Silent Misery R&R - Chapter 32
by HidingInSight
Despite the instinctive 'not a chance in hell,' Gibbs found himself wanting to answer.
"I'm a … cop. My partner and I, we got blindsided by a son of a bitch who uses … rape … as a weapon. My partner, he … they beat him. He'd already had enough. I made him take me instead."
Another long silence. "That must have been a tough decision."
"Didn't seem like it," Gibbs said. "Right thing to do at the time."
"And now?"
Gibbs opened his mouth to snap out an answer, but reconsidered. He was in it now. Might as well see where it went. He put the brush down and retook the stool. "Wish there'd been another choice," Gibbs said.
"But there wasn't," Daniel said.
"Not that I could see."
"Men who are wired as protectors – especially those who end up making it their vocation – bear a tremendous burden. Cops, firefighters, EMS, military. Intentionally or instinctively, they spend their whole lives preparing so they're ready to step up and make the sacrifice when called on. It's an instinct, either born or bred, that compels the protector to throw himself in front of the bullet. You're a cop, you've obviously got it."
"Marine too."
"Double the fun," Daniel said. "Add that to the emotional attachment that fraternity brings, and it's almost inevitable that you made the choice you made. But sexual assault is different. When you get shot by the bullet meant for your partner, or hit by the car that was going to hit the little kid, your community rallies around you. The Chief and the Mayor visit your bedside, the news wants your story, your department sets up meal deliveries and standbys. You're the hero everyone wants to congratulate."
Daniel took a breath. "None of that is going to happen here. There won't be a press release from the Chief's office or an announcement on the inter-office email. Even if your colleagues and friends do find out what happened, they're not going to know what to do. They'll want to help, but they'll be afraid to talk about it. Some of them will stop talking to you at all. Some will be afraid to be in the same room with you. And there will be some who think the same thing about you they think about other male survivors: That you should have been tough enough to stop it."
"Yeah," Gibbs said.
"It's not true. No matter how it happened, it's not your fault."
"Yeah," he said again. "I know."
"There's a difference between knowing it and really knowing it. It takes time. And work. But eventually you will know it."
Gibbs nodded to himself, hearing the echoes of what he'd said, what Tobias had said, what Ducky'd said ...
"Why do you know this?" Gibbs asked, with genuine curiosity.
"What?" Daniel asked.
"About protectors. What happens. After."
"We get a lot of training so we can be helpful to everyone who calls," Daniel said.
"But it can't happen often enough that you have it right there." Gibbs stopped. Then: "Can it?"
"It happens far more often than it should," Daniel said. "We talk to a lot of men who've experienced what we now call 'military sexual trauma'."
"Men?" Gibbs asked, surprise clear in his voice. He was very familiar with the emerging crisis of women in the military being sexually harassed and assaulted by their fellows. He'd worked dozens of cases in the past couple of years. But men? He could only think of one or two cases over that time, and none were as serious as rape between men. He certainly didn't think it was a widespread problem.
"Yes, men," Daniel said softly. "It's not easy for anyone to report sexual assault to authorities. A police investigation can make it harder in the short term. Survivors of all genders are pulled between wanting to see the perpetrator caught and punished, and wanting the whole thing to just go away. For men, especially for protectors, the stigma is worse and the rate of reporting is far lower than for other categories of survivors. We know that the numbers we see at hospitals, crisis centers, and in mental health treatment are far, far greater than the numbers we see on law enforcement reports."
A minute, maybe a minute and a half, went by while that bounced around in Gibbs' head. How many victims had they not seen? How many among the men he served were dealing with this trauma in silence, suffering because they were afraid the prejudices of other men would mean risking their careers and reputations?
"Did you report your assault?" Daniel broke in. Gibbs didn't answer right away. He hadn't, not technically, but he knew that wasn't really what Daniel was asking.
"It's being investigated."
"Okay," Daniel said. "Then you should know that resolving the dissociative episodes may also dull the memory to the point where important details get lost. That's good for recovery, but not so good for investigative purposes. You should try to get the details down, now, in case there's something important you haven't remembered yet."
Instantly, Gibbs' mind flew back: The pain, the humiliation, the shame … He clenched his jaw, closed his eyes, fought the memory back.
"I remember everything," he said through gritted teeth.
"It feels like you do. And maybe you really do. But you're an investigator. How quickly do the important details get lost?"
Gibbs took a hard breath and tried to clear his mind. "Fast," he admitted.
