Chapter 2

Abby found herself on the outskirts of the gathering. She sipped her drink, watching the people celebrating. It was a bright, vivacious party and usually she’d have enjoyed it, but she felt oddly disconnected – and kind of sad. Seeing Ronon with Teyla, and hearing what Gibbs had to say on the subject of piercings had resurrected a sense of loneliness that her sunny personality usually managed to repress. She had a long-held dream of being pierced, and sometimes she had even been tempted to go to the nearby parlour, where she’d had her tattoos done, and ask them to do it. All that held her back was the thought of Gibbs’s disapproval. “Well, they say you never feel more alone than in a crowd,” she murmured, leaning against a tree and watching the festivities. She felt aloof and distant, as if she was in a cocoon. “This is so dumb,” she told herself. “I mean, you’re on a whole different planet for god’s sake! This is SO cool.” All the same, she didn’t *feel* it, so she stayed where she was. She saw Tony, working his way through the crowd, dipping in and out of conversations. Abby could see that he was doing his job, trying to find out more about this place and the marines who had been murdered, but she guessed that most people wouldn’t notice that. His flirtatious manner just made it look like he was trawling for a top and an easy night’s pleasure. She watched him work the crowd for a long time. Sometimes people mistook his manner and the occasional top tried to place a hand around his wrist and lead him off to the tented area at the back, but on each occasion she saw him extricate himself with a cool flair. One top wouldn’t take no for an answer and ended up with his arm thrust up behind his back and Tony hissing something into his ear. Abby shook her head; she could see how other people might misread Tony’s mixed signals but they were clear as day to her. Despite what he had said to Gibbs earlier, she’d put money on the fact that the one person who wouldn’t retire to that tented area tonight was Tony. She wandered a little further away from the crowd. She knew she was supposed to be mingling and asking questions but she didn’t feel like it. Okay, so she also knew Gibbs wouldn’t be happy that she’d left the gathering, especially when there was a murderer on the loose, but she felt safe enough. He’d told her not to go too far but she could still *see* people after all so that surely wasn’t too far? She wandered up the beach and climbed a path, clambering up a long way until she reached a grassy verge above. “Are you alright, miss?” a voice called. She saw a man, in the distance, standing beside one of those cool little ships they’d used to ferry them over here. “I’m fine!” she waved. “Just, you know, wanted to see the view.” “It is a pretty view,” he called. He started walking over to her and she hung there, unsure whether this was such a good idea or not. She was now quite some way from the gathering and she wasn’t even sure they’d be able to see or hear her up here if she was in any trouble – it was too dark away from the bonfires and torches below. “Did you want a ride back to the city?” the man asked, as he drew close. “I’m on ferrying duties.” He pointed towards the little ship he’d been standing beside. “No…at least…not yet. I don’t think,” Abby frowned. “I mean, I shouldn’t go back without telling Gibbs and I don’t know where he is.” “He’s your top?” the man asked. “Yeah. Well, kinda…I mean, we’re not sleeping together or anything – I’m on his team at work and he just…well, he kind of looks out for me until I find someone.” “Sounds like a nice guy,” the stranger commented. “He is. Really nice.” Abby nodded. “Although sometimes I wish he wouldn’t give any potential tops such a hard time before he’ll agree to let me date them! They always have to ask his permission and he gives them this really formal interview and to be honest most of them are scared off by that point. But that’s just Gibbs – he knows what he’s doing and he’s always been right about them so far.” “Sounds like he’s just taking his responsibilities towards you seriously,” the stranger said. “Which he should if you’re wearing his collar. So, why did you leave the party?” Abby gazed at the stranger. He had brown hair and blue eyes and there was something about him – but she wasn’t sure what; just something that seemed almost familiar. He was a top of course – she’d got that vibe off him straight away. She knew Gibbs wouldn’t like her sitting out here, alone, with this strange top when there was a murderer on the loose but he didn’t seem dangerous. Of course, her ‘danger’ radar was notoriously unreliable – she’d had some pretty abusive tops in the past and while she was nobody’s pushover, and always got rid of them eventually, she felt sorry enough for them that she put up with them for longer than she should. Plus, she really yearned for a strong top – someone she could feel safe with. Sometimes she’d mistaken an abusive top for a strong one, no matter how many times Gibbs and Tony explained the difference to her. The trouble was she had an idea in her head of how it should be but she had never actually experienced it and her heart ached a little about that. She longed to find the right top, someone to love with all the considerable passion in her heart, but so far she’d been completely crap at finding the right person. “I don’t know. I just wanted some alone time I guess,” she admitted, finally answering his question. “Everyone down there seems so happy. And they’re all in couples and, you know, *pierced* and everything.” “What?” The stranger grinned at her, an amused look in his blue eyes. “Sorry…I’m babbling. It’s just Ronon has these really cool nipple piercings that his top did for him and they’re so pretty and I want that but Gibbs says I have to wait until I find the right top to do it. I know he’s right but I want to go into those cool shops that sell piercing jewels and buy some – I saw these beautiful ones shaped like sunbursts that were just so pretty and…oh…this is too much information, isn’t it?” Abby bit on her lip. “I’m sorry – McGee warns me about it all the time.” “Not at all. I think it’s fascinating,” the stranger laughed. She cast another glance at him from under her eyelashes. “So, you’re one of Sheppard’s men?” she asked. “Yes I am, ma’am,” he nodded. “Did you know the guys who died?” He stiffened. “Yes,” he answered curtly. “I’m sorry. I just…I guess I’m not a very good field agent,” Abby said with a shrug. “I was supposed to interview Rodney but we just ended up chatting.” “You ended up chatting with Rodney Sheppard?” Her stranger seemed amused. “Wow – way to go. He’s not the world’s easiest person to get along with.” “I thought he was lovely!” Abby protested. She supposed she really ought to ask the stranger his name but there was something rather delicious about their anonymity. She noticed he hadn’t asked her name, either – although as the NCIS agents had made quite a stir with their arrival it was likely he already knew who she was. “It really is pretty up here,” Abby sighed, gazing down below to where the people scurried, like small, brightly coloured ants. The fires on the beach cast an orange glow over the nearby waves that lapped against the shore. “It really is, isn’t it?” the stranger said. “It’s called Collar Bay.” “Collar Bay? Really? That’s such a cool name! It isn’t really collar-shaped though,” she said, turning her head on one side to see if she could see it. “Nah. I don’t think that’s why it was named. Sheppard came back and named it on the map the day after he collared Rodney, so I’m guessing it has more to do with that.” “You think he collared Rodney here? Oh! That’s so beautiful,” Abby said, fingering her own collar. Like all Gibbs’s collars it was utilitarian plain black leather – very comfortable and utterly impersonal. She loved it, but longed for one that was meant just for her all the same. “You’re a romantic,” the stranger said. “I can tell.” Abby grinned at him. “I know! Tony’s always teasing me about it!” “Tony?” “One of Gibbs’s other subs. He’s a great guy – well, he can be kind of irritating sometimes but that’s just because Gibbs won’t sleep with him. I think he’s a romantic too, underneath – he just doesn’t want anyone to know. I don’t mind people knowing; I guess I’m kind of an open book.” “There’s a better view of the bay from over there – do you want to go see?” the man asked. Abby bit on her lip again. The place where he was pointing was well off the beaten track and she wouldn’t be even remotely visible if she went there with him. She knew what Gibbs would say – she could hear it in her head. “I don’t think Gibbs would like that,” she murmured. “Do you always do what Gibbs likes?” the man asked, and he sounded genuinely interested. “Not always, but where my personal safety is concerned, Gibbs tends to get really fierce.” “As he should,” the man said. “I wouldn’t want you to do anything your top wouldn’t approve of. Why don’t we just sit down here for a bit and talk? I’m really enjoying talking to you.” Abby turned to face him, unsure what to reply, but his eyes seemed really close and they looked kind – firm and decisive, but kind. He had that air of being in charge that Gibbs had, and a relaxed, easy kind of authority – which wasn’t so much like Gibbs but which she liked all the same. “Okay,” she found herself saying. They sat down on the grassy verge, side by side, legs hanging over the edge, upper arms touching, and he felt warm, and kind of good sitting next to her. “You’re really pretty you know,” he said. Abby felt herself flushing. “I bet you say that to all the subs,” she replied. “No. I really don’t. I’m not that smooth an operator,” he laughed. “But you – you’re just beautiful. I love the way you dress.” She turned to face him again, and his face seemed even closer now. She swallowed hard and found her eyes wandering down to his lips. They looked soft and firm – and kissable. “I’d kiss you right now but you’re wearing another top’s collar and I don’t have his permission,” the man murmured, his eyes fixed on her mouth. “Oh. Well. Gibbs wouldn’t mind,” she said, leaning forward, eyes closed. She felt a finger on her mouth, pushing her back, and she opened her eyes, startled. “Not without permission,” he said regretfully. “Okay,” she pouted. “Let’s talk some more.” He put an arm around her shoulders and pulled her against him, and she was aware of the warmth of his body. Was this wrong? It felt so right. His broad hand circled her wrist gently, the way tops often did with prospective subs, testing them a little, feeling the heat in the mild bondage, searching for the dynamic between them. Abby felt herself relax. She wondered what it would be like if this kind-eyed stranger fastened cuffs to her wrists and tied her hands above her head. She could imagine those artistic fingers playing with her body, teasing a beautiful, sensuous tune from her, whilst she, bound and helpless, was powerless to resist. A nagging voice at the back of her head reminded her of something Gibbs had said. Didn’t the murderer like to tie up his victims first, and stake them to the ground? The earth up here was really soft – it would be easy to push a stake into it. She shivered, and withdrew her arm from the circle of his hand. “Sorry,” he murmured. “That wasn’t appropriate.” “No – it was! It’s just…I don’t even know your name!” she blurted. “I thought you were enjoying that,” he whispered, his eyes drinking in the outline of her face in the darkness. “An encounter with a stranger on a beach. The mystery. The romance.” She felt known. This was so erotic she could feel the pulsing between her legs but she knew nothing about this guy. She wasn’t getting any danger signals from him but then she rarely did. She was a long way from anyone up here, and it would be so easy for this guy to take advantage of that. She gave a little shudder. “Oh – you’re cold.” He took off his jacket and placed it around her shoulders. It felt warm and it smelled of him. It was a good smell; leather and aftershave and something earthy and nice. She snuggled down into it. “Would you let me do it again?” he asked, his fingers tiptoeing up her wrist. “I won’t if you don’t want.” “I…” Her throat felt dry, and her body was shaking at his touch. She loved the feel of his fingers on her skin…she wanted this so much. “Okay,” she whispered. His fingers moved slowly, taking their time, and then he had circled her wrist again, and was pressing down, just gently. “You like being tied?” he asked softly. “You like how that feels? Unable to move, or resist?” “Yes,” she moaned. Bondage was one of her favourite things in the entire world. She loved the sensation of it and often tried to recreate it in her clothing, in the little wrist cuffs she wore, the studded rings, necklaces and bracelets, and the tight boots. “I love it too. I love how it feels to tie a sub down. I love the look of trust in her eyes and the smell of the leather