Two Wolves: Illustrations

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Incredible art contributed by fans for Two Wolves                                          

Two Wolves

Beautiful sketches illustrating scenes from the story by Flyonthewall2


Tony isn’t sure what’s about to happen next, but he knows his answer. “I trust you, Gibbs,” he says, without any hesitation.

Gibbs runs a gentle hand through Tony’s hair. “Atta boy, Tony,” he whispers in Tony’s ear.

Then he takes hold of Tony’s hand, grabs the index finger, and, with a sudden unexpected jerk, breaks it. It makes a loud cracking sound, and Tony yowls in pain. He tries to draw his hand away, but Gibbs has it in an iron grip and won’t let go. Instead of releasing him, he breaks Tony’s second finger instead.

The crowd goes wild. They didn’t understand the kissing, or the gentle, face-to-face love-making that was so different from the primal rutting they expected. But this savage climax, after so much disorienting tenderness, is something they do understand.

Gibbs is still fixing him with that steadfast gaze, never once breaking eye contact. Tony nods and clings onto him, one arm wrapped around Gibbs’s body for support as he breaks Tony’s third finger. Tony screams and buries his head in Gibbs’s shoulder.

“Trust me, Tony,” Gibbs says softly – and then he breaks his pinkie.

Gibbs pulls Tony to his feet and slings him over his shoulder. Tony’s heavy, but Gibbs can handle the weight. He shifts to a more comfortable position, then walks towards the holding pen with his head held high…

McGee…he hasn’t heard that name in months and thinking about all the people back at NCIS makes him feel suddenly homesick. Gibbs tries to shove the feeling away, but it’s been a long, shocking day, and he can’t control his emotions as well as he’d like. The feeling persists, all the stronger for Tony being here. He’s having trouble coming to terms with the reality of Tony’s presence in what has been, up until now, his own personal nightmare. It feels so strange.

“How are they all?” Gibbs asks quietly. “Abby…Ducky…all of them?”

“They’re fine. But worried about you. All of them,” Tony repeats firmly. “Nobody gave up on you, Gibbs. Nobody forgot about you.”

Gibbs looks down, struggling as unexpected emotions surface, making a lump rise in his throat.

“Gibbs, you didn’t think we’d forgotten about you, did you?” Tony asks. “You didn’t think we’d walk away and leave you here to rot? That we’d ever just give up on you?”

Gibbs swallows hard. He can’t look up for a long time, but when he does he finds Tony’s eyes gleaming brightly in the semi-darkness.

For one horrible moment he’s afraid Gibbs is crying. Then he realizes there are no tears, but Gibbs is breathing fast, making these little gasping sounds into his neck. Tony wonders if he did the right thing, but then he suddenly understands that Gibbs isn’t upset he’s overwhelmed. The man has suffered months of loneliness and abuse, so for someone to touch him with gentle affection and give him that kind of unselfish release – it’s all too much for him.

Gibbs staggers away from him and then stops in the middle of the pit, unable to take another step.

The gun slips from his nerveless fingers, and he throws his arms up to the skies, to the whirling

helicopters swooping in like angry birds, and to the scurrying storm clouds above.

At that moment the clouds part, revealing the bright full moon hanging in the dark night sky.

This is his moment. He’s beaten the most formidable opponent he’s ever faced and been

triumphant here tonight.

He’s won.

Gibbs sinks to his knees, flings back his head, and howls out his victory to the moon.

He falls off the side of the bed, grabs the mattress, and tugs it onto the floor. Then he hauls it out into the hallway and crams it into the bathroom. It’s a tight fit in the small room, and one side of it squashes up against the tub, but it’ll have to do. He goes back to his bedroom for a pillow and blanket and takes them back to the bathroom.

He’s still wearing the clothes that don’t fit. He doesn’t like how they feel against his skin, all hot and scratchy, as if they don’t belong there. He strips them off and throws them into a heap by the toilet. Then he lies down on the mattress on the floor, pulls the blanket over his head, and falls asleep again.

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