A/N - Hey y'all. A fan (hidinginsight) of Silent Misery is writing a FULL LENGTH sequel to it (with permission obtained from me, of course). :) I've gotten to read what she's written so far, and I've been inspired to write this tag. Her part of the story is going to be coming out soon. It picks up after Part 3. So add her to your author alerts!

A few days after the events of Silent Misery . . .

Bedtime.

Before Shannon, and during their marriage, bedtime hadn't meant a whole lot to Gibbs. It was a time to refuel and recharge from the stresses of the day, but not much else. As a dumb kid, he hadn't given it a second thought, but now he knew better.

Sleep wasn't easy to fall into anymore. People waited for him in his dreams, and they all had something to say to him. For a while after Shannon's death, he had taken to drinking himself to sleep in an attempt to escape from seeing the blame on her face.

His job at NCIS carried a significant number of victims' faces as well, and he had learned that working himself to exhaustion often meant he was too tired to dream.

Now though, his being hurt meant resting, and resting meant sleeping, and sleeping meant seeing that bastard's face every time he closed his eyes. It was quickly turning into a cycle and he was already damn well sick of it.

. . .

After his shower that evening, he stepped out of the bathroom and found Fornell waiting for him in his—no, their—bed. Gibbs grinned a bit at the other man and was heartened by the smile he received in return. With a small wince, he slipped under the covers and rolled over on his side facing Fornell.

"You need any pain pills?" Was the first thing Fornell asked him.

He shook his head in the negative before adding, "Took a couple before I got in the shower."

He still hurt a little, but it wasn't nearly as bad as it had been before, so he wasn't going to complain. The bastard who had fucked him had been brutal in his actions, and Gibbs knew he was going to be feeling the effects for a while.

Not speaking, he reached out and grabbed Tobias' hand and pulled it to his own face. Turning his nose toward it, he took a deep breath of the familiar scent and relaxed further. Fornell's hand was warm on his face, and he took comfort in his nonthreatening touch.

"Hey. How're you feeling?" Fornell asked him softly after a moment.

"Tired," He answered, stroking the back of Tobias' hand with his thumb. "Unsure," He added in a whisper.

"'Bout what?" Fornell's feet slid down his legs and tangled with his own.

Gibbs turned his head away from where he'd been nuzzling Fornell's hand, and looked his lover in the eye.

"Why do you like me?" It was an honest question, though not one he normally would have voiced. This situation was fucking with more than just his body.

Fornell frowned at him. "What, like physically? Or . . . everything else?"

Gibbs hesitated. He wasn't certain if he could handle hearing about the latter—at least not yet.

"Physically," he said.

Fornell's frown morphed to a grin. The hand on Gibbs' cheek moved its fingers into his hair and began stroking his head. Something that had been clenched in his center slowly began to relax.

"I like your eyes a lot, Jethro," Fornell started, staring unblinkingly back at him. "And your hair."

"My hair?" He stifled the urge to say something about Tobias' own lack thereof.

"It's soft," Fornell said, leaning in closer. "And it smells good," Fornell said, kissing his forehead lightly.

"Huh."

Fornell leaned back again. His fingers moved from Gibbs' hair to his ear. "I like your ears too."

Gibbs frowned and started to say something, but was stopped when Fornell tapped him gently on the nose.

"Your earlobes are just the right size to suck on," Fornell said throatily.

Gibbs felt a small flicker of arousal touch him at the look on his old friend's face.

"What else?" He asked, noticing that his voice sounded hoarse.

Fornell stared at him appraisingly. "Your lips."

"My lips?"

"They're perfect for kissing," Fornell said, suddenly leaning in.

Gibbs met Fornell's lips hesitantly. Other than a few kisses to his forehead, they hadn't really done much since he'd been . . . injured. Raped.

The hand on his face resumed its stroking and he sighed comfortably. Fornell's lips were soft and gentle, and he kissed him back with growing interest. The well-dressed man hadn't kissed him, and feeling Fornell's lips was a bit like coming home.

They broke apart and Fornell pulled away to look at him.

"How was that?"

"Better," Gibbs answered, rubbing his hand against Fornell's chest. He grinned suddenly and leaned in for another kiss.

"I missed this," He admitted when they pulled apart the second time.

"Me too, love," Fornell whispered, kissing him again.

They continued like that for some time that evening, and when Gibbs finally did sleep, his dreams were sweet.