Chapter Ten: What. A. Mess.

Not long after Jethro and Tony walked through the front door of Jethro's home, the entire house smelled like any one of the best authentic Italian restaurants DC had to offer. Jethro turned the oven light on and knelt down on his bad knee to peer in at the lasagna, bubbling deliciously in the oven. It was his hope that Tony's go-to comfort food would help settle his younger lover after the long, trying day he'd had. More than once Tony had gushed over how much he loved Jethro's traditional American version of the traditional Italian dish.

"You about ready to eat?" he asked as he headed into the dining room where Tony was sitting quietly at the table. He rested his hands on Tony's shoulders and squeezed firmly, letting the pressure work at the knots and tight muscles.

"Ow," Tony whimpered, wincing even though it felt good.

Jethro put just enough pressure on the back of Tony's neck to start working at the tension there as he leaned over and kissed his temple. "You're too tense," he said lovingly. "Try to relax. You're safe here." The massage continued and it wasn't long before Tony let himself start to relax under the loving touches. "Don't hold your breath," Jethro instructed.

"Didn't realize I was," Tony admitted, taking a long, deep breath.

"That's because you're too damn tense," Jethro said again with just enough playfulness in his voice to let Tony know his motives were nothing but loving. "Why don't you pour the wine while I get the lasagna outta the oven?"

"Um, Jethro, do you, uh, do you have any white milk?" Tony asked hesitantly.

"Mm-hmm."

"Could I have that instead?"

"If that's what you want," Jethro answered, trying to hide the worry in his tone. "What happened to not messing with tradition?" Tony had always been adamant that pasta with red sauce was only to be enjoyed with red wine and Jethro had never seen him drink a glass of milk at any time of day.

Tony shrugged halfheartedly as he stepped past Jethro and headed for the refrigerator.

Jethro looked on with worry for a moment before grabbing the bottle of sweet red wine from the table and following Tony into the kitchen. "Pour me some milk too, will ya?"

Tony turned back towards Jethro in surprise and the two shared a hesitant smile, both studying the other one, trying their best to read the unreadable expressions and body language. Tony, not wanting Jethro to question him, filled both wine glasses on the table with white milk, no questions asked and settled back into his seat. He'd never felt quite so out of place in Jethro's home. In fact, that was usually where he felt the most at home but now there were so many questions about their relationship and neither of them were very good at talking about such things.

Tony certainly didn't want to be the one to bring it up either, for fear of learning that he had too much baggage for Jethro. There was a big part of him that had always felt unlovable and unworthy and even dirty and used. He knew full well that that didn't exactly make him a catch in anyone's eyes.

"I hope you're hungry," Jethro said, carefully depositing the family size dish on the trivet in the middle of the table.

Tony couldn't remember the last time he'd actually been hungry. His nerves were beyond messed up and it was affecting his stomach but he'd try to eat enough to avoid the questions about his lack of appetite. "Looks good," he replied nervously.

Tony's tone cause enough worry for Jethro to drop his head low enough to catch the man's eyes. "You alright?"

"Just tired," Tony lied. Well, he was tired but worry about stomaching the food was at the forefront of his mind.

Jethro served up two large portions and settled in across the table. He watched worriedly as Tony picked at the food on his plate with no enthusiasm for his favorite cuisine. He hated asking again but he couldn't help it. "Something wrong?"

"No," Tony answered, "it's good. Thank you."

"I didn't use the 'Ragu crap'," Jethro teased, employing air quotes. They'd had more than one argument about when it was and wasn't appropriate to use jarred spaghetti sauce (it was for emergency situations only, Tony insisted) and which jarred sauces were okay in said situations (Prego was absolutely the only sauce it was okay to have on hand).

Tony grinned and ducked his head in a way that Jethro found adorable as he recalled the silly arguments. "Guess I'm just not that hungry," he replied, laying his fork on his plate and resting his hand on the table.

Jethro reached across the table and fingered Tony's fingers, rubbing his fingers across the other man's and studying his face for a clue about what might be bothering him.

