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 51 - Recovery

Tony lay draped over Gibbs' good side, his cheek pressed against the thin cotton hospital gown that covered Gibbs' chest. He was making little grunting sounds in his sleep while thrusting his erection against Gibbs' thigh. It was damned frustrating for Gibbs because Tony was lying on his left arm, pinning it down with his weight, and Gibbs' wounded arm was still immobilized in a sling and pretty much useless. Gibbs groaned, unable reach his own dick, which was reacting to Tony's noises and was in desperate need of attention.

Gibbs was wriggling, trying to get his left arm out from under Tony, when he heard a nurse just outside their room saying, "Mr. Gibbs is your last patient this morning, Dr. Winter. Here's his chart."

Whatever the doctor's response was, Gibbs didn't hear; he was too busy trying to get Tony to wake up and off his bed. "Wake up, Tony! The doctor's on his way in," Gibbs whispered urgently, giving Tony a small shove to get him going. Talk about bad timing.

Tony's eyes flew open in alarm. "Whah? 'Kay. I'm 'wake," he mumbled as he scrambled off the bed and landed on his bare feet. By the time their visitor entered the room and pulled back the privacy curtain, Tony was casually pouring Gibbs a tumbler of water. He looked up with a friendly smile and said, "Hey, Doc."

Gibbs raised his left knee to cover up evidence of his erection, willing it to subside, and accepted the glass Tony handed to him. Sneaking a glance over the rim at Tony's slightly flushed cheeks, he felt a similar heat rise in his own face. Damn, he couldn't wait to get Tony home and lock the doors so they could make love without any further interruption.

Dr. Winter cast a critical eye over Tony, who remained by Gibbs' bedside, and said dryly, "Someone had better invent an IV that has a more secure connection, for the next time you visit us."

Tony inspected the back of his left hand, which bore a couple of marks from earlier IV sites, as if he was surprised that there was no needle inserted into a vein. "Huh. Well, Doc, I wouldn't want to put anyone through a lot of trouble. I mean, you've taken really good care of me – of both of us – but I don't plan on ever coming back here. Nothing personal, you understand," he was quick to add.

Dr. Winter raised one eyebrow. "Hmmm. If you want to be discharged today, I suggest you follow my instructions, Tony, one of which was that you remain in bed."

At the doctor's expectant look, Tony heaved a sigh and retreated to his bed, lying on top of the sheet with his arms behind his head, apparently oblivious to the way his dick was still tenting his sweatpants. Gibbs shook his head and averted his gaze in an attempt to get his own dick to behave.

The doctor introduced himself to Gibbs and said, "You look much better this morning than when you were brought in last night, Agent Gibbs. Your color has improved. Tell you what, let me take a quick look at Tony and then you and I can spend some quality time together."

Gibbs didn't like the sound of that, but he said, "Sure," because it wouldn't do to piss off his doctor. He didn't have a really clear memory of everything that had happened after he was admitted to the ER last night. They'd dosed him with some strong medication that did more than just take the edge off his pain, and he had only a vague recollection that he'd caused a big ruckus when he was wheeled into an examination room and separated from Tony. Gibbs did, however, remember Ducky arriving. The ME had assured Gibbs that he would stay with Tony, that he knew the doctor, that all would be well…but he just had to calm down.

After Tony stripped off his sweatshirt, Dr. Winter gave him a brief examination and expressed his satisfaction with his condition. "The rohypnol is pretty much out of your system by now. Based upon the information you gave us when you were admitted, it appears you may not have ingested a great deal of it. It was diluted in water, wasn't it?"

Tony said hesitantly, "He gave me… I drank from a bottle so I thought it was safe, but he was looking sort of weirdly at me, and I had this feeling something wasn't right…" He lowered his gaze and didn't seem inclined to say anything further, but after picking at the gauze wrapped around his wrists for a minute, Tony met the doctor's eyes and said, "Some of last night is sort of fuzzy and there are some blanks. Like Total Recall without the recall." He joked, "You know that line: 'If I'm not me, then who the hell am I?'"

The doctor pointed out, "That's a normal effect of the drug, Tony. Most likely, if you don't remember it now, it won't come back to you." Then Dr. Winter smiled a bit sheepishly and said, "A man is defined by his actions, not his memory.' Hey, I like Paul Verhoeven movies, even if my wife hates them."