cuffs on her wrists. I love the feel of her, all wriggly and powerless beneath me.” His fingers stroked her wrist gently and she squirmed, imagining it, wondering how it would feel to be at this man’s mercy. His fingers seemed so gentle. Surely these fingers wouldn’t hurt her? “I love how it feels to undress her, with her hands tied behind her back so she can’t stop me. I love how it feels to unbutton her blouse, undo her bra, and release her beautiful breasts.” Abby gazed at him, completely enraptured. He reached out and brushed a stray strand of hair away from her face. “I’ll stroke those breasts, gently, and then play with them awhile. I’ll take one of her nipples into my mouth and suck it hard while she cries out, arms restrained, completely at my mercy.” Abby made a little moaning sound in the back of her throat. “I’ll strip her slowly, peel off her clothing layer by layer, until she’s only wearing her panties. Then I’ll take my knife and cut those off her body.” Abby’s eyes grew round as saucers. “Knife?” she whispered, suddenly scared again. “Yes.” He nodded. “I’ll cut them off her and then take her to bed and tie her wrist cuffs to the headboard. I’ll fasten cuffs on each of her ankles and then open her legs wide and tie the cuffs to the footboard, so far apart that she’s staked out, unable to move.” The words ‘staked out’ rang alarm bells for her, but he was smiling and his eyes were still kind. “Then I’ll lie between her thighs and drink from her until she’s screaming with pleasure, but I won’t let her come. She’ll hold on because she knows I’ll only let her come when I’m inside her.” His fingers were now making spidery movements up and down her wrists, beating out the rhythm of her heart on her skin. “You really are very beautiful you know,” he said. “And you’re right about the piercings. You’d look beautiful pierced. Your breasts are so round and pretty. I’d love to touch them.” “Gibbs…” she whispered. “It’s okay.” His fingers tightened on her wrist. “I wouldn’t. I just want you to know I understand about the piercing. I understand completely. I’ve always thought it would be such a beautiful experience to pierce my own sub, to place such a permanent mark on them, reminding them forever that they are mine. I’d take my time. I’d tie you down first, not because you might struggle but because I want you to be still when I’m doing it so I do it right. And also…because you love being tied.” “Yes,” Abby sighed. “I’d look into your eyes as I do it, and I’d kiss you when you scream and swallow the sound with my lips,” he whispered. “Yes,” Abby sighed again. “Afterwards I’d make love to you, but I’d keep you tied up. I’d cover your body with my own and take you so hard and for so long that you’ll know for sure you’re mine. And all the time you feel me inside you, you’ll feel the cool metal of the jewels in your nipples, and they’ll be me too – placed on you to remind you who you belong to.” “Oh god!” Abby breathed. “That’s it. That’s totally it!” “We wouldn’t have to stop there,” he promised. She gazed at him, open-mouth. “There are other areas of your body I’d like to pierce,” he said. “If you wanted me to that is.” She swallowed hard. “Areas even more intimate,” he whispered, his fingers hard on her wrist now, as tight as any cuff. She was shaking, her clit pounding with desire at the word picture he was painting. “You want to rub yourself don’t you?” he asked, speaking quietly, directly into her ear. “Yes,” she panted. “You can’t,” he said, and the hand on her wrist squeezed warningly. “Only I can say when you can come,” he whispered, his breath warm on the side of her face. “Yes,” she breathed, putting her head back, exposing her throat, gasping for air. “And you can’t. Not yet. Not until I’ve tied you. Not until I’m in you.” If he got out some cuffs right now she’d put her hands in them willingly, she thought. If he wanted to stake her to the ground and take her she’d let him. Gibbs, Gibbs, Gibbs… he was at the back of her mind, warning her of the danger, but she didn’t want to listen. “I want you,” she told him, and he smiled. “I know,” he said. ~*~ Ziva did her job with a kind of grim, joyless determination. She was in no mood to party; her head was still full of her encounter with Teyla earlier in the day. She felt drawn to the Athosian woman and she wasn’t sure why. Maybe it was because Teyla was so obviously a warrior, and the man at her side was so clearly feral – and yet he knelt for her and allowed her to pet him and she knew that he would give his life to protect his mistress, in the blink of an eye. How had Teyla managed to tame such a magnificent sub, she wondered? And how did she manage to keep him, so obedient by her side? She had been going around, asking questions and finding out very little, when Teyla found her. The Athosian warrior was accompanied by another woman, shorter than Ziva, with spiky blonde hair. Her body was lean and toned, and her breasts, Ziva couldn’t help but notice, were firm and round, nestled invitingly within a plain leather warrior’s top. She was wearing hide leggings and knee-length boots, and from her belt there hung a number of weapons. She screamed defiance and challenge from every pore of her body. “Ziva – I have been searching for you. I wish to introduce you to Kahla. She is one of our people,” Teyla said. “Pleased to meet you,” Ziva said, surveying Kahla with a wolfish, predatory look which she took no pains to hide. Kahla gazed back at her distrustfully, but Ziva noticed that the blonde woman was assessing her body openly and insolently in return. It was a challenge, and Ziva felt the heat rise in her body. “Kahla is a submissive,” Teyla said, although Ziva had worked out that much for herself. “You are an Athosian?” Ziva asked. “I was born on Athos. I was captured by the Wraith when I was eighteen. They made me into a runner and hunted me. Teyla found me, and her friends removed the tracking device from me,” Kahla said, her voice hard, her sentences short and flat, her stance angry. “I am not familiar with this – a runner?” Ziva asked. “Ronon was a runner too,” Teyla said gravely. “It is a particularly cruel practice. The Wraith hunted him across many worlds. He was never at peace, and, thanks to the tracker implanted in his back, he could never fully escape them. He lived many years like this. Kahla was a runner for only a year but she did well to survive that long – most runners perish within the first few months.” “They could not catch me,” Kahla spat. “They tried, but I killed dozens of them. It felt good, slicing into wraith bellies with my knife and hearing them scream as they died.” Ziva stared at her, fascinated. This woman was almost as feral as Ronon. She wondered what it would be like to dive into the darkness of Kahla’s soul and subdue her. At least she wouldn’t have to take care of her – this creature’s heart was as black as her own. They could unite together in the darkness. Teyla laid a hand on Ziva’s shoulder. “I will be here if you need me,” she said, and then she moved away, back to where her sub was standing with some Athosians nearby, leaving Ziva alone with this challenging submissive. “What are you?” Kahla asked, in an aggressive tone. “What do you do?” “I used to be an assassin. Now…I investigate military crimes,” Ziva replied. “An assassin? You mean a killer?” Kahla wet her lips with her tongue. “Yes,” Ziva replied. Wasn’t that the truth of it? “And you’re a top?” Kahla asked. Ziva nodded. “The collar is…” “I know. Teyla told me you wear an apprenticeship collar,” Kahla shrugged. “I don’t care about that. You want to fuck? There are tents over there, beyond the fires. Let’s see if you can take me.” Ziva was taken aback by Kahla’s directness, but she knew from the heat in her belly that she definitely wanted a chance to subdue and dominate this dark, feral creature. “I could easily take you,” she hissed. Kahla grinned, her white teeth flashing in the darkness. “We will see,” she replied. “I am supposed to be working. I will speak to Gibbs to see if he will allow it,” Ziva said. Kahla looked disdainful. “I would let nobody tell me who I could fuck,” she growled. “It is his right and my sense of honour to fulfil that right,” Ziva snapped at her. “If you do not wish to wait, then leave. It means nothing to me.” Kahla glared at her, a fiery expression in her grey eyes. “Be quick – or I will find another for the night,” she said. Ziva felt the anger rise in her belly. She longed to take hold of this woman and show her who the top was here. She stalked over to where Gibbs was standing with McGee. “Gibbs – I have been asking questions all evening but have found little of use to us in this investigation,” she told him. “I would now like your permission to take a submissive for the night and leave the gathering.” Gibbs gazed at her, those cool blue eyes sharp and assessing. He glanced over Ziva’s shoulder and she half turned to see him looking at Kahla. She saw his gaze rake over her defiant stare and the weapons she wore around her belt. Then he turned back to Ziva. She did not like the look of – disgust? Or perhaps just resigned disappointment – that she saw in his eyes. It was as if he always wanted something of her but she didn’t know what. She just knew that in this instant she had failed him and she didn’t know why. “I have not taken a sub in months,” she said angrily. “I always ask your permission and…” “It’s fine, Ziva. If that’s what you want, take it,” Gibbs interrupted her. “Come on, McGee – let’s get moving.” He undid McGee’s leash from his belt and snapped it shut around the sub’s collar with a tight flourish. Ziva saw the look in McGee’s beautiful green eyes, and she fought down another wave of anger. McGee’s stupid crush on her was not her responsibility. She had done nothing to encourage it! He was wrong for her, as wrong as could be. Look at him, standing there, so awkward. He was as gentle and naïve as the day he was born and she would annihilate him if she took him as her sub. He had no idea of the depths of her darkness, and he was an idiot if he thought they had anything to give each other. It was his foolish fantasy, not hers. Ziva watched Gibbs hurry McGee away, no doubt to save the sensitive flower from witnessing her taking Kahla off to the tents. She felt even angrier now, and stomped back to the submissive who was still standing a little way off, watching. She grabbed Kahla’s arm, swung her around, put a hand behind her neck, and pulled her in for a fierce, biting kiss. Kahla struggled for a moment, and then responded with an angry hunger that made Ziva want more. She released her from the kiss, fastened her hand tightly around Kahla’s wrist, and then pulled her away from the gathering, past the fires, towards the tents. It was cooler out here, a gentle breeze blowing through the trees. Various couples had staggered over here, nearly making it to the tents before getting sidetracked along the way. Ziva almost tripped over one pair who were lying on the grass, kissing, oblivious to everyone around them. “Get a fucking tent!” Kahla screamed at them, stepping over them. Ziva heard the sound of leather biting into flesh, and the little whimpers of a sub being whipped. In the distance she saw a woman, her naked body pressed against a tree, hands clenching and unclenching as a top whipped her. It was raw and basic, and Ziva stood there for a moment, gazing at the scene hungrily. “That’s hot,” Kahla said, and she put a hand around Ziva’s waist and pulled her in for another rough kiss. It was hot. It also looked kind of brutal from where Ziva was standing, but the submissive was not bound and she was clearly enjoying the whipping. The top was very controlled, taking care where he laid his strokes, so this wasn’t some kind of drunken misadventure that could go horribly wrong. Her appetite aroused, Ziva allowed Kahla to drag her over to the row of tents. They tried a few before finding an empty one and then Kahla pulled her inside, and pushed her against the canvas wall. Ziva pushed her back, closing her fingers around Kahla’s wrists so tightly as to leave bruises in the absence of cuff marks. Kahla’s grey eyes glowed angrily in the darkness. “You are mine tonight,” Ziva hissed. “I will fuck you the way I want.” “If you can,” Kahla challenged. Ziva made the move without even realising it. She threw Kahla down with a quick flick of her wrist and the blonde landed on her back on the straw mattress on the ground. Ziva jumped on top of her, grabbed her wrists again, and held them above her head. Then she lowered her head and bit Kahla’s neck. Kahla screamed and rose up against her, pulling her wrists free. Her nails found Ziva’s cheek and gouged a long line down it. The pain made Ziva angry, and the heat rose again in her belly. She would subdue this submissive and make her sorry. She slapped Kahla hard across the face. “Submit to me, bitch,” she hissed. Kahla’s eyes glowed with arousal, but she just sat back on her