Tony watched as Jethro played with his fingers for a moment before speaking again. "I don't understand what's going on."

"What do you mean?" Jethro asked. "I'll try to explain it to you."

"I've got all this baggage," Tony huffed, angry at himself and his past for making him undesirable. "I'm used and dirty but you're still touching me, rubbing my back, hugging me, holding my hand and you choose now to invite me into your home, to spend the night together and play house and be—" he hesitated, searching for the right word, "normal. I don't get it."

Jethro narrowed his eyes in angry confusion as his fork fell to his plate with a loud clang. "Is that what you think? Is that how you see yourself? Because it's sure as hell not how I see you." He stood from the table and walked around to where Tony was sitting.

Tony stood, more out of intimidation than anything, and immediately found himself surrounded by Jethro's arms and the man wasn't simply hugging him, he was holding on for dear life.

"You're not dirty, Tony. You're not used and the only way I'll ever stop touching you is if you ask me to but please don't do that."

Tony relaxed slightly in Jethro's embrace, replaying the man's words over and over again in his head until they were forever etched in his memory. He desperately wanted to believe him but years of doubt kept getting in the way.

"Sometimes things happen, Tony, that open our eyes in a way that can't be explained," Jethro said. "They show us what's been there all along but they show us in a way that forces us to take action."

"So, what? Now that you know I was raped you, what? Feel sorry for me or something? You think you can make it better by changing our relationship status from 'it's complicated' to 'in a relationship'?"

"No, that's not what I meant," Jethro sighed. "Damn it, Tony, I'm not very good at this."

"I don't understand!" Tony said, trying to stop himself from getting worked up.

"Finding out Marshall had been in your apartment; how quickly, how easily I could've lost you without ever really even having you," Jethro looked Tony in the eye, trying desperately to convey how he truly felt, "that's not okay with me, Tony. I have to at least try. I care about you. I want something more than a series of," he hesitated, wishing there was a different way to sum up their past relationship, "one night stands with you."

"I won't tell Ducky you admitted that," Tony said, trying to break the tension with a little humor. "You aren't afraid of me?"

"Afraid of you?" Jethro asked. "You a closet serial killer?"

Tony smiled. "No, but I'm dirty. Used. You don't want proof that I'm not gonna give you some horrible disease?"

"I trust you," Jethro replied.

Tony nodded, taking in the conversation. "I've been tested multiple times," he said quietly. "I know I'm clean. There's nothing wrong with me; nothing stopping me from having a perfectly normal relationship, but I feel like when people find out they just see me as dirty and diseased. Like they better stay away or they might catch whatever I have."

Jethro wrapped his arms around Tony and held him tightly. He buried his nose in Tony's hair, inhaling the familiar scent. In that moment he felt closer to Tony than he ever had in the past. When Tony tilted his head up, Jethro rubbed noses with him before letting their lips meet. He brushed his fingers across Tony's cheeks as the kiss ended and simply smiled at him.

"I really am clean," Tony said desperately.

"You don't have to persuade me, Tony. I believe you. And I've never thought of you as dirty or used or diseased. I'm sorry it took all this coming to light for me get my head on straight but I'm glad you don't have the burden of that secret anymore and I'm thankful for the opportunity to do what I can to help you through this. You're not alone. I'm right here. I'll always be right here."

"Promise?"

"I promise."

Tony sat on the edge of the bed, clad only in a pair of pajama pants, watching as Jethro shaved and brushed his teeth with a towel wrapped around his waist after his shower. The man winked at him as he walked past the bed on the way to the closet to grab his work clothes.

"Are you sure I can't come with you?" Tony asked.

"Wish ya could," Jethro said apologetically. "The bullpen feels empty without the team's very special agent."

Tony smiled halfheartedly. "I could just watch or keep you company or something."

Jethro stepped out of the closet with a pair of pants on but hanging open and walked over to where Tony was sitting on the bed. He caught the man's attention and offered him a concerned smile. "I don't want you anywhere near this, Tony. We gotta keep everything above board so nobody can ever say anything that might get Marshall outta jail."

