Silent Misery R&R - Chapter 10
by HidingInSight
They lay together in the increasing light, drifting a little, neither fully asleep nor fully awake, until Fornell's phone began to shrill and startled them both.
"Seven o'clock," Fornell said. For a second, the meaning of that didn't register. Then it did, and Gibbs sighed and rolled over, sitting up.
They reluctantly started the day. Fornell helped Gibbs with the douche and the cream before they trooped downstairs. Gibbs again took five pills with water. Fornell started coffee while Gibbs sat at the table and called Ducky at the hospital. DiNozzo had had a good night overall, the ME reported. Between being woken every hour for concussion protocol testing and occasionally waking between times with sleep disturbances – Ducky intentionally did not call them nightmares – the younger man hadn't gotten much sleep. Nevertheless, he'd passed the tests with flying colors, his nausea and dizziness had resolved, and he was scheduled to be released in a few hours. Gibbs told Ducky to see him home. They'd both take the day off. He'd clear it with Vance.
"How is he?" Fornell asked.
"Concussion symptoms resolved," Gibbs said. "Ducky's gonna take him home."
"What are you going to tell Vance?" Fornell asked.
"Head injuries times two, broken ribs times one, with a side of occupational blood exposure during a fight."
"That'll generate a ton of paperwork," Fornell said.
Gibbs shrugged. "Can't be helped. Those drugs are gonna kick my ass, I can already feel it. Gotta explain taking time off in the middle of a hot case somehow. Not to mention it's gonna be a week before DiNozzo can see again."
"And when the truth gets out?"
"It's not getting out," Gibbs said firmly. Fornell poured two mugs of coffee and brought them over.
"You can't keep a secret this big forever. If nothing else, when we catch the bastard..."
"He'll go down for everything else," Gibbs interrupted. "No reason to bring me into it."
Fornell sipped his coffee. "You gonna be okay with that? Him not paying for what he did to you?"
"He'll pay," Gibbs said. "They all will. I'll be perfectly happy seeing him do life on behalf of the rest of the victims." Fornell didn't push it any further for the moment. Life, death, whatever.
"You gonna lie to your team, too?" he asked. Might as well get it all out now.
"It's not lying, it's Rule 4," he said.
Fornell frowned. He wasn't as good at 'The Rules' as Gibbs' people.
"Something about secrets?" he thought out loud.
"Best way to keep a secret is keep it to yourself. Second best, tell one other person, if you must. There is no third best," Gibbs quoted.
"I think you already blew that one," Fornell said. He counted on his fingers: "You, me, DiNozzo, Ducky..." He waggled four. "That's already two too many, even if you don't count the hospital staff."
Gibbs shrugged and drank his coffee. He knew Fornell was right. Eventually, he was going to have to tell McGee and David – and Abby – what had happened. But he knew it would change things between them. Their team's dynamic had been carefully cultivated over many years, and something like this could destroy it.
"It won't work," Fornell said. "Your people are too smart, and they know you too well."
"Maybe," Gibbs admitted. When he said nothing more, Fornell decided to let it go for now.
"So what do you wanna do today?" he asked.
"Go to work," Gibbs said, then continued when Fornell began to object: "You asked what I wanted to do, not what I was going to do. I'm going to stay home and try not to go stir crazy."
"Didn't you say you needed the hardware store?" Fornell asked.
Gibbs nodded. "Not going there like this, though," he said, gesturing toward his neck. "They know me. They'll ask."
"Can I get what you need?" Fornell asked, and Gibbs had to smile. Fornell at the hardware store. Yeah, he could see that.
"Nah. I'll find something to occupy the time," Gibbs said.
Fornell nodded. Keeping Gibbs busy away from work was definitely going to be a challenge, especially if he was feeling well enough to be up. They'd deal with that one day at a time. He drank more coffee.
"We need groceries," Fornell said a minute later. "You gonna be okay here while I go?
"It's my house, Tobias. I'm always okay here," Gibbs said.
"Your address isn't on your driver's license," Fornell said.
"No," Gibbs said, not sure what the point was. Like many members of law enforcement, the address displayed on his license was the office. Helped prevent unpleasant visits should a wallet be lost or stolen in an inopportune location.
"He went through your wallet, but he doesn't know where you live," Fornell said, and Gibbs nodded. "You're safe here."
"I know," Gibbs said, and Fornell nodded.
"Good. Make me a list, I'll go out after I get dressed," Fornell said.
