Silent Misery R&R - Chapter 33

by HidingInSight

Gibbs' phone alarm went off at seven a.m., yanking both men out of sleep. Before Gibbs could roll over and shut it off, the phone itself started to ring. He sat up and grabbed it without bothering to look at the caller ID.

"Jethro, stop what you're doing. I have news!"

"All I'm doing is lying in bed talking to you, Ducky," Gibbs said, only partially stifling a yawn. Beside him, Fornell sat up, stretching the kinks out of his back.

"Well then let me be the first to say 'good morning'," Ducky said. "I assumed you would be about to take your anti-retroviral medication and I want you to stop."

"Okay," Gibbs said, laying back to stare up at the ceiling.

"Montero's blood shows no sign of viral infection and contains a therapeutically significant quantity of tenofovir and emtricitabine, pre-exposure medications that prevent the transmission of disease. His medical history contains regular negative test results for HIV and STIs with the most recent result less than three weeks ago, and he has no other relevant medical history." The medical examiner stopped.

"Nice for him. Why do I care?" Gibbs asked.

"In my professional medical opinion, Jethro, the chances of that bastard passing anything on to you are less than a million to one. You can safely stop taking the ARVs."

Gibbs sat up again, this time moving to sit on the edge of the bed. He narrowed his eyes in confusion. "How'd you get blood to test?"

"His nose bled quite profusely due to the incident in interrogation yesterday. We got enough off the tissues he used fast enough that it was viable for testing."

"Fornell," Gibbs said.

"What?" Fornell asked. Gibbs raised a hand, telling him to wait.

"Yes," Ducky said. "You should probably thank him later. Then at my request, Agent McGee spent most of the night discovering who his primary doctor was, and getting into his medical records. At my request," he repeated. "If there's blame for that, it belongs to me."

Not even on his list. Gibbs wasn't quite ready to believe, and looked for the flaw. "Abby was with Tony last night," he said.

There was a smile in Ducky's voice. "My dear Jethro, it has been many years since running blood tests was part of my daily routine, but the skill is not lost."

"He's clean," Gibbs confirmed.

"Who?" Fornell said. Again, Gibbs waved him off.

"It's as certain as medical science is able to get."

Gibbs started nodding. "That's good."

"Indeed," Ducky said. "It's very good."

"I can stop taking the meds," he said again. He was finding it hard to believe what he was hearing. It couldn't be over already, could it?

"What?" Fornell said from behind him.

"Yes," Ducky said in his ear. "It should only take a day, or two at most, for the concentration of medication in your blood to fall far enough that you'll stop feeling the side effects."

"Thank you, Ducky. Thank you."

"You are most welcome, Jethro. Abby submitted his DNA for typing. The samples she submitted last week resulted in no matches from CODIS. But the new samples should be back tomorrow and she'll be able to confirm a match to what we already have."

"That's good," he said again.

"It's very good. Rest today. You'll feel better by tomorrow."

Gibbs snapped his phone shut and rested it on his chest. He closed his eyes and let that wash over him for a moment. Clean. No risk. He'd be fine.

"What'd he say?" Fornell asked, making Gibbs turn his head that way.

"Your close encounter with Montero yesterday got Ducky enough blood for an HIV test." Gibbs gave him a hard look, and Fornell had the grace to look chagrined.

"And apparently McGee spent the night hacking his medical records. He's clean, and he takes some kind of medication to prevent transmission, so there's no risk to me. I can stop taking the ARVs."

"That's great!" Fornell said, his joy at that news clear on his face.

"Yeah, I guess I oughta be grateful he protects himself while he rapes people."

Fornell stared at him and sighed a little. "It's good news, Jethro."

"Yeah," Gibbs said.

"What else did he say?"

"Abby'll have his DNA results for matching by tomorrow."

"And she'll match it to what we recovered at the scene and we'll have him," Fornell said with finality.

"Won't help," Gibbs argued. "If we don't get something more today, we won't be able to hold him until tomorrow."

