Rating: FRAO
Warnings: M/M, sex, language, kink, piercings, abusive parent, serial killer, talk about rape/non-con. Violence. Secondary character death (bad guys).
Genre: Slash, romance, first time, angst, h/c, case fic, pre-show AU
Pairing: DiNozzo/Gibbs

A/N: If you enjoy my story, please leave me a comment - I love to hear from you! Thanks to my betas.

Craving Coffee
Chapter 50 - Half-light

Even before he was fully awake, Gibbs became aware that Tony was no longer in bed with him, and he missed his young lover's warm body, the feel, the smell, the peace of mind at having Tony at his side. Gibbs groaned and slowly opened his eyes, assessing his injuries before he made any rash moves. His forearm hurt more than his thigh did but he could wiggle his fingers and toes, and he expected to make a full recovery. Gibbs recalled someone saying he'd lost a lot of blood and he felt weaker than he liked to admit but even that wasn't enough to worry him. At least he hadn't bled to death on the floor of Harding's bathroom after the fucker had stabbed him. If Tony hadn't been there to stop the bleeding…

Turning his head on the pillow, Gibbs looked towards the other bed, expecting to see Tony, only to find Fornell sitting there, grinning at him over the top of the early edition. Gibbs raised his head and looked around but Tony was nowhere in sight. He struggled left-handed with the bed's controls, and once he was upright Fornell handed him a large cup of steaming black coffee.

It was obvious that the FBI agent hadn't been to bed, what with his rumpled suit and dark circles under his eyes, but he smiled crookedly and said, "Figured you'd need that. The coffee from the machine down the hall looks and tastes like sludge but I found a decent coffee shop down the street."

Gibbs grunted his thanks and greedily drank the coffee. It was hot and rich and damned good, thank God, because he was useless without his morning jolt of caffeine. Only when the cup was half empty did Gibbs heave a contented sigh.

"Hit the spot?"

With a nod, Gibbs gave the FBI agent a heartfelt, "Oh, yeah."

"Brought you some Danish, too." Fornell tossed a white paper bag speckled with grease spots on a rolling table and pushed it over Gibbs' bed.

"Thanks. Where's Tony?"

Fornell folded his newspaper and laid it aside. "Taking a shower. He talked a pretty nurse's aide into helping him when they refused to let him shower on his own. Tony wouldn't let the male attendant anywhere near him, but apparently he didn't think the young lady posed any threat. They've only been in there a few minutes."

Gibbs stared at the closed bathroom door, wondering how it was he'd managed to sleep through all of that. Everything was quiet for a minute and then he heard water running when the shower was turned on. Damn, it should be him in there, helping Tony out, and instead he was stuck in a hospital bed with his right arm and leg wrapped up like a mummy, and with needles and wires and shit stuck all over him.

It was no wonder Tony had refused to let a man accompany him into the bathroom while he washed up – it had only been a few hours since they'd both come close to being killed. The memory of the fight in Harding's bathroom suddenly hit Gibbs hard – the smell of spilled blood in his nostrils, and the taste of it on his tongue, metallic and unpleasant. He could feel his fingers digging into Harding's mouth, clutching the back of his skull, and then Gibbs twisted the man's head with a sudden, violent wrench, and the bastard's neck broke with a sickening crack. There was a loud rushing noise in Gibbs' ears and his heart was pounding so hard it was about to burst out of his chest and –

"Gibbs. Hey Gibbs!"

Gibbs jerked away from the hand on his shoulder and looked wildly around the room. For a couple of seconds he had no clue where he was but once Fornell came into focus and he took a shaky breath. Fornell removed his hand but stayed where he was. Gibbs couldn't look at him, he was too busy staring at his hands, expecting to see them slick with blood. It was disconcerting to find that his hands were both clean, with one arm resting on his chest in a sling. He stared at his immobilized arm and muttered, "This isn't right." He'd just killed Harding with his bare hands. He'd…

Fornell leaned forward, looking at him uncertainly. "Hey. You with me?"

"What? Yeah." Gibbs licked his lips and wondered what he'd missed. He backhanded his mouth and looked dumbly at a smear of blood on his skin. He was sweating like crazy and was breathing sort of hard. "I'm fine," he said impatiently, wishing that Fornell wasn't looking him so closely.

Just about every day during the course of his job as an investigator in the major crimes unit, Gibbs witnessed killings and violent crimes, and their aftermath, just as he'd seen his share of death during his deployment as a Marine. Still, last night's sudden spike of violence hit him hard. There was something about it that seemed off balance, and it wasn't just because Harding had been a twisted son-of-a-bitch serial killer who got his rocks off suffocating his victims.