"We gotta get him in jail first," Tony pointed out.

Jethro grabbed a white undershirt from his dresser drawer and pulled it on over his head. "We will," he said confidently. "You gonna be okay today?"

Tony nodded, watching as Jethro carefully chose which color polo shirt he was going to wear.

"Will you be here when I get home tonight?" Jethro asked.

"Do I have a choice?"

Jethro paused on the way to the bathroom to brush his hair and looked down at Tony. "Do you want one?"

"Not really," Tony answered. "I just don't wanna overstay my welcome. This is gonna take some getting used to."

"I know," Jethro said. "I agree but we get to do it together. I want you here tonight, Tony, but if you feel like you need some space I can arrange a hotel room and a protection detail." It broke his heart to make the offer but he understood the dangers of holding on too tightly. His exes had done that to him which was one of the reasons they were exes.

"I'll be here," Tony assured the man. "I'm just gonna run by my place and grab some clothes and maybe hit the grocery store."

Images of David Marshall waiting in Tony's apartment flashed in Jethro's mind and he couldn't help but feel protective. "I'll send someone over to go with you."

Tony rolled his eyes but smiled at the comment. "Send Dorney," he said. "No need pulling Balboa away from whatever he's working on."

Jethro hesitated briefly before nodding. He smiled at how well Tony knew him. Balboa would always be his first choice. The man had years of experience in the field, but Tony was right. Dorney could handle this assignment. "I'll see you tonight, Tony."

The two shared a quick kiss before Jethro headed out and Tony stepped into the bathroom to get his shower out of the way before Ned arrived.

The short order cook at the diner Jethro frequented took the cake part of his pancakes very seriously. His fluffy flapjacks were some of the sweetest you could find in the DC metro and everyone liked them that way. Jethro's mouth watered as he headed for the Navy Yard with three orders in to go boxes in the seat next to him. Christopher Tatum was no longer a suspect but Jethro still needed to get the guy to open up to him and he was relying on the same basics he used for interrogations to accomplish the feat. Trust was key and sharing a meal was a good way to begin to establish trust.

He arrived at headquarters a little later than he normally did but it was still early, Fornell made sure to remind him as they walked into the building together.

"We got a lot to do today, Tobias," was Jethro's response. "Where're we at, McGee?"

"No hits on our BOLO for Marshall," Tim reported. "Tatum's waiting for you in the conference room."

"Send Dorneget over to my house," Gibbs ordered. "He's on protection detail with Tony this morning."

"On it."

"Let's go, Tobias."

Gibbs led the way to the conference room and set their breakfast out on the table. He slid one container over to Fornell, put one by the seat across from Tatum, where he planned on sitting then set one down in front of the frightened Marine and popped the lid open as he assessed Tatum's condition. The man's shoulders were hiked up almost to his ears, his leg was bouncing uncontrollably under the table and he was avoiding eye contact at all costs.

"Morning, Christopher," Gibbs greeted.

"Sir."

"Agent Gibbs," Gibbs corrected, "or just Gibbs. How're you this morning?"

"I, uh, I don't understand, Si—Agent Gibbs."

"It's a simple question," Gibbs said nonchalantly.

"I'm okay," Tatum answered, completely at a loss as to what was going on. He watched as Gibbs and Fornell spread butter and poured syrup over their pancakes before they started eating. "May I ask what I'm doing here, Sir?"

"Special Agent Gibbs," Gibbs corrected again, "and I thought we could start with some breakfast."

"Trust me," Fornell said around a mouthful of pancake, "Jethro has awful taste in coffee, the stuff he drinks will eat a hole in your stomach, but these pancakes are fantastic. Eat up."

"I'm not really hungry," Tatum said, poking at his pancakes with his fork.

"Tony hasn't been very hungry lately either," Gibbs said. He didn't miss the spark of recognition in Tatum's eyes.

"Sir?"