Tony eagerly sat straight and replied, "Oh yeah, you ever see his documentary, Het Korps Mariniers? Jethro, you'd like that – it's about the Royal Dutch Marine Corps – but it's really hard to find. My favorite is Flesh and Blood with Rutger Hauer."

Gibbs couldn't find it within him to laugh when he could see the evidence of Harding's cruelty scattered across Tony's torso and arms, wrists, face and head – burns, bruises, cuts. All Tony needed to do was look at those marks and he'd have a damned good idea of what Harding had done to him.

Gibbs sighed. If Tony still didn't remember later on and wanted to know details about what had happened to him, he could fill in the blanks. He sure as hell didn't want to though. How could he possibly find the right words? God, he hoped that Tony didn't remember giving Harding a blowjob soon after he got in the limo. Nobody needed to carry those kinds of memories around with them.

"No sign of hypothermia, so that's good. There's no need for the IV any more, Tony. Not that you've had it connected for more than half the time you've been here," Dr. Winter said with a small smile that softened his chastising words. "I'll write up your discharge papers and you can leave by noon, which I know will make you very happy."

Tony didn't seem at all happy though. It was obvious that he was reluctant to leave Gibbs alone in the hospital. "What about Agent Gibbs, Doc?"

Dr. Winter explained, "Agent Gibbs needs some additional care and I can't let him go quite yet. Do you have somewhere to go until he's released? Someone to take care of you? Perhaps Dr. Mallard…?" The doctor looked towards Gibbs for help.

Gibbs reminded Tony that Ducky was going to pick him up and take him home with him, and that Gerald would be there for company. He'd never met the young medical student who rented a room in Ducky's large house, but Ducky seemed to think that Gerald would be a good distraction for Tony, at least until Gibbs joined them. He assured Tony, "I'll head over there as soon as I get sprung. That'll be soon, right, Doc?"

Dr. Winter made a noncommittal reply and moved to Gibbs' bedside to check him over. He listened to Gibbs' lungs and asked, "Been coughing much?"

"Not enough to notice." Of course, at that moment, Gibbs' body decided to contradict his words and he started hacking away. He was able to suppress the dry coughs long enough to say, "I'm fine." Even Tony was eyeing him askance, so Gibbs swallowed his pride and appealed to the doctor, "Look, I just want to get out of here. I need to get back to work."

Dr. Winter appeared skeptical, and he said firmly, "I've scheduled a few more tests. You lost a lot of blood last night, and we need to make sure your lungs are clear, Agent Gibbs. Otherwise I can't, in good conscience, release you." He indicated the IV bag suspended from a pole near the bed, which was nearly full. "Plus you need to finish that antibiotic before I can sign your release. If the tests come back with good results then…how about tomorrow?"

"How 'bout today?" Gibbs countered.

"Any dizziness when you were on your feet?"

"No," Gibbs said truthfully. He'd been weak and in pain when he'd hobbled, with assistance, to the bathroom, but he hadn't been dizzy. He played his trump card, saying, "I'm going to be staying with Dr. Mallard, and you know him. He'll make me stay in bed while he force-feeds me tea and…whatever kinda crap he thinks is healthy."

Dr. Winter ran a hand over his mouth but Gibbs could swear the man was suppressing laughter. After he cleared his throat, the doctor said, "My shift ends at six tonight. I'll see about letting you loose then, but only if your stats are good. I'm not promising anything," he warned.

Gibbs nodded, satisfied that he'd won a small battle, and it did him good to see that Tony was now smiling as he pulled his sweatshirt back on.

***–***

When Gibbs had been lying on Harding's bathroom floor, bleeding like a stuck pig and in considerable pain, he was sure that he was dying, that his life was slipping away. He hated the feeling that everything was beyond his control, which was never more apparent than at that moment. How fucked up and how unfair life could be – he'd only just met Tony and his life held promise for the first time since Shannon and Kelly had died. He'd fought it, that darkness, had tried to claw his way back to the light but in the end he'd blacked out, with his last thoughts being of Tony.