heels and spat in Ziva’s face. Furious, Ziva grabbed Kahla’s top and ripped it open. She found a breast and squeezed, hard. Kahla cried out, and fell back down on the mattress. Ziva straddled her. “Submit,” she said again, holding Kahla down while she took one of her breasts in her mouth and bit down again. Kahla screamed while Ziva marked her with her teeth, and her body wriggled satisfyingly beneath Ziva’s harsh caress. “Fuck you! FUCK YOU!” Kahla yelled, but Ziva noticed that she had opened her legs and the smell of her arousal was heavy and intoxicating. “No. I will fuck you,” Ziva said, moving her hand down and tearing open Kahla’s pants. She overpowered the smaller woman, tearing her clothes off her, wanting her naked. Kahla wriggled, struggling against her, but then Ziva found her clit, warm and pounding, and Kahla stilled, a strangled cry dying in her throat. “You like this, don’t you?” Ziva said, working Kahla’s clit with expert fingers. “Beg me, submissive. Beg me.” Kahla’s eyes were hazy with want, and she lifted her crotch to meet the harsh strokes from Ziva’s fingers. Ziva grinned down at her. “You will beg me or I will not make you come.” Kahla’s hands came up, tearing at Ziva’s clothes, and Ziva moved her arms to help. Her silver top was thrown onto the ground beside them, and her pants opened enough that Kahla could slip her hand down the back of them. She gripped Ziva’s ass hard, sinking in her nails. Ziva cried out, but the pain just made her arousal stronger. She bent forward and took one of those hard round breasts in her mouth again, found the nipple, and sucked down viciously. Kahla convulsed, and her fingers found Ziva’s back and scratched a long line of fire down it. Ziva kept sucking and at the same time moved her fingers rapidly, rubbing Kahla’s clit hard. She took her just to the edge of orgasm and then stopped. Kahla gazed up at her, her eyes sex-stupid. “No,” she whimpered. “More…please…” “Later. First you will serve me,” Ziva said. She got up and undressed fully, and then lowered herself down on Kahla’s mouth. She held the blonde’s head down beneath her while Kahla’s tongue moved up eagerly to lick her burning clit. Ziva moved up and down over that hungry, wet mouth for several minutes until she reached her climax, feeling the sticky heat of her own come dripping down her leg. She stayed there for a long time, panting, making Kahla drink her come, and then she released her. “Now, beg me,” she said, returning to her former position, one finger on Kahla’s clit, one hand on Kahla’s breast, rubbing hard. “No!” Kahla hissed. Ziva squeezed her nipple brutally and Kahla thrashed around beneath her. “I beg you!” she cried out. “Please, please, please…” Ziva released the nipple, only to take hold of it again in an even more brutal grip. She pinched it even harder and Kahla convulsed, whimpering loudly. “Who is your top tonight?” Ziva demanded. “You!” Kahla screamed. “Good girl.” Ziva bent her head and stole another savage kiss from Kahla’s bruised lips, rubbing hard on her clit as she did so. Kahla was panting just as hard, and then Ziva felt the warm rush of her come on her fingers. She sat there for a moment, atop her conquered sub, feeling the heat of the battle leave her. All around her was darkness, and her body ached. She got off Kahla and threw herself down on the mattress beside her. It was always the same – first the intense, dizzying heat of sexual desire, and then the darkness and that numb feeling inside – and then, in the morning… Ziva turned her back on Kahla and drew her knees up to her chest, closing her eyes. The morning would have to take care of itself. ~*~ Gibbs pulled McGee away from Ziva without a second glance. He knew the young probie wouldn’t say anything, but he also knew he was hurting right now and it was best to remove him from the situation. “Where’s Abby?” he asked, glancing around to get a bearing on where his subs were. They could all take care of themselves except for her. He was acutely aware that she wasn’t a trained field agent – and she did have a propensity for getting into trouble. “I don’t know, boss,” McGee said, surveying the gathering. “I’m sure she’s fine. She’s probably with Tony.” “No – Tony’s over there,” Gibbs said, pointing. He set off at a fast walk for where Tony was holding court with a group of five Athosian tops, most of whom were looking dazzled by his wayward sub, and all of whom, he suspected, hoped they’d get a chance to tie Tony to their bedposts this evening. Gibbs’s stomach tightened at the thought. “DiNozzo,” he rapped out, as soon as they were within hearing distance. Tony didn’t hesitate, and was by his side within seconds, alerted by the tone of his voice. “What is it, boss?” “We can’t find Abby. Have you seen her?” “Not for some time. She was over there last time I saw her.” Tony pointed to the side of the beach, and Gibbs could just about make out a sandy path disappearing up the side of a hill and into darkness. “When was that?” Gibbs asked. “An hour or so ago – maybe more,” Tony replied. “Damn it.” Gibbs dropped McGee’s leash and made for the path at a run. He should have kept more of an eye out for where she was. He’d specifically told her not to go far. Abby was so special to him, and he loved her so much – they all did. They couldn’t lose her. Now that bad feeling in his gut was getting worse, and he stopped for a moment, taking some deep breaths, looking around. McGee and DiNozzo were right behind him, and they all surveyed the gathering from the vantage point of the side of the hill. “I don’t see her,” McGee said. The crowd had thinned out considerably, as many people had left to go to the tents; Abby was distinctive – it was quite clear she wasn’t there. “We have to find her,” Gibbs said tersely. “There’s a serial killer on the loose somewhere out here, and we all know that he or she preys on subs.” “Surely Abby wouldn’t just go with someone that easily, would she?” McGee asked. “Abby’s lonely,” Tony said. “And that makes her vulnerable right now. I’ve been getting this weird vibe off her for the past few months.” Gibbs felt a jolt of surprise at that – Tony acted out so often that sometimes he forgot what a skilled investigator he was. Nothing ever passed him by – he noticed everything and filed it away in his brain in case it was ever needed. “Is there someone up there?” McGee asked, peering up above them. Gibbs took off at a run. In his mind’s eye he could see Abby staked out naked on the ground, her throat cut and her internal organs lying neatly beside her dead body, butchered, the way those marines had been butchered. He reached the top of the incline and found himself on a grassy verge…and that was when he saw her. She was sitting next to a stranger – a stranger who had his hands around Abby’s wrists, his eyes intent upon her face… Gibbs was there in seconds. He pulled Abby up and away, hauling her to her feet, ignoring her yelp of surprise, and placed his body between her and the stranger. “Who the hell are you, and why were you touching my sub?” he growled. The other man scrambled to his feet and Gibbs could see in the moonlight that he was wearing a military uniform. Gibbs knew immediately that the man was a top. He always knew a person’s orientation without needing to ask. He had thought, when he was a child, that everyone could but he had come to realise that in fact it was a rare gift. Sometimes it was clear from the clothes people wore, or from even more obvious clues like the presence of a collar or a marriage belt, but often it was impossible to tell just from looking – unless you were Gibbs, and just *knew*. The strange top stood up straight, and gave Gibbs a firm salute. “I’m sorry, sir. I was just keeping her company. She seemed a little lost and alone – I wanted to take care of her, keep her safe. There’s a killer around at the moment and I was concerned for her. I didn’t want to scare her so I thought I’d sit and talk to her. But you’re right, sir – it was wrong of me to touch her without your permission. My apologies. She was cold and I wanted to keep her warm and, well, one thing led to another. My fault, not hers. Please don’t punish her for it.” Gibbs gazed at the man suspiciously, but now that he had calmed down he could see that the strange top looked normal enough. In fact, he had kind eyes, and he seemed polite and respectful. “Please, Gibbs…it’s okay,” Abby said, pulling on his arm to get his attention. “He’s really, really nice. He didn’t hurt me. He was just being kind.” Gibbs released a long breath and then inhaled again, taking a gulp of air, trying to calm down. Tony and McGee had arrived and were standing behind the stranger, at the ready, awaiting Gibbs’s orders. “Do you have a name, boy?” Gibbs asked. “Yes, sir.” The man nodded. “I’m John Sheppard’s deputy on Atlantis, sir. My name is Evan Lorne. Lieutenant-Colonel Evan Lorne.” ~*~ Ducky closed his eyes and opened them again, but the words on the page were still blurred. He took off his spectacles and rubbed his eyes but the tiredness remained. He sighed, and glanced at his watch; it was nearly midnight. “I suppose I’ve done enough for the night,” he murmured. The answer was in here, somewhere, if only he could find it, but he knew from many years’ experience that he’d get nowhere by staring at an autopsy report until he fell asleep over it. The others hadn’t yet returned and he felt like taking a walk. This city really was remarkable – the architecture alone was astonishing. He could also do with a nice cup of tea. Ducky decided to walk down to the cafeteria he had visited earlier in the day. “I hope I can remember the way,” he said to himself. “And I wonder if they’re open at this time of night? Ah well, I can at least go and find out!” He found his way easily enough, and the room, with its beautiful view over the sea, was open. There were no staff – just jugs of hot water and percolating coffee, and an array of snacks. He helped himself to some hot water and a tea bag, and then glanced around – and saw, sitting in the corner reading, the somewhat stiff and uncomfortable figure of Woolsey, dressed impeccably in a suit and tie. “Ah – I see I am not the only one burning the midnight oil,” Ducky said, going over to him. “May I join you, Mr Woolsey?” “By all means.” Woolsey waved to the seat in front of him. “Although actually I was just about to retire for a nightcap – would you like to join me for some fine Scottish whisky, Dr Mallard?” “Ah – those words are music to my ears,” Ducky said. “And it sounds infinitely preferable to tea!” Woolsey beamed at him and got up. Ducky left the cup of tea on the table and followed the base commander. “So – why the suit and tie?” Ducky asked as they walked. “This? Oh…I went to the party on the mainland earlier. I’m quite new in this command position and I felt I should show my face, that kind of thing,” Woolsey said. Ducky couldn’t help thinking that Woolsey would have stood out like a sore thumb dressed in the rather formal suit he was wearing. “I didn’t stay long,” Woolsey said. “Why ever not?” Ducky asked. “It sounded like enormous fun.” “Yes. Well…to be perfectly honest, I’m not terribly comfortable at social events,” Woolsey told him. Ducky could imagine that was the case. The poor man looked as if he had trouble fitting in anywhere – which was a shame, as he was clearly an educated man and a highly competent administrator. He just lacked confidence in his social skills and Ducky suspected there was a reason for that. They reached the door to his quarters and he waved his hand at the door lock and then gestured Ducky inside when it opened. Ducky stepped into the most orderly set of quarters he’d ever seen. Nothing was out of place – even Woolsey’s slippers were laid out with military precision beside the bed. There were several books on shelves; Ducky read the titles while Woolsey fixed them both a drink. “That’s quite a collection you’ve got here,” Ducky said. “All the classics of course – but these are the ones that interest me most, Mr Woolsey – the entire collection of Ian Fleming’s James Bond novels?” He picked up one of the novels and held it up, with a raised eyebrow. “And somewhat well thumbed too, by the looks of it.” “I love them,” Woolsey confessed, looking slightly shame-faced. “I’ve read them so many times that I practically have them memorised.” “Ah,” Ducky said, accepting his glass of whisky and taking the seat he was being offered. “I think, Mr Woolsey, that beneath that very neatly ordered exterior there lurks the heart of an adventurer!” Woolsey blushed, looking flustered. “Oh, I don’t think so…well, I suppose I did end up here, in a completely different galaxy, but no, really…” Ducky gave a gentle chuckle. This man really was delightful and he had no idea just how delightful he was. “Don’t worry. Your secret is safe with me,” he said, tapping the side of his nose. Woolsey gave a bashful smile, sat down opposite him, and leaned back, swirling his drink around in