the cage to take care of personal needs. All he knew was there had been a series of painful shots that had sucked the very life out of his body.
For some reason, today he felt a little more coherent; the edges of his vision were less fuzzy, the pain from the wire cage was sharper. He coughed; the sound less wet and ragged than he remembered before his trip to a drug induced Neverland. His ribs were some better, but he was still sore and weak after God knew how long he had been immobile.
He took stock of his tiny prison – the cage was large enough that he could sit up if he hunched his shoulders, and he could stretch out his legs from a sitting position. Lying down, he had to curl into an awkward ball to accommodate his size. Glancing at his body, he barked out a sad laugh. McGee would be jealous of his weight loss; barely an ounce of fat was left on his once stocky frame. He was bordering on skinny, and he fleetingly thought about the pair of designer leather pants hanging in his closet from his wilder college days. They would definitely fit now.
His was not the only cage in the stark white room where he was trapped. There were at least nine or ten other cages lining the walls, all containing men desperately trying to find a comfortable way to lie. Some of the men were sleeping and those who were awake stared ahead with dead, lifeless eyes – no one spoke or attempted to move much. Tony stared at the latch on the cage considering if there was any way to unlock his prison. A small padlock held the latch closed, and Tony stuck his fingers out of the wire to turn it toward him. He had to blink when his eyesight blurred, not all of the drugs having left his system. The lock slipped from his grasp and he cursed, carefully reaching for it again.
He studied the lock for several minutes before dropping it in frustration and leaning his cheek against the cage mesh. He had nothing to pick the lock with or pry it open; all he could do was wait for what was coming next. Slamming his hand against the wire he cursed for all he was worth, finding some sick satisfaction in seeing the palm of his hand cut open and blood pour out. Several heads turned toward him with curiosity on their otherwise blank faces. He thought about crying but decided that would take too much effort and he was exhausted by the entire ordeal; with a sob he leaned his back against the cage and slumped down, all the fight gone. When the door to the outer room opened he jerked up, startled at the sight of Rick, the doctor, and several armed guards approaching.
Rick was smiling broadly, his steel grey hair swept back in its perpetually perfect ponytail, his white teeth gleaming and his grey eyes bright. His expensive charcoal suit clung to him like a second skin, the tailoring cut perfectly to accentuate his broad shoulders and trim waist. He stopped in front of the cage and studied Tony carefully. "We have a big day ahead of us, boy – do you think you can handle it?" He held the cattle prod loosely, dangling it in his fingers, the implement of torture incongruous with his professional attire.
Tony licked his lips and backed away as far as possible, having no desire to flirt with the electrified wand again. Choosing not to answer, he simply stared in response.
"No smart remarks? Glib replies? Maybe you've learned something from your training after all." He jerked his head at the guards. "Get him out."
To his embarrassment, Tony's legs nearly buckled when they had him standing – he had to allow the guards to hold him up while he tried to regain his equilibrium. Rick shook his head sadly. "Such a beautiful boy; it's a shame we won't have any more time together. I really believe you would have come to appreciate me eventually. Maybe your new Master will grant me a visit?" He held Tony's face in his hand, not allowing Tony to turn away. "I wouldn't want you to forget me." Rick pressed a hard kiss on Tony's mouth. DiNozzo did the only thing he could to fight back – he bit the other man.
Rick shoved himself away and grabbed his bleeding lip. "What the hell?" He drew back his hand to smack Tony, who flinched in preparation for the blow, but stopped short. His nostrils flaring, he picked up the cattle prod and pressed it against Tony's thigh, grinning with pleasure when Tony writhed and slammed to the floor twisting like a contortionist. "Not today, boy. Misbehavior will not be tolerated."
He motioned for the doctor, who knelt beside Tony and pulled a hypodermic needle from his pocket. Tony reacted with a mixture of fear and panic, clenching his fist and striking at the doctor's jaw, knocking him backwards. The guards swarmed him, grabbing his arms and restraining him by hooking the cuffs behind his back and holding him firmly.
