**********************************8

"Hey, wake up. We're home."

Tony felt a hand on his shoulder and lifted his head. He was surprised to see they were no longer driving down the highway but were instead parked outside a house. "Whose home?" he mumbled.

"Gibbs," McGee said, standing patiently at the car door. When Tony didn't show any signs of getting out, he peered inside and asked, "You doing okay? You need some help?"

"With what? This isn't my house."

"C'mon, DiNozzo, you're staying with me tonight."

Tony swung his head around at his boss' voice. With slightly clearer thinking, the last thing he wanted to do was stay with Gibbs. He'd already exposed too much of himself as it was, but he was also never very good at going up against Leroy Jethro Gibbs. "Ah, that's okay, Boss. I think I'll go home."

Gibbs simply motioned with his finger and started for his front door.

Tim waited expectantly for Tony to get out so he could drive himself home; after all, it'd been a long day and an even longer night, but his colleague wasn't moving. "C'mon Tony. You're not going to win this argument."

Reluctantly, he got out of the car and looked down at what he was wearing: jeans and an undershirt. He was cold and embarrassed.

"I can stop by your place and bring you some clean clothes if you want?"

"Why don't you just drive me home and I can get them myself."

"I think you know the answer to that—"

"—Why does everyone want to control me!"

Tim was taken aback by the sudden venom in his voice and said, "You've been through a lot, Tony. Leaving you alone right now isn't a good idea."

"What the hell do you—" he stopped short, realizing his anger was displaced. Looking at McGee, he felt that he didn't deserve that kind of treatment and patted his chest as he slowly walked by, "I'm sorry, Tim."

McGee wasn't sure which was more shocking: the S&M revelation or the apology. But he decided against making any comment about that, yet. As soon as Tony disappeared inside, he slid back into the driver's seat and left.

Inside the house, Tony found Gibbs in his basement with one of his many wood working tools already in hand. "Boss…," he began, not really knowing how to present his argument.

Gibbs looked up briefly before returning to his task, "You know which bedroom to take. Make yourself comfortable and get some sleep."

Tony was relieved that he didn't want any details. He was also relieved that Gibbs didn't necessarily want to talk. That was definitely one of boss's best traits, he decided. On his way upstairs, he passed a bathroom and caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror. He hadn't shaved in several days, and he was pale with bags under his eyes. It felt awkward to him to be in such a state, but he was glad he wasn't at the safe house anymore, really glad. Even if he still wasn't at home, at least he didn't have to contend with the likes of Chantal Payne. He found the bedroom and sat down on the edge of the bed. Too tired to do much more than that, he laid back and promptly fell asleep.

In the basement, Gibbs had set his tools down and was staring at the wood. Just when he thought he'd heard it all, along comes another twist in the life of Anthony DiNozzo. How many secrets can one man have?

S&M. Sadism and Masochism. Once, a long time ago, he had worked a case that involved it. It was a difficult case and when it was all said and done, the numerous parties involved just picked up where they had left off. The fact that one of them had died as a result of such brutality didn't seem to change their behavior. In fact, if Gibbs read them correctly, it only served to heighten the sexual experience that they seemed eager to return to.

So how does S&M fit into DiNozzo's life? Is he still doing it? And with whom? There were a lot of questions that needed answering, but Tony was formidable when he felt trapped, and if he wanted answers, there's one thing he knew for sure: he had to approach cautiously.

Two floors away, Tony was back inside the room, not the bedroom, but the love chambers, as she affectionately referred to the attic above the gallery. She was using a cattle prod, shooting volts of electricity through his body that left him twitching and breathless. "Stop! I can't take it anymore!" he cried out, pulling on the shackles that bound his wrists and ankles to the posts of the bed. She ignored him as she usually did and turned her attention to his body, forcing him to abandon his demands and enjoy the pleasure of his own arousal. "I don't want that either! I've said the safe word, now let me go!" But instead, she enveloped his mouth with her own and continued her sensuous ministrations. This was her tactic. She would often bring him to the brink of sexual intensity, and then back off, confusing him so he didn't know what he really wanted and therefore justifying all her own actions.

