Not So Valentines Day
on the first page of our story
the future seemed so bright
then this thing turned out so evil
i don't know why i'm still surprised...
Tony DiNozzo leaned up from the floor he was currently laying on. The uncarpeted floor felt good on his skin.
His vision drifted over to the chair across the room where his shirt had been tossed haphazardly. The translucent buttons were scattered across the tiles on either side of him, and his shirt was pretty much torn in half. How someone had enough force to not just tear the shirt open on one side, but two, was beyond his range of thinking. It had all happened so fast that he hadn't even been sure how to stop them, or if he could. They'd come storming through so fast, determined to make an example out of him. To who, he wasn't quite sure; he was the one who had fucked up. He'd done this to himself. This was HIS fault.
His eyes fluttered slowly as he tried to blink away the red obstruction clinging to his eyeball. He hurt far too much to move, but he could still hear things smashing and clattering as they searched his condo. He knew if he got up, they'd kill him. He closed his eyes.
Feet connected against his ribs, shoulders, back. He made no move to fight back. They would kill him. Someone kicked him in the head, and then one by one, they drifted slowly out of the house.
Fuck. The word lingered in his mind as he laid on his side, his left arm stretched out under his head. He looked up at the open door to his condo and wondered how long it would take someone passing by to realize that his place was trashed; that he wasn't okay. Yet, that didn't really matter to him. He didn't care who found him. That wasn't the problem.
All he could think about, was the fact that Vance was going to kill him when he found out Tony had blown his cover. He'd been undercover, trying to break a drug ring that was also raping and killing homosexual marines. Vance swore the only reason he sent Tony in was because he fit the description of the marines the alleged attackers were going after, but he knew better than that. He knew it was because Vance suspected he was gay, and if need be, he would go the distance to sleep with one (or all) of the men in the ring to get the information he needed.
The truth was, he was only bisexual; hell, a part of him still loved Jeanne. It hadn't been until he knew he was never going to see her again that he had come to the conclusion that he was never going to see another relationship with another woman. Somehow that thought hadn't depressed him though, because it had phased him when he had a relapse with Y Pestis. Who had been at his bedside, telling him to breathe through the strangling coughs? Gibbs, of course.
Somehow, even in the midst of feeling like he might not survive through the night for many weeks on end, Gibbs had become his confidant, and had been there to rub his back when his whole body hurt too much to even move, let alone breathe. It was on those nights that he had told his boss about how he didn't think he'd ever love anyone again. Gibbs seemed to understand, and they shared stories about their lives with the women they'd loved so dearly.
Then something had changed one night when they were watching Strangers On A Train (Tony's suggestion). He found himself dozing off in the middle of the movie, and had rolled into Gibbs in his slumber. When he awoke the next morning, he was surprised to find himself spooning with his boss. He'd moved away and shrugged it off, figuring Gibbs wouldn't want to talk about what had taken place.
Just like everything else though, he was wrong. Gibbs actually got mad at him for not sticking around to talk about the situation. He told Tony that he had real and genuine feelings for him; that he'd always tried to shrug off how he felt as caring about Tony as a son, but current events had changed that. He said he wanted to actually have some semblance of a relationship with Tony, and would do what ever it took.
And then Vance decided to fuck everything up.
He'd called the team up into his office, after the case had drug on for almost four months, and decided they needed to send someone in under cover. Ziva couldn't do it because she wasn't male, and McGee would have been too easily pointed out in a group of drug addicts. Tony however, had worked in Narcotics in Baltimore, and knew how to sell himself as an addict or dealer if he had to. And he had to.
The first month had gone off without a hitch. The guys he was working with didn't suspect a thing, and he'd stayed away from the drugs. No one even remotely suspected him.
In the second month, another guy joined the drug ring and seemed to be competing with Tony's ploy to become teachers pet with the drug ring's leader. He went back to Gibbs and Vance and demanded they find out if another agency had someone else in on the case. Research turned up nothing.
