A/N: This is pretty dark, and I am not too sure about the rating, so if you think I should change it, please tell me. Other than that, this is NOT about sexual violence but about emotional hurting. Please keep that in mind!
-DISCLAIMER: I DON'T OWN ANYTHING BESIDES THE IDEA!-
Taboo
July 2006
He kissed her hard, slid his hands all over her body, buried them in her red hair. She let it grow out again, hoping that when he came back he would finally remember her again. He didn't admit that he knew, that she hadn't been able to hide all the aching and all the heartbreak from him. But at night, when he lay beside her in the generous queen sized bed and she was tossing and turning, crying out his name in her sleep, starting up from her nightmares - her eyes would be wide with fear that he would never come back to her. She'd reach out to his side of the bed, momentarily relieved when she'd feel his warm form on the other side of the bed, and falling ever so deeply when she'd realize that he wasn't him.
"Jeth- Tony", she moaned. He kissed her harder, bit her lower lip in the futile attempt to make her forget his name. He was a means to the end to her, the lifeline that saved her from slipping under the water and never come back up again. It had never felt so good to be used, and it had never hurt so much.
He lay her down on the bed, gingerly opening the first few buttons of her crisp white oxford shirt. "Jen", he breathed into her ear.
She pushed him away. "Jenny", she said hard. "He is the only one who is allowed to call me Jen." She bit down on her lip, not wanting to think about him anymore. "Call me Jenny, Tony, and don't think it will ever change."
The terms of their relationship, what ever one it was, had been clear from the beginning. It hadn't stopped him from hoping though. Every time she'd smiled when he'd brought her coffee, he had gotten his hopes up again. Every time she'd declined to take a sip from his cup like she'd done with him, they'd been shattered anew.
"He won't come back, Jen", he said defiantly and kissed her till there wasn't any air left in her lungs for her to protest.
Tears welled up in her eyes, but that couldn't stop him. "Did you let him see you vulnerable? Was he allowed to comfort you, to wipe your tears away?", he asked harshly. She sobbed, and at the same time pressed her fist to her mouth, trying to muffle the sound.
He caressed her sternum with the tip of his finger, trailed it down to her belly button. He kissed her neck, the shell of her ear, his brown hair gently tickling her jaw line.
"He used you, Jen. He got you, used you, left you on the ground. He didn't look back, Jen, not a single time. Not even for you." He bit the crook of her neck, no gentleness left. "He won't ever come back to you, Jen", he said, and looked on as she broke.
He didn't know why he wanted her to be hurting. Maybe because his boss had made it clear that she was his from her first day back on. Maybe because his rules still applied although the man himself was long since enjoying his life on the beaches of Mexico. He'd received his badge and the gun, and all the shit that Gibbs left behind for him to deal with. It was him who tried to get Abby high on CafPow!s again. It was him who headslapped Ziva and McGee, him who drank disgusting jetblack coffee, him who frightened Palmer, him who listened to Ducky's stories.
It was him who went home to Jenny in the evening. Who fell asleep beside her at night, who woke up with her in the mornings. Who tried to love a woman that didn't want to be loved. Not by him.
He kissed away the tears on her cheeks as he pushed her panties down her legs. He roughly massaged her breasts, and she screamed, because of pain or lust he couldn't say.
At the beginning he'd believed that they gave each other hold, on an interim basis. But it had become so much more so fast. At first he'd thought it was love, that he really wanted to commit to her. But the longer their affair went on, and he seemed to be the only one that let go of their pasts, the more he realized what it really was for him. The perfidious delight to take the last thing from him that he still possessed, even if he didn't know anymore that he still had it.
He often wondered if he wanted Jenny's person or her emotions. If he wanted love or triumph and victory. With every time she cried out for Gibbs he wanted more that she wouldn't ever even think of him again. That she would be his, not Gibbs' anymore.
He had the urge to mark her, to flaunt that she belonged to him nowadays, to make unmistakeable clear that the shoe was on for another foot. He called her Jen to provoke, whom he didn't know. The nickname had no sentimental value to him, but for them it held the promise of Paris. Maybe he wanted that she atoned for what he had done to him. Maybe he wanted to get her to hate Gibbs just as much as he did.
Her red hair was sprawled out under her. Tony fisted his hands in it and pulled her head back, kissing the hollow of her throat.
"What would he say if I cut them off?", he asked. She just shook her head. "Yeah, you're right", he said and thrust into her hard. She screamed again. He gave her a moment to adjust, then he started to move.
"Why don't you want to forget him, Jen, like he forgot you? Why?", he yelled. Tears ran down her cheeks. She had her head still turned to the side, was still not facing him to hide them.
He moved faster, frantically, furiously, almost desperately. He came with her name on his lips. He stifled her cry with his mouth, he knew it wouldn't be his name she was screaming. The muffled 'Jethro!' echoed eerily in her bedroom.
It smelled like sweat, lust, sex, and he wondered involuntarily how often she'd lain there with him by her side.
She rolled out of his arms, over to the other side of the bed. He tried to reach out to her, but she pushed his arm away and buried her face in her pillow. Her hand felt for the drawer of the little cabinet next to her bed, where as he knew was a photo of them in front of the Eiffel Tower. She pulled it open and then almost violently slammed it shut again.
'So she doesn't want to take the love of her life into bed with another' he thought bitterly. He traced slowly, almost seductively the line of her spine down her back.
"Jen", he mumbled.
"Jenny", she replied hard.
"He won't come back. He's a bastard, he doesn't deserve you."
"You don't deserve me, Anthony DiNozzo. I love him, you know that and I know it, too. Don't even try to claim me for yourself." He hoped it was just defiance in her eyes, paired with foolish love, but he feared she really trusted him to come back to her eventually.
He hit the headboard of her bed, then the mattress, then the pillow because he wouldn't allow himself to hit her and the one he wanted to punch worst was a zillion miles away.
He'd always be number two, no matter how hard he tried. As the agent in charge of the MCRT, with Jenny. No matter where he was, Gibbs would always have been there before him and put his stamp on it.
He stood up, put on his boxers and left the room, in the knowledge that tomorrow evening he would be there again. She was his endorphin, his drug, his only way out of the black abyss that threatened to swallow him whole. She was his lifeline, just like he was hers. In his way, he almost used her worse than she'd ever used him. She tried to hold onto her love to him, tried to project it on him instead. He tried to control his anger, his fury, by venting it on her, by hurting her so much that it would hurt Gibbs if he would ever come back.
He tried to break her, and every night he succeeded just a little bit more than the night before. He didn't hold back, had no qualms. It was as if his good side had disappeared when Gibbs had left them.
Gibbs. At the end everything came back to him. Tony's hatred, Jenny's pain.
He just hoped that he knew what he'd done to them. And he hoped that he would have to pay for it. And if it was just that his Jenny would be broken.
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