"So we'll put a tight tail on him until the results come back, and arrest him again."

"And if he gets on a plane?"

"We'll stop him. If I have to shoot the plane, or shoot him, we'll stop him."

Gibbs gave him a look. "It won't matter. You know what his play is: He denied being at the warehouse, but if we prove he was there, he still says it was consensual sex. Having his DNA there gets us nowhere."

"Jethro…" Fornell said, sorrow mixed with reproach clear in his voice.

Without another word, Gibbs stood and went to the bathroom. Fornell waited until the door closed, then grabbed Gibbs' phone off the bed and redialed Ducky.

"You have more questions, Jethro?" Ducky said when he connected the call.

"It's Fornell."

"Well then, what can I do for you this morning, Agent Fornell?"

"Is he really okay?"

There was hesitation on the other end. "Normally, I don't discuss the medical condition of my patients without their consent, but in this situation, I can tell you the results of the tests show he is in no danger of developing any sexually transmitted infection, including HIV and hepatitis."

"You're sure?" Fornell asked.

"As certain as medical science can be. He is no longer in danger and by tomorrow the level of ARVs in his blood will have fallen enough that he should stop feeling the side effects."

"Thank you. That's definitely good to hear."

"Now I'll ask you: How is he doing?"

Fornell thought for a moment. He'd known the medical examiner almost as long as he'd known Jethro. He knew Ducky's friendship was sacred to Jethro, and that there were few secrets between the two. He didn't think he'd be breaking any confidence by talking.

"Fair. He was out of it for more than an hour yesterday after watching the Montero interrogation. Slept all afternoon and would have kept sleeping all night if I hadn't forced him to get up."

Fornell paused before continuing. "On the positive side, he talked to someone at the sexual trauma crisis line last night. Seemed better after."

"That's certainly not a bad thing."

"No. But he didn't take this news like I'd expect."

"Oh?"

"I'd be bouncing off the ceiling," Fornell said.

"And he's not," Ducky stated.

"Not even close. Seems almost mad about it."

"Give him time, Agent Fornell," Ducky said with clear resignation. "I'm afraid that's the only thing that's going to help. Although it is promising that he reached out."

"Shocked the hell out of me."

Ducky actually laughed. "I can't say it was something I would have expected, either. Just keep an eye on him. It's not going to be easy, but he's strong. He'll come around."

"Count on it," Fornell said. "Thank you, Doctor."

"Of course. If either of you need anything, I am at your disposal."

"I appreciate that." Fornell hung up and dropped the phone back onto the bed. He stared across at the closed bathroom door. He wondered if it would open if he tried he knob.

With a hard breath, he slid to the edge of the bed to wait his turn.

NCIS-NCIS-NCIS-NCIS

There was a full-length mirror on the back of the bathroom door, usually covered by things hanging from the hooks above it. Gibbs had installed the mirror for Shannon decades before, and he'd only used it when he wore his dress blues and needed every line to be perfect. Which meant it was rarely uncovered these days.

For reasons he couldn't have explained if he'd tried, Gibbs had moved aside the towels and his bath robe and was standing in front of the mirror nude, staring at himself. He normally didn't give his physical appearance much thought beyond making sure he was presentable for the office. Vanity had never been one of his vices. He exercised most mornings at the NCIS gym, made sure he kept himself fit enough to do his job and run down the bastards when he had to, but that was normally the sum of the attention he gave his body, unless it wasn't working properly. But now, he looked.

The bruising around his neck was virtually gone, only a few sickly yellow spots remaining. There'd been no physical pain there for a couple days now. The petechiae had resolved, but there were dark circles under his eyes and his cheeks looked gaunt. Too many nights of too little sleep combined with too many days of nausea and vomiting. Not to mention a significant lack of caloric intake.

He used both hands to feel at his skull under his hair. The impact site was still tender when he pressed on it, but he hadn't noticed the pain for a while. The headache he'd had that first day had settled into a low-grade pressure that reappeared whenever the Vicodin wore off. He'd been ignoring it.