"Don't…..don't," Tony asked, looking at Rick. Now that he was out of the cage, he couldn't let them drug him again; he needed his senses intact in case there was even the slightest chance to get away. "I'll…I'll do what you ask."
Tony was raised to his feet and Rick came within inches of his face. For an instant he felt the overwhelming urge to drop his eyes submissively, but something inside him wouldn't allow it and he held fast to the intense gaze.
Rick snorted. "Your every urge is to submit, but you just can't do it, can you? Only for Agent Gibbs, right?" He nodded at Tony's startled blink. "Yes, I know his real name. I know all about him. And I know he never gave you what you wanted, even when you were willing to trade everything for the slightest acknowledgement from him. You're lucky I killed the bastard for you; now you're free to find out who really are."
Tony closed his eyes for a moment and then reopened them. "He isn't dead," Tony whispered.
Rick tilted his chin and took a breath. "You won't ever see him again, so it doesn't really matter anyway." He turned back to the doctor. "Go ahead."
The shot was quick and almost painless, but somehow it made Tony want to break apart in a thousand pieces; he couldn't get away while he was drugged.
"It's just something to calm you down," the doctor said almost kindly. "Give him a few minutes," he said to Rick.
Warmth flooded his veins and he started to float, accepting the disconnection from everything around him. Since he couldn't escape physically, he might as well go on a mental vacation.
"Arivaderci," he mumbled.
The doctor gave him a pitying glance and shrugged, leading him to an attached room where he was made to take another shower. His hair was blown dry and styled into deliberately messy spikes. The doctor then busied himself with something in a bag, turning back to Tony with complete detachment. DiNozzo was still aware enough to suck in a breath when his dick was grasped in the man's slick hand and he started to pump.
Tony wanted to die. Standing there, in that cold room with strangers forcing him to develop an erection, he realized that death would be preferable to living under these conditions. He couldn't stop his body's reaction no matter how much he wanted to, and he wondered if the shot had contained more than just a sedative.
A diamond crusted green cock ring was snapped in place at the base of his engorged cock, leaving it jutting in front of him like a pornographic Christmas present.
"Oil," the doctor requested. He took another bottle and began massaging the shiny liquid onto Tony's lithe form. He finished with a few spurts of cologne.
"Pretty as a picture," he declared, checking the cuffs again to make sure they were still hooked. A green leather leash was attached to the collar, and he was led out of the shower in a daze.
In retrospect he would always be glad the rest of the day's events passed by in an indistinct fog. Rick took the leash and pulled him forward until they were standing on a brightly lit stage. He was made to stand with his feet apart, displaying his dick to the crowd that chattered and applauded appreciatively. His height and weight were announced, along with his background in law enforcement. He was made to bend over and show his ass, which Rick spanked several times to show how it turned a nice shade of pink. His nearly shattered mind was unprepared when a large dildo was pushed into his hole, exhibiting his preparation for any kind of play. By the time he was ordered to kneel on the floor and bids were taken, he thought he might pass out.
The faces in the crowd were fuzzy and unclear, a sea of leering madmen willing to pay for the right to take someone else's humanity without their consent. He found himself searching for Gibbs, hopelessly praying his boss would somehow come bursting through the doors, gun blazing, ready to save him from an unendurable fate.
But that didn't happen. Instead the bids grew higher and Rick's smile grew bigger, until the word, "Sold!" rang out loudly, echoing around the hall like a harbinger of doom. Tony was grateful to be led off stage and away from all those people even though it meant he was now on his way into uncharted territory. It didn't shock him to see Nakamura standing in the eaves waiting.
"My deposit has already been made, so if you'll please turn over my slave." He held out a puffy hand and Rick passed him the leash.
"Enjoy. It's always a pleasure doing business with you." Rick gave him a low bow.
"Likewise." The Asian man turned to his companion. "Is the ship ready? I'd like to leave immediately." He gazed at Tony callously. "The sooner we're in international waters the better I'll feel."
As Tony was dragged away, he realized there was little hope he would ever be rescued now. The life he had known, that he had loved, was over.
NCISNCISNCIS
Ziva observed the unfolding drama quietly, absorbing the interaction between all the important players, ready to step in if necessary.
