Chapter 3

Tony leaned his head back against the door and closed his eyes briefly. He didn't really want to do it, but he needed to know… "Do you think you can try talking about it again?"

He felt Jimmy nod against his shoulder. "Yeah."

"Okay." Tony took a moment to focus on his own breathing, to slow it down, taking deeper breaths. After a moment, he noticed Jimmy's breath slowing to match his, and he smiled slightly. It was not unlike those times after sex, when he'd lay with his partner, both of them completely relaxed – finally – their breathing in sync, until they both drifted off to sleep in each other's arms…

Focus, Tony. He just needed to keep his breathing slow and steady; he knew that one person's panic could escalate another's, so he needed to avoid showing even the slightest sign of his own anxieties.

"Let's take this one step at a time," he suggested, and Jimmy nodded. "You said they took us to a car?"

"Yeah." Tony felt Jimmy's shoulders begin to tense again. "It was – it was an older Chevy – I think – brown, four doors." His breathing became shorter, faster. "It was a sedan – one of those – old, big – sedans – and they – they –"

"Shh, shh." Tony really wished he could use both hands; he wanted to hold Jimmy against him, make him feel protected, safe. One arm just didn't cut it. "Slow down, Jimmy. Slow breaths, like this…"

He held Jimmy while the other man attempted to calm down again. What was it about this car that had him so badly frightened? Sure, he wouldn't expect anyone to not be scared while being kidnapped, but Jimmy hadn't sounded this bad even when he talked about being threatened with the gun. Was it covered in blood? Was it being driven by Freddy Krueger?

Then he realized. He'd asked at least twice how Jimmy had received his injuries, and each time Jimmy had managed to avoid answering. Now he was trying to tell the whole story of their kidnapping, but couldn't get past describing the car. No – last time, Jimmy jumped ahead in the story, describing how he'd tried to contact Abby to tell her about the car, and how the attempt was thwarted. So…

When Jimmy was reasonably calm again, he braced himself and asked the question. "Jimmy, what happened when we got to the car? What did they do?"

He heard a startled gasp; then Jimmy abruptly sat up, pulling away from Tony's arm. But as soon as Tony's hand lost contact with him, Jimmy froze. His whole body trembled, his breathing was fast and shallow, and his wide eyes stared at nothing; but he remained where he was, still within reach.

Tony decided to wait and see if Jimmy would pull himself together. He was heartened by the fact that, while Jimmy had pulled away in startled reflex, he hadn't run to the other side of the closet again. So he waited, and his patience was eventually rewarded when Jimmy slowly settled back into his embrace and turned to bury his face against Tony's shoulder.

Tony stroked Jimmy's hair and murmured soothing nonsense, hiding his concern. What had they done to him? He hoped Jimmy would tell him; what Tony was imagining was probably – hopefully – far worse than the actual reality, but he wanted the reassurance that he was overreacting.

He was just wondering if it was too soon to try pressing him again, when Jimmy surprised him by speaking first.

"They took us to – to the car. The big guy – he was carrying you – he laid you on the ground. Then they –" Jimmy stopped to take a deep breath – "they opened the trunk of the car…"

Tony's hand tightened in Jimmy's hair; unconsciously, he pressed his lips to the top of Jimmy's head. No fucking wonder he was having so much trouble in here, crammed with Tony into this tiny closet after having been shoved into a car trunk!

"They told me to get in – I – I couldn't, I just couldn't –"

Tony forced himself to loosen his grip in Jimmy's hair, to rest his hand lightly on the back of Jimmy's neck. "Oh, Jimmy…" What he wanted to do was beat the shit out of somebody – preferably, their kidnappers. But that was going to have to wait. "What did they do, baby? What did they do to you?"

Tony hadn't meant to let that slip, and when Jimmy raised his head, he was sure that the younger man was going to pull away and never let Tony near him again. But Jimmy's eyes met his squarely, tear-filled hazel to green, and Tony was shocked when Jimmy's hand came up to touch his cheek. "Not me," he whispered. The tears overflowed and spilled down Jimmy's face. "Not me."

Tony frowned in puzzlement.

Jimmy dropped his hand, bowing his head. "The guy with the gun – he said he'd shoot me if I didn't get in. Then the big guy – he said, 'No, that'll make too much noise,' and he – he –"

Jimmy swallowed hard and began to shake violently. "He said he'd break your arm if I didn't – and I tried, I tried – but I wasn't going fast enough and he just laughed and then he pulled your arm and I heard it pop and then you screamed and oh, God, Tony I am so sorry –!"

He curled in on himself, sobbing hysterically.

Tony was horrified. "Jimmy, no!" Knowing he was going to pay for it later, Tony pulled his right arm out of the sling and tossed it aside so that he could wrap both arms around Jimmy and pull him to his chest. "It's not your fault, baby, it's not your fault…" He rocked the younger man in his arms, tears filling his eyes at the thought of what Jimmy had gone through. "Shh, shh, it's okay, it's okay…"

Having lost the control he'd been struggling to hold onto, it took a while for Jimmy to cry himself out. Tony held him close, gently shushing him every time he tried to apologize for things that he'd had no control over. In his mind, Tony was plotting what he'd like to do to the man who'd used him to hurt Jimmy. The fact that he'd hurt Tony as well didn't thrill him either; but as a field agent, Tony had accepted that there was a certain amount of physical danger inherent in his job. But Jimmy wasn't an agent; he was supposed to stay safely out of the line of fire. And while Tony realized that it was ridiculous to expect the bad guys to distinguish between an agent, who was fair game, and a nonagent, who wasn't, he still wanted to roast this guy slowly over a bonfire until he learned the difference.