"Yes. If you haven't walked through it with someone objective, someone who can ask the right questions and tease out the details, you should do it as soon as you can. You said it happened last week. As powerful and overwhelming as the memories are, you might have already forgotten something that could make a difference in finding the person who did this to you."
Gibbs knew the kid was right. He needed to sit for an interview, for the sake of the bigger investigation. They had the players in lockup, but there were still holes that needed filling. Like why Montero hadn't just let them walk away. Why he'd decided to grab them instead of slipping out the back. What they'd been doing in the warehouse in the first place … Gibbs brought his thoughts back to the matter at hand. He knew it was important, but who would he get to do something like that? Not anyone on his team. And certainly not Tobias. Which didn't leave him a lot of options considering no one else was supposed to know.
"A mental health professional trained in critical incident stress debriefing might be a good choice," Daniel said, as if reading his mind. "Someone you don't know, trained in dealing with the memories as they come. We can refer you to someone if you want. That way, it won't be a member of your department you're going to have to work with for the rest of your career, and if you decide never to reveal what happened, no one else you know will need to know."
Gibbs considered that. It made sense.
"I'll think about it," he said finally.
"Good. Your desire to keep the group of people who know small is completely reasonable and normal. We always encourage survivors of sexual assault to report what happened, to bring it out where it can be dealt with and try to get some closure through the criminal justice system. But that's not the best option for everyone. For some survivors, it's more important to keep the status quo with their family, friends and colleagues than it is to see the person who assaulted them punished. Because like I said, if it becomes common knowledge, things are going to change."
Gibbs sighed. That was the problem, wasn't it?
"No matter what you decide to do, you need to expect that your relationship with your work partner is going to be different going forward, probably dramatically," Daniel continued. "He was there. He alone knows the full extent of the sacrifice you made, and he's probably not going to know what to do or say about that either. Don't be surprised if he asks for reassignment, no matter how long you've been paired up."
Gibbs hadn't considered that. DiNozzo might try to leave the team? Over his dead body. After the talk he'd had with Tony in his apartment, he thought they were on the way to fixing that part of it at least. But maybe there was more work to do. He'd have to keep a close watch on his Second until things got back to normal. Not just for more of the 'it's my fault' garbage, but for any sign that DiNozzo might be uncomfortable enough to try and leave.
"Speaking of relationships, there are some special challenges faced by gay men who are raped by men," Daniel said when the silence again got long, "Related to resuming intimacy." He waited for an objection, and hearing none, continued. "First of all, you're likely to be impotent for a while." He stopped again.
"How long's awhile?" Gibbs asked. Not that he was ready yet, but …
"There are too many factors involved to give you a straight answer," Daniel said. "Nature of the assault, extent of physical injury, testosterone levels before and after, your normal sex drive, how well you usually process trauma …"
"How long?" Gibbs asked again, a little firmer this time.
"Could be weeks, could be months. If there's no lingering physical injury and you haven't experienced an erection in six months, it's time to talk to your doctor. That's about the only guideline we have to offer on that."
Six months? Gibbs thought. Six months?!
Daniel continued. "There are some other things you should know. Gay men who identify as dominant over their partners will sometimes become unusually aggressive after a sexual assault, as if they're trying to reestablish their dominance and prove their manhood. Where before there was complete respect for safety, there may be episodes where the man who was assaulted will ignore his partner's signs, push him too far." A pause, and when Gibbs said nothing, Daniel continued.
"The same thing can happen with a man who identifies as submissive. Whereas before the assault he was comfortable with his role, able to get satisfaction and completion without aggression, he suddenly feels the need to express some power, to dominate where he never had the need before. It can upset power balances developed over years. If the dominant partner isn't wholly committed to the submissive who was assaulted, it can tear relationships apart." Another pause, as if Daniel was waiting for Gibbs to self-identify. The hell he would.
"Even when partners are equally matched, when they switch roles at will, there can be a shift. You might find yourself pressuring your partner to do things he's not comfortable with, or you might find yourself shying away from activity that previously really turned you on." Once more, Daniel stopped. This time, he waited a little longer. When still Gibbs said nothing, he went on.
"It's also common for men who identify as bisexual to stop seeing men entirely. It's the same with men who've come into their homosexuality late in life, who haven't always acknowledged their attraction to men; they often go back to dating women after a sexual assault. It's easier for a man who's taken a hit to his machismo to seek out a partner he sees as weaker. If you've ever been attracted to women, it might be awhile before you're ready to be with a man again. Which makes it really hard on your partner, especially if you're in a committed relationship. Unless you tell him, he's not going to understand why you don't want him anymore."