his glass. “Cheers,” Ducky said, raising his glass. “Bottoms up!” Woolsey said, and then he looked unbearably embarrassed. “Uh, that is…” “It’s fine,” Ducky chuckled. “I’m all in favour of upturned bottoms! My, this is fine stuff,” he said, taking a sip. Woolsey glowed visibly. “So you haven’t been here long?” Ducky queried, making polite conversation. “No – just a few months – it was all a bit unexpected really. I wouldn’t have come if I’d still been with Jane, obviously, but the divorce all happened rather suddenly and then I just thought – there’s nothing left for me here, perhaps I should try something new. I mean, if we’d been married Jane wouldn’t have come – she wouldn’t have liked this at all. But she even got custody of my dog – well, I suppose he was our dog, but I used to look after him, take him for walks, feed him. Still, she wasn’t to be argued with on the subject and I suppose I gave in. I always did give in to her.” He looked suddenly very sad. “My dear fellow…” Ducky began, wondering how his innocent attempt to make polite conversation had led to such a startling outpouring. He felt rather sorry for the poor man – clearly he had been very badly hurt, and the wounds were both deep and recent. “No…I’m sorry. I’m going on far too much. It’s just…I couldn’t sleep which is why I went to the cafeteria but nobody was there and I haven’t really, to be honest, made any friends here. Well, of course it’s difficult when you’re in a command position, and I don’t find it easy anyway, but even so, I replaced a very popular commander and I’ve locked horns a few times with General Sheppard who is one of those tops I find quite intimidating and…oh dear, I really shouldn’t be telling you all this.” “It’s okay,” Ducky said gently. Woolsey looked up, blinking, looking for all the world as if nobody had ever been kind to him in his entire life. “My dear boy, it really is okay,” Ducky said firmly. “You can tell me anything you like – it will go no further than this room. As for making friends – I very much hope that you will consider me one.” Woolsey blinked again, and then gave a rather shy little smile. “Thank you,” he said. “I would like that very much.” ~*~ Abby sat in the second row of seats in the puddle jumper, gazing at Evan Lorne’s hair, where it sat, flat, on the nape of his neck. It was nice hair and she longed to touch it. Evan Lorne. She played the name over and over again in her head. Lieutenant-Colonel Evan Lorne… she felt a surge of pride over his title – clearly her stranger from the beach was very good at his job. She could believe that. She had liked his air of easy but easy-going authority right from the start. Then her gaze fell on Gibbs, sitting beside Lorne, his mouth set in a grim line. She heard his words to her from earlier in the evening, echoing around in her head. “Abby – don’t go far. You’re not as experienced in these situations as the others…” She’d disobeyed him and caused him anxiety; so much so that he’d had to come looking for her. She didn’t think there was any way she’d be going to bed without a sore, well spanked bottom this evening. She hated the thought of Gibbs having to spank her; she was always such a good sub – she wasn’t like Tony who got into trouble on an almost daily basis. Besides, Gibbs’s spankings really *hurt*. Aware of Gibbs’s mood, nobody said anything as they flew back to the city. Abby loved the way Lorne’s hands moved across the control panel as they flew. They were such nice hands; firm but artistic. They reached the city, landed, and got up to leave the jumper, but Lorne placed a hand on Gibbs’s arm, stopping him. “Sir, I realise this might not be the appropriate time to ask, but…I’ve taken a real shine to Abby, and, if she’s in agreement, I’d like to ask your permission to see her again. Perhaps take her on a date?” Gibbs glowered at him and Abby bit on her lip, but Lorne seemed undaunted. Her heart gave a little zing – he’d taken a shine to her? And he was willing to stand up to Gibbs-in-a-bad-mood in order to see her again? Gibbs glanced at her. “Well, Abby?” he asked. “Yes please!” she said, with a big, wide grin at Lorne. “Very well, Lieutenant-Colonel Lorne. You can present yourself to me tomorrow in my quarters and we’ll discuss it. I’m not making any promises at this stage but I’ll consider it,” Gibbs said tersely. He turned away again but Lorne stopped him. “Sir,” he said. “Yes?” Gibbs growled, turning back – and looking extremely annoyed at being called back a second time. Lorne stood his ground. “I meant what I said earlier. Please don’t punish Abby. She didn’t mean anything,” Lorne said, and Abby’s heart did a flip of pure joy. “I told her not to go far and she disobeyed me, putting herself in jeopardy in the process. She was just lucky it was you she met on that hillside tonight and not someone else, Colonel,” Gibbs said tersely. Lorne nodded. “I understand,” he said. “I know she did wrong but she does too, don’t you, Abby?” She liked the way he said her name. She nodded, eagerly. “I’m really sorry, Gibbs,” she said contritely, adding, in her head, please don’t spank me! and crossing her fingers behind her back. Her top turned to her, a stern look in those usually benign – towards her at least – blue eyes. “Abby, how am I going to keep you safe if you won’t remember stuff like this?” he told her. “If a spanking helps drive the message home then I’ll do it. I’d rather you were crying over my knee than dead in a ditch somewhere. Can you imagine how I’d feel – how any of us would feel – if it was your body lying on a slab for Ducky to autopsy? Seriously? Can you?” Abby had a sudden glimpse of just how worried he’d been, and her throat constricted. “You’re right,” she said, with a firm nod. “Thank you, Evan but I think I deserve whatever Gibbs wants to hand out.” “Oh for god’s sake.” Gibbs rolled his eyes. “You are impossible, young lady,” he told her, putting his arms around her and pulling her close, then kissing the top of her head. She saw him glancing at Evan over her head, and then at Tony, both of whom were giving him hopeful looks. Nobody would interfere with a top’s right to discipline his collared submissive, especially not after the stunt she’d pulled earlier this evening, but both Tony and Evan seemed to be willing Gibbs not to spank her. McGee just looked petrified, both by Gibbs’s bad mood and by the prospect of Abby being spanked. She thought that if Gibbs did spank her then McGee might just fade away in terror at being in the vicinity. “Okay,” Gibbs said, finally, with a sigh. “You get this one for free, Abby – but if anything like this happens again you’ll be over my knees so fast you won’t even know about it until you’re staring at the carpet. Understood?” Abby grinned and kissed him. “Yes, Gibbs! And I promise I won’t do anything like this again!” She felt a little starburst of happiness explode inside; she’d met a wonderful top and Gibbs wasn’t mad with her any more – all was right in her world. ~*~ John Sheppard paused in the doorway to Rodney’s lab and gazed at his husband for a couple of minutes. He always loved watching Rodney work, especially when Rodney didn’t know he was being watched. His sub’s beautiful hands, always restless, moved at 100mph as he typed, drank coffee, wrote up an equation on his whiteboard, and reset three different machines – all seemingly at the same time. Rodney was dressed for an evening out in tight black chinos that showed off his fine round ass perfectly, and a bright blue shirt that brought out the colour of his eyes. He even wore a smudge of eyeliner and John loved seeing Rodney in eyeliner. “Hey,” he said at last, having drunk his fill of watching his beloved sub. Rodney jumped and then swung around, startled at being interrupted in his thoughts. He was completely alone in the lab and had obviously been lost in his own little world. “Oh, it’s you,” he huffed, seeing John. He turned his back deliberately on his top and bent over his experiment – which didn’t have the desired effect of giving John the cold shoulder, offering, as it did, a fantastic view of Rodney’s firm bottom. “Still annoyed with me?” John said, coming into the room and leaving the big box he’d brought with him on the desk by the door. “It’s the Athosian Festival of Deliverance!” Rodney lamented. “It’s the best festival in the Athosian calendar – the one with all the really good food and not the crap one with all the oatmeal where they mourn the dead and sing gloomy songs all night. I can’t believe you wouldn’t let us go. I got all dressed up especially too.” “You could have gone, Rodney,” John pointed out. “Not without you. You do all the cool socialising and it’s no fun eating when I’m not sharing your plate. Besides, it was at Collar Bay and we could have…you know…” “Re-lived your collaring?” John raised an eyebrow. “We do that every year on its anniversary, Rodney.” “I know! But still! You know how much I love that place and we don’t go there that often considering it’s only a short jumper ride away and you are a bloody pilot!” Rodney moaned. John stood behind him and ran his hands over Rodney’s lush ass where he was bent over his work. “And it’s no use thinking that fondling me will get you anywhere!” Rodney said. “Really?” John squeezed Rodney’s buttocks gently and Rodney bit back a low moan. “No!” he said, standing up and depriving John of the easy target. “You gonna refuse me my rights, Rodney?” John asked, wrapping his arms around his husband’s waist and nibbling on Rodney’s ear. Rodney sighed and melted back against him. “Well obviously not, no,” he replied. “But I want you to know I’m very, very annoyed with you.” “Did you eat anything tonight?” John asked, his hands sliding up to caress Rodney’s nipples into firm points through his shirt. “When all that was on offer in the cafeteria was cardboard sandwiches because they hadn’t bothered to cook knowing that everyone was going to be feasting on the mainland tonight?” Rodney ranted. “No! I didn’t! I decided I wasn’t hungry and I’m never not hungry so that’s all your fault too.” “Okay. So if you’re not hungry you won’t want this big box of food I had Lorne bring back from the feast on one of his ferrying trips,” John said. “No I’m not…whaaat?!” Rodney turned and looked at him. John grinned, and kissed his sub’s surprised mouth. “You can thank me later. On your knees, with your mouth,” he said. “Because this deserves a truly spectacular blow job.” He went and retrieved the box, placed it on a spare desk, and began unpacking the contents. “Oh my god! Oh my god!” Rodney hopped around the desk like a demented squirrel. “You are the best top in the world.” “Yes I am,” John agreed. Rodney gathered him into a hug and gave him a big sloppy kiss and then went back to hopping around the table, surveying the contents of the box. There were many different kinds of Athosian delicacies, one big plate and a set of cutlery. John piled the food high on the plate and took a bite, savouring it. Rodney stared at him, a look of intense longing on his face as he surveyed his top eating. John piled up the fork again and then took another mouthful. Rodney’s face fell. “You’re not going to feed me?” he asked, so crestfallen that it was all John could do not to laugh. “I thought you were very, very annoyed with me,” John said. “Eating when you’re that annoyed will give you indigestion.” “JOHN!” Rodney yelled. John grinned, and then relented. “Okay – on your knees beside me and worship appropriately at my feet and I’ll consider it.” Rodney shot him a dirty look but John thought it had been awhile since he’d really taken Rodney down. They had so much fun together that he often forgot to really ground Rodney, and his brilliant, irascible sub sometimes needed that. Maybe he sometimes needed even *more* than that, John thought to himself, uneasily, but he pushed that thought aside. Rodney got to his knees beside him and settled there, lifting his face up like an innocent cherub, gazing hopefully at the food. John filled a fork full of Rodney’s favourite delicacy and held it out to his sub; Rodney took it in his mouth like it was ambrosia. “Good boy,” John murmured approvingly, and Rodney nuzzled his knee affectionately as he chewed. “Oh god this stuff is good!” Rodney said after he swallowed. John fed him for some time, loving the little humming sounds of pleasure that his sub was making as he enjoyed the meal. John took a few mouthfuls himself, but he wasn’t really that bothered. That bad feeling in his gut was still there; something wasn’t right and he wasn’t sure what. He’d kept in touch with Gibbs every hour, and he’d kept a strict rota of where all his marines were, which had been hard given that everyone was coming and going all night. He’d drummed into them, in several briefings, that they were not to take any risks, or accept a one night stand from any unfamiliar partners, however good-looking and charismatically toppy he or she might be. He didn’t know what more he could have done