Disclaimer: I don't own NCIS.
A/N: While I did say I would update yesterday, I didn't really feel like it. I had the day off work- which is beyond rare as I literally work 24/7- so I took some time away from the computer and had an enjoyable, lazy day with my family and friends. It was nice, and now here's a chapter for you.
Chapter Seven
The Exam
"Shouldn't you be getting back to work?" Tony asked when Jethro returned to the bedroom fifteen minutes later carrying a plate containing a sandwich and some chips.
"Soon," Jethro shrugged. "Eat."
"Thanks," Tony said as he accepted the plate, but his stomach rolled at the thought of eating the food.
Instead of leaving, Jethro stood beside the bed staring at him. "Eat."
"I will," Tony replied.
Just to appease the older man, who wasn't moving, Tony reached forward and took a bite of the sandwich. Had his stomach not been protesting, and the cuts in his mouth not be irritating him, he would have enjoyed the sandwich. Jethro knew just what he liked. Chewing slowly and carefully, he swallowed the small bite and turned back to his 'server'.
"Are you going to stand there until I'm finished?" Tony demanded, setting the plate down on the bed in front of him.
"No," Jethro shook his head.
There was a soft knocking on the door downstairs, but it opened without pause. Tony looked up at Jethro confused, but Jethro didn't seem surprised, and his uncomfortable stomach dropped.
"You didn't call him," Tony protested pushing the plate away, spilling the chips onto the blanket beneath it in his attempt to get off the bed.
Jethro grabbed his shoulders and Tony winced from pain as the older man pushed him back down onto the bed. Had he not been in so much pain, all over his damn body, Tony might have been able to get away from him, but not in his current condition.
"Relax," Jethro ordered as Ducky stepped into the bedroom. "I didn't call Vance."
"I told you not to tell anybody!" Tony said fiercely.
"No. You told me not to tell Vance," Jethro corrected him, letting go of his shoulders as he stopped struggling. "You need to be checked out though, and knowing you, a hospital is out of the question. Let Ducky look at you. You're not going to tell anybody he's here, are you Ducky?"
"Of course not," Ducky replied as he set his medical bag on the end of the bed.
Tony was silent and his expression sullen for a moment before he consented to being looked over by the elderly Medical Examiner. He trusted Ducky. He knew the man wouldn't do anything to harm him.
"Go away," Tony told Jethro when Ducky told him to remove his shirt.
"Why?" Jethro demanded.
Tony just stared at him with determination in his eyes.
"Fine," Jethro sighed. "I'll be downstairs. Call me if you need anything."
He watched Jethro go and sighed with relief. He didn't care if Ducky told Jethro all about every injury on him, he just didn't want him to SEE it. It made him feel uncomfortable being watched and scrutinized by people who didn't need to see his injuries.
"Take your shirt off," Ducky repeated himself as the door snapped shut.
Reluctantly, Tony pulled the NIS shirt he'd stolen from Jethro's drawer over his head to reveal the pattern of bruising and cuts that covered his abdomen. Ducky stared at him in awe for a moment.
"What in the world happened to you?" Ducky demanded as he pulled the gauze patch away from the still bleeding wound. "I don't know how much I'm going to be able to do. You really should be in a hospital. You could have severe internal damage, Anthony."
"I'm not going to the hospital," Tony shook his head, knowing he was going to encounter this from the ME. "Just look at me and tell Jethro I'm fine so he'll get off my back."
"I will do no such thing. You're not fine," Ducky refused. "This is going to need stitches."
Tony leaned back into the pillows and let the elderly man palpate his stomach and clean the wound. He cringed in pain as it was stitched up, despite the local anesthetic the doctor used. His entire torso was examined and prodded and palpated and his head as well, but Tony refused to remove his pants for the elderly doctor to see anything else.
"No," Tony refused stubbornly. "There's nothing bad down there anyway."
"Don't make me ask Jethro to come in here and remove them for me," Ducky threatened impatiently. "If you're not going to go to the hospital, you're going to let me examine you."
Ducky wasn't joking, and Tony knew it. Trying to calm down, Tony removed the sweats he'd borrowed from Jethro's dresser and pulled his t-shirt back on, as if that would keep a bit of his dignity intact. As the doctors eyes went wide, Tony clenched his jaw in frustration.
"My dear boy," Ducky sighed, patting him on the shoulder. "Whoever did this to you?"
"Doesn't matter," Tony wouldn't say. "It's nothing."
"This isn't nothing," Ducky told him, but his entire demeanor had changed. He was back to the caring old doctor he'd always been, as if he hadn't been exceedingly frustrated with his charge only a second ago.
The thick red welts that wound around his penis stung even more when Ducky touched one, but Tony refused to let him bandage the one that was cracked open and raw. A bandage on his most private and sensitive place was only going to make him more uncomfortable.
Tony adamantly refused when the doctor wanted to check his other side. He cussed the doctor up and down when he'd finally given into the exam, and he wanted to cry when Ducky patted him on the back and told him he could put his pants back on. He'd wanted to hide it. He'd wanted to pretend that nothing at all had happened below the belt, and now that was impossible.
"Who did this to you?" Ducky wondered as a fully dressed Tony wrapped his arms around his chest and sat stiffly on the bed.
"Doesn't matter," Tony replied.
Ducky watched him for a moment, knowing not to press, before he handed him a couple of ibuprophen from a bottle in his bag. It was the strongest he could give him without a prescription, and Ducky wasn't allowed to write prescriptions. Usually, his patients didn't require them.
Tony watched Ducky finally leave the room before folding himself into a ball on the bed that was so familiar yet now uninviting. He wished he'd never gone to Washington. He wished he'd never left the one person who would have protected him from anything.
A/N: Poor, poor Tony. Why must I be so mean to him? Certainly he did not need that much pain inflicted upon him... The next chapter will be up tomorrow.
Any thoughts?
