Author's Note- I own nothing.

Tony/Trent Frenemies.

This chapter came out rather quickly the next three chapters will be more executed and go into more depth. Hope you like it please review.

...

Staring into the mirror, I gently poked the tender bruise forming around my eyes. Great, just another day, another shiner. It wouldn't such a big deal if my make-up supply hadn't depleted itself. I had meant to pick some up after work that day but I never quite made it out of the house once I was inside. Eric was home, and he was drinking. And when Eric started drinking, fists flew. All I could do was try my best to dodge them, and ignore the verbal abuse that hit me like a ton of bricks.

I knew I couldn't let this keep up, cold hard truth or not, you couldn't be an NCIS agent with bruises all over your body. How could you protect the public if you couldn't even protect yourself? It's why I began buying the make-up, and everything was fine for a while, Eric would knock me around a bit and then stumble out drunk to get more boozed up. My lover wouldn't come back until the following night, smelling like multiple men. Not even trying to hide the evidence. And god forbid if I ever confronted him about it.

I knew I couldn't keep hiding this with make-up. I'd seen it all the time when I was working in Baltimore, eventually Eric would break something. You could only break so many things before it got suspiscious. Tonight it had escalated. And it would be the last time that he ever touched me again. I'd make sure of that. Frankly, I was sick and tired of loving someone who just kept hurting me. I was tired. Tired of everything all the time. Life seemed to be a chore, gone was my usual optimism, my jokes and movie quotes.

No one seemed to notice, in fact they seemed to be relieved not to hear them anymore. They thought I was growing up, finally after forty years. I snorted, little did they know that I was still as immature as ever, letting someone else knock me around just like I did as a kid. I looked at my service pistol-too obvious, stepping out of the bathroom I walked around the house, eyeing it as if I was seeing it for the first time. It wasn't mine, it was Eric's. I had moved in when Eric told me to. He'd clap his hands, I'd come running, like some filthy mutt that hadn't been hit enough.

I disgusted myself sometimes. Eric disgusted me more, and that's why the man had to pay. I lingered in the kitchen, it was one of the nights he was out boozing it up, peering at the knives, contemplating how to just to get rid of Eric. I had tried running away but Eric had found me somehow, and had beaten me so badly I lost consciousness, only to wake up a day later in our bedroom, in bed next to a naked Eric with my own service weapon in my face.

"Try leaving again, you dirty little whore and I'll kill ya." Eric smiled, his eyes twinkling as he undid the safety, "Is that clear enough for you?" I nodded. Crystal. He knocked me out with the butt of my gun. I woke alone.

I shook my head, knives left behind too much evidence, in fact any weapons I could use would leave behind too much evidence seeing as I would be the prime suspect, and with no alibi to boot. My teammates might understand but they couldn't change the law for me. If I killed Eric I'd be behind bars. I numbly walked through the home, staring at the couch where we had first kissed, and made love. Didn't anyone at work even notice that I wasn't the same? Didn't they care? I knew I wasn't a good actor, so why did no one help?

I use to brood on these questions alot, sometimes I still do. I think people would be surprised at how bitter and resentful I've become. I tried to hold back, I chose not to feel, it sure hurt a whole lot less. it hurt less when everybody you ever loved let you down constantly, it hurt you less when fists came flying at you. It hurt less to lie, to breathe, to survive. Most of the time I hid from my feelings because I was scared of them. Scared at how hateful I've become, scared at how much I longed to kill, and not just Eric. Sometimes I wanted to kill Gibbs. The man, hmy mentor had stabbed me in the back, always too busy to notice me, was I not important enough for him? Was it because I was a man and should be able to take care of myself? Was it because I was gay? I couldn't figure out what I had done to lose his trust and love. And it use to kill me everyday, until I decided to just stop caring, who gives a fuck anyway? The world keeps on spinning.