and he was exhausted by the night’s work as he’d been rushing back and forth, here and there, for the past few hours. “You okay?” Rodney asked, and John realised he’d let out a loud, heartfelt sigh. “Just…worried,” John murmured. “I knew it! It’s those bloody NCIS agents, poking around, asking dumb questions,” Rodney fumed. “As if this is THEIR command and not yours.” “Rodney – that’s not why I’m worried,” John told him, shaking his head. Rodney’s loyalty was flattering, if a little over-zealous in this instance. “I’m worried because it’s been over a month since the last murder and we’re due another one. Tonight has been chaotic, lots of people coming and going. It would be the perfect opportunity for our killer to strike again. I suppose I could have told the Athosians to cancel the ceremony, or forbidden anyone from the base from attending it, but our people work hard and this is one of those great nights that everyone loves. I didn’t want to be heavy-handed about it but I can’t help wondering if I’ve done the right thing.” “I’m sure you have,” Rodney said firmly. “You always do.” “Anyway, I thought you liked Abby,” John said, changing the subject because worrying wasn’t going to be any help. “You raved about her earlier. So they’re not ALL bad.” “No, she was nice. Gibbs scares me though and I don’t like DiNozzo at all,” Rodney said. “I can’t figure out Gibbs. You say Abby told you he’s not sleeping with any of them?” John shook his head. “They’re a nice-looking bunch of subs. You’d think he could at least have some fun with them.” “The way you had fun with a bunch of different subs before you collared me?” Rodney asked, a glint of mischief in his eye. “Maybe not everyone likes to play the field so vigorously, General Tightpants.” “If you remember I was celibate for a whole year before I met you,” John told him reprovingly. “So maybe Gibbs is celibate too – for whatever reason,” Rodney shrugged. John nodded absently, one hand tangled in Rodney’s hair where he was kneeling beside him. He worried away at his bottom lip with his teeth, wishing he could shift that anxious feeling in his gut. “I think…I’m just going to do the rounds one more time,” he murmured. “Check on my marines, make sure everyone is okay.” “What about the truly spectacular blowjob?” Rodney said, leaning forward and nudging at John’s crotch with his nose. “It can wait,” John sighed. He reached down, took hold of Rodney’s head, and bestowed a deep kiss on his mouth. Then he got up and walked towards the door. He hesitated in the doorway, and glanced back at Rodney. “You gonna be okay here on your own?” he asked, that anxious feeling flaring in the pit of his belly at the thought of anything happening to Rodney. “I’ll be fine.” Rodney rolled his eyes. “This is my lab, John. Nobody is going to hurt me in here. Although, if it’ll make you feel better I’ll lock the door when you leave and I won’t let anyone in unless I know them.” “That would make me feel better, yes,” John told him. “Seriously? I thought it was overkill myself,” Rodney said, coming over to the door all the same. “John?” He put his arm around John’s waist and pulled him close, holding him tight. John felt the kaeira energy flow between them as Rodney sent waves of reassurance his way through the lifebond they shared. “You sure you’re okay?” Rodney asked softly. “Just, I’ve never known you turn down a truly spectacular blowjob before.” John gave his sub a wry grin at that. “I know.” He shook his head in amazement. “And yes, I’m fine. But I’ll feel better when we’ve caught whoever is killing my marines.” “Okay.” Rodney kissed him and the kaeira fizzed happily between them. John tore himself away and left the lab – but he stood outside the door and didn’t set off down the hallway until Rodney had locked the door behind him. Rodney was his lifebonded partner, and John loved him more then he’d ever loved anyone in his life. Rodney *was* his life, and the thought of anyone so much as touching Rodney caused a familiar red mist to rise inside him. His protective instinct, when roused, was always fierce and while it was so strong as to send him almost insane where Rodney was concerned, it was also pretty formidable where any of the other people under his protection were concerned as well. Three of his marines had died so far; three people under his command whose bodies he’d had to return to Earth to their folks; three people he had failed to protect. John swung his arm angrily against his thigh and set off at a run back towards the puddle-jumper bay to take a look at the inventories of who had been coming and going all night. He’d catch this bastard. He had to. ~*~ “So, how did it go?” Ducky asked, as his colleagues returned to their suite of rooms, looking perhaps a little dishevelled and worse for wear. “You still up, Duck?” Gibbs asked. “I can never sleep when you lot are off somewhere, potentially doing something dangerous,” Ducky replied. He noticed the hard lines of tension across Gibbs’s shoulders and the set of his mouth. Something had happened; he was glad now that he had waited up for them. Gibbs had told him that he had a bad feeling in his gut about tonight – and Ducky had never yet known Gibbs’s gut to be wrong. “Where’s Ziva?” he asked, anxiously. “She pulled a sub,” Tony said, a leer playing around his extremely mobile lips. “The boss let her go off and play. It’s always one rule for tops and another for subs,” he muttered, but the complaint didn’t pass Gibbs by. “You could have played if you wanted, Tony. All you had to do was ask. That’s what she did,” Gibbs snapped. “No need, boss. I was out there, doing my job, just like you asked,” Tony replied. “No time for anything else – not that there was a shortage of offers.” Gibbs’s eyes flashed, and Ducky could feel the tension in the air. Now he really was worried. Tony usually needled at Gibbs for a reaction and this was no different – it was Gibbs who was behaving differently. He looked as if he was close to breaking point, and Ducky had never known Tony succeed in pushing him that far before. Maybe he was just tired, or maybe the evening had taken its toll on him. It couldn’t be that easy being a dominant with five collared subs to take care of in this strange place, so far from their usual environment. Ducky made a mental note to tell Tony to dial it down a bit while they were here, unless he wanted to spend the rest of their time in the Pegasus galaxy standing instead of sitting, and sleeping on his front at night. “Okay people, go to bed,” Gibbs ordered. “It’s late and I want a full report tomorrow morning. Set your alarms for 09:00. That’ll give you six hours sleep.” “Night Gibbs.” Abby threw her arms around her top and kissed him before going to her room. “Boss. Ducky.” Tim waved his hand in the air and retired to his room. “Sure you don’t want any company in there tonight, boss?” Tony asked, nodding in the direction of Gibbs’s bedroom. “It’s a pretty big bed for one person. You might get lonely.” Gibbs didn’t respond with his usual weary good humour to that. He just shook his head, tersely. “Goodnight, DiNozzo,” he said firmly. Tony stood there for a moment, hands on hips, assessing his boss, and then sighed. “Well okay then. You know where I am if you need me.” He waved his hand nonchalantly in the air and retired to his own room. “Ducky.” Gibbs nodded in Ducky’s direction and then walked stiffly into his own bedroom, shutting the door firmly behind him. Ducky watched him go, noting the tense way he was carrying himself. “Oh no, my dear friend, I don’t think you get off that easily,” he murmured to himself. He made some coffee, ensuring that it was as strong as Gibbs liked it, and then went to his top’s door and let himself in, without knocking – he had no intention of taking no for an answer and he knew that ‘no’ was exactly the answer Gibbs would give if he gave him the opportunity. He found Gibbs standing by the bed, gazing at the contents of the little box in his hands. Gibbs glanced up when he came in, looking as if he was readying himself to be angry, but then the anger faded, and he just looked locked up in himself, tight and vulnerable instead. “Ah. Shannon’s collar,” Ducky murmured, recognising the box. Gibbs carried it wherever he went. Ducky went and looked at the collar over Gibbs’s shoulder. He had seen it before but not so close up. It was plain gold, and there was nothing showy about it but there was an elegance to its simplicity. “Soul meets soul,” Ducky read out the inscription on the inside of the collar. “That’s Shelley isn’t it? ‘Soul meets soul on lover’s lips’? How beautiful.” It was also a little unexpected. He knew that beneath that tough exterior lurked a man who felt things deeply, but he had never known Gibbs to read poetry. “Yeah, I guess – poetry’s not my thing but Shannon loved it,” Gibbs murmured, tracing over the inscription with his finger. “She loved this line in particular – always said I was her soulmate.” Ducky noticed the piece of twisted metal on the collar, where one of the bullets that had killed Gibbs’s first spouse had hit. “Jethro, how long are you going to do this to yourself?” Ducky asked. “She’s been dead for fifteen years. You have to let her go.” “I’ve tried, Ducky,” Gibbs replied. “I’ve even tried getting married again – three times, as you well know.” “Well, that, my dear boy, is because you’re a romantic,” Ducky told him. “And you tried to find with them what you had with her which is why it never worked.” “I know, I know,” Gibbs growled. “And that’s why I have no intention of trying it again. I’m a hard top to be with, Ducky, you know that. I ask a lot – Shannon understood me but my other spouses didn’t. I hurt them, Ducky, because I was always looking for her in them.” “Well, it didn’t help that you only married red-haired women,” Ducky pointed out. “What you had with Shannon was hardly likely to be repeated just by marrying someone who looked like her. What you need is to take a sub for who they are, not who they remind you of.” “No, what I need is never to take a sub in that way again,” Gibbs said firmly. “Oh Jethro,” Ducky sighed. Gibbs shut the box with a snap of his fingers and replaced it back in his luggage. Ducky glanced around the room. “You haven’t unpacked, I see. You should have asked one of your agents to do it for you. I’m not entirely sure what perks you get out of having them wear your collars, Jethro. You certainly exercise few enough rights.” “They get what they need,” Gibbs replied. “Don’t they?” he asked, gazing at Ducky searchingly. Ducky traced a finger over his own collar, and smiled. “Yes, they do,” he murmured. “Ah, Jethro, what is this habit you have of picking up waifs and strays and collaring them to keep them safe?” Gibbs gave a wry smile. “You think I have a rescue complex, Duck?” “Well, it does sometimes appear that way,” Ducky replied with a chuckle. “Oh, I brought you coffee,” he gestured. “At least one of my subs is looking out for me,” Gibbs grunted, sitting down on the side of the bed and taking a sip of the coffee. “What happened tonight, Jethro?” Ducky asked, sitting down on the bed beside Gibbs. “You had a bad feeling in your gut and then you came back all tense like this.” He placed both his hands on Gibbs’s shoulders and found them as solid as rock when he tried to massage them. He persisted anyway, and Gibbs loosened up a little as he worked on him. “I still have a bad feeling,” Gibbs said. “And nothing happened – not really. I had a strange encounter with some kind of Athosian prophetess. Shook me up a bit. She said something about me being blocked…” “Well she’s not far off there,” Ducky murmured, sinking his fingers more firmly into Gibbs’s tense muscles. “Yeah – which makes me worried about the other thing she said. She told me I’d arrived here with five but would go home with only one.” “Ah. Hmmm – and you think she’s referring to us, and now you’re afraid we’ll be killed?” Ducky asked. “I don’t know what to make of it – but you know how I feel about the people under my care and protection, Duck.” Gibbs gave a little groan as Ducky’s fingers found a particularly sore spot. “Yes, I do.” “And then Ziva went off into a typical Ziva deep end so she’ll be hell to sort out when she comes home. And just to make the evening really memorable, Abby ran off with a stranger and we spent half the night looking for her. She was okay when we finally caught up with her, but with my gut feeling, and what that Athosian woman said – I was pretty worried, Ducky, I don’t mind admitting that.” “Ouch.” Ducky grimaced. “That really was very naughty of Abigail. I’ll have a word with her myself tomorrow – unless you’re going to be spanking her to high heaven, in which case I’ll dig out the special ointment, sit beside her and give her a more gentle piece of my mind.” Gibbs grunted. “I allowed myself to be persuaded not to spank her, but she’s just lucky she stumbled across the deputy base commander who took care of her and who specifically