Thoughts of revenge kept him from worrying about the other issue on his mind: the man in his arms, and what was going to happen when it was time for Tony to let him go. Because Tony didn't want to let him go…

But eventually, out-of-control sobbing turned to quieter weeping, which slowly faded until Jimmy rested calmly in his arms, only the occasional hiccup – and the damp spot on Tony's shirt – giving witness to the emotional storm that had blown through. Tony closed his eyes and concentrated on the sound of Jimmy's breathing, the feel of Jimmy's chest rising and falling against his own, because he knew that all too soon, he'd lose the opportunity –

Sure enough, after a few minutes, Jimmy tensed in his arms and pulled away. But not to the far end of the closet, as Tony feared and expected. Instead, he rose to his feet and stepped over Tony's legs to crouch at his right side, shaking his head at the sight of the cardigan that had been tossed to the floor.

His voice was hoarse when he spoke. "Tony, your shoulder –"

"It's okay, Jimmy. It doesn't hurt that much."

"It's going to." Jimmy picked up the discarded cardigan and motioned for Tony to lean forward, away from the wall, so he could wrap it around him again. "We need to keep it stable until we know for sure what we're dealing with."

He finished tying the sweater back into place, then returned to Tony's left side and sat down – not leaning into him, as he had before, but near enough that if Tony wanted to put his arm around him, he could.

Tony was beginning to ponder the advisability of doing just that when he finally got a good look at Jimmy's face in the light – bruised, swollen, and streaked with drying tears. His left eye was ringed in black, and the right eye – the one that Tony had hit – was puffy and beginning to darken.

He reached for Jimmy's face, then hesitated. "Jimmy, I'm sorry. That's gotta hurt. Is there anything –?"

Jimmy shook his head. "Not unless you've got an icepack or two on you – or you can find one in here." He gestured at the boxes stored high above.

"Not likely." Tony started to pull his hand back, then changed his mind and rested it on Jimmy's shoulder. "How did it happen?"

Jimmy looked down; Tony could feel his shoulder tensing again. "After – after that guy hurt you, I totally lost it. He – I was afraid he was gonna hurt you again, and I know I should've just done what they wanted, but – I lost it. I ran at him, and, well –" Jimmy motioned to his face with one hand. "You can see what happened."

"God, Palmer, you could have been shot!"

"I know." He shrugged his shoulders. "I wasn't thinking very clearly. After he hit me, I wasn't thinking at all for a minute or two, so they just grabbed me and threw me in, and you after me. I wish – I wish they'd just done that in the first place; then you wouldn't have been hurt –"

Tony grimaced. "There's no guarantee of that. This guy sounds like a sadist. I bet he enjoyed every minute of it."

Jimmy nodded, rubbing his hands against his arms unconsciously.

Tony pulled Jimmy closer, settled his arm around the younger man's shoulders again. He wasn't sure how to interpret Jimmy's body language, but so far, nothing he'd done had seemed to frighten him off. He decided he'd see how far he could go, but slowly. He was afraid that he might be taking advantage of Jimmy's obvious insecurity; he thought, though, that Jimmy would be assertive enough to stop him if he went too far. At least, he hoped so.

"That's when I lost my glasses," Jimmy commented, his hand rising unconsciously to touch the frames that weren't there. "They're probably broken – but I hope that bastard scratched himself on them and left some DNA for Abby…"

Abby. That reminded Tony… "Didn't you say you tried calling her?"

"Yeah." Jimmy began toying with his watch as he spoke – to give himself something to focus on, Tony thought. "They didn't take our phones right away – I think they were in too much of a hurry to leave before Gibbs and everyone came back. So I tried calling, but I couldn't get a good signal. It would start to go through and then the call would drop. So I typed a text message, and I was watching the bars to see if we'd get close to a tower or something, get a better signal. Besides" – Jimmy shrugged – "at least I had some light."

Tony turned his gaze inward, remembering. He'd had impressions of a dark place, lit with a wildly waving light; he remembered being bounced around. That would be the car ride, and Jimmy trying to send the message. But he also remembered – "Was that – were you holding onto me?"

Jimmy's face turned bright red. "I – yeah, I – I was," he stammered. "I was trying to keep you from getting bounced around too hard. Your shoulder was still out, and –"

Tony couldn't help but smile at Jimmy's discomfiture. "It's okay, Jimmy," he teased, squeezing the other man closer for a moment. "I don't mind."

"Yeah, I – I noticed." Suddenly Jimmy's voice was softer, more hesitant. He started to raise his hand to touch Tony's where it rested on his shoulder, then abruptly changed his mind and wrapped his arms around his stomach again. His gaze shifted to the far wall. "An-anyway, they stopped the car before I got a signal. I hit 'send' anyway, just in case… and then the big guy opened the trunk and grabbed the phone… made me get yours out of your pocket… and he threw them, into a field, I think. I tried to see, but he closed the lid again too fast…"

And left you in the dark. For once, Tony managed to not blurt out what he was thinking, but he unconsciously hugged Jimmy a little tighter. His vague memories added to Jimmy's story and painted the scene in his mind's eye – a dark, enclosed space, an unconscious federal agent, and a claustrophobic assistant M.E. trying to protect him while fighting off a full-blown panic attack…

It was not a pretty picture – just as well, perhaps, that it was mainly painted in black.