While Fornell showered, Gibbs dressed and brushed his teeth again. In his head, he knew there was nothing of the bastard left in his mouth. He also knew in his head it was ridiculous to keep compulsively brushing his teeth. But he couldn't help it. He couldn't get rid of the taste of him.
For a minute this morning, when his hand was covered with Tobias' seed, he thought he might be able to replace the foulness with something familiar and sweet. He'd raised his hand to his face, prepared to lick it away, when the smell had hit him. He'd recoiled, instantly flashing back to the day before, the scent of semen and blood filling his nose. Then he couldn't get it off his hands fast enough.
The feeling would pass, eventually. He knew that. But he didn't want to wait. He wanted to regain control. Now.
E-E-E-E-E
When Fornell was ready to go, Gibbs gave him a list and asked him to drop by NCIS and pick up a replacement phone. He would feel better when he had direct contact with his team again. Fornell promised to be quick.
Gibbs refilled his coffee and sat on the couch. He put the cup on the coffee table and leaned his head back, closing his eyes for a self-inventory. His backside was sore, but not as bad as it had been. The Vicodin was doing its thing. He wasn't sure sitting at his desk was going to be comfortable anytime soon, and even sitting here on the softness of the couch wasn't exactly easy, but it was tolerable. The medicated cream Tobias had applied obviously had an anesthetic process. The tingle and burn as it went on had quickly resolved to a general numbness. If he concentrated, he could feel where the cream had spilled over a little on one side, carrying the numbness with it.
He still had a headache. It was a feeling of pressure, centered above his right ear and spreading out toward his forehead on that side. Right where the doctor had said the 'contra-coupe' injury had occurred. The soft spot on the opposite side was tender to the touch, the skin around it tight. He'd had many worse headaches and in the big picture, it wasn't a big deal.
His neck was also sore to touch. He could feel swelling when he swallowed, but it wasn't bad. It certainly wasn't enough to explain why he'd had so much trouble eating soup last night. He knew it wasn't pain that had made him gag like that. It was... something else. Something that resolved immediately when he drank it instead of using the spoon. Something he was not ready to think about right now.
His shoulders were still stiff. They'd been stretched beyond their comfort zone and old muscles were objecting. Not exactly painful, just stiff. His low back felt the same. Stiff.
His wrists were sore. He'd examined them in the shower this morning before Tobias had rebandaged them. The abrasions on his left wrist were already beginning to scab over. The ones on the right were still open. Another thing that would be with him for a while. He'd have to talk to Ducky about whether there was any way to prevent – or at least reduce – scarring. Not that scars bothered him, usually, but that kind of scar could only come from being tied up. He'd really like to avoid spending the rest of his life carrying around that kind of self-explanatory evidence, out there for everyone to see.
The scratches on his chest had already begun to fade. A few days and he knew they'd be gone without a trace. That was something, anyway.
He could feel a slight instability in his stomach. Not nausea, really, just something not quite balanced. Presumably the early stages of side effects the ARVs. The nurse, Jessica, had said he should plan to take a week off to deal with the worst of it. Gibbs hadn't taken that much time off since he sailed his boat down the Intracoastal Waterway to the Gulf of Mexico, more than three years before. Taking the time off wouldn't be horrible: The problem would be keeping busy, and keeping his mind off what was keeping him home.
Gibbs sighed and reached under the end table for the pillow and blanket he kept there for use when he slept on the couch. He turned to lay down, stuffing the pillow under his head and shaking the blanket out over himself. He felt tired, body and mind. With nothing better to do now anyway, he closed his eyes.
E-E-E-E-E
There was a light, almost tentative knock on the door that made Gibbs start awake some time later. No one who knew him expected him to be home during the day, and with his truck not in the driveway, no one would be looking for him here. He sat unmoving, waiting for whoever it was to go away.
The tapping came again. Gibbs sat up to look over the back of the couch out the front window.
"Damn it," he cursed under his breath. Abby's red 1932 Deuce Coupe was parked at the curb. There was no reason for her to be looking for him. He hadn't called in sick yet, and it wasn't late enough that she'd have been worried he hadn't shown up. Which meant he'd either been ratted out by DiNozzo or Ducky, or she'd found something in the evidence that had brought her here instead of calling. Neither situation was one he wanted to deal with this morning. The fact that she was knocking instead of just coming inside probably meant she didn't really want to deal with it either. Which made his heart sink a little, wondering what she might have figured out.
A change in the room's pressure as the front door opened made Gibbs sigh. He really needed to start locking the door.