The physician folded his arms and narrowed his eyes. He managed to exude a stoic air despite barely having enough peach fuzz in his goatee to require the use of a razor. "Just because we're a small town hospital doesn't mean we don't provide top-notch care for our patients. The gentleman you want to see has been quite agitated for the last few hours and we only got him settled down a short while ago. I will not have him upset by a troupe of gun-toting cops who have no concern for his physical well-being!"
Vance stepped forward. "The gentleman you are referring to has been missing for weeks and it is imperative we speak to him as soon as possible. Lives are at stake and we can't afford to lose any more time." The NCIS Director folded his arms and struck his most imposing pose. "Is he unconscious? Is there any medical reason we can't see him immediately other than his need for rest?"
The doctor ran a hand through his curly mop of hair and sighed, already sensing his own defeat. "He's exhausted, undernourished, and running a low grade fever from a slight infection at the site of the bullet wound in his arm. We've given him antibiotics and an IV; I'd like to sedate him but to be honest he's threatened to 'kick my Doogie Howser ass' if I give him anything to knock him out."
McGee lowered his head to hide a smile. "Doogie Howser," he muttered appreciatively. Ziva jabbed him in the ribs, shaking her head to remind him to be quiet.
"So he's awake?" Vance continued. "Then there's no reason we shouldn't be allowed to see him. If he gets too upset we'll leave."
"Uh, Doctor Warner," a nurse poked her head out of the room they were trying to gain access to. "I could use a little help in here."
The doctor gave her a questioning look and excused himself. He reappeared moments later with his brow furrowed in exasperation. "You might as well come in. It seems my patient isn't intending to be here long anyway."
When Ziva followed the others into the hospital room, she had to grin. Gibbs had ripped out his intravenous line and was already partially dressed in a set of scrubs. His skin was an unnaturally grey color and he had dark circles under his eyes. There were scratches covering his face and arms and he was significantly thinner than when he left DC. He was pulling on a pair of filthy, mud-covered shoes while the young doctor hovered nervously.
"You really need to take it easy with that arm or you're going to rip out all the stitches I worked so hard to put in," he warned.
Gibbs grunted and glanced up at Vance. "About time you got here." He stood and found McGee then held out his hand. "Did you bring my bag?"
"Got it right here." McGee lifted the duffle that Gibbs always kept in his locker. The lead agent snatched it and tossed it on the bed, rummaging inside for an NCIS jacket and ball cap. After putting them on he limped over to Vance.
"We're going to need a helicopter. The terrain is too rough and it would take too long for me to retrace my route. In a chopper I can spot the location where they're holding Tony from the air." He stated the request as a fact; Vance raised an eyebrow.
Vance and Gibbs stared at each other, neither speaking. After a few tense minutes, Vance took out a toothpick and twirled it in his fingers. "Already have one," he stated coolly. "It was the fastest way to get here. I'll call the pilot and tell him to be ready for takeoff."
The doctor shook his head and Gibbs snorted; Vance ignored them both and walked into the hallway.
Ziva took the opportunity to slip next to her boss; she put her hand on Gibbs' arm. "Are you alright?" she asked softly, her voice filled with concern.
Gibbs licked his lips, the look in his pale blue eyes far away. "I'll be fine when we get DiNozzo back."
She kept her hand on his arm and squeezed lightly, not expecting any other comment from her taciturn father figure without more prompting.
"Were you with him?"
Gibbs blinked and looked at her. "Yes." His mouth twitched like he wanted to say more. When he spoke again his voice was a low growl. "Now that he's alone those deviants are going to make him pay."
Ziva swallowed and nodded. "I understand."
Gibbs adjusted his hat and picked up his bag with grim determination. "We've gotta go."
The doctor tried to move in front of them to block their exit. "I really need to check you out again, you can't leave yet." His voice had a squeaky quality and he glanced at Ziva and McGee like they might help him.
McGee stepped over and opened the door, holding it ajar. Gibbs smirked. "Watch me." He passed the doctor by and walked out. Ziva smiled at the physician compassionately and followed the lead agent.