Maybe if he alone had taken Harding down it would feel different, if Tony hadn't been an active participant. Tony's presence had changed the dynamics of the situation, had changed Gibbs' role from that of a soldier to a protector. "It was different, with Tony being right there," Gibbs confessed. He spoke quietly, not looking at Fornell but aware that the man's eyes were on him. "I had to think about where he was all the time, fight for him, and I was…I was afraid that even my best wasn't going to be enough to protect him, keep him alive. He shouldn't have been there, shouldn't have seen me kill…"

Tony shouldn't have picked up Gibbs' belt-knife and used it on Harding, either, but he had. Tony had exacted his ounce of revenge, and he was going to pay the price for his action. Maybe not legally, but Gibbs knew the bad memories would stick with Tony. He'd never be able to shake the ramifications of being overcome with hate and attacking another human being in anger.

Fornell said sympathetically, "It'll take a while, but Tony's a survivor. You both are."

After a moment, Gibbs nodded. "I know, but I've been through this before. I've been trained for this, and he hasn't."

"He'll be able to cope with it, Gibbs, if you help him."

Gibbs sighed and his exhalation turned into a cough, though it was nothing like as bad as it had been last night. He wondered when his doctor was going to make an appearance. Last night Ducky had mentioned something about more tests and Gibbs was itching to get the hell out of the hospital. Peering through the open door to the hallway at the activity out there – mostly hospital staff going about their morning duties – Gibbs asked Fornell, "See anyone who looks like he might be my doctor?"

"Your doc came by while you were asleep." Fornell chuckled at Gibbs' surprised expression. "Dr. Winter, right? He looked Tony over and said he could take a shower, and then he checked out all those machines you're attached to. The doc said he'd come back at the end of his rounds, in an hour or so." Glancing at his watch, Fornell said, "It's seven-thirty now, so we have thirty minutes for me to bring you up to speed."

Gibbs started with a question about something that had been bothering him. "Why did Senior turn up at Harding's estate instead of making a run for it?" Even if the FBI had impounded Senior's jet, Gibbs wouldn't put it past Tony's father to find a way out of the country.

Fornell scratched his jaw and looked uneasy. "Don't know. All Senior would say was that he wanted to see his old pal Harding. Oh, and that you were kidnapping his son."

"Haven't you guys interrogated him yet?" Gibbs asked, ignoring the kidnapping accusation.

"Sure, but…Look, he's assisting in our investigation into mob control of the Eastern seaboard," Fornell said, with a hint of apology in his tone.

Pissed off at being given such a lame explanation, Gibbs demanded, "What? That's the best you can do? You giving me the same crap you send out in your official press release, Tobias?"

"Well, yeah, Jethro." Fornell cracked his neck and then said, "All right, but you didn't hear this from me. We're offering DiNozzo Sr. a place in the witness protection program in return for evidence that'll help us nail Alonzo Torres. Ever since we brought him in on Friday, Senior has been acting like a stubborn prick and hasn't given us shit to use against Torres. He doesn't seem to understand that from the moment we took him into custody, his life has pretty much been in the crapper. For starters, Torres is gonna be out for revenge now he knows that Senior double-crossed him over the weapons deal. I mean, who's going to believe that Senior's kept his mouth shut while he's in our custody? He might as well spill everything he knows while the offer's still on the table. Problem is, he keeps saying he isn't interested. No deal. Doesn't seem to care that we have him on charges of assaulting a federal officer, international weapons trafficking, and aiding a mob boss to buy a US senator. It's like he thinks he's immune or something."

"Your agent…uh…" Gibbs couldn't recall the young agent's name who'd been left in charge of Senior back at the hotel, the one who Senior bashed over the head in order to escape. "He's okay?"

"Yeah, yeah. Agent Mallory has a mild concussion. He'll be fine. We added assault to the charges against Senior." Fornell shook his head in disgust. "Made no difference; Senior didn't turn a hair. He expects his lawyers to get him out of the mess he's in because they're the best that money can buy. A whole team of them turned up at three in the morning, for chrissake."

"What're you saying? You Feebs can't make any of the charges stick? Then hand him over to NCIS. We'll make him talk." Gibbs could hear the beeps from one of the monitors above his head accelerate, and it took a few seconds for it to sink in that his anger and frustration were literally on display.

