The rain kept up much of the day.
Tony slept.
Gibbs talked to Ducky to update him on how they were doing. Then Ziva. Then Abby. Then McGee. And then he was almost too exhausted to do anything else. It was more talking than he did cumulatively in a year. They were worried. And still knew nothing of the uglier details of what Tommy Anselmo did to Tony. Except for Ducky, who he knew would let Tony decide for himself on what he wanted to tell the others.
They had reports to write, and Ducky had Tommy's body on ice, ready for release when all the red tape was finished up. But he had Vance's approval to keep them all out for another few days. Then they would all sit down and talk, about what was going in the official reports.
Since Gibbs knew from Tony's doctor that he had been sexually assaulted, there was a lot they needed to work through along with the other violence…but, it would be up to Tony what he would put in his statement. If he ever made one to add to McGee and Ziva's reports. Technically, Gibbs was a victim too – so could refuse to add his own statement. But it would leave a hole…a strange gap in the file, so he's have to write up some of it.
He grimaced to himself. At the idea they needed to protect Tony by omitting some of the details. And he knew at some point, Tony would ask him. What the file said. He's be worried about his career…if he was able to come back to work at all.
Gibbs groaned to himself at that thought, shaking his head to himself. He had to start thinking more positively. Tony had come through so many other things that most people wouldn't.
Gibbs looked at the clock. It was 18:30 hours. He put the book down he had barely had the mind to concentrate on and got up from the couch. Stiff. Again. Damned fucking leg.
Tony has to be in some discomfort by now…he was due some medication. He winced as he walked over to the guest room, and then tapped lightly on the door.
"Yeah Boss?" Tony answered in a quiet voice.
Gibbs pushed the door open to find Tony was sitting up, at the edge of the bed, light from the window having faded and leaving him in relative darkness. How long had he been sitting like that ?
"I was thinkin', we should get you cleaned up. You'd probably feel a world better with a hot shower."
He saw a slight slouch in Tony's shoulders.
"Ah…yeah. You're right. That would be good." Monotone again.
"I'll set up the supplies in here. ..to take care of your cuts. You know where the clean towels are. Just come out in your sweats. And we'll take care of it all." Gibbs wondered what Tony's back looked like at this point. Tension threaded through him.
Tony nodded. But hadn't turned to look at him.
Gibbs closed his eyes for a moment, feeling the well of sadness he felt for Tony's pain come up in him. He had to put it aside.
"Okay," he said more to himself, heading back to the kitchen to gather the hospital supplies.
Tony was numb again. He felt the initial anxiety when Gibbs brought up the injuries…cuts…not wanting to use the term "bite wounds" or "bite marks"…It made him feel instantly panicked and sick, but part of him knew this had to be done, and he'd just shut down.
He made his way to the bathroom after taking the clean sweats and towel with him.
He pulled back the shower curtain and began to undress. As he turned to throw his dirty clothes on the floor, he caught his reflection again in the mirror, just now seeing part of his back, two of the ugly and still swollen bites, scabs and black bruising around them. And the cut under his ribcage, stitched up and dark.
His vision was closing in on him again, turned away from the image, the one of this damaged person he didn't know, and sat on the toilet with his head between his knees trying to breathe.
The memories were clawing at him now, trying to pull him in, and he pounded a fist into his thigh, "Stop, stop, stop…"hissing to himself.
He was trembling badly but forced himself up to turn on the shower. As hot as he could make it and got in.
The water stung at first, and hurt the still raw and tender injuries. He just stood under the spray, praying to whatever god would listen, that he could feel clean again.
On unsteady legs, he managed to wash his hair and arms, trying not to focus on the purple and black cuts healing on his wrists. He felt all the scabs on his arms and legs, where the cement floor had abraided them. He ran his hands along his back, between his thighs and buttocks, and shivered. Running his own hands over the areas that were so vulnerable in that basement, made him think about Tommy's hands all over him, stroking, groping, hurting…
He couldn't breathe again. He was shaking so badly now, he didn't trust himself to stand anymore and leaned against the wall of Gibbs' beautifully tiled stand-up shower, and slid down until he was on the floor, hugging his knees to himself…
He was lost in his mind now, seeing the blood on the piano keys, Tommy telling him to play, Gibbs bleeding. And Tommy's hands on him again…the sound of his own voice pleading , "Tommy, you were my only friend..."
He could hear the clanking of the chains. He was there now again, struggling against the cuffs, weeping in pain as Tommy's cock thrust in and out of him. He wouldn't stop. It wouldn't stop. He felt the teeth again, tearing into his flesh.
Tony blacked out.