"You know Tony," Gibbs prodded casually before taking another bite of his breakfast.

"I guess I've known a few," Tatum replied cryptically.

"Tony DiNozzo."

"I'm not good with last names, Sir—er—Special Agent Gibbs."

"That's okay," Gibbs said with a reassuring smile. "Let's talk about Simon Harding, Chris."

Tatum swallowed hard and had a difficult time meeting Gibbs' gaze. "Who?"

"The guy you killed."

"Oh. Right. Him."

"Yeah."

"What do you wanna know?" Tatum asked hesitantly.

"Let's start with how you knew him," Gibbs replied, pushing his breakfast back and grabbing his coffee.

"I don't. Or I didn't."

"Then why were you at the park?" Fornell asked while Gibbs drank his coffee.

"I was supposed to be meeting someone," Tatum answered. "They never showed."

"Who were you meeting?" Fornell continued.

"I—I really couldn't say."

"Do you know what I think, Chris?" Gibbs said, wiping his mouth with his napkin. "I think Harding lured you to that park; something happened there and he either forced you to kill him in self-defense of it was an accident. What I can't figure out is how a guy that you claim you didn't know lured you somewhere."

"He didn't," Tatum replied hesitantly. "I told you, I was there to meet someone else. I didn't know Simon."

"Simon?" Gibbs asked.

"Harding," Tatum corrected with frustration in his tone and a shrug of his shoulders.

"I don't believe you, Chris," Gibbs said gently. "You can lie to me till you're blue in the face but I know you knew Harding."

Tatum recoiled at the accusation and Gibbs knew he was losing him. He could feel it. Coaxing information out of Tatum was going to take time and patience, two things he didn't have much of at the moment.

"Can I get you anything?" Gibbs asked, changing gears before the Marine completely closed himself off.

Tatum simply shook his head and watched as Gibbs grabbed the Styrofoam carton that had held his breakfast and tossed it into the trashcan and Fornell followed his lead.

"Sit tight," Gibbs said, "we'll be back in a bit. There's an agent on the other side of this door if you need anything."

Gibbs and Fornell spent the entire morning and the better part of the afternoon going back and forth between the conference room to talk to Tatum and the rest of the building to check in with the team and update the director. By the time the sun started setting, both agents were frustrated by the fact that another day had passed and they knew nothing more than had when they'd arrived that morning.

"Maybe we should bring Tony in," Fornell suggested hesitantly. When his friend didn't blow up at the suggestion he continued. "They were both victimized by the same men. Tony had the courage to open up; maybe he can help give Tatum the same courage."

"I don't know if that's a good idea or not," Jethro said, "but we're running out of options."

"We are," Fornell agreed.

"Let me talk to Tony. If he's willing, we'll give it a shot."

Tony mumbled and grumbled under his breath as he shuffled through the few hanging clothes he'd retrieved from his house. When he was packing them up to bring to Jethro's it seemed like he'd brought far too much but now that he was at Jethro's and trying to choose something to wear it felt like he had far too little to choose from.

"What's wrong?" Dorney asked.

"I don't know what to wear," Tony panicked.

"What are you gonna be doing?" Dorney knew Gibbs had called and summoned them to the Navy Yard but beyond that he wasn't too sure what was going on or even why Tony needed a protection detail.

"Talking to a witness," Tony answered. "Or suspect. I'm not exactly sure how to classify the guy to be honest. Jethro's having a hard time getting him to open up and asked me to give it a shot." Tony couldn't have been more excited about getting the phone call. He was excited about finally feeling needed and thrilled at the prospect of actually being helpful. Terrified, but thrilled.

"Well, if you want him to feel comfortable enough to open up to you I'd try something a little more casual," Dorney suggested.

Tony thought for a moment before nodding his head. "Okay, yeah, good idea," he said, abandoning the suits hanging in the closet and making a beeline for the duffle bag on the floor. "Button up shirt?" he asked.

"Yeah," Dorney agreed, "and jeans. That should do the trick."