Fornell insisted, "We're working on it! His lawyers are doing everything they can to get him free, trying to get him released on house arrest, and you know as well as I do that if they get him out, he'll simply vanish within a few hours. Catch a private flight to Abu Dhabi or wherever."

"So lock him up and lose the damned key, Fornell! You don't need him to bring down Alonzo Torres. Torres admitted his involvement in buying heavy weapons to be shipped to his Colombian friends, and his plan to provide illegal funds to finance Harding's run for the presidency. We have the recording from the limo."

Fornell held a hand out to stop Gibbs' protest. "First off, we're not going to let Senior go, Gibbs. I understand he also confessed to you that he helped Senator Harding dispose of a body in the Potomac."

"Shit, you were listening in," Gibbs accused, even if he wasn't really surprised that Fornell had recorded his talk with Tony's father in the hotel room.

Not appearing at all apologetic, Fornell said, "Wha'd'ya expect, Gibbs? We can also prove that Senior double-crossed his partners on the weapons deal and sold them to the Peruvians. He'll talk, believe me, and Alonzo Torres will never see the light of day again if the FBI has anything to do with it."

Gibbs sensed that Fornell was holding something back. Narrowing his eyes, he asked, "And…what else?"

Fornell held out for almost half a minute under Gibbs' scrutiny, but he eventually muttered, "Okay…there's this thing with the money."

"The money?"

"DiNozzo's been moving his funds to offshore accounts in small amounts for the past couple of months. Nothing illegal, just questionable practices."

"So what's the problem?"

"Until two days ago DiNozzo Sr. had several million dollars stashed in a New York bank under his company's name. Now there's nothing left, and no assets we can seize. The jet is leased. Even the estate on Long Island isn't DiNozzo Sr.'s. Turns out he's been living there courtesy of his in-laws, who live overseas."

Gibbs remembered the name Paddington listed as the owner of the estate in Long Island: Tony's mother's family. "Where'd his money go?"

Fornell sighed. "The funds were transferred to Zurich on Friday morning, and then moved to Singapore, then Malta and…okay, we lost track of the money. It might have been moved to the Caymans."

"Might have?" The FBI had less leverage over DiNozzo Sr. if they didn't have his money within reach, but Gibbs had always thought they were somewhat over-zealous about seizing property supposedly connected to criminal activity.

"Yeah. We have people working on it, our best forensic accountants. They'll find it."

"How much did you say was missing?" Gibbs had a pretty strong notion that Fornell was going to say ten million. What was it that Tony had said to Senator Harding when he was in the limo?

"Dad got three million from you assholes and another four from that guy from Peru, and he's getting a cut from the sale of the freighter as well."

Fornell reluctantly conceded, "A cool ten million. The weird thing is, when we grilled DiNozzo about where he'd hidden the money…for a minute there I thought he was going to pass out or have a stroke or something. He said he didn't know anything about the money being missing. Said it was his, anyway. He'd earned it, paid his taxes, we can't seize it. Yeah, whatever. Of course that was at three this morning and he might have a different story when he's interrogated today." Fornell looked at his watch. "Speaking of which, I've gotta go soon."

From the bathroom came the sound of Tony's laughter. Gibbs stared at the closed door, wondering how Tony was able to laugh after everything he'd been through. The water turned off and Gibbs could make out the nurse's aide talking, giving Tony instructions of some kind.

Gibbs recalled Tony proudly telling him how he had stashed his earnings in the Caymans while sitting at the kitchen table in his house. Tony had said that he knew all about his father's business dealings, and described how he'd blackmailed Senior into paying for his college education. Tony was clever. He was a survivor. And he'd most likely been the one to send the FBI that envelope containing just enough incriminating evidence to get the ball rolling with their investigation into the criminal activities of DiNozzo and his two pals, Harding and Torres.

Gibbs wasn't entirely sure why Tony would hand his father, who he professed to love, over to the FBI. It was possible that Tony had believed that an investigation into his father would reveal his connection to Senator Harding, and thus would expose the senator's dirty dealings. Two birds with one stone, three if you counted Torres, but would Tony sacrifice his own father in order to get revenge on Harding? That was something that Gibbs didn't know. Both Harding and Senior seemed equally depraved in his eyes after everything they'd done to Tony over the years.