Regaining consciousness in the ambulance had come as a big relief, a really big relief and sort of a surprise. Gibbs had taken the fact that he was still alive as a sign that he'd been given a second chance and should make the most of it. Finding that Tony was alive, seeing him get into the ambulance, had taken a great load off his mind, but it was a while before it sunk in that they still had a long road ahead of them.

Now, sitting in a hospital bed in a brightly lit room on a fine sunny day, all cleaned up and relatively pain-free, Gibbs felt almost detached from the events of the night before. He could see Tony sitting right there, recovering, looking damned good despite his ordeal. The fight with Harding seemed as though it was in the distant past. He knew it would hit him later on – the fact that he'd killed a man with his bare hands. That kind of thing didn't sit well with him, no matter that Harding's death tipped the scales in favor of the good guys for a change. Gibbs would never feel any guilt over what he considered to be a justified killing, but it changed a man once he understood that he had the power to kill, as well as the power not to take another man's life.

***–***

"Agent Gibbs, I know that your agency requires you to pass a psych evaluation before you return to field work…"

Gibbs' chin shot up and he glared at the doctor. Damn, he'd been caught zoning out again.

Dr. Winter barely hesitated before continuing, "…but I recommend that you seek counseling prior to that evaluation. Both of you."

Gibbs was angry at the doctor's interference, but his irritation eased when he realized that Ducky was likely to offer exactly the same advice, though Ducky would use a hell of a lot more words to deliver exactly the same message. Having someone poking around in his mind was right at the top of Gibbs' 'will not tolerate any of this crap' list. He could handle a single session with the NCIS-appointed psychologist, pretend that he was undercover and his mission was to provide misinformation, but voluntarily seeking counseling was simply not going to happen. He'd always worked things out on his own. Didn't need any help. Period. And he didn't need to look at Tony to know that he wasn't going to get any counseling from a stranger. Tony might talk to Ducky though. In the end, Gibbs gave Dr. Winter a curt nod, not agreeing but merely acknowledging the physician's advice.

After studying Gibbs for a moment, the doctor nodded in return, knowing he'd made his point, and understanding that belaboring it would do no good. "I'll examine your wound sites and we'll be done," he said.

Once the dressings were removed, and Gibbs got a good look at his injuries, he sort of wished he hadn't. His right forearm sported a long line of sutures along the gash and it looked pretty ugly, but Dr. Winter seemed pleased. Gibbs figured the doc knew his business so he didn't worry too much. The doctor pointed out that the laceration was relatively shallow and there hadn't been much damage to the underlying tissue. He talked for a while about the procedure he'd used to repair the laceration, and every now and then Gibbs would grunt to show he was listening.

There were comparatively few stitches in Gibbs' thigh, where he'd been stabbed. His leg ached dully and he knew that he'd be limping around for a while.

"The puncture wound was quite deep. Good thing the EMT was on top of things," Dr. Winter somberly, indicating how serious it had been.

"Tony was right there when it happened. If he hadn't put pressure on my leg, the EMT would have had a dead man to work on." Gibbs glanced at Tony and noticed he was pale and sitting stiffly on the edge of his bed, hanging on their every word. That was stupid, mentioning the possibility that he might have died. Their eyes met and Gibbs smiled at Tony to let him know everything really was fine. "Hey, I'm okay. We're both good, right?"

Tony didn't seem too sure when he said in a small voice, "Good. Right."

Dr. Winter looked over his shoulder at Tony and nodded his head in approval. "It's good to have someone with a steady hand in an emergency situation."

"Tony's a good second. We watch each other's back," said Gibbs proudly, and he was glad to see Tony relax and even smile a little as he accepted the praise.

"How about the pain level when you put weight on your leg?"

"Not bad," Gibbs lied. "I'm ready to walk out of here anytime now."

"I see you have an older injury to your left knee. Job-related?"

"You could say that. Souvenir from Kuwait."

"Hmmm. Trust the signals your body sends you, Agent Gibbs. Your leg should heal well, so long as you take it easy. Keep off your feet as much as possible over the next few days. If the leg hurts, elevate it. If you feel tired, get some rest. Eat sensibly, hold off on alcohol consumption, and take the meds I'm going to prescribe for you until they're all gone. I think you know the drill. You'll be good in a few weeks."