"Stop! Damnit! Stop!"

Suddenly he realized he wasn't shackled anymore and he could defend himself. He pushed her with what little strength he had left and fell off the bed. Escaping. She somehow managed to grab hold of him again, but this time he shoved her, harder, sending her backwards and giving him time to find the door. He didn't remember the hallway, but he found the steps and stumbled down them. Nothing was familiar. There had been no stacks of paintings or sculptors strewn about, and the front door was different. This wasn't right. And just like that, he realized he wasn't in Hanna's gallery, but Gibbs' house. He blinked, trying to focus his mind on his surroundings, trying to slow his breathing. Finally, he closed the front door and leaned his head against it, cursing the moment he gave himself to that woman.

He sensed him rather than heard him; Gibbs sitting on the steps behind him. How could he face him? How could he yet again explain away some childhood drama that he knew his boss didn't want to hear? His boss, a man who had potentially more demons than anyone to contend with and who had learned to deal with them in the privacy of his own home, was no doubt waiting for answers. The years of running and hiding weighed heavy upon his shoulders. With his forehead still resting against the front door, he whispered, "You should take me home."

"If that's what you want."

He pushed off the door and took a shaky breath, embarrassed by his behavior, his past, his problems, "Yeah, that's what I want."

"Why don't you have a seat while I get my keys."

Tony walked into the living room and sat down. The fire was burning low but there was still enough flame to send off heat and it felt good. He wanted to be alone but he was tired of feeling lonely. He felt safe here on the sofa in Gibbs' house. He melded back into the cushions understanding why his boss preferred to sleep here rather than on a hard mattress.

Gibbs returned with his keys and sat down next to him. "You want to talk about it?"

Tony's moaned; his body wilted. It wasn't a question of wanting to, it was a question of being able to. He had never told anybody about it, and to sit on his boss' sofa and confess his shortcomings wasn't something he had ever planned on doing. But he did seem to feel some deep-seeded need to explain. If only to convince himself that he's not some sexual deviate with sadistic tendencies. "I don't know where to begin."

"The beginning's always good."

Tony sighed, sinking lower into the cushion and leaning his head back. After a few minutes, he said, "Her name was Hanna Votelli. She was my mother's best friend. It was my sixteenth birthday and she told me that she had a surprise for me." He stared at the ceiling. "That's when it began, and what followed was two years of hell."

"What did she do?"

Tony's body tensed and Gibbs thought he wasn't going to answer. Where Tony was concerned, it was sometimes best to let him set his own pace. In a voice barely audible, he said, "I don't want to tell you what she did."

Like an interrogation, Gibbs knew that the order of questioning was paramount to a confession. The wrong question asked at the wrong time could turn a session faster than being interrupted. Only problem was, this wasn't an interrogation. Gibbs allowed his lockstep brain to play out the conversation in his head, and thereby concluding which question was the best one to ask next. Quietly he said, "Why didn't you tell somebody?"

With what little strength Tony had left, he snorted, "Like my father? He would have beaten the shit out of me claiming it was somehow my fault, that I must have seduced her. And then he would have sent me off to another boarding school. No… there was no telling… no escaping her. She was good, experienced at what she did, and she told me all kinds of things that ensured my silence."

"How'd you end it?"

"I left for college, and prayed she wouldn't follow me. I spent the first semester looking over my shoulder, thinking every woman I met wanted me for their sick pleasure. I couldn't seem to shake the paranoia until I almost lost my starting position on the team, that's when I decided something had to give. So, I submerged myself into my game and my fraternity. I did some really stupid things in college, Boss, but a part of me didn't care what happened to me. At least I wouldn't have those damn memories haunting me anymore."

"What happened to her?"

Tony inhaled deeply, therapeutically, "I don't know. I never went by her gallery; I never even asked my father about her. As far as I was concerned, she was out of my life and that was fine with me. The S&M world is not a good place to be, Gibbs. It's dangerous and—" he stopped short, embarrassed at what he'd just said, and worried the surfacing memories would overpower him again.