Gibbs sighed heavily from the livingroom couch. He's set everything up in the guest room. A while ago.
He looked at the clock. Gut churning.
He knew Tony would need time. He had prepared himself to wait a while.
But that was almost 40 minutes ago. The water had to be getting cold by now.
He got up and headed to the bathroom, hearing the sound of the water as he approached the door.
He knocked.
Nothing.
He knocked again. "Tony?"
At no response the second time he went ahead and opened the door.
His initial response to seeing Tony lying on the floor of the shower was beyond panic. It was terror.
"Tony!" He dove to shut off the water and kneeled next to the extremely pale unconscious man, whose body was shivering .
"Dammit !" He tapped Tony's face with his fingers lightly. "Come on Tony, wake up !"
He heard the low moan, feeling instantly relieved. He'd just passed out. Had to be.
He stroked Tony's brow for a moment, eyes never leaving his friend's face.
Tony frowned, opening his eyes, feeling someone over him…he was naked…
He jumped back from Gibbs, eyes wild with terror for a moment, breath hitching .
"It's me, it's me Tony. It's okay…"
He saw the recognition come over the younger man.
"Okay," he forced out, "Okay…please Gibbs…don't touch me…please…"
"Okay." He said softly, and grabbed the towel off the sink, handing it to the wet, shivering man as he struggled to his feet.
Tony swayed, but righted himself. Gibbs did his best not to touch him, but stood close by in case he took a dive.
"What happened?"
"I…dunno…." Tony's shivering continued ad he wrapped the towel around him and leaned against the shower wall again. " I just…" he looked at Gibbs miserably. "I started to remember things…and just couldn't breathe…"he covered his face with one hand and closed his eyes for a moment.
"Are you hurt ?" Gibbs asked. Stupid question.
"Ah, no…" Tony pushed himself slowly off the wall. "Can we just…let's get this done with so I can get my clothes back on." He was determined to get a grip in front of his Boss.
He eyed Tony for another moment, suspiciously, but said,"Okay, just go into the guest room and I'll grab your sweats."
Tony slowly turned to walk out of the bathroom, avoiding the mirror, Gibbs noticed.
He then saw them. The horrible bite wounds on the back of Tony's shoulders and neck. They were nightmarish. He took in the swelling and intensely colored bruising, the scabs where teeth has broken skin. His hands started sweating. He felt the familiar helplessness, and rage coursed through him again at the thought of Tony having to endure what he did.
Tony went into the guest room, and wordlessly laid down on the bed. He didn't want to face Gibbs now. Now that he'd seen them. He couldn't bear the pity, or anger, or guilt…he wanted to disappear. Just not know or feel any of it anymore.
Gibbs set the sweats on the end of the bed.
Tony was lying face down, head turned away from him. Gibbs knew why.
With shaking hands, he took the antiseptic solution they'd told him to use, and squeezed some onto a cotton ball. He sat on the edge of the bed, feeling old and tired, and took a breath.
"If any of this hurts, don't be a tough guy DiNozzo. You say so."
He got a nod in response.
He started gently at the ones on Tony's shoulders. He felt the flinch and just continued, dabbing the solution on the wound.
Tony was breathing more heavily, the trembling intensifying.
"I'm sorry," Gibbs whispered, hating himself for having to do this.
He quickly got to the second bite with the cotton ball, and got it done. He turned to get more for the one on Tony's neck, wishing it was already over when he could hear Tony's breath coming in gasps again.
"We're almost done," he said gently, bringing his hand up to the last one. And when Tony felt the touch at the back of his neck, he broke.
Tony pulled away from him, whirling around and grabbing Gibbs' wrist. Tony was leaning on his side, up on the other quivering elbow, facing Gibbs.
Gibbs was startled, and then saw the raw pain in the green eyes, "I CAN'T..." he shook his head, gasping, "I..GIBBS…" the tears were streaming steadily and spilling onto Gibbs' hand.
Tony let go of Gibbs, and put both hands to his face moaning into them, "Oh God, I can't do this…"
Gibbs had no words. He felt sick. He leaned down and grabbed Tony, pulling him up against his chest. As he put his arms tightly around him, Tony lost himself completely, sobbing into his friend's embrace.
An hour later, Tony was quiet, asleep after having wrung himself out. Gibbs was able to finish dressing the wounds, and Tony was unaware.
He rubbed his eyes. They hurt. His leg throbbed. He sat on the edge of the bed, looking at the young man for a long time.
Then he got up and went downstairs, to the basement, where he drank half a bottle of bourbon, and broke apart the boat he's been working on for the last eight months with an axe.