All in all, Gibbs was grateful to have confirmation that he was going to walk – or limp – out of the hospital later that day, and that he'd regain the use of his right arm. He said, with a smile that he knew showed his relief, "Good, because I'm nowhere near ready to retire."

A nurse carrying a tray of medical supplies joined them and Dr. Winter acknowledged her, "Andrea," then turned his attention back to Gibbs. "I'll check back on you later, Agent Gibbs. Andrea will go over your meds and at-home care, and you can get rid of that sling tomorrow."

While the nurse re-bandaged Gibbs' wounds, Dr. Winter said, "Your Director has convinced me to allow a team of investigators in here to talk to you, although I have some misgivings. If they're a nuisance, just press the call button and we'll have them removed. Patient care supercedes the FBI any day." He said good-bye to Tony and left.

***–***

Once they were alone, Tony perched on Gibbs' bed so they could share the pastries that Fornell had brought Gibbs. Tony wolfed down one of the danishes, licked his fingers, and then dug into the hospital food on Gibbs' tray. Gibbs pulled a face when Tony consumed what looked like a bowlful of gray paste, but Tony shrugged and spoke with his mouth half full. "I'm hungry. You wan' some?"

Gibbs shook his head, fascinated by his lover's capacity to eat whatever was in front of him.

Tony swallowed a mouthful and said, "It's not bad. I think it's porridge. Reminds me of cafeteria food at prep school. It was always these bland colors and you couldn't tell a stew from Indian pudding." He held a spoonful of the cereal aloft and inspected it with a slight frown. "You know, I take it back. I think this is paper-maché paste."

"How can you eat that crap?" Gibbs took a bite of the remaining danish, and realized how hungry he was. He wondered how he was going to get more coffee because one cup was a nice start but it was only a drop in the bucket compared to his usual caffeine intake. Maybe he could send Tony out to cajole some coffee out of the nurses. There'd be some of the good stuff at the nurses' station, he'd bet.

Tony waved his spoon around and said, "When I was a kid, I ate a lot of things I shouldn't have. Worms, dirt, paper." He gave an exaggerated shudder. "Had to taste everything, experiment, investigate. I still tend to put things in my mouth that have no business being there. Except for your dick, Jethro, because that belongs inside of me." Tony waggled his eyebrows then proceeded to eat the rest of the cereal once he'd coerced a smile out of Gibbs.

"Tony!" It was one thing talking about it, or doing it in the privacy of one's home…or in a truck, or…okay, they'd done it in a public bathroom and an office, too. But talking about it like this, openly, was not something Gibbs was used to.

"What? You know you like to put your dick in my–"

"Hey!" Gibbs clamped his hand over Tony's mouth and was rewarded by Tony's tongue slipping out and licking his fingers. He removed his hand slowly and Tony grinned and went back to eating.

It struck Gibbs that Tony would be going back to college tomorrow, or possibly the day after, and he wondered how he was going to survive without him. Although Gibbs knew it was inevitable, he didn't have to like it. There really was nothing to keep Tony from heading back to Ohio, unless the FBI detained him because of the investigation. That was unlikely, considering that Tony was a victim and not a criminal, and that he had the backing of the director of NCIS. Which brought Gibbs to the impending visit of both a team of FBI agents and NCIS's Internal Affairs investigators. It was unusual to see the two agencies working together like this, but so long as they got the job wrapped up fast, and they could all move on, Gibbs didn't care who the hell was handling what.

While Tony started in on the breakfast on his own tray, Gibbs explained what he might expect from the investigators. "They'll interview us separately. They'll want to know everything that happened, right from the beginning. It will be recorded, and later on they'll give you a typed transcript to sign."

"Why don't they wait 'til we're both out of here?"

"High priority case. Need to make sure everything's all neatly wrapped up as fast as possible. The sooner it's done, the sooner we can put it behind us." It would bring closure for the victims and their families, Gibbs thought. He hated the word 'closure' but not knowing for sure if your loved one, your child, was just missing or was dead and not coming back, must be a living hell.

The FBI agents would probably take Tony into another room, and Gibbs thought it would be prudent to have someone accompany him into the meeting. They'd never let him be present, that was for sure. Gibbs wasn't sure how involved Fornell was likely to be, although he'd said he'd return with the FBI agents.