"But I do want him," Gibbs objected, hating the whine he heard in his own voice.
"I know. But it's going to take time before you want him like you used to. And before you're able to engage in intimate activities without dying a little inside."
Gibbs couldn't argue with that. As much as he wanted to.
"I can't eat," Gibbs said impulsively.
"You mean you feel sick when you eat?" Daniel asked, again apparently not fazed by the sudden change of topic.
"That too. But there's something else." He stopped.
"Something else?" Daniel prompted.
"I can drink. Coffee, shakes, soup. Eat crackers and pieces of toast. Finger food. Anything else I try to eat … I can't swallow and I start to choke."
Daniel considered that for a moment. "Did your attacker force you to perform oral sex on him?"
Gibbs frowned, opened his mouth to speak, couldn't. He grabbed his free earlobe between his thumb and finger and started twisting it.
"Still wondering why you can't put anything of substance in your mouth?" Daniel asked gently.
"No," Gibbs whispered as the light came on. Whenever he tried to eat with a fork, or a spoon … it had been there all along, just beyond the edge of where his brain would let him go.
"It's okay, it'll pass …" Daniel started to reassure.
"Jethro," Gibbs interrupted him. "My name's Jethro." He suddenly didn't want to be quite as anonymous anymore.
"Nice to meet you, Jethro," Daniel said with a smile in his voice. "It's one of those autonomic things; there's nothing you can do about it. But it will pass. The further you get away from the event, the easier it'll get. Especially now that you know what's happening and why. There's some sense memory in the feeling, but it's usually not impressed as deeply as sound, smell, actual taste. It's probably going to be a really long time before you're ready to put another penis in your mouth, but as long as you keep talking to your partner, there are other ways to make it work."
Gibbs sighed. It wasn't the thing they did most often, but it was a big part of them. One more thing that bastard stole from him.
"Tell me something good about your life," Daniel said, breaking through his introspection.
"What?"
"Tell me about something in your life right now that's good."
As if magically summoned, Gibbs heard footsteps on the landing and Fornell's voice. "Jethro? You down there?"
"That guy," Gibbs said to Daniel as Fornell appeared at the top of the stairs.
"Who?" Daniel asked.
"My … significant other," Gibbs said, tripping a little over explaining exactly what Tobias was to him, and deciding to go with what Daniel had called him. "He's definitely something good."
Fornell came over and Gibbs reached for his hand.
"Who you talking to?" Fornell asked.
"Kid named Daniel." He put a finger on the brochure, still sitting on the workbench. Fornell glanced that way and nodded his understanding.
"I'm glad you have him," Daniel said in his ear.
"Me too." He raised Fornell's hand and kissed it. "Gonna go now. Thank you."
"You're welcome, Jethro. Call again anytime. And think about what I said. It's important to deal with this stuff, and to get the details out now while they're still fresh. Call us back if you need a referral."
Gibbs hung up without further comment.
"Did it help?" Fornell asked.
"Maybe," Gibbs said. "Did I wake you?"
Fornell shrugged. "You weren't there when I woke up."
"Come here," Gibbs said, and pulled him forward until Fornell was standing between his knees. He hung his arms around Fornell's neck and leaned into his chest, inhaling deeply.
"You know how much I love you?" Gibbs said after a minute.
Fornell smiled. "Yes."
"Good." Gibbs straightened up. "Join me for a midnight snack?"
"It's almost 3:45," Fornell said.
"Join me for a 3:45 snack?"
"Absolutely," Fornell said with a grin.
They traipsed up to the kitchen and Gibbs pulled out the remains of the soup from earlier. He poured it into a large mug and slid it into the microwave before grabbing a half gone box of saltines from the pantry. He didn't know why he suddenly felt hungry, but recognized it as a good thing that might not last.
Fornell poured himself a glass of juice and gestured to Gibbs, who nodded. He filled a second glass. While the soup cooked, Fornell sliced some cheese onto a paper towel before taking everything out to the table. Gibbs joined him there a minute later with the soup. He didn't bother to bring a spoon, and didn't feel that bad about it.
A few minutes later, with half the soup gone, Gibbs set his mug on the table and wrapped his hands around it. "The kid says sex is gonna be tough for a while," he said without looking up.
"Yeah," Fornell said, looking at him like he'd announced that rain was wet.