"Thanks, Dorney," Tony said with a renewed sense of confidence. So many things were out of his control that he found himself holding tightly to the few things he could control, like his appearance. It was nice to have someone around who could offer a little perspective when he got stuck in his headspace.

He carefully chose a button up shirt and tucked it into his jeans and after slipping his feet into a pair of casual dress shoes, he and Dorneget headed out the front door, got into the car and took off towards the Navy Yard. With most of the rush hour traffic going in the opposite direction, it didn't take long for them to reach their destination which only created more anxiety for Tony. He couldn't help but feel like he was standing outside the conference room door far too soon and completely unprepared.

"Tony?" Gibbs asked, trying to catch the man's eyes.

"Huh?"

"Where's your head at?" Gibbs asked softly.

"Here," Tony replied quickly. "I'm all here. I got this."

"Just go in there and talk to him as a friend, Tony," Fornell said. "Don't worry about being an investigator or getting answers or anything like that. Just try to help him relax. We'll be right out here the whole time."

Tony nodded and after one last look at Gibbs for reassurance, walked through the door his lover held open for him. "Hi Chris," he said.

"What're you doing here?" Tatum asked hesitantly.

"Same thing you are," Tony answered with a shrug. "Trying to figure out what the hell happened all those years ago."

"I don't know what you're talking about." The awkward laugh Tatum added onto the end of his statement gave away his lie.

"Sure you do," Tony replied. "There're no cameras in here, Chris, no two way mirrors or bugs or anything like that. It's just us."

Tatum studied Tony carefully for a long moment, trying to figure out how much everyone knew and how he could ask without giving anything away. He wasn't sure if he could trust Tony about it being just them in the room.

"How've you been?" Tony asked, relaxing into his chair.

"We're not friends, Tony."

"I know."

"You don't get it. You made something of your life and I'm just," Tatum looked down at his uniform and frowned, "about to go to jail."

"You think this isn't hard for me?" Tony asked, not hiding his annoyance. "This is the hardest thing I've ever had to do."

"It's not the same," Tatum insisted.

"I get it, Chris. I really do," Tony replied in a calm but pleading tone. "You have this life and it may not be much, hell, maybe it's built on a foundation of lies like mine was but it's all you've got and now that's being threatened and all you can think of is 'haven't I been through enough?' and 'what else do I have to lose?' and stuff like that but you can't keep hiding. You can't bury it anymore. It's time to tell our story. It sucks but I figure there's really never gonna be a good time for any of this to come out."

"Then why now?" Chris asked quietly. "Why tell anyone at all? Why can't we just go on like we have been for the last decade?"

"Because now we have a chance for justice," Tony answered. "David Marshall belongs in jail, not you. I don't know what went down in that park that caused you to kill Harding but I'm guessing it was justified. Tell Gibbs. You can trust him. Let him help you."

"I was wrong," Tatum said, trying to smile. "You do get it. I—I just thought it wasn't hard for you anymore since you have this job and friends and stuff."

"You have a job," Tony pointed out gently, "and aren't Marines supposed to be closer than brothers?"

"None of them know how messed up I am," Tatum confided. "It's hard to really get close to anybody when there's this secret part of you that you know you can never talk about. My life is built on a foundation of lies."

"It's time to fix that," Tony said. "It's time for both of us to fix that."

Tatum nodded and Tony offered him a genuine smile before going to get Gibbs and Fornell. "Do you want me to stay?" he asked before opening the door. He would stay if Chris wanted him to but he knew from personal experience that the more people there were in the room, the more pressure there was.

"Thanks but I think I got this."

Tony traded places with Gibbs and Fornell, knowing it was unnecessary but pleading with them anyways to take it easy on Tatum, then he headed off towards the bullpen to wait while the two men went in to question Tatum for what they all hoped was the last time.

"Can I get you anything?" Jethro offered as they settled in again.

"No thank you, Agent Gibbs." It had taken him all day but he'd finally dropped the sir. He swallowed hard, knowing what he had to do, but for some reason it had seemed easier before he found himself sitting across from a proud, confident Marine and investigator when he felt so weak and unsure of himself.