Maybe he could get Ducky to come in early, as he intended to pick Tony up anyway. Even if the ME couldn't get involved in the questioning, at least he'd be present to look out for Tony's best interests. Gibbs looked around and asked, "Is there a phone in here?"

"Mmm." Tony pushed his tray aside, now loaded with empty dishes, and fetched the phone for Gibbs.

"I'll call Ducky, make sure he's here and sticks by your side if I can't be there." It was a bit awkward pushing the phone's little buttons with his left hand, but Gibbs managed. While he waited for Ducky to pick up, he sent Tony an encouraging smile. "Just covering all our bases."

Tony looked worried anyway. "What am I supposed to tell the investigators?"

"The truth would be good but…" He got through to the NCIS switchboard and asked to be connected to Autopsy.

"Selective truth would be better," said Tony knowledgably. "Rule #7: always be specific when you lie."

Gibbs said sternly, "Hey! Don't lie to them, Tony." Seasoned agents would smell a lie a mile off, even if Tony was good at maintaining a cover while under pressure.

"Okay, I won't lie." Tony gave a wicked little smile and said, "I can handle whatever they throw my way. After all, I've been interrogated by Special Agent Leroy Jethro Gibbs and lived to tell about it. I think I can handle a couple of Feds."

Cocky kid, thought Gibbs, with a shake of his head. "Yeah, well, do not underestimate them. And while you're giving your statement to the FBI agents, I have to deal with the internal affairs guys." Ducky finally picked up and Gibbs told him that IA and the Feebs were due soon, and that Tony was going to be released from the hospital by noon. "He needs someone in his corner, Duck." Ducky agreed to come straight over, as Gibbs had expected. "I owe you one," said Gibbs, but the ME brushed the idea aside that Gibbs owed him anything.

Gibbs then asked to be connected to Director Morrow's office. The director seemed pleased to hear his voice, and asked after Gibbs' health and how Tony was doing. They talked for a few minutes, and Morrow gave Gibbs the lowdown on the latest developments in the case; basically that they'd bagged and tagged a shitload of evidence from Harding's dungeon and his trophy room, and if the Senator hadn't been killed, he'd be wishing himself dead about now.

Morrow said, "I saw some of the photographs, Gibbs, and all I can say is that Harding rivals the worst serial killers as far as depravity goes. One sick bastard. Forensics is just beginning to sort through the evidence, but it looks like he may have been killing for over thirty years. Seemed to be escalating the past couple of years, since he took his seat in the Senate." Morrow cleared his throat and said, "You did a good job, Agent Gibbs. All of you did, the whole team."

Director Morrow warned Gibbs that the media was all over the story, but that he'd arranged for uniformed cops to keep the rabid pack away from the hospital. Both NCIS and the FBI were keeping the names of the agents involved in the raid on Senator Harding's estate under wraps for now, but eventually Gibbs would be identified as the federal agent who killed the senator. It couldn't be helped.

Gibbs response was, "I can handle it, Director," even though he hated the thought of being hounded by the press. It would probably be a nightmare, especially when he had to keep his relationship with Tony under wraps. He had to laugh to himself because he was certain that by now everyone on his team, and on Fornell's team as well, had a pretty good idea that his feelings for Tony went deeper than those of a friend or mentor. So far nobody had given him any trouble, and seemed surprisingly tolerant. But if anyone outside his circle got wind of it he'd be in deep shit.

Apparently Director Morrow didn't know that Tony was Gibbs' lover, and Gibbs hoped it stayed that way. He loved his job, even on those days when he hated it, but if it came down to choosing between being an NCIS agent and being with Tony…well, Gibbs was damned sure that the job would not come out a winner.

As soon as he'd completed his conversation with Morrow, and had hung up, Gibbs leaned back with a sigh and rubbed the bridge of his nose. He was exhausted and this was no way to meet the IA investigators.

"Jethro? Are you okay?" Tony took Gibbs' hand and gave it a squeeze. "Can I get you anything?"