I could feel myself slowly distancing myself from the team, trying to stop anymore hurt coming from that direction, I was growing use to the pain they inflicted upon me. The more I distanced myself the more they ignored me and the more I got stuck with Eric at home, falling right into his hands. It was only a matter of time before he had me isolated from everyone I use to consider family. So this is how abusers do it, how they get their victims to cut off all contact with family and friends. Interesting. I had thought. It amazed me that I had fallen for it, having seen it a million times. What if I had told them? Would they have helped? Would I be at Gibbs house right now, him being his usual overprotective self? How I longed for that to be true, every night I prayed and every morning I woke up in this hell hole.

To be fair though it's not like I was trying to help myself, well not until recently that is. I still had this silly notion that someone will swoop me and save me from the Evil warlock, but no one ever did. Silly, silly me. No I would have to do this myself, like always. They always depended on me to help them, to have their six, but when I needed them they were no where's to be found. Figures, it was the story of my life. I stopped my pacing in the kitchen, I hated this place, this house, this town, this world, this life. I just hated it. Placing my head in my hands I breathed in deeply, trying to calm myself, as bitter, resentful tears rose up in me. I wanted to scream, and maybe I would, but not now, I couldn't afford to, I needed to keep it together if I was to ever escape.

I had never felt so hopeless, or helpless, the frustration gnawed at my insides, leaving me tense and unable to sit still. Fidgetting I could feel a headache coming on, pinching the bridge of my nose, I stared up at the ceiling, my face contorting in contempt and disgust, this house was a prison. It suffocated me and trapped me in hell, I had no where's to go. I found myself in front of the mirror again, staring at the bruises he had left on me. I was only in my boxers, I could clearly see my torso.

I took inventory: Black Eye, bruised cheek, swollen nose, split lip, bite marks on my shoulders and upper arm, bruises there as well from where Eric grabbed me and slammed me into walls or shook me, my stomach a deep black, my ribs broke. Strap marks from the belt. All because he was drunk and I was late working on a case.

"You ungrateful little slut!"

Punch.

"I'll teach you to come home smelling of another man!"

Punch, shove, slam, kick in the stomach.

"I bet you let him fuck you, didn't you? Did you play catch Tony boy?"

Kick in the ribs, punch in the face, kick in the ribs. I hear two snaps between every grunt of pain and hiss of agony. He wrenches me off the floor, I feel my shoulder dislocate, I give a wrenching cry of pain. Backhand.

"Shut up you little bitch, no one likes girls in this house."

Shove me down on the floor, stomp on my head. That's all I can remember but I woke up with a nail through my hand.

Maybe a hit man. Yes a hit man. But where would I find one? It's not like you could take an AD out in the newspaper for one, sighing I sat on the rim of the tub contemplating my choices. I needed a marksmen, a sniper perhaps. I scowled thinking of Gibbs, he wouldn't do, even if I could get past the shame and humiliation of telling him, if I could trust him to tell him in the first place, who was to say he do it? And even if he did he'd likely be a suspect as well, it would be all too easy for the FBI or local LEO's to piece together that mystery. No, I couldn't put Gibbs in that position, no matter how much I wanted to hurt the man it wouldn't be right. I snorted, here I was talking about murder, right and wrong didn't carry any weight in this instance like it usually did.

I bit my lip, looking into the mirror, there was only one person who could pull this off for me. He could but that didn't mean he would. I had to try, he was my only hope, and as bad as that thought tasted in my mouth it was true. Desperate times called for desperate measures. He'd be the only one capable of murdering for me and not even being considered a suspect, seeing as how I hated him. No one would expect me to crawl to him for help with a personal problem I couldn't even tell my own mentor. I laughed sourly. I knew I'd never live this down in his eyes. But it was the price I had to pay, my life or my pride.

The next day.

I stared at the receptionist, bored, she was rather plain, nothing too exciting about her, the only thing that stood out about her was the boil that made it's home on the side of her face. Ten bucks said she was a virgin and would be for the rest of her miserable, ugly life. This meeting had me on edge, if I got in to see him that was, the ugly woman in front of me was stonewalling me, making up excuses to not get up off her lazy ass to see if he's in the building. I thought I was about to belt her across the face, but I was too afraid the boil would burst all over me. Disgusting.

I narrowed my eyes as she looked up and said in a southern accent she must find cute, and charming, "I'm sorry sir but he's not answering his phone."