asked me not to punish her. Plus, Tony was giving me the puppy dog eyes on her behalf.” “Well, nobody likes to think of Abby being in trouble,” Ducky said. “Yeah. And I admit I hate doing it. She’s such a big kid and has the kindest heart of anyone I ever met,” Gibbs sighed. “Still, she deserved a hard spanking and should have got one.” “I’ll remind her of that point when I speak to her then,” Ducky said, making some inroads into the tension in Gibbs’s shoulders but finding yet more knots underneath. “So what did you get up to, Ducky?” “I went for a walk down to the cafeteria and bumped into Mr. Woolsey. We ended up retiring to his quarters for a nightcap. I got back just an hour or so before you did. He really is a very sweet fellow, hopelessly mixed up of course but delightful with it.” “Yeah. He reminds me a bit of you, Ducky,” Gibbs said, and his hand came up and covered Ducky’s where it was working his shoulder. “Me?” Ducky frowned. Gibbs turned and smiled at him. “You – when I first met you,” he murmured. Ducky felt the familiar stiffness inside at being reminded of how he had once been. “No confidence, babbling a bit too much, worried about saying the wrong thing,” Gibbs said softly. He reached out, and gently touched the side of Ducky’s face. “If I could punch him again for what he did to you I would,” he whispered. Ducky caught Gibbs’s hand in his own, and kissed it. “No need,” he replied. “You have done more than enough for me, Jethro my love.” Gibbs’s blue eyes were shining with an intensity that Ducky knew all too well, and Gibbs’s hands were suddenly firm on his shoulders, pulling him close, and then Gibbs’s lips were hard on his mouth, demanding entrance. Ducky sighed, and surrendered to the kiss, his hands sliding around Gibbs’s solidly muscled body. Damn, but if only this wasn’t always so *good*. But then, with a top like Gibbs it was always going to be good. The man was a virtuoso of a top, both in and out of the bedroom. The kiss was long and deep, slow and comfortable rather than passionate. Ducky could feel the tension in Gibbs’s taut body as he caressed him, and he knew this wasn’t going to help and that one of them had to do the right thing. It took all of his strength to break away from the kiss and put a finger over Gibbs’s mouth as he came back in for a second. “Let’s not do this, Jethro,” he said softly. “Do what, Ducky?” Gibbs murmured throatily, his eyes fixed on Ducky’s mouth. “Comfort sex, Jethro. We promised ourselves we wouldn’t do it again,” Ducky reminded him. “But it works,” Gibbs replied with a wry grin. “At the time. But we both always feel bad about it in the morning. You feel like you’ve taken advantage of me and I feel…well, I do feel kind of used, Jethro.” “Used?” That brought Gibbs up short. “I’d never do that to you, Ducky.” “I know.” Ducky shook his head. “But, all the same…I know you love me, my dear boy, and god knows I love you too, and I *really* love the feel of your expert hands on my body, but we’re not *in* love. We just do this to keep each other company, and alleviate the loneliness, or take the edge off the angst. Whatever it is, it’s selling ourselves short and you know it.” “You’re my sub, Ducky,” Gibbs said, his eyes fixed on the collar Ducky wore around his neck. Ducky laughed. “Oh Jethro, you know I’d never refuse you sex if you wanted to take it as your right – I do wear your collar after all. I’m just reminding you of the pitfalls, my dear boy.” Gibbs gazed at Ducky hungrily for a few seconds, and Ducky felt a tingle of anticipation run through his body. Wrong though it might be, they were both adults and knew what they were doing and he was always ready and willing to have sex with his beloved top. Then, finally, the gleam faded from Gibbs’s eyes and he sat back, with a sigh. “Ah, hell, you know I’d never take sex as a right, Ducky. I just…” “Jethro, the person you really want to take to your bed is lying next door,” Ducky told him. “Go and claim him and you’ll feel so much better.” “No.” Gibbs shook his head. “But why not?” Ducky asked, as infuriated as ever by his pig-headed top. “Because it would mean something, Ducky, and you know it. It wouldn’t just be a night’s fun and back to normal in the morning. It would change everything between me and Tony.” “Because you’re in love with him?” Ducky asked softly. “Yes, damn it! Because I’m in love with him!” Gibbs exploded, and he swung out his hand and sent the coffee cup flying from the nightstand onto the floor, where it shattered, spilling dark brown liquid everywhere. Ducky flinched. “There – you’ve made me say it. You’ve been trying to for long enough!” Gibbs said, and then he winced, and put his hands on Ducky’s shoulders, stroking softly. “You okay?” “No need to apologise, Jethro,” Ducky told him, because that was as close to saying ‘sorry’ as Gibbs was likely to get. “The flinch was a reflex action – I’m not scared of you, even if most of the world is.” “Thank god for that.” Gibbs wrapped his arms around Ducky and held him for a moment. “He’s nothing like Shannon,” Ducky told him gently. “He’s not like any of those women you married who looked just like her, either. In fact, I’d venture to suggest he’s as different from any of them as can be! Why won’t you take a chance, Jethro?” “I don’t want to hurt him and I will, Ducky,” Gibbs replied. “Sooner or later.” “You’ve stopped trusting yourself as a top,” Ducky murmured. He pushed Gibbs back and gazed at him. “Can that be it? Seriously? I mean – you?” It sounded incredible but it was the only thing he could think. “I screwed up three marriages, Ducky. They all complained that I was a hard top to please, that I was demanding, strict, unreasonable, stubborn, obsessed with my work, and a whole lot of other things. That’s three people saying the same thing. No need to screw up Tony’s life too and make him the fourth,” Gibbs told him. “It wouldn’t be like that with Tony,” Ducky reasoned. “Just as it wasn’t like that with Shannon. Tony knows what you’re like and as for strict – the boy is begging for strict for god’s sake! I think he could handle you – those subs you married were more interested in being with a trophy top and earning the envy of other subs than they were really interested in being with you, Leroy Jethro Gibbs, the person. Tony knows you and likes you for what you are. Besides, be honest, Jethro – you didn’t really love any of those subs you married, did you?” Ducky raised an eyebrow. Gibbs thought about that for a moment, and then shook his head. “I thought I did,” he sighed. “But no – I didn’t.” “But you do love Tony and you did love Shannon. I’d venture to suggest that matters more than anything else and that love is the key to whether your relationships succeed or fail. As for what your exes said about you after your divorce – that’s just sour grapes. I suspect that every single one of them married you knowing you didn’t really love them, even if you thought you did, and every single one of them thought they could change you and make you love them. They failed and they were annoyed they failed – that’s why they were so negative about you.” “I *am* a very demanding top, Ducky,” Gibbs said. “You know that. I’ve never given a sub a safe word in my entire life – I know what they can take – I’ve never understood those tops who can’t read their sub’s signals. I like pushing my subs to the edge, taking them to that place they think they can’t reach, making them taste what that’s like. But I demand their absolute trust and absolute submission, Ducky, and there aren’t many subs around who can handle that. They think it’s what they want, but they’re usually too scared to take that final step – and it’s the final step that makes it all worthwhile.” “I know how you like to play, Jethro, and I agree it’s not for the faint-hearted.” Ducky nodded. Gibbs had only ever given him what he could handle when they had played together, but Ducky knew his top had been holding back, out of respect for his past. What Gibbs needed was someone who was as intense a sub as he was a top, and Tony definitely fit the bill. “But from what I understand, Tony is into edge play himself,” Ducky said. “He’s certainly someone who likes to test limits – his own and those of the people around him! The way he pushes you every day proves that if nothing else. There’s something very right about the two of you – you’re an extreme kind of top and he’s an extreme kind of sub. Anyone seeing the two of you sparring the way you do will have seen that – the sparks fly and the chemistry is almost visible. And really, that boy is so desperate for your attention – you should put him out of his misery.” “Oh Tony knows how to pick up willing tops,” Gibbs said, with a wave of his hand. “He’s fine. He’ll find someone else eventually – he’s tumbled into enough tops’ beds to have tried a few out.” Ducky laughed out loud at that. “Oh my dear boy you really have no idea, have you?” he murmured. “What?” Gibbs frowned. “I’ll bet my life on the fact that Tony hasn’t slept with another top since he accepted your collar,” he said. Gibbs stared at him. “Tony’s always asking my permission to sleep with tops he’s picked up,” he refuted. Ducky got up, shaking his head. “He asks to make you jealous, and to goad you into taking him to your bed. He doesn’t go ahead and do the deed though, and he won’t for as long as he wears your collar.” “That’s ridiculous,” Gibbs said, getting up too, looking as if he wanted to go and murder Tony in his bed, or else spank the living daylights out of him. “I collared him five years ago. Are you really trying to tell me that Tony DiNozzo could be celibate for five years? I mean Tony? Seriously?” Ducky gave a little chuckle. “It does seem absurd, doesn’t it? But I told you he’s an extreme kind of sub, Jethro, and he really is.” “Oh come on!” Gibbs snapped. “Apart from anything else, Tony’s a commitment-phobe – everyone knows that. Sure, he wants a few nights in my bed, to try me out, but that’s all – and that’s not what I want. If I take him to my bed I’ll expect him to stay there – for keeps – and that’s not Tony’s style.” “I wouldn’t be so sure about Tony. He’s a man of some complexity beneath that smart-mouthed exterior,” Ducky told him. “He’s undoubtedly been promiscuous in the past but I’ll warrant that none of the tops he played with ever satisfied him. He was looking for the real deal and now he’s found that he won’t play with anyone else.” Gibbs stood there looking completely and utterly shocked. Ducky patted his arm. “Food for thought, dear boy,” he said. “Food for thought.” “It doesn’t change anything,” Gibbs said stubbornly. Ducky smiled, and kissed his top gently on the mouth before walking towards the door. “I think it does, Jethro. If you’ll let it,” he replied. ~*~ Carson stirred in his sleep, and then came to with a start. He lay there for a moment wondering what had woken him. Had he heard a noise or had he been dreaming? He was sure he’d heard something. He sat up and gazed around blearily, and then he saw Steven, lying next to him, his naked, firmly muscled body solid and real in his bed. “Oh thank god,” Carson sighed, feeling a wave of happiness flood through him. He lay down again and took his husband in his arms. Steven stirred. “Okay, Carson?” he mumbled. “Fine,” Carson replied, kissing his husband’s ear. “I just woke up thinking I heard something and then remembered you were here – I’ve been six weeks on my own and I think my mind’s playing tricks on me!” “What time is it?” Steven asked. Carson glanced at the clock on the nightstand. “Quarter to four,” he replied. “Too early,” Steven slurred, and Carson had to agree with that. He ran his hands appreciatively over Steven’s solid flesh. “You want to use me?” Steven asked, moving his legs obligingly. “No, love. I just want to hold you,” Carson whispered. “It’s been so long and I’ve missed this.” “Wuss,” Steven teased. Carson pinched his bottom firmly. “I’m not a wuss – I’m a romantic, and you, my husband, have been without a top for too long. I’m going to have to take you down good and proper tomorrow and drum some respect back into you!” “Promises, promises,” Steven mumbled into his pillow, a grin in his voice. Carson laughed and kissed the back of his submissive’s neck. “I love you,” he murmured. “Love you too,” Steven said, and he wasn’t a man for whom the words had ever come easily so Carson relished hearing it. As he dozed off, he thought he could smell a strange scent in the room, but he was too warm and comfy to move, and, with his arms wrapped tightly around his husband’s beautiful body, he soon fell asleep once more. ~*~ “You still up?” the voice in Rodney’s earpiece asked. Rodney straightened up from where he’d been bending over some machinery and gave a groan as his muscles protested, but he smiled at the sound of his top’s voice all the same. “Yeah. I figured you wouldn’t be coming to bed tonight so I might as well keep working on this,” Rodney replied into his radio. “What time is it