The pain in his shoulders had faded fast. The muscles there had been hyper-extended, but years of woodworking without power tools had left him well-developed through the shoulders, chest and arms, and he'd been spared any real damage.

The scratches on his chest had also faded. He could just see a slight redness through his graying chest hair where the worst of them had been. He noted in passing that his abs were looser than they'd been. Old age would do that to you.

Gibbs let his eyes drop lower to where his dick hung limp, as it had for the past week. He'd noticed Tobias's morning erection and felt not even a twitch. Even soft, Gibbs' length and girth were a little bigger than average. He'd seen some bigger during communal showers in the Corps, but many smaller. If there was anything he could point to that made him sexually attractive, he knew it was that. Somehow, even when he was dressed, women seemed to sense he would be good in bed. And he'd been told he was. Often.

Gibbs scratched through his pubic hair and felt at his balls. Full, firm, nothing abnormal there. There'd been some tenderness initially from the rough handling he'd endured, but it had resolved. He pointedly ignored the breath of memory that brought. No damage, but not even a twitch in six days.

He pulled open one of the drawers and took out a large hand mirror. Squatting slightly he put the mirror between his legs and pulled back one cheek to look at his ass. The worst of the three anal tears was still open and raw. No surprise: He'd felt it every time he'd moved his bowels since it happened. The smaller two looked like they were on the way to healing thanks to the cream they'd been applying twice daily. There was still some visible swelling. He pressed lightly at his anus with a finger and winced at the burn.

Gibbs straightened and returned the hand mirror to its place. Other than that, he wasn't in bad shape, considering. The abrasions around his wrists were fully closed. He made a mental note – another one? – to ask Ducky about scar prevention. If he was lucky, they'd fade on their own. But if there was a way to guarantee it, he wanted to know.

Fornell's knock on the door startled him. "You alright in there?" Fornell called.

"Yeah," Gibbs responded, his voice rough. He wondered how long he'd been standing in silence. With a sigh, he turned on the shower and moved to take care of business.

NCIS-NCIS-NCIS-NCIS

Forty-five minutes later, Gibbs appeared on the main floor. Fornell had given up waiting and had showered in the other bathroom. He was sitting at the table reading the paper, a cup of coffee at hand. Gibbs dropped a kiss on the top of Fornell's head as he passed him on the way the kitchen.

Gibbs carried his full mug to the living room, stopping to stare out the front windows, not seeing anything. It was barely 8:00. McGee and David would be getting to the office soon, if they weren't there already. It was a big day. He wondered if they'd get it done. He had faith in both of them, but this one was different. Montero wasn't going to roll over. He might make a mistake, but he wouldn't be stupid.

Looking over the top of the paper, Fornell noted with some surprise that Gibbs was wearing Saturday clothes: Jeans and a hoodie. He would have bet a lot that Gibbs would be going to the Navy Yard this morning. They only had until the end of the day to charge Montero or he walked. If he walked, he'd probably try to leave the country, and would certainly make himself very hard to find if he didn't. Despite what he'd told Gibbs about keeping Montero under surveillance, he knew it wouldn't be that easy. Which meant it was do or die time. Even though Gibbs couldn't be involved, Fornell expected he'd want to be at the office, cracking the whip to make sure McGee and David were doing everything he would.

Gibbs really wanted to be at the office. He knew he shouldn't. Even if he hadn't … disassociated … yesterday, it wouldn't be a good idea to watch the interrogation. He knew that. Nonetheless, he desperately wanted to be on the other side of the glass today. Even with irrefutable DNA evidence of Montero's presence in the warehouse, it wasn't going to be enough. The bastard had already drawn the battle lines: It wasn't rape, it was consensual sex. And it might work. If McGee and David couldn't break him. Which he knew was a possibility. If the situation were different, if he wasn't involved, he was pretty sure he could do it. But could they?

"You got plans for today?" Fornell asked by way of opener.

"No," Gibbs replied, still staring out the windows, still seeing nothing.

"Not going to the Navy Yard?"