"Well Ma'am I didn't ask if he was answering his phone I asked if he was in the building." I said snidely, giving her a dirty look.

"If I can't reach him on his phone then he's probably not here." She said coolly.

"Probably, but not absolutely sure." I said icily, my patience wearing thin. Couldn't she see this was hard enough? Didn't anyone see how stressed and tense I was? Didn't they understand how it was eating me up inside to even ask for help, but especially help from this man?

She sighed, "Sir, I can hardly help it if he doesn't answer his phone, perhaps if he wanted you to contact him he'd give you his cell number." I snorted, I did have his cell number, but I lost it, I knew Gibbs had it but how could I explain why I needed Kort's number on my day off?

I slammed my hands down on the counter in frustration. "Please Miss, I know I'm not being very courteous, I usually am, but things are...I just really really need to see him. I can't go home tonight if I don't see him. Please. Isn't there anything you can do?" I pleaded seeing my last chance at life disappearing before my eyes. If I didn't see Kort today I knew I wouldn't live to see tomorrow. I could see her looking at me appraisingly.

"I could see if another Agent is available to see you." She said seeming to calm down and warm up.

I look at her determined not to lose it. I was on the very verge of tears, feeling embarrassed at how I was falling apart I just said in a soft whisper, "It has to be Kort. It has to be him. I'm not saying this to be a pain, I'm not-I'm so sorry. It's just hard to explain, and its...it needs to be him." I said feeling tears blooming, I knew she could see them too even if I was looking down, I could read the pity in her eyes, she bit her lip.

"I...I'm not suppose to leave the post, but, you did say you were a Federal Agent right?" I nodded, showing her my ID again. "Okay I'll go look for Mister Kort; if I can't find him, I'll try to find where he is, and if that's not possible either, I will do my best to find out when he'll be back and if it's sometime today, I'll let you wait in a conference room. Watch my post." I thought I would hug her, boil and all.

"Thank you. You are saving my life." I whispered trying to get a grip before Kort saw me this way. I sat down in her chair as she ran off to find out about Kort, putting my head in my hands I dried my eyes and put my shields back up, telling myself it didn't matter. That in the end if Kort refused I could always kill him myself and run. They wouldn't find me. It's just that I didn't want to have to run for my entire life because he abused me.

...

He looked up from his research as he heard a knock on the door. He sighed in annoyance, he had specifically moved from his room to an empty interrogation room to get some peace and quiet so he could finish his work and not be bothered. His phone in his quarters kept ringing. He didn't bother to pick it up, he never picked up that phone, it was just a nuisance, if it was really important they'd call on his cell, and only a handful of people had his cell number. He didn't bother looking up from the notes he was taking, "What is it?"

"Mister Kort, I'm sorry to interrupt you but I'm afraid you have a visitor in the lobby." Martha said quietly. He glanced up, now that was unsual. He gave her a curious look.

"A visitor?" He echoed in his soft accent.

"Yes, he was very distraught. When I couldn't get you on your normal phone he demanded I come find you. He doesn't look very stable. He's adamant about talking to you, he refuses to talk to anyone else." She said nervously as he began looking more interested.

"Did he give a name?" He asked raising an eyebrow.

"Oh yes. Silly me." She said, "NCIS Special Agent Anthony DiNozzo."

He froze, a look of surprise on his face. "Very well. Put him in a conference room, tell him I will be with him in a few minutes." All he knew was that this better be worth it.

...

Sitting in the conference room, my eyes cold and dead, I waited patiently for Kort to come through the door, the minute I had set foot in this room and was left alone, I set about cleaning off my make up, and unbuttoning my shirt so all I had to do was shrug it off when I was ready to show him, I kept my head bowed, my gaze on the table, my fingers tracing the grain of the wood. I couldn't believe I was sitting in the CIA waiting for Trent Kort so I could tell him about how I, a highly trained NCIS Agent, was being abused by my lover. It was bad enough he'd know I was gay but to show him how weak and pathetic I was? I could feel my face heat. What would he think? What was I thinking? I almost got up to leave but sat back down, this was my only chance. I nearly pouted over how unfair it was.