Gibbs wanted to reach over and place a hand on his shoulder, but instead, he quietly said, "It's okay, Tony. You don't have to remember."

"—But I want to," he countered, "…I need to." He took another deep breath and continued, "I've never told anyone this before. It's a world where everyone involved does so willingly. It's never supposed to be forced on anyone, but I guess she didn't get the memo. I didn't want to be a part of it, and I told her that after the first—" he flashed a quick glance sideways, embarrassed to have said so much, but Gibbs didn't look angry or disgusted, so he finished his sentence, "…encounter. But she wouldn't believe me. She seemed to know all my weaknesses. She knew I missed my mother and so she became a surrogate of sorts, attending my father's dinner parties, honing her skills, doing what my father never did, which was to recognize my accomplishments and brag about them.

"That's when I would let down my guard, and feel indebted to her. She would use that against me, guilting me into being her sex—" he stopped again, turning his head away, and shutting his eyes.

"Then, one night, she went too far. I didn't want to be in that room. I didn't want to be with her. I had barely recovered from the last session where she—" he cut himself off, and shook his head of the memories. They weren't important to tell, he decided, and he forced himself to redirect his thoughts. "These sessions didn't happen very frequently. She was savvy that way, letting just enough time pass to make me forget the brutality. But this time, this time, she…" his breath quavered at the memory. Inhaling deeply, he shook his head again trying to rid it of the myriad of visions and images. "She almost killed me. I woke up in a hospital and God only knows the story she told the doctors, but not one damn person asked me what had happened! Not one!"

This time, Gibbs did reach out and place a hand on his shoulder, feeling the agitation as it slowly left his body. Very few things riveted Gibbs, but this story captured his attention like no other. He felt a deep and profound sadness over what he was hearing. Tony wasn't asking for forgiveness nor was he waiting for some sort of approval, he simply needed someone to understand what he'd gone through and not judge him for it. And so Gibbs gently massaged his shoulder, trying to offer comfort in a world that was anything but, while he himself, tried to make sense of his senior agent's life as an unsuspecting teenager.

Tony looked away, but this time, he could feel the demons of his secrets leaving his body. He probably should have spoken of this years ago, but he was well adept at burying bad memories when he had to. He worried about Gibbs' reaction to his story, but the fatigue and exhaustion were clouding his thinking, and with the security of his boss' hand messaging his shoulder and the warmth of the fire penetrating his skin, he leaned his head back, no longer feeling the heavy burden of guilt and disgust over what he'd done.

After a few minutes, Gibbs heard the deep rhythmic breathing of someone who had submitted to years of sleeplessness. He stood up and stoked the fire, letting the last of the flames heat the room, and then draped a blanket over his agent. There was a sort of serenity in Tony's expression as he lay sleeping. He moved to the overstuffed chair and sat down and thought about the story he'd just heard.

How does something like this happen to a sixteen year old boy? Seduced by a trusted family friend, yet he had no one to turn to for help. Gibbs pinched the bridge of his nose as it was a thought he couldn't bear to have. At sixteen, Tony wasn't naïve, but he wouldn't know how to handle a woman with nefarious plans for him. And when Gibbs thought about him not being able to break away, it gave him insight into a boy's world whose insecurities were easily extorted. Sometimes he wondered how much disappointment this man could take in life.

The sun would be rising soon, and he needed to get at least a couple hours sleep. He leaned his head back and tried to rid his visions of all the perverted sex acts that had been brought against his friend so many years ago.

Sleep was elusive.

***********************************8

McGee walked through his boss' front door tentatively. It had always struck him as odd that he left his door unlocked, but Gibbs was not exactly the epitome of normal, so he pushed it open slowly and peered inside. Noting nothing of interest, he shut it behind him and walked towards the kitchen. He stopped when he felt the presence of someone in the living room. Turning slowly, he realized there was a body stretched out on the sofa hidden under a blanket.

"McGee," came a whisper from across the room.

"Yeah," he said, diverting his attention off the couch and towards the kitchen.

Gibbs was dressed in a suit. "Stay with him until I get back. If he wakes up, he may want to come to the hearing and I'd rather he didn't do that."