Gibbs sighed. "Not planning on it." He knew he couldn't.

"So what do you want to do?" Fornell asked.

"No plans." Gibbs sipped at his coffee. He didn't want to eat, didn't want to turn on the TV, didn't want to go down to the basement. He was tired. He felt sick. In more ways than one.

Fornell waited almost a minute before again.

"Dr. Mallard says the side effects from the ARVs will wear off by tomorrow."

"He did."

There were several minutes of silence. Gibbs stared at the window. Fornell stared at his back. Finally, the G-Man spoke.

"Why aren't you happy?" he asked.

Gibbs turned to face him. "Happy?" he repeated, like the word was foreign to him.

"You're clean. No more ARVs. No more risk. That's a good thing."

"Yes," Gibbs said.

"So what am I missing?"

"Nothing." Gibbs moved back to the dining room. He stopped next to the table, thought about reading the paper, rejected it. He didn't care what was happening in Washington today. Or what was happening anywhere other than at the Navy Yard.

"Jethro, please talk to me," Fornell said softly. "What's wrong?"

Gibbs stared at him, real anger appearing in his expression. "You want to know what's wrong? I got raped six days ago. By a sadist who takes medication to be sure he won't catch anything from the people he brutalizes," Gibbs said. "How very proactive of him." His voice was almost a snarl.

In contrast, Fornell remained calm. "There's nothing right about this, Jethro. But we need to take the good news when it comes. However little of it there might be."

Gibbs sighed, shaking his head. The anger dissipated as quickly as it had come.

"There's nothing right about this," he agreed. "I'll be out back." Gibbs refilled his mug on the way outside.

Fornell watched him go. He'd leave Jethro alone, for now. He really didn't understand what was going on in the retired Marine's head, but he did know it wouldn't be wise to let him dwell there for long.

NCIS-NCIS-NCIS-NCIS

Gibbs leaned on the patio rail, drinking his coffee and staring with unfocused eyes at the trees across the yard. He didn't know why he'd snapped at Tobias. He also didn't know why he wasn't happy at the news from Ducky. Tobias was right: He should be thrilled. But somehow, he wasn't. Somehow, the idea that Montero was taking medication every day in anticipation of raping people … It just hit him like a physical punch. What kind of animal does that?

What Gibbs remembered hearing from Montero in interrogation before he checked out told Gibbs the bastard felt entitled to take whatever he wanted, from whoever he wanted to take it, without reservation. He had dealt with more than his share of sociopaths over the course of his long career, and he recognized the type. Even so, this was … something else. Something … he was hesitant to say 'evil,' because he'd seen true evil. But it was something close to that. He drank more coffee.

Gibbs wondered how much the fact that he'd become a victim was impacting his assessment of Montero's character. A lot, he figured. Before he was the one on his knees, he was angry at what was happening, but it was just another bastard victimizing people. Now, it was … something else.

Forcing his thoughts away from that, he returned to what Daniel had told him last night. He needed to manage the memories and stop the dissociative episodes if he ever hoped to get back to work. But first, he needed to get them down on paper. The kid was right: The longer he waited to record the facts, the more detail he was going to lose. He knew that. He'd just been too focused on his physical health, and too caught up in … everything else … to act on it.

Which brought him back to the question of who he was going to get to do the interview. Daniel had offered to make a referral, but Gibbs didn't want to do this with a stranger. It had to be someone he knew enough to trust, but it couldn't be anyone who really knew him. Someone with the skill to get what was needed without triggering his self-preservation reflex. Someone he could really talk to. Which all by itself was a pretty damn short list.

Taking another sip, Gibbs briefly considered calling the hotline and asking Daniel if he could do it. The kid was easy to talk to, and certainly good at getting to the truth of things. But he rejected the idea almost as quickly as it occurred. A forensic interview was about far more than just asking questions.

Who then? Outside of the members of his team, there just weren't that many investigators he trusted. He mentally reviewed the list of people he knew in D.C. with the requisite skill. A little longer than the first list, but not by much.