anyway?” “Nearly four,” John replied. “Normally I’d come over and order you to bed, but on this occasion…it’s nice being able to check in with you every so often.” “Where are you now?” Rodney asked, perching on the side of one of the desks and stretching out his back cautiously. “My office – but I’ll be going out to the jumper bay again in a minute. They aren’t coming back as regularly now but one still turns up every so often and I’m trying to keep an accurate inventory of who is where,” John replied. “Look, Rodney, you should head to bed soon or you’ll be a wreck tomorrow.” “I like working in the lab on my own,” Rodney said, his mind distractedly going over the problem he’d been working on when John had contacted him. “It gives me time to really think without idiots interrupting me.” “Sorry,” John said wryly. “I didn’t mean you!” Rodney grinned. “I mean the idiots they send me who *call* themselves scientists.” “You do have some say in who you get, Rodney,” John reminded him. “Well, who they are on paper and who they seem to be in person are sometimes two very different things let me assure you! They sent me this guy recently who was so useless I sent him home again the next day and then there was…” Rodney broke off as he heard a sound behind him. “Is that you?” he said, turning to look at the door, fully expecting to see that John had crept up behind him. “Rodney – what is it? Who’s there?” John asked, his voice taut and urgent. “Nobody,” Rodney replied, going over to the door. “I thought I heard someone at the door – maybe someone tried it, realised it was locked and went away again. There’s nobody there now.” He gazed through the little window in the door, just to be sure, but couldn’t see anyone out there. “Are you sure? I’m on my way,” John said, and Rodney could tell by the sound of his voice that he was worried. “It’s fine. Maybe I didn’t hear anything,” Rodney said. “Seriously, John – there’s nobody here. I’m all alone. It’s fine.” “I’m coming anyway,” John told him, as Rodney had known he would. Maybe that wasn’t such a bad thing, he thought to himself. They could both do with a break. ~*~ Ziva opened her eyes and stared sightlessly at a wall of green canvas, wondering where the hell she was. Then she let out a groan as she remembered. She turned and saw Kahla lying naked on the straw mattress beside her. Her wrists were bruised, the imprints of Ziva’s hands livid on her white skin. There were bite marks dotted around her body, scratches on her arms and face, and various bruises everywhere. She looked oddly vulnerable in the faint dawn light. Ziva felt that familiar rush of self-loathing flood through her. Why did she do these things? What possessed her? She was like a demon, embracing her dark side eagerly with a thirst that never seemed to be quenched. Now that the urgent heat of sex was over it repulsed her. She shivered, and realised she was naked too, her own body also covered in scratches and bruises. She could feel the little stings everywhere but she was used to waking up in this kind of state. She lay there, gazing at Kahla’s pale body. The submissive looked smaller than she had last night, and there was something achingly sad about her. What had possessed them both? Why had they wanted to inflict so much pain on each other? She remembered what Teyla had told her about Kahla’s past and felt a pang of sympathy; this woman was damaged, and she hadn’t made anything better for her last night. Ziva reached out a hand and gently stroked Kahla’s shoulder, then pulled her close to cuddle her and keep her warm. “Ow! Fuck!” she yelped a second later, as Kahla fastened her sharp teeth in Ziva’s hand, making her pull it back. Kahla turned to face her. “If you want to fuck me again then fine, but I don’t do cuddling,” she sneered. “Fine. I do not want to fuck you again,” Ziva snapped. “I just wanted to keep you warm.” Kahla gazed at her distrustfully. “Just piss off then if you don’t want to fuck me,” she snapped. “I have clothes to keep me warm – I do not need you.” She pulled her pants and top towards her, and burrowed underneath them. Ziva’s anger was defeated by another wave of sadness. She stood up, quietly got dressed, and then left the tent. Outside, the sun was a faint rosy glow flickering on the horizon. Ziva hadn’t bothered pulling on her boots, and the cool dew made her bare feet wet as she walked across the grass, boots in hand. She knew she must look a mess, her hair loose and tousled, a large scratch on her cheek, and bruises on her neck and forearms. She hated to think what Gibbs would say – although maybe he wouldn’t say anything – the look he gave her would say it all in any case. She found the dimly glowing embers of one of the fires, and there, crouching beside it on a blanket, poking at it with a stick, was Teyla. Ziva frowned. “Have you been here all night?” she asked, surprised. Teyla turned to her, a sad smile on her lips. “It was my choice. I was waiting for you.” “Where is Ronon?” Ziva glanced around. “I sent him away so I could be alone.” Teyla shrugged. “Oh.” Ziva sat down on the blanket and started to pull on her boots. Her hands were shaking and she couldn’t fasten the leather straps around her calf. Smooth fingers took over, and Teyla carefully, gently, fastened them for her. Ziva felt the tears rise hot in her eyes, and she tried to blink them away. Teyla’s hand was warm on her arm, and, finally giving in, Ziva buried her head in the Athosian woman’s shoulder and allowed herself to cry. Teyla said nothing – she simply held her until the tears had cried themselves out, stroking Ziva’s dark hair the entire time, occasionally pressing her lips to Ziva’s head, kissing her gently. Finally Ziva sat up, and gazed glumly into the dying fire. “I am lost,” she admitted. “Yes,” Teyla replied calmly. “You knew that. You set me up with Kahla on purpose last night,” Ziva accused. Teyla nodded. “I gave you what you thought you wanted,” she said. “What is it that you have done that makes you think you do not deserve happiness, Ziva?” Ziva shook her head. “The darkness you seek in others is a mirror of what you feel in yourself,” Teyla said gently. “But I feel that you are good – I do not know why you hate yourself so much.” “I killed my brother,” Ziva blurted. “Well, he was my half-brother. But I loved him and I killed him.” “I am sure there was a good reason for this,” Teyla commented. Ziva nodded. “There was. He had betrayed us and all we stood for. He was a traitor, and he killed many innocent people.” “So you did what you had to do.” “Yes…but I enjoyed it,” Ziva whispered, her throat closing tight on the words. “What kind of person must I be, Teyla? I loved him and I enjoyed killing him. I am a monster.” “So you think that nobody must be allowed to get close or you will enjoy destroying them too?” Teyla asked. “I am a killer – that is who I am,” Ziva told her. “Maybe it is all I can ever be.” “So you seek out others who exist in the dark rather than reach for one who could show you the light?” Teyla’s brown eyes were sympathetic but uncompromising. Ziva was silent, remembering the look in Gibbs’s eyes the previous night, and the spike of sadness in McGee’s. “That is what Gibbs thinks,” she said. “He knows you see – he knows about Ari, my brother. He was there when I shot him. That is the reason he offered me his collar; he is trying to protect me while I figure it out.” “And have you?” Teyla asked. “I do not know.” Ziva shook her head. “We must each of us find who we truly are,” Teyla told her, “or we can never be happy. You are more than this darkness, Ziva, and I do not believe you would hurt a submissive you loved. Maybe, though, you should try finding a sub who can guide you towards the light, rather than always seeking those who would drag you into the dark.” “Kahla…” Ziva began. “Kahla has her own issues,” Teyla interrupted her. “She and I will talk – her story is not yours. And you and she – you are not good for each other, as I think you know.” “Yes.” Ziva sighed. “What happened to her, Teyla?” “I told you she was a runner?” Teyla said. Ziva nodded. “Well, so was her top. They ran together – Kahla’s top was a gentle, artistic woman but no warrior. Kahla kept her safe for three months before they were both captured. Kahla watched as a wraith drained the life from her top, and killed her in front of her eyes. They let Kahla go again because she was so fast and fierce and they enjoyed hunting her but she was changed and no longer cared what happened to her. She killed the wraith with a vengeance that was personal. I can understand this; Ronon feels the same way.” Teyla took hold of her stick again and poked the fire, causing a faint glow of orange to spark within its charcoal depths. “Kahla evaded them for another nine months, and during that time she slowly descended into darkness inside herself. Eventually they caught her again – they were holding her in the belly of a wraith ship when we found her on a mission and I recognised her as one of our people. I brought her home with me but she was changed beyond all recognition. It will take time, and patience, to bring her back from the dark.” “I am sorry.” Ziva wrapped her arms around her knees and rested her chin on them, gazing ahead blankly. “Do not be – just learn,” Teyla said. “Kahla knew what she wanted last night and would have sought it from another if not from you. I am hoping I can speak to her later, as I am speaking to you now.” “What do I do, Teyla?” Ziva asked, in despair. Teyla shook her head. “I cannot tell you. Only you know the answer to that. However, there is one thing I think you must do before you can leave the dark place where you are now.” “What is that?” “Forgive yourself,” Teyla told her gently. “You have killed – as have I. That does not mean that being a killer is who you are. Both our peoples are fighting a war of kinds – you did what you had to, as have I. But you are more than this, Ziva, so much more. Do not let this one act define you. There are, I believe, many around you who see much else in you. Agent Gibbs for one. And Agent McGee as well, I believe,” she added softly. “Tim is just…he is very trusting. Very kind,” Ziva sighed. “He and I – we have nothing in common.” “Sometimes that way works best,” Teyla said, with a smile. “You could let him guide you out of the dark and towards the light. Is it not worth a try?” “I don’t know,” Ziva shrugged. Teyla nodded, and patted her shoulder. “Think on it,” she said. “You will find the right path, in time, if you pursue it with a true, honest heart. Now – I must go and speak with Kahla. If you climb that pathway to the ridge at the top of the hill there are puddle-jumpers ferrying people back to the city. You may have to wait for the next one to return but it should not be long.” Ziva got up. Teyla got up with her, and reached out, placed her forearms on Ziva’s, and pulled her forward. She rested her head, gently, against Ziva’s and Ziva felt a sudden warmth rush through her. She could do this. It would be hard, but she could do it. She didn’t want to spend another night like last night, ever again. “Thank you,” she whispered. Teyla released her, gave her a flash of that beautiful smile, and then she turned and strode in the direction of the tents. ~*~ The noise at the door was deafening. One minute Carson was dozing, quite happily, his arms around his sleeping husband, and the next the door was being hammered by what sounded like an entire army. Carson jumped out of bed and reached for his bathrobe, to find Steven doing the same. “What the hell is going on?” Steven yelled, effortlessly morphing from Carson’s meek submissive into the experienced military commander he was. “I have no idea.” Carson ran for the door and got there at the same time as his husband. He slammed his hand on the lock and the door swished open. Outside was a member of his staff, Ellie Marsh, one of the nurses, her face scrunched up and scared. “Dr Beckett…please…you have to come,” she said, her entire body shaking. “What is it? What’s happened?” Carson demanded, finding his clothes and pulling them on, right there in front of her. “Please…” She looked so scared that he couldn’t think what had happened. “I’m coming too,” Steven said, halfway through pulling on his uniform. “I tried calling you on the radio but there was no reply,” Ellie said, hopping around in the doorway. “And I didn’t know what else to do, or who to call.” At that moment a marine ran down the hallway and arrived, completely out of breath. “Colonel Beckett…you’re needed…” he said. “I’m on my way,” Steven growled, now fully dressed. “…on the Daedalus,” the man finished. “There’s been a fire onboard – we tried calling you but there was no reply on your radio although to be honest there’s nothing you could have done anyway. We got the flames under control and Major McClusky sent me to fetch you in person – they couldn’t spare anyone before now.” Steven glanced at Carson who gazed back at him. “Oh shit. I’m