"Take your time," Gibbs coaxed.

"I don't wanna remember, Sir."

"I know, Son."

Tatum's eyes fell to his lap before he started talking. "You can't rape the willing. That's what he always said. He said it so many times I actually started believing it. I think I still do."

"Who's 'he', Chris?" Gibbs asked.

"Simon. Simon Harding."

"Keep going," Gibbs prodded.

"When I was thirteen…"

Gibbs and Fornell listened quietly as Tatum told a story almost identical to the one Tony had told; one of empty promises and false hopes, one of deceit and trickery that ended in a teen being taken advantage of. The similarities were both striking and spooky. Tatum had also come from a single parent home and that parent, his father, all but left him to fend for himself. His mother had died during childbirth leaving him an only child to be raised by nannies, yet craving his father's attention. He and Tony very easily could've been brothers if not twins.

"What happened at Rock Creek Park?" Gibbs asked when Tatum was done telling his story.

"It was kind of an accident," Tatum answered.

"Kind of?"

Tatum shrugged his shoulders. "I'm not sorry he's dead," the Marine whispered, briefly meeting Gibbs' gaze.

"That doesn't make it any less of an accident," Gibbs pointed out. "What happened out there, Chris?"

"I was—I was out for a jog and, you know how you can kinda feel someone watching you?"

"Mm-hmm."

"It took me awhile to spot him but when I did I panicked," Tatum continued. "He was on a park bench. When our eyes met he came over to me. I wanted to run away but I just froze." Tatum's face paled and his pupils widened. Sweat formed on his brow telling both agents his anxiety level was rising.

"Hey, Chris," Gibbs said calmly. He waited until Tatum made eye contact before continuing. "Relax. Take a deep breath. You're safe here."

Tatum took a shuddery deep breath while nodding his head frantically. "I know," he said, even though he didn't really feel safe. "S-Simon, he touched me, he grabbed my crotch, said-said it was good to see me. He said he missed me and he knew I missed him too. He wanted me to go behind the bushes with him but I couldn't. I-I couldn't do that again."

"Do what again?" Gibbs asked. "What did he want you to do?"

"Do I have to say it?"

"I know this is difficult, Chris, but we need to know."

"He wanted a blow job," Tatum said, shaking his head as his eyes glistened with unshed tears, "but I didn't wanna do that again. I couldn't. I felt sick to my stomach."

"Okay, it's okay," Gibbs said, giving him a moment to pull himself together. "What happened after that?"

"I shook my head no, that I wasn't gonna go with him but he grabbed my wrist and twisted it behind my back and tried to force me. I—I got him in a chokehold but I screwed up. I… I snapped his neck. It-it all happened so fast. He was, he was just dead, all of a sudden. I just didn't wanna go in the bushes, Sir."

"I understand," Gibbs said. "Calm down. We'll figure this out."

"I just didn't wanna go in the bushes," Tatum repeated.

"I know, Son," Gibbs said, sharing a devastated look with Fornell. Tatum wasn't holding it together anywhere near as well as Tony was and Gibbs had the sneaking suspicion that it had nothing to do with the possibility of a murder conviction hanging over his head. Tony had a support system, a family not connected by DNA but by something stronger. Christopher Tatum had nothing but Gibbs had no intention of leaving him lost and alone. He would do whatever he could to help the man. "I think that's enough for today," he said. "I'm gonna have Agent McGee take you back to the safe house so you can get some rest while I figure this out."

"I'm sorry, Sir," Tatum said.

"There's no need to apologize, Marine," Gibbs said as he stood. "McGee'll be in in just a minute."

"Thank you."

Gibbs followed Fornell into the hallway and closed the door behind them. He couldn't believe he was having such a difficult time holding it together but he saw so much of Tony in Christopher and his desire to fix things was stronger than ever yet there was little he could do to fix this. He looked at his longtime friend and shook his head in disbelief. "What a mess, Tobias. What. A. Mess."