Two more marines had been killed by Tony's fourth month, and he was no closer to finding out who was doing the murders. He'd done his best to turn in DNA from the guys he was pretending to work with, but they weren't coming up with positive results. He wasn't getting this case solved.
Gibbs wanted to pull him out, but Tony knew it was because they were sleeping together and he didn't want something to happen to him, so he refused. Vance insisted he find a way to solve the case within the next few months, or he was going to pull him out as well.
He was down to the last three weeks, and he was sure he had closed in on the five guys who had done it. He'd gotten DNA on three, which Abby had gotten a positive match back on, and Tony knew the other two men he needed to get DNA on. That was all he had to do. Get a cup that they'd drank out of, or a cigarette they'd smoked, or something with blood or saliva on it. It was that simple.
He was an idiot though. He'd left his phone on because Gibbs had been worried about him having a stupid cold, and one of the guys had known who Gibbs was. He lied to Tony; said he wouldn't tell anyone that he was a cop.
And yet, it was two AM and Tony was lying on the floor of his condo with his entire place trashed. They'd beat the hell out of him, and then as revenge for him trying to put them all in jail, they'd shot him up with every drug they'd had on them. He was pretty sure they'd broken his left wrist, and cut him open in at least a few places with all the vases and other things they'd broken in the process of attacking him.
He wished he could see the clock from where he was laying. Gibbs was supposed to come over after work. He always came over, even if it was really late. He had to show up.
Tony's eyes lidded shut.
His body shook back and forth as his eyes opened again. Gibbs asked him no questions, just lifted him off the floor and carried him up to his bedroom. His head ached too much to keep his eyes open for more than a few minutes at a time.
Gibbs settled him into the pillows on his bed. It wasn't the greatest feeling, but it felt a lot better than boots and shoes being pounded into his back. He drifted out again.
When he awoke again, Ducky was flashing a light in his eyes, checking his pupils. He slapped Ducky's hand out of his face. He was finally starting to feel like he might be able to stay awake.
"Anthony, do you know what they drugged you with," Ducky asked.
"Cocaine. Heroin. I don't know everything," he slurred. He shifted up in his bed and looked up down at his arm. Ducky had popped his bones back into place and wrapped his arm heavily in bandaging.
He moved his arm slightly and felt a pulling. He looked up to see an IV drip. "What's this?"
"You don't appear to be overdosing, so all we can do is let the drugs process out of your system. If I thought you'd stay, I'd send you to the hospital," Ducky submitted.
Gibbs shook his head, sitting down on the bed next to Tony. He caressed his face. "I'll stay with him and make sure he's okay."
Ducky nodded, picking up his medical bag. "We'll run X-Rays in the morning; you may need a cast. Good night, Jethro; Mr. DiNozzo."
When they'd heard the door shut, Gibbs moved around the bed and settled next to Tony. Tony shifted down on the bed, resting his head on Gibb's chest. Gibbs' fingers brushed lightly over Tony's back, attempting to soothe him.
"I'm telling Vance in the morning that you're done with this case," Gibbs insisted.
Tony didn't answer. He knew that there wasn't anything he could say that would change Gibbs' mind, and truthfully, he didn't want to have to go through this all over again. He was grateful to just be alive.
"Happy Valentines day," he muttered sarcastically.
Gibbs brushed his hand through Tony's hair, tilting his head up to look at him. "Happy. Valentines. Day." He split each of the words with a kiss on each cheek, and then on the lips. Tony kissed him back, though there wasn't as much vigor behind it as Gibbs put into it. He was too high and too tired to put much energy into it.
He rested his head back on Gibbs' shoulder. Even if he spent a few hours in the ER in the morning, maybe they'd be able to salvage part of the holiday.
"Love you, Gibbs," he muttered through his drugged stupor.
Gibbs eyes fluttered open at the words. He smiled slightly. "Love you too, DiNozzo."