"I'm okay." He smiled though, happy to have Tony there and finding the young man's attempt to comfort him heartwarming. Maybe it was the way Tony was rubbing a thumb across his knuckles, but Gibbs was heating up and any moment the sheet covering his groin was going to tent – again. He groaned and shifted on the bed.

Tony didn't miss Gibbs' discomfort, and it made him smile. "You'd better save some of that for later, Jethro."

"Don't you worry. There's plenty more in reserve. What we need is to get out of this joint." He leaned forward to give Tony a slow kiss, then pulled away with a sigh. He hadn't finished talking to Tony about what to say – or what not to say – to the FBI agents. Back to business. "Just don't mention your past connection with Harding. With Sir, I mean."

Tony looked down at their laced fingers and raised one shoulder in a shrug.

"I mean it, Tony."

"I know. I got it."

Tony was still studying their hands and Gibbs could tell he was mentally gearing up to say whatever was on his mind. "Tell me," Gibbs ordered softly. "You can tell me anything."

The corners of Tony's mouth lifted in a brief smile before he looked anxious again. "I know that. But there's something…I think Sir took photos of…of his victims."

Gibbs said quietly, "Yeah, I know, Tony."

Tony's eyes widened in surprise. "You know about the pictures?" He studied Gibbs' face and then said, "Oh, you found where he kept them, didn't you?"

"There was a room where he kept trophies, personal things he kept from his victims. You knew about it?"

"The room? No, not really. My dad – one time he said something about Sir's trophy room, and of course I pictured sports trophies, the winning ball from the Yale Bowl and jock stuff, not…" Tony's face took on a vague expression, as if he was miles away. "I was sort of in and out of it 'cause of the shit Sir dosed me with, but when I was down in his dungeon there was this flashing light that woke me up and…I was lying on the floor but I could see him taking photos of that poor guy strapped to the bench – Kovacs. Sir grabbed him by the hair so he could see his face, and he taunted him. He said he was going to jerk off when he was looking at the photos, long after Kovacs was dead. Sir said he'd own a part of him forever." Tony bit his bottom lip, then said, "Funny thing is that when my dad was letting off steam a couple of weeks ago, freaking out and saying that Sir was crazy, he said, 'He damned well won't own me forever.' The thing is, I don't think Dad sounded like he believed his own words."

Gibbs wondered if Tony knew that his father had become sexually involved with Harding when they were both young, and that Senior had been jealous when his former lover had turned away from him, in favor of younger men. Somehow Gibbs doubted that Tony understood just how close Senior had been with Harding.

Gibbs cleared his throat and said, "Everything is in evidence now. Nobody except the investigators will see the photographs or anything else we found down there. We can get a judge to seal all photos and evidence pertaining to anyone who was underage." He waited for a response but Tony was looking down again, not a good sign. "What is it, Tony?"

"Um…I think…I think Sir might have taken photos of me."

"Last night, you mean?"

Tony shook his head, and Gibbs was relieved because the only photos that Mike Franks had found of Tony were the ones that Harding had taken when Tony was fourteen. Shit, Harding would be using a digital camera nowadays, and he hadn't thought to ask Franks if he'd looked over the images still in the camera.

"I didn't remember that he'd taken photos of me until I heard him telling Kovacs about how he kept photos of all of his…his conquests." Tony looked up at Gibbs with anger and guilt and hatred in his eyes, and although none of those emotions were a surprise to Gibbs, seeing them play out in quick succession was disturbing. Tony said, matter-of-factly, "He took photos of me right after he tied me up, when I was fourteen and he raped me at the beach house."

Tony said that without a stutter this time, thought Gibbs. He drew Tony to his chest and hugged him and kissed his temple, hating that Tony had to go through all this. "Don't worry about those photos, Tony. Franks found them and destroyed them. Nobody will ever see them. I promise. I promise."

Tony took a ragged breath and relaxed into Gibbs' arms. After a moment he asked, "You think Ducky can arrange so I can visit him? Charlie Kovacs, I mean."

Gibbs had no idea if Petty Officer Kovacs was even in the same hospital as them. "We'll ask Ducky. Soon as he gets here, okay?" Gibbs raised Tony's face and kissed him, no more than a brush of their lips. "I love you, Tony." Tony's response was simply to hold onto him tighter.

***–*** end chapter 51 ***–***