Tony had overheard his dad talking about helping Sir get rid of a body. Even if Tony hadn't known Sir's real name at the time, he had first-hand knowledge of Harding's brutality and knew what the man was capable of. Tony was also aware that Senior was involved in shady deals with Torres, getting in deeper with the mob. That may have been enough for Tony to turn his father in. Bring down one of the triumvirate and they'd all fall.

When Gibbs had questioned Tony earlier as to whether he'd intended, right from the start, to get close to Senator Harding so he could murder him, Tony had denied it vehemently. Yes, Tony had hated Sir, and had wanted to prevent him from hurting any more young men, but Tony had never intended to take matters into his own hands, despite fantasizing about killing the man. Gibbs had believed Tony at the time, and now he had to trust that it had not been premeditated when Tony had knifed his tormenter. The chance had presented itself and Tony had taken it.

Gibbs was brought back to the present when an aide, this time an older woman, came in bearing two breakfast trays. She smiled pleasantly and set the food for Gibbs and Tony on the rolling tables before leaving. Gibbs looked at the plastic-covered food without much interest, and finished the coffee that Fornell had brought him.

Now he had to take a leak; there was a urinal within reach but Gibbs really didn't want to use it with Fornell sitting there watching him. He figured he would drag himself to the bathroom once Tony was finished in there. Uncomfortable, Gibbs adjusted his position in the bed, trying to hide a wince from a pain that shot up his thigh. He needed to start walking on it if he intended to get out of the hospital anytime soon.

"You planning on going somewhere?" asked Fornell, standing.

"I want to get over to the Navy Yard. See how the case is proceeding." With his right arm still in a sling it was going to be impossible to use crutches or even a cane. Until the doc checked him out, it was a waiting game, one that Gibbs did not like having to play. He turned to Fornell and asked, "What about Alonzo Torres. You haven't caught him yet?"

Fornell's jaw tightened with annoyance. "Damned idiots lost track of him last night. Don't you worry, Torres will turn up sooner or later and I'll be there, right on his sorry ass, just like I have been for the last couple of years. What's another day or so?" Fornell took a deep breath and straightened his shoulders. "I had a brief meeting with Director Morrow before I came in here, and he says the SecNav was not, and I'm quoting here, 'particularly pleased,' which I translated as meaning that the old man was pissed."

"Sorta expected that."

"My boss isn't pleased, either, keeps talking about priorities being skewed." Fornell gave Gibbs a bright smile. "However, the good news is that we're all in line for commendations for bringing down a serial killer. Apparently that makes better press than telling the world that an NCIS agent snapped the neck of a popular U.S. senator in a bathroom, with a half-naked teenager knifing the psycho in the balls for good measure." He grinned. "Those are my words, not either of our boss's."

"Gee, thanks, Fornell." Gibbs ran his good hand over his face and tried to figure out how many people now knew – or suspected – about his affair with Tony by now.

"They're going to keep Tony's name out of this," Fornell said.

"Well, we did our job, whether Tony was there or not. The MCRT's priority was to find the Lookout Point serial killer, and that's exactly what we did." What the brass did with their findings was not exactly under the team's control. "Let them put whatever spin on it that they want to. All I care about is that we stopped a killer and my people got out of there alive." And not too badly injured, either. After a moment Gibbs added, "Thanks for taking care of Tony, getting him clothes, and…you know, being there for him."

Fornell made a motion with his hand to say it was nothing, but it meant a lot to Gibbs that Fornell had been there for Tony.

"Anyway," said Fornell. "Our bosses duked it out and the FBI is handling the death of Senator Harding, and NCIS gets the serial killer case. That means that your IA and two of my agents are converging on you and Tony in a couple of hours, to get the facts about everything that went down between you and Harding."

Gibbs had been expecting that. He needed to talk to Tony before anyone questioned him, to make sure that he didn't say anything that might incriminate himself, like mentioning he had been raped by Harding as a kid. It wouldn't look good. Gibbs was glad that Franks had been there at the beginning, tagging evidence they found in Harding's dungeon, or else the photos Harding had taken of Tony four years ago would have been logged in. He asked worriedly, "Tony didn't say anything at the scene, did he?"

"No. He was too shook up. Just kept asking about you." Fornell peered at Gibbs, his eyes inquisitive. He was just about to ask a question when the bathroom door opened and Tony came out, dressed in sweatpants, his hair damp and spiky – and without the bandage wrapped around his head – laughing at something the pretty aide had said.