McGee understood and nodded. "Got it, Boss." And he watched as Gibbs walked towards the door, picked up his keys, and left.

Noting there was nothing to eat or drink in the house, he retrieved his laptop from his car and set it up at the kitchen table. He figured he could keep an eye on his colleague while catching up on some paperwork. He had no sooner begun typing when he heard Tony stir. He carefully watched him to see if he was going to wake up, but he simply rolled over and sunk back into a deep slumber.

****************************8

The drive to the courthouse was thoughtful. Gibbs kept it that way because if he didn't, no telling what he was capable of doing when he saw her. Chantal and Ziva were already seated in the Witness Waiting Room when he walked in. And so was Fornell, only he didn't look nearly as happy as the last time he saw him.

"What in the Hell is going on?" Fornell whispered, taking Gibbs by the elbow and escorting him back out the door.

Gibbs sized up his irritation and determined he probably had good reason to be annoyed.

"I come in this morning expecting her to testify against Bowers and I find Agent David as her protection detail. She was very clear, Jethro, on who she wanted. If you've mess this up…"

"Relax, Tobias, she's going to testify just as promised."

"Why isn't Agent DiNotso with her?"

Gibbs shrugged, "Something came up."

"Oh, just like that, something came up? What the hell is more important than guaranteeing a conviction against Captain Bowers?"

Gibbs tossed that question around a few seconds before answering, "Extenuating circumstances came up. What are you so mad about? She's here and she's going to testify."

"I hope you're right."

Jethro looked in the waiting room at Chantal Payne's expression, and he knew that he was.

**********************************8

Gibbs sat at his desk, aware that Tony was due back in the office today. He had given him the rest of the week off and if he knew his agent, it would be just enough time for him to shake the demons of his past (or bury them again) and return with a new sense of purpose. And he wasn't disappointed. Tony walked in a few minutes later, energized, animated, and above all, talkative.

"Good morning, fellow NCIS agents."

Ziva had missed him and was immensely glad that he was back. "You are chippy today," she commented.

"Chipper, Ziva. I'm chipper today is the saying."

"Whatever, you seem much happier."

"I am. I had a wonderful weekend in New York."

"Did you see your father?" McGee asked.

"No, he's out of town, but I did look up some old friends."

"Spent time in the county lockup, huh?"

"Funny, McGee," he said, while stowing his badge and gun. Noticing a folder on his desk, he picked it up and asked, "What's this?"

"That is your report," Ziva answered. "McGee and I finished it for you."

Tony was genuinely appreciative. Coming back into the office and facing hours' worth of paperwork on the Bowers case was definitely something he wasn't looking forward to. "Thanks. I mean that, too."

McGee and Ziva smiled at his gratitude and when he seemed settled in, they returned to their respective tasks.

Tony waited until the curiosity in him had disappeared before sauntering over to his boss' desk.

Gibbs looked up expectantly.

Quietly, and almost ashamedly, he said, "She's dead. Car accident, five years ago."

Gibbs nodded, "And so is what she did."

"Yeah."

Gibbs returned to his papers and Tony returned to his desk. He looked at each one of his colleagues, working diligently, their opinion of him unchanged. Things were back to normal. Bowers was behind bars, and Chantal was whisked off to some unidentified place where she could find some other sadist to be her toy. He almost allowed himself a smile. But he knew better. He knew this wasn't over. It would never be over, not as long as she was out there somewhere. He knew the mind of someone like Chantal Payne, and she wouldn't give up just because she had a new name and a place to live.

And then, what would he do?

~~Fini

Thanks for reading and commenting. Many of your comments serve as my inspiration to finish my stories. I have always wanted to write a flashback story but I wasn't sure if I could pull it off smoothly. Still not sure that the use of italics is the best way, but if I write another one, maybe I'll try a different approach. To answer one question that was asked: I probably won't get tired of writing about Tony for awhile. He's just such a great character to work with. I just started another story with Tony and Abby as my focus characters (not sexually, more like confidants). But I have forty some stories unfinished and screaming for attention, so no telling its fate. Thank you for reading!~Jasmine