"Gibbs?" A small call out, barely above a whisper. For a second, he thought about staying quiet and pretending he wasn't here. Reality check said she'd see him in another two steps.
"In here, Abby," he said, swinging his feet to the floor. The front door closed, but Abby didn't come into the living room. He waited. She didn't appear.
"Abby?"
"Yeah?" she said, still out of sight in the entryway.
"You coming in?"
He heard her move and she slid around the short wall, her back against the end of it. She was looking across the room toward the kitchen, and most definitely not looking at him.
"Abby?" he said again.
"Yeah?"
"Why are you here?"
"I wanted to see you," she said. "To be sure you were okay." Her voice was flatter than normal, with none of the natural exuberance she seemed to carry with her everywhere.
"Why wouldn't I be okay?" he asked. She still hadn't come in, and still hadn't looked at him.
"You're not at work," she said.
"Maybe I'm running late," he said.
"You're never late," she countered.
"Maybe I've got the flu."
She shook her head, still not looking his way. "You never get the flu." She pushed off the wall and walked across to the dining room. Gibbs watched her back as she stopped next to the table. There were six pill bottles and the box of stool softeners still lined up there. She picked each one up and read the label before putting it back again.
"I want it not to be true," she said, not turning around.
"What?" he asked. How much did she know?
"Tell me it's not true," she said. "Please?"
"Abby, look at me," Gibbs said softly.
Abby shook her head. She rested her hands on the back of one of the chairs. He noticed she was dressed down today: oversize black jeans, an oversize black hoodie, black boots but not platforms. Her hair was in low ponytails, tied off with plain elastic bands. Her neck was collarless.
"Were you up all night?" Gibbs guessed. She nodded. "You get that evidence processed for me?" She nodded again. "You running the suspect DNA?"
"I sent it in a few hours ago," she said. "Why didn't you tell me?"
"Tell you what?" he asked.
"That you and Tony got hurt," she said.
"Didn't want you to worry," Gibbs said. It was part of the truth.
"How bad is it?"
"We got knocked around a little. Tony's got a concussion, a broken rib, and a fracture in his eye socket, but no permanent damage. He'll be fine in a week or so."
"And you?" she asked.
"Bruised up. A minor head injury. Got an exposure I'm going to have to take medicine for. Not a big deal." It was said with a last, desperate prayer that she hadn't figured it out.
Abby seemed to crumble a little, her shoulders sagging, her head dropping and her hands falling to her sides.
"You've never done that before," she said, her voice hitching a little. He thought she was probably crying.
"What?" he asked.
"Lied to me."
He pushed himself off the couch, biting back a groan, and moved toward her, stopping three feet away.
"Look at me, Abby, please?" he said. She shook her head and hugged herself. He closed the gap and raised a hand to her arm. Abby turned with a cry, burying her face in his neck without opening her closed eyes. He put his arms around her and held her tight. Without her platform boots, she was inches shorter than he was and he rested his cheek against the top of her head. She was trembling.
"How did you find out?" he asked quietly after a minute.
"Your clothes."
He frowned, not following. "My clothes?"
"The clothes you were wearing yesterday were in the evidence," she said, and he clenched his jaw in frustration. Of course. Why the hell hadn't he thought about that?
"I didn't want it to be true," Abby continued. "I wanted to think it was a big coincidence, that maybe you just got evidence on you or something. Then I saw the pictures."
"The pictures," Gibbs repeated.
"I recognized your hands. And the scar on your shoulder, from where Ari shot you. Then I knew it was you. But I still hoped..." Now she was really crying. He held her tightly.
"Oh, Abby, sometimes you're just too smart," he said softly.
"Were you ever going to tell me?" she asked in a broken voice.
"I hoped I wouldn't have to," Gibbs said.
Gibbs held her until her cries faded and she relaxed against him.
"Are you going to look at me now?" Gibbs asked. She nodded and pulled away slightly, slowly looking up. Her dark eyes were wet, small traces of mascara leaking from the corners. Her gaze settled first on his neck and she reached up to lightly brush her fingertips against the bruises there. She finally looked at his face, raised a hand to touch his temple, tracing around his eyes.
"Are you alright?" she asked.
"You saw the photos," he said. "You know what the damage is."
"I didn't," Abby said, shaking her head quickly. "I mean, I didn't see them all. As soon as I knew they were... you... I stopped looking. I didn't want to see anymore of... you."
Gibbs chuckled a little. "I appreciate that, Abby. I trust you to be discrete."