Tony had a towel draped around his neck but he wasn't wearing a shirt, and Gibbs had a really good look at Tony's injuries. The old bruises were there, faded a bit, and the scrape along his ribs was almost gone now. But the new ones – a tapestry of small bruises and small red marks across Tony's neck, chest and arms – were stark and ugly reminders of how Senator Harding had tortured Tony in the limousine, while the NCIS and FBI teams chased after them.

Fornell dropped his newspaper on top of Gibbs' table next to his uneaten meal. "I'll leave you alone now. Be back in a couple of hours." He said goodbye to Tony and left the room.

The aide assisted Tony back to his bed, even though he didn't appear to need any help. Tony kept his gaze on Gibbs, as if drawn to him. Anyone who didn't know Tony might think that he was doing well, and that he was amused by the way the aide fussed over him. But Gibbs could see past the smiles and silly jokes that Tony made, and knew his boy was hurting inside. It was difficult and frustrating for Gibbs because he couldn't just reach over and take Tony in his arms and let him know he was loved and safe, and that he was there for him, no matter what.

It was several minutes before Tony could convince the aide that he didn't need any assistance with eating. As soon as the aide left, a nurse came in and drew the privacy curtain partway over. She hooked up Tony's IV and began to assess him. Gibbs could see enough through the gap in the curtain to know that the nurse had applied ointment to Tony's burns and covered them with small patches of gauze. She asked Tony some questions and he replied quietly.

Now that the bathroom was free, Gibbs had an urge to urinate that was too strong to ignore any longer. As soon as the nurse had finished taking care of Tony, she set Gibbs up with an aide, a big man who had no problem assisting Gibbs on a very slow trek to the bathroom, with Gibbs limping heavily on his wounded leg. By the time he'd done his business and had a quick one-handed wash and shave, and made the long journey back to his bed, Gibbs was not only tired, but more than willing to swallow a couple of painkillers.

***–***

He must have zoned out for a while because when he opened his eyes, Tony was sitting on his bed, watching him intently.

Gibbs frowned at the privacy curtain that had been pulled across the room, between the two beds, but Tony smiled and said, "Just in case someone comes barging in."

"Yeah, they tend to do that in hospitals." Gibbs gave Tony a good look-over. He was wearing a sweatshirt again, and even if it covered up all those small wounds, Gibbs knew they were there and once more it hit him how close they'd come to dying at Harding's hand. "What happened to your bandage?" He indicated Tony's head where an adhesive bandage had been applied to the sutured wound above his ear.

"I didn't like being bandaged all around my head. It made me look like one of those Civil War vets in 'Gone with the Wind.' I love that scene when they're feeding the last of their food to the returning soldiers, and Melanie recognizes Ashley, way down the road, and she runs to him. Boy, that was so romantic."

Gibbs smiled and said, "You look good, Tony."

Tony's hand rose to smooth down his freshly washed hair. It seemed to have a mind of its own and several spikes stood up defiantly. "I really need some gel for my hair."

Gibbs ran gentle fingers down Tony's bruised face. "You always look damned good to me. You doing okay?"

Tony nodded and smiled as if embarrassed. "Yeah. Shower helped a lot. Some of the bruises look sorta bad but I'm going to be okay." A strong wave of emotion welled up in Gibbs' heart – relief and love and God knows what else, and it must have shown in his face because Tony's smile crumpled and he settled against Gibbs' chest and murmured, "Love you, Jethro. So damned much."

"I know. I love you, too." He kissed Tony's cheek and then, when Tony raised his face a bit and sought his eyes, their lips met. A small sound escaped from deep in Tony's throat, need and maybe a little bit of uncertainty, and Gibbs was instantly aroused, heat rising to his cheeks. He felt an ache, but it was a good ache, even if he knew he wasn't in a position to do much about it, especially with his one good arm wrapped around Tony's shoulders. Tony smelled of shampoo and when Gibbs kissed him again and explored his lover's mouth with his tongue, he tasted toothpaste and that flavor that was indefinably Tony. They kissed for a while, seeking solace in each other, and finding it enough to simply be close.

Resting his head on Gibbs' chest, Tony's breathing slowed and ran a hand in slow, lazy circles across Gibbs' stomach, the heat of his palm penetrating the thin cotton of the hospital gown. Gibbs stroked Tony's cheek gently, the need to touch his soft skin overwhelming. When Tony's eyes opened and he looked straight at him with his green eyes full of trust, Gibbs knew how deeply he'd fallen in love. They had a lot to get through, but right now all that mattered was that Tony was in his arms, and he was safe, and at that moment he was the world to Gibbs.

*** end chapter 50 ***