Vance was still on the phone when they moved past him. He rolled his eyes and joined them in the elevator, leaving the doctor standing in the hallway. "I don't know where we're going – just make sure you have a full tank of fuel and be ready in thirty minutes, damnit!" He turned the phone off and jammed it in his pocket and faced the front of the elevator.
Gibbs' eyes twinkled and he smiled crookedly. "It's good to be back, Leon," he drawled.
Vance huffed air out his nose. "You know what they say about bad pennies."
Behind them, Ziva and McGee exchanged glances. For the first time, she thought everything might turn out alright. She would ask Tony about the bad penny comment when they found him.
Several hours later her positive feeling was gone. Finding the compound hadn't been difficult; they had located it easily, blotches of grey buildings standing out among endless miles of green trees. Ziva had been amazed at the distance of the camp from any vestiges of civilization; she didn't doubt how tough Gibbs was, but the fact he had walked all that way while injured solidified her admiration for his capabilities.
McGee was the first to comment as they circled the area searching for a safe place to land.
"It looks deserted."
Gibbs had glared at him so fiercely that the younger man had snapped his mouth shut quickly and offered no further commentary. Vance was not so easily daunted.
"It is odd – I don't see anyone at all."
They exited the helicopter with weapons drawn and scoured the various rooms and buildings, finding no one. There was little of significance left behind, and with every abandoned room Gibbs grew more and more agitated. When they cleared the room that held the training equipment, none of them spoke, since it was clear what the devices had been used for. Gibbs had simply stared ahead and stomped out. They checked all the bedrooms and when they entered one in particular, Gibbs' reaction made Ziva wonder if he had stayed there while he was gone. He stood stone still and closed his eyes like he was remembering something. They didn't disturb him until he was ready to leave. By the time he slammed through the door of an area containing shattered computers and ripped out phones, he was furious. The older man kicked a phone across the floor before he picked up a damaged monitor and threw it into the wall, cursing.
Vance grabbed his arm before he snatched up a keyboard. "Settle down, Jethro, this isn't helping anyone."
"Then tell me what will help!" Gibbs yelled in his face. "Tell me how to find Tony now! They've taken him to an auction site, Leon. Do you know what's going to happen to him there?" He stepped even closer to the Director and lowered his voice. "You know what they'll do; what they might have already done."
Vance bit his lip. "I understand, Gibbs. But losing control won't help him. As a matter of fact, I think you need to sit down."
Ziva noted Gibbs' pale complexion and decided Vance was probably correct, the events of the last week had caught up with their indomitable team leader. She hoped they didn't have to take him back to the hospital and face the doctor's smug attitude at being correct.
Gibbs, not surprisingly, didn't agree that he needed to rest and he clenched his fist. "Don't patronize me, Director….." A fight was not what they needed, and Ziva moved closer to the two men, ready to intervene.
McGee took care of the problem before it became an altercation. "Uh, Boss," he said from behind the desk, standing up with a computer processing unit in his hands. "I might be able to get some information off of one of these systems if I take them back to the lab." He hesitated, realizing by the hard glares of the two men staring at him that he'd interrupted something. "That is…..uh…..if you want….."
Gibbs pursed his lips and unclenched his fist. Vance cracked his knuckles and twisted his head from side to side, loosening his shoulders. "Is there anything you need us to carry?" the Director asked, approaching McGee, who handed him the CPU.
Gibbs' lips pressed into a thin line and he closed his eyes as if trying to collect his strength now that he knew Tony was out of his reach once more. Ziva walked over next to him, but refrained from reaching out. Instead she said, "If there is a way to track them down, McGee and Abby will find it."
The older man's face softened. "I know." He lifted his chin and nodded with resolve. "I know." She was taken by surprise at the sudden flash of emotions that passed over his normally stern features; sorrow, fear, desperation. His gaze turned inward and she felt he was barely aware of her presence. Abruptly he walked from the room without another word to anyone.
If there had been any doubt in her mind about whether Gibbs loved Tony, those misgivings were shattered by the depth of feeling written in his eyes. They had to find Tony – safe and whole - or she suspected Gibbs would never recover from the loss.