She nodded again. "I sealed them back up and locked them in my desk," she said. "No one else will see them."
"Thank you," Gibbs said. He let her go. She went back to examining the medicine bottles.
"There's no pain medication here," she noted. "Didn't they give you any?"
"It's upstairs," he said.
"Are you using it?" she asked, and turned to him.
"Yes," he said, and she frowned. She knew what that meant.
"So you're not alright," she said.
"I will be," Gibbs said. "Probably be back to work before DiNozzo."
"Was he... too?"
"No," Gibbs said. He returned to the living room to pick up his coffee and sat down on the couch again. "He's pretty beat up, though."
She nodded and followed him into the living room, standing on the other side of the coffee table to stare down at him.
"What happened?" she asked, her voice small again. "How did he get you?"
"We can't win every time, Abs," Gibbs said. "Law of averages says they'll get us every now and then."
"Yeah, but..."
"But nothing. Come here." He pulled the blanket out of the way and patted the couch next to him. She hesitated.
"Are you sure?" she asked. "I don't want to..." She made an ambiguous gesture with her hand.
"Abby, sit," Gibbs grumped, and her mouth quirked up with a shadow of a smile. She came around the coffee table and sat down. He put an arm around her shoulder and she snuggled into him.
"When I was in college, I had a friend who was... hurt like that," Abby began.
"You can say the word, Abby," Gibbs said into her hair.
"Raped," she said, the word rolling uncomfortably off her tongue. "I had a friend who was raped. She never got over it."
"Never?" Gibbs asked.
"She killed herself, about a month after it happened," Abby said. Gibbs squeezed her shoulder.
"Not something you have to worry about here, Abs. I'll be fine," he said.
"What if you're not?" she asked. "I don't want to lose you."
"Not a chance," Gibbs said. "Besides, Fornell took away all my bullets."
"What?" Abby said, jerking back to look at him. "That's not safe. What if the man who hurt you comes here?"
"He won't."
"How do you know?" she asked.
"He's not looking for me, Abby. He's a cocky bastard who thinks I won't report what he did because I'm too embarrassed or too scared, just like the others."
"But you're not going to report it, just like the others," Abby pointed out.
"The difference is, I don't have to report him to make sure he pays," Gibbs said. "He'll pay for what he did to me, and DiNozzo, and all the other victims, and my name will never have to come into it."
Abby sighed a little and leaned back into him. "Why did Agent Fornell take away your guns? Does he think you're dangerous?"
"Not my guns, just the bullets," Gibbs said. "He thought it was best I not be around loaded weapons for a while." He smiled. "He was right. He snuck up on me this morning and I nearly shot him."
"Eeee," Abby said, a sound that was 'uh oh' and 'yikes' and 'ouch' all at the same time. "Is he going to stay here with you?"
"I suspect so," Gibbs said.
"Good." She nodded against his chest. When she said nothing else, he did.
"That doesn't surprise you?" he asked.
"You're hurting. Where else would he be?" she asked.
Gibbs cocked his head, considering her. "Abby?"
She looked around at him again, saw the look on his face, and smiled. "Come on, Gibbs, you don't think I know?"
"What do you think you know?" Gibbs asked. He felt a flutter in his belly that had nothing to do with the drugs he was taking.
"I know you and Special Agent Fornell have become way more than friends."
The flutter became a lead weight.
"We have?" he asked.
"Of course," Abby said. "And I think it's great. He's really good for you."
"He is?"
"Oh yeah," she said. "He's what you've been trying to find for years: Someone to love who's strong enough to love you back."
"Really," Gibbs said.
"Uh huh," Abby said. "And you've been a lot less stressed since you two got together."
Gibbs fell silent, trying to decide whether to cop to it or not. Since his relationship with Fornell had turned, he hadn't really been hiding it from his team, but he hadn't made any big announcement, either. He'd known they'd figure it out eventually, and he'd been mostly ambivalent about what their reactions would be. His people didn't harbor prejudices. He didn't allow it. He was sure it would come as a surprise to all of them to find out Leroy Jethro Gibbs was in love with a man. It might even shock them. But they'd get over it, or they'd find somewhere else to work. He'd actually expected that Abby would take the news best, when it got out. He just wasn't aware it was already out.
"It doesn't bother you?" he finally asked.
"The heart wants what it wants," Abby said. "You can't fault someone for that."
Gibbs frowned, not sure he liked being compared to the source of the reference. Still, the message was true.
"Who else knows?" he asked.