… Not that guy, Gibbs knew too many of his secrets …

… That one might work, but last Gibbs heard, he was on assignment overseas …

… That guy would be a good choice under other circumstances, but not for this …

… She was … he paused. Maybe her. She'd done interviews in his cases a handful of times, and she was very good. Young, but battle tested. She had the skill and she could sure as hell keep a secret. She already held a few of his, and in one case, she'd flat refused to share private information from others that might have made catching the perp a lot easier. He hadn't seen her in six months or more, but he knew she was in town, and probably available.

What the hell.

Gibbs set his mug on the rail and grabbed his phone from his back pocket. He dialed a number from memory, asked to be connected, and when waited while it rang, hoping she'd be in.

"Diagnoses are us," came a high, bright voice. Gibbs frowned.

"Jack?"

"Bad ass miner of deep, dark secrets, at your service. Who's this?"

"Gibbs." It took a moment.

"Supervisory Special Agent Leroy Jethro Gibbs. The Navy Yard's finest defender of truth, justice and the American Way. It's been awhile. How are ya?" He recognized it was her, but the voice and demeanor were not what he remembered.

"You alright, Jack?" he asked. There was a pause.

"What, you don't like it? Maybe you'd prefer …" she dropped her voice into something low and almost sultry. "Serious diagnoser of all that ails you?"

Gibbs decided to just ignore whatever was going on with her. "Need your help, Jack."

"And I'd love to help you," she said. "But in case you hadn't heard, I've been exiled to Bethesda, doing new applicant psych exams. It's important work, for sure, but there's not a lot of excitement in it. If you need me at the Yard, you'll need to clear it with the big boys. Which would make my month, by the way. I'd consider giving you my firstborn if you could find some way to convince Personnel that I'm the only person at the Agency who could possibly help you do whatever it is you need doing. What do you need, anyway?" She was still playing at … whatever it was she was playing at.

"I need you to do a forensic interview on a rape victim. Deep dive. This morning. I've got about 12 hours to make a case and the victim might have details that could help."

Her voice immediately returned to the normal he remembered and took on a serious tone. "I can make that happen. What's the situation?"

"Incident happened about a week ago. Victim's been having dissociative episodes. Wants to resolve them, but we need to get a statement first."

"I understand. How bad are the episodes?" Jack asked. "And how often are they occurring?"

"Bad. Several times a day. Usually a few minutes, but the most recent more than an hour."

Jack took an audible breath. "That is bad. When you can bring her in?"

Gibbs didn't correct the assumption. "Now. I can be there in half an hour."

"That'll work. I'll clear it with my boss, and clear my schedule. I'll be waiting."

NCIS-NCIS-NCIS-NCIS

Sooner than Fornell expected, the back door opened and Gibbs reappeared. Fornell was in the kitchen refilling his coffee.

"I need to go to Bethesda," Gibbs said.

"What for?" Fornell asked. Gibbs took a travel mug out of the cupboard.

"Someone I need to meet with." Fornell handed Gibbs the coffee pot.

"What for?" Fornell asked again, then elaborated. "You feeling okay?"

"For an interview. Of me," he added as he filled the mug.

Fornell nodded. "Understood. I'm ready when you are."

Gibbs snapped the lid on his mug. "I'll go myself. You don't need to come."

"Yeah I do," Fornell said simply. "You're not ready to drive yet."

"Ducky said I'm fine," Gibbs said. He was arguing, but it seemed half-hearted, like it was something Gibbs thought he should do, but didn't really believe would work.

"He said you're going to start feeling better fast. He didn't say you weren't going to have any more episodes." He paused, then sealed it: "What happens if you zone out behind the wheel on the beltway?"

"I need to do this, Tobias," Gibbs said. "And I really don't want company."

Fornell took a moment. "I understand that. I'll drive you down there, drop you at the door. I'll stay in town and you can call me when you're done. I should go to the office for a while anyway."

Gibbs sighed and nodded, resigned. Fornell took the win.

... to be continued ...