Who knew what Kort would do with this information. He could easily laugh in my face and tell everyone I knew. Or maybe he'd call Gibbs. Maybe he'd get me fired from my job. My breath caught in my throat, but still I knew I had no other choice, I had to trust this man. And so long as Eric was gone I didn't care what Trent did. Why should I? He means nothing to me. Nobody means anything to me anymore. That didn't stop the fear from gripping my heart though when I heard footsteps approaching the door, I shrunk back, slumping in my chair I didn't look up as he entered the room. I nearly laughed. I came to him for help and now all I wanted to do was run in the opposite direction.

"Long time no see DiNozzo." He drawled. I shrugged silently, biting my lip. I could see him raising his eyebrow. I breathed deeply, not knowing how to start the conversation, awkwardly I looked at the floor. "I hope this is worth my time."

"I hope so too." I answered shortly, lapsing into silence.

"Something bothering NCIS?" Kort prompted slightly.

"No. Not NCIS. I just used my ID to get to see you. Knew I wouldn't get to see you if I came as a civilian." I said lifelessly as he cocked his head at me, raising an eyebrow, he leaned slightly forward, taking in what I said.

"So, not NCIS business. Than why are you here DiNozzo, if NCIS doesn't need my help?" He asked in his usual cold, impatient manner, I almost smiled, some things never changed, for that I was thankful.

I raised my head, giving him a good look at my face, "Because I need your help." I answered quietly, it still echoed in the room. His eyes never left my face, he stared at my bruises one by one, his expression never changing. I slowly sat up he watched me as I slid off my shirt. Revealing the black and blue marks all over my chest, abdomen and arms, the bite marks on my shoulders, the welts from the belt. I could tell he was trying to figure it out. He knew it couldn't be job-related, so it had to be personal. Was he mixed up with the wrong crowd? Owe someone he shouldn't? Was someone stalking him? I could see all those questions race through his eyes.

"Who did this to you?" He questioned nosily, not concerned just with a voice full of curiousity.

I bit my lip, could I get away with a lie? I suspected not, he'd figure it out eventually anyways. Taking a deep breath, I sat back down tenderly, holding my broken ribs, I breathed shallowly for a bit before staring down at my hands, "My boyfriend Eric." I flushed in humiliation, I wanted to melt, I shrunk into myself, huddling, waiting for the derisive mocking laugh, the snide remark, the hurtful comment. But was met with silence. I nervously glanced up, Kort was looking at me, understanding.

"What do you need me to do?" Kort asked simply. I was amazed the man had failed to show any emotion whatsoever this whole time.

I swallowed, the answer getting stuck in my throat, I knew once I spoke it I couldn't take it back, that I'd be murdering someone. No, I'd be murdering a monster that's kept me in fear. Thinking of every bruise and cut he's given me, I unwrap my hand and put it in front of me on the table, there was a hole right through my hand. "This is from the time he beat me into unconsciousness for working late. He was drunk, like usual. Thought I was cheating on him. He waited until I came around to take the hammer and literally nail me to the wall." I stared at the now healing wound, silence reigned once more, I heard him lean back in his chair, a smile was playing on his lips.

"I want you to kill him." I said seething, "I want you to kill him good Kort."

"I was hoping you'd say that DiNozzo." He said smirking, his eyes still cold and dead, a reflection of mine.

"What's a mattet Trent, haven't killed anyone in the last week?" I said smirking right back at him.

"Been benched, made some enemies overseas. I am curious though." He cocked his head once more at me. "It doesn't seem to make sense."

"Yes?" Knowing exactly what he wanted to know.

"You're being abused by your boyfriend, so you come to me. Not Gibbs." Kort asked "Doesn't make much sense. Does Gibbs even know what's going on between you and this boyfriend of yours?"

"I can't trust Gibbs anymore. I can't trust anyone at NCIS." I said answering both of his questions. He smirked at me.

He rose, walking to the door I awaited his answer, as he stepped out, he turned around, "You owe me one DiNozzo."

A/N next chapter Trent's pov, his thoughts during this convo, and then of course Goodbye Eric...or Trent...or Tony. Guess you'll have to wait and see. OH AND REVIEW