"He says I might get overly aggressive."
Fornell stared at him. He reached for more crackers. "Okay."
"He says it's a thing with gay men who get raped. They think they need to prove their manhood and can start trying to dominate more, even if they didn't before. He says they sometimes push too hard and stop respecting safe words."
"Alright," Fornell said.
"Does that worry you?" Gibbs asked, looking up.
"No," Fornell said simply.
"Why not?"
Fornell ate another cheese cracker before answering. "It's not like we play that way, Jethro. You stop respecting the limits and I pull loose and stop you. No big deal."
Gibbs nodded. He drank more soup. "He also said I might start sleeping with other people … weaker people … women."
"Now that I'd have a problem with," Fornell said with a smile. Gibbs gave the ghost of one back.
For a few minutes there was just the sound of eating. Then Gibbs spoke again. "He said it's gonna be a really long time before I can suck you off."
Fornell choked and started to cough, crumbs flying across the table. Gibbs smiled despite himself. There were certain things Tobias just didn't talk about. He'd always been a bit of a closet prude.
"Jeez, Jethro," Fornell said when he stopped coughing and had taken a few swallows of juice.
"He's right," Gibbs said. "Same reason I've been choking on spoons."
Sobering, Fornell bobbed his head. "Makes sense."
"Makes me want to cut his dick off and feed it to him."
"I know," Fornell said. He was a little surprised at the intensity of that. Usually Gibbs just wanted to shoot people. "It pisses me off too. But it's alright. We don't need to do that. If we can't ever do that again, I'm still going to love you and love everything else we can do."
"But you really like that. Hell, I really like doing that."
"It is nice," Fornell agreed. "But that's not all our sex life is about, and it's certainly not all our love life is about. Whatever it takes, we'll get through it."
Gibbs had nothing to say to that. He finished the soup and reached for a slice of Fornell's cheese. Fornell raised a hand to smack Gibbs away, then dropped it and let him steal.
"What else did he say?" Fornell asked. He, too, returned to his snack.
"I need to sit for an interview, get the details on paper."
"Probably a good idea," Fornell said cautiously. He didn't want to push Gibbs anywhere he wasn't ready to go.
"Dissociation is normal and expected, and worse because this isn't my first rodeo."
"Makes sense."
"He said I should stop repressing," Gibbs said.
"How long were you talking to him?" Fornell said, surprised an anonymous stranger had gotten that far into Gibbs' head.
"Not that long. He was pretty perceptive. Probably been doing it awhile." He stopped and ate the last of the crackers. "He said aside from making a report, I didn't necessarily need to talk about it to get over it."
"Oh? What did he suggest instead?"
"Putting it in a safe deposit box," Gibbs said, and got up. He gathered his mug and the empty cracker box and carried them back to the kitchen. He flattened the box and tossed it in the recycle bin and moved to wash the mug.
"You wanna explain that?" Fornell said from right behind him. Gibbs turned suddenly, throwing up his hands in defense.
"Whoa!" Fornell cried, jerking backwards. Gibbs froze and let his hands drop.
"Sorry," Gibbs said.
"No, I'm sorry," Fornell interrupted.
"I didn't hear you. The water…" He gestured vaguely at the running faucet.
"It's okay. It's on me."
Gibbs felt the tingle of adrenalin at the back of his knees and held the edge of the counter while it passed. Fornell reached around him to shut off the water.
"Let's go back to bed, Jethro. We'll finish cleaning up in the morning."
Gibbs nodded and let himself be led away. Fornell hit the lights as they went.
They lay on their sides, face to face on the bed. Gibbs was feeling pretty good, fading adrenaline rush notwithstanding. If there was one thing he'd learned over the years, it was that knowing was better than not knowing. Hearing from someone who knew that the episodes he'd been having were normal had lifted a weight he didn't even know he was carrying. Not to mention he'd said panic and anxiety were normal too. Knowing that gave him hope: This was nothing different from all the other hells he'd made it through. This, too, shall pass.
Even as he thought it, he knew it was a lie. This was nothing like anything he'd ever dealt with before. But the hope remained. Others had survived it. He would too.
"What're you thinking?" Fornell asked from inches way.
"Where there's life, there's hope."
"Yes," Fornell said. "Hope is good."
"Yes," Gibbs agreed. He raised a hand and cupped Fornell's cheek. "I'm glad you're here."
"Nowhere I'd rather be," Fornell said.
... to be continued.