sorry, Steven – I turned off our radios last night.” Carson turned back to Ellie. “Is that where I’m to go? Are there injured people onboard the Daedalus? Where’s Dr Keller? Did she send you?” Ellie looked as if she was about to faint. “I don’t know anything about the Daedalus,” she whispered. “I came because I was just about to start my morning shift and I went into the infirmary and…and…you have to come…” She didn’t say anything more – she just burst into tears. “You – take care of her,” Steven ordered his marine. “Carson you go to the infirmary and see what’s going on there, I’m going to the Daedalus.” He picked up his radio and tapped it on. “General Sheppard – there seems to be some kind of emergency. You’re needed in the infirmary,” he snapped into it, and then he set off at a run. Carson ran off in the opposite direction, wondering what the hell was going on. He ran full pelt into the infirmary but everything looked fine. It was completely empty but they hadn’t had any patients overnight so that wasn’t a surprise. “Dr Keller? Jennifer?” he called, wondering if she was doing triage on the Daedalus and wondering also why he was here. If there had been injuries on his husband’s ship shouldn’t he be there, with Jennifer? The door to the next room was open – the room where he had left Ducky the previous evening, performing his autopsies. Carson walked slowly towards it, feeling his stomach flutter nervously. He had a bad feeling about this… He got to the open door and then frowned; Dr Mallard had left one of the bodies on the table, which didn’t seem very professional of him. They didn’t have any refrigeration facilities on Atlantis but they did have the stasis chambers. Maybe Ducky hadn’t known how they worked and had left the body out for that reason, but Dr Keller had been on hand – he could easily have asked for her help in putting the body back into stasis… “Oh no.” Carson reached the body and had a sickening wrench of recognition. “Oh no. Oh my dear god. Oh no. No, no, no.” ~*~ Gibbs woke from a deep sleep and was aware, almost immediately, of a tight sensation in his gut; something was still wrong. He got up, pulled on his robe and went out into the living area and then stopped. Tony was sitting on the sofa, feet resting on the coffee table, arms stretched out along the sofa’s back, gazing out of the window where the sun had just risen above the horizon. Gibbs was pulled up short – nobody usually got to see Tony in a contemplative mood because Tony wore that smartass mask the whole time, but just occasionally Gibbs had seen a glimpse of a more thoughtful Tony. Right now, he was seeing that Tony and his sub seemed lost in thought. There was something almost defeated about the line of his shoulders and the dull weariness in his eyes – as if he’d been struggling with a problem for a very long time and had almost given up on being able to solve it. Gibbs cleared his throat, feeling as if he was intruding, and Tony glanced up – and the mask was immediately back in place. “Morning, boss.” He made no pains at all to hide the fact that he was checking out how Gibbs looked in his bathrobe and Gibbs was acutely aware of Tony’s hungry gaze stalking him as he walked across the room. “Couldn’t sleep?” Gibbs asked. “Strange planet, strange galaxy, strange people…and something niggling me, boss,” Tony replied. “Feeling in your gut? Me too – just keeps on getting worse,” Gibbs sighed. “Not sure that’s what it is, boss, but…maybe,” Tony shrugged. “Is Ziva back yet?” Gibbs asked, hoping that wasn’t the cause of the tight clenching in his stomach. “About ten minutes ago. You won’t be happy when you see her though, boss.” Gibbs raised an eyebrow, wondering what mischief Tony was brewing. He felt relieved all the same – at least he knew where all his people were now, and he had to admit it felt good to have them all under one roof so he could keep an eye on them. They all had their own apartments back on Earth, and that suited him fine, but here, on this, as Tony had pointed out, ‘strange planet’, he preferred having them all within shouting distance. At that moment there was a loud knock on the door. Gibbs shot Tony a glance – there was an urgency to the sound that didn’t bode well. He ran across the room to open it, Tony at his heels, and found General Sheppard outside, his dark hair standing up on end and his uniform crumpled as if he’d spent the entire night sleeping in it. “You need to come – all of you, but especially Dr Mallard,” he panted. “There’s been another murder.” Gibbs turned to go back to his room and get dressed without saying another word. As he went, he passed Ziva, who had come running out of her room at the noise. He took one look at the long, red, angry-looking scratch down one side of her face, and the dark shadows under her eyes, and knew now what Tony had meant. She had a deep streak of self-destruction in her; he had hoped that collaring her would give her the time and safety to work it out – but as time passed, that hope was starting to fade. He shot her a look and watched her flinch as it hit home. “Later,” was all he said to her, and she nodded, her pale face luminous and haunted in the early morning light. Within minutes, Gibbs and his team were running down the hallway towards the infirmary, chasing after General Sheppard who was tight-lipped, his stride long and his body tense and angry. They reached the infirmary and went through it to the door at the other end. The first thing Gibbs saw when they went into the other room was Carson, standing by a body laid out on the autopsy table. “What the hell has gone on here?” Gibbs asked angrily. “Why did someone move the body? We have to examine the crime scene first – who gave authorisation for the body to be moved here?” “The body wasn’t moved here,” Sheppard said. “This is where Carson found it.” “Nurse Marsh found it,” Carson whispered, and the man looked pale and shocked. Ducky moved forward, confidently, reaching for his latex gloves and pulling them on…but then he reached the body – and stopped short. “Oh no.” He glanced up at Carson. “Oh Carson. I am so sorry. My dear man… but she was just a child. She was so very young.” “Who is it?” Gibbs asked, moving over to the autopsy table. On it was the body of a woman. Her throat had been cut and she had been stripped naked and laid out. Beside her, in little medical trays, were all her internal organs, neatly arranged, weighed and labelled. “It’s Dr Keller,” Carson whispered. “Dr Jennifer Keller. She’s my…she was my deputy. She was on duty last night.” “Okay. This is a crime scene,” Gibbs said. “I need the area cleared,” he informed Sheppard. The general nodded, and wrapped an arm around Carson’s shoulder and led him towards the door, taking the marines he’d stationed in the room with him as he left. “Abby – I need you to set up a lab somewhere nearby,” Gibbs said. “Go ask General Sheppard for an appropriate room. I know you don’t have your normal equipment with you but they have plenty of stuff in this place to stand in for what you normally use so improvise.” Abby nodded and ran for the door. “And the same rules apply here as at home,” Gibbs called after her. “We don’t break the chain of evidence – everything has to be bagged and labelled.” She nodded again and then left. Gibbs turned back to the body to find Tony, Ziva and McGee already going about their usual job, taking photos and examining the crime scene for clues. “Time of death, Ducky?” he asked impatiently. “It’ll be hard to be exact, Jethro,” Ducky chided. “As the killer so thoughtfully removed her liver. But if I were to factor in an approximate cooling time from being outside the body…” He located the liver on one of the trays and got out his thermometer and inserted it. “It’s a little rough and until I’ve done more investigating I can’t be certain, but I would have said around two hours ago at most,” he murmured. “What’s going on?” Tony asked. “Why has the killer changed their MO?” He took a photo and moved around the body. “The other victims were all killed in their quarters weren’t they?” “Yes they were,” McGee said. “And they were tied up and staked out. This one isn’t tied.” He pointed at the corpse. “And the others were all marines,” Ziva said. “Dr Keller was on the medical staff.” “And I’ve found something else,” Ducky murmured. “Dr Keller did not engage willingly in a scene with her killer.” He leaned in close and smelled the area around the corpse’s nose. “Chloroform – or something very like it. She was drugged. In fact…” Ducky got up and looked around. “I’d venture to suggest that she was working on her own out there, in the infirmary, and someone came up behind her and took her by surprise. She probably didn’t know a thing about it.” “Then he dragged her in here…” Tony said, going over to the door and taking a photo of the doorway entrance. “…laid her out on the table, slit her throat, and then performed his own autopsy,” Ducky finished. “The question is – why?” “He is a killer, Ducky,” Ziva said in a cold tone. “Does he need a reason why? Maybe he just did it for the pleasure it gives him. Some people enjoy killing.” Gibbs shot her a sharp glance. “Maybe,” he said. “But this…” He waved his hand at the organs laid out on the neatly labelled trays. “This looks almost like a message.” “You’re right, Jethro,” Ducky said. “The question is – for whom?” “And what, exactly, is the message?” Tony added, taking another photo. “Ducky – you met her,” Gibbs said. “Was she a sub, like the other victims?” “Oh Jethro, I really don’t have your talent for knowing a person’s orientation on sight,” Ducky told him with a shake of his head. “I don’t know what she was. I do know that she was very nice. I was having trouble moving one of the bodies into one of their chamber-pod things – what’s it called? Stasis – that’s it! So I called her in and she showed me how to do it. Bless her. She was very sweet, kind and charming.” “Sounds like a sub to me,” Tony said. “Are you saying that tops are rude and demanding?” Ziva asked, with a raised eyebrow. “If the shoe fits.” Tony grinned at her. “I have known some extremely rude and unpleasant submissives,” Ziva told him. “Careful – you’re talking about the superior half of the dynamic there,” Tony winked. “How do you figure this out?” “Well, just think about it. Submissives are stronger than dominants,” Tony said, snapping a photo of McGee, who made a face at him and pushed him away. Ziva raised an incredulous eyebrow. “Sure we are,” Tony grinned. “How many doms do you know who could take the level of punishment a sub endures on a daily basis?” He shot a look at Gibbs who ignored him. “All those spankings,” Tony murmured, with a cheeky glint in his eye. “Make a top take them and they’d run away screaming. So, I rest my case. Dominants are the weaker half of the dynamic and subs are superior.” “That is nonsense,” Ziva said hotly. “He’s just winding you up, Ziva,” Gibbs told her. “Don’t get sucked in.” “Aw, boss – she’s fun when she’s riled up,” Tony said. He put down the camera and gestured with his head to the door. “Time to do some talking, boss?” “I think so,” Gibbs nodded. “Ziva, McGee – finish with the crime scene and get everything you find to Abby. Tony – I need you to find us an interrogation room.” “On it, boss,” Tony said, scampering after him towards the door. “Agent Gibbs?” Gibbs saw Lorne hovering in the doorway. “I heard the news. I gather Abby is setting up a lab facility? I just saw Rodney and he was talking about lending her some equipment?” “That’s right, yes,” Gibbs said. “Permission to be assigned guard detail on her, sir,” Lorne asked promptly, glancing at General Sheppard for permission and then back at Gibbs. “There’s a killer out there, sir, and I don’t think Abby should be on her own, especially if she’s handling evidence.” “I agree,” Sheppard said. “In fact, I don’t think anyone should be on their own. I’m going to issue a city-wide warning to people to work in pairs and to share rooms at night until we catch whoever did this.” Gibbs gazed at Lorne searchingly, and then glanced at Sheppard. He had a good feeling about Lorne but this was no time to be taking chances with any of his people. “He’s one of my best men, Gibbs,” Sheppard told him. “I’d trust him with my life – no, I’d trust him with *Rodney’s* life and have done on more than one occasion – and I’m sure you know that means a hell of a lot more.” That was reassurance enough for Gibbs. He didn’t know Sheppard very well yet but one thing he was certain of was that the man was head over heels in love with his sub. “Very well – but Lorne.” Gibbs called him back. “Take good care of her because I swear that if anything happens to her…” “I promise, sir,” Lorne told him firmly. “If anyone wants to hurt Abby they’ll have to get past me first.” And with that he strode off. Gibbs took a deep breath and gathered his thoughts, figuring out the priority of all the many things that had to be done next. It was going to be a long day. ~*~