"Ducky, for sure," Abby said. "Tony would know if he'd stop ignoring his gut. But he keeps dismissing what he sees because he's having trouble getting his head around the idea you might be gay."
And there it was. That word.
Gibbs didn't think of himself as gay. The way he understood it, being gay meant you were attracted to those of your same gender. He wasn't attracted to men. He was just attracted to Tobias Fornell. As a matter of fact, except for a few nights in the Corps when things got really bad, he hadn't been intimate with a man before the night he and Fornell had finally decided to stop screwing around and start... screwing around. He always had been – and still was – attracted to women. He just didn't sleep with them anymore. So what did that make him?
"Where was Tony, yesterday?" Abby asked, pulling him back from his ruminations.
"He was there. They got him first," Gibbs said. "After, he got us out of there, got help."
"Did he see..." she stopped. Gibbs squeezed her shoulder.
"Abby, that's enough. You already know more than you should. When will you have results for me?"
Abby shrugged. "Tomorrow. Maybe Friday. You didn't tell me to rush it."
Before Gibbs could say anything more, he heard tires in the driveway.
"Fornell's here," he said, and Abby straightened.
"I should get back to work," she said and started to rise.
"Wait," Gibbs said, holding her back. The sedan's engine shut off, doors opened and shut, and the kitchen door opened.
"Whose coup is that out front?" Fornell called. Gibbs heard bags clunking down on the kitchen counter.
"Abby's," Gibbs called back. A moment's silence, then a few items went into the fridge before Fornell appeared in the dining room.
"Hello, Abby," Fornell said.
"Hello," she replied.
"What are you doing here?" Fornell asked.
"She knows," Gibbs said.
"Knows?" Fornell said. He moved further into the room, looking down at them.
"Yesterday. And us," Gibbs said.
"Oh," Fornell said, and Gibbs could have sworn Fornell's cheeks reddened, for just a second. "You run his DNA?" he asked.
"Of course not," Abby said, sounding slightly insulted. "He told me not to."
"She recognized my clothes," Gibbs said. "And my hands, apparently." He glanced down at his hands, wondering what Abby'd seen in the picture that was at all unique.
"Oh," Fornell said again. "We should've thought of that."
"Yeah," Gibbs agreed.
"Anyone else know?"
"About us? Ducky knows, DiNozzo suspects."
"That's it?" Fornell asked.
"So far," Abby agreed.
"Your people aren't as smart as you give them credit for," Fornell said to Gibbs.
"They seem to be having trouble seeing me as gay," Gibbs said.
"Me too," Fornell agreed. "Are you staying for breakfast, Abby?"
"No. I have to get to work." She stood again, and this time, Gibbs let her go.
"You take care of him, Mister," she said, wagging her finger at Fornell.
"I will," Fornell promised. She surprised him by throwing her arms around him in a hug. She whispered in his ear: "Keep the guns unloaded." Fornell nodded.
"When are you coming back to work?" Abby asked Gibbs as she pulled away.
"Maybe tomorrow," Gibbs said. "See how I feel."
"Don't come back too soon. We need your 'A' game." She turned toward the door.
"Hey Abby?" Gibbs called to her. She turned back.
"Yes?" she asked.
"I don't want this getting out. Any of it. Are you okay with that?"
Abby chewed on her lip for a second. "Yes. Until and unless someone asks me to raise my right hand and swear to tell the truth, it's no one's business. None of it."
"That's my girl," Gibbs said with a smile. She dashed back and gave him a fierce seated hug that left him a little breathless before rushing out of the house. Her body language said she was better than when she'd arrived, but still far from normal.
Fornell stood in the living room watching out the front window until her car pulled away. "Brought breakfast," he said.
"Not hungry," Gibbs said.
"Sorry to hear that," Fornell said. He went into the kitchen, returning with two large plastic cups with straws sticking out the tops. He held one out to Gibbs.
"It's a strawberry banana smoothie. With protein. Drink it." Gibbs took it and pried the lid off, sniffing it suspiciously. It smelled okay. He ignored the straw and took a sip directly from the cup. A little gritty, but not bad.
Fornell took a new cell phone out of his pocket and held it up. It was the same model Gibbs been using for years. "McGee says you're running low on these. You're gonna have to learn to use a smartphone pretty soon."
Gibbs took it. "Not today," he said. He turned the power on. In a minute, a familiar tone rang out. He had messages. He was pleased to note his phone book and speed dials were already programmed. Sometimes he thought they didn't pay that kid nearly enough.
To be continued.