Silent Misery R&R - Chapter 8
by HidingInSight
Previously...
"You want to tell Abby or you want me to?" Fornell asked Gibbs when he finished his call.
"I'll do it," Gibbs said. "Dial her up." Fornell did, and handed the phone across before starting out of the parking lot.
When the call connected, Gibbs asked Abby if she could stay late. She'd obviously been out of the loop as to McGee's inability to reach them, because she expressed no concern for his welfare. When she told him she'd already left but returning wouldn't be a problem, he told her to expect a bunch of evidence from an FBI agent to arrive shortly.
"It's another victim of the loan shark rapist," Gibbs said. "You'll get evidence gathered from the victim, and sample DNA to rule out his known intimate contact. Run anything you find that doesn't match those two."
"You got it, Bossman. Victim got a name?"
"Classified," Gibbs said.
"Ooo... cool," she said. "Anyone we know?"
"What part of classified did you miss there, Abs?" Gibbs said, forcing a lightness he didn't feel. "And don't try running the victim's DNA, either. It's gonna be a mess and I don't want you caught up in it. Clear?"
"Sure thing, Gibbs," she said automatically.
"I'm not kidding, Abby. Stay away from it," Gibbs said firmly.
"Okay, okay, geez, no need to get all bossy." There was a healthy dose of feigned indignation in her voice. "You're going to owe me for this."
"Put another Caf-Pow on my tab. Call me when you get something," he said, then realized the problem with that. "You have Fornell's number?"
"Yes," she said. "You're calling me from it."
"My cell's off line for a while. If you need to reach me tonight, call me at home or call Fornell. I should have my phone back by tomorrow."
"Got it," she said. "Can you at least give me a hint of who it might be?"
"Abby, promise me you'll leave it alone, or I'm going to send it over to the FBI lab," Gibbs said.
"Wow, Gibbs, that's not nice," she said reproachfully.
"That's how important this is. Will you promise?"
Abby sighed. "Of course. I promise. You'll tell me when you can, right?"
"As soon as I can," Gibbs said. "The evidence will be there within the hour." He hung up.
Gibbs had Fornell stop for coffee. They'd need to make a grocery run, to buy food for ten days' worth of special diet, but Fornell figured that could wait.
It was already dusk by the time Fornell pulled into Gibbs' driveway. His truck was still at the Navy Yard, so Fornell parked behind Gibbs' Challenger, sitting far back from the street under its cover. Gibbs slowly got out of the car and made his way down the walkway into the house. Fornell followed after getting the bag of medical supplies out of the trunk.
When Fornell arrived in the living room, Gibbs was standing there, coffee cup in hand, staring at the cold fireplace. Fornell put the bag on the table and turned back to look at Gibbs.
"You okay?" he asked. Gibbs nodded, but said nothing.
"You hungry?" Gibbs shook his head.
Fornell watched him for several minutes before turning away. He reached into the bag and started pulling out medicine bottles, lining them up on the table. A tube of cream, a tube of ointment, a box of powder, a box of pills, and eight plastic bottles of various sizes and colors. The bottles were all pharmacy issue with the original manufacturer's labels on them. Made sense, since the hospital hadn't had Gibbs' real name and couldn't legally write prescriptions in a fake name. Fornell set the douching and bandaging supplies next to the bottles and put the papers in a stack, then folded the paper bag and dropped it in the recycle bin. He sat at the table and looked over the items. This was going to be their life for a while. He felt his anger simmering, just beneath the surface. He took a deep breath, forcing calm.
Gibbs suddenly moved, setting his cup on the coffee table. "I'm gonna take a shower."
"You need help?" Fornell asked.
"No."
"You want company?"
A hesitation, then: "No."
"Okay. I'll be up in a while."
Gibbs slowly climbed the stairs. Fornell picked up the medication list and started reading it, matching the drugs named with the bottles in front of him. Potential side effects of the various meds included everything from dizziness to hallucinations to death, not even counting what Jessica had told them about the ARVs. Great.
The water started upstairs, and Fornell glanced at his watch. He understood Gibbs' compulsion to take another shower, but he wasn't going to let him overdo it. It normally took Gibbs less than ten minutes to shower. Fornell would let it go to 20 before he intervened.
The FBI man stood and did a quick inventory of the kitchen pantry and the fridge. The totality of his liquid options were a half quart of orange juice, half a gallon of milk, and a dozen cans of soup. That would do for dinner, and Gibbs didn't usually eat breakfast anyway. He opened two cans of tomato and poured them into a pot with milk, basil and oregano, stirring well before putting the pot on the stove over low heat. Gibbs had said he wasn't hungry, but he hadn't eaten since lunch. He'd need the fuel. Fornell figured as long as Gibbs was on a light diet, he'd join him. At least when they were together. Which they were going to be. A lot.
Fornell started a pot of coffee then pulled out his cell, dialing his immediate superior. He didn't have any hot cases going and he had plenty of vacation time banked. He informed the man he'd be taking time off, effective immediately. At least a week, maybe longer. If Gibbs went back to work, Fornell planned to join him. Until the raping bastard was no longer walking the streets, anyway.
There were a few other things Fornell decided he should take care of while Gibbs was otherwise occupied. He wandered through the house, from basement to bedrooms, covering all bases, until he ended up in the master bedroom. Gibbs was still in the shower. Fornell's watch said twenty-five minutes had passed.
Gibbs didn't routinely sleep in the master suite. He'd never explained why, though Fornell suspected that like so many other unexplained things in Gibbs' life, it had to do with Shannon. The violent loss of his first wife and his daughter had colored his life from that time to this. Fornell had known from the moment their relationship turned that he would always be second to the memory of Gibbs' first true love. It occasionally bothered him, but he'd known what he was getting into when he opened his heart to the retired Marine and he had never bothered trying to fight it.
Most nights, Gibbs slept on the living room couch. When Fornell needed a place to crash on a work night, Gibbs stayed with the couch and Fornell slept in the bedroom Gibbs had prepared for him, the room that used to be his guest room. Only when they wanted to sleep – or not sleep – together did they share the master bedroom. It gave the room a special 'theirs' feeling he hoped would translate into security in Gibbs' mind.
Fornell finished his task at the dresser then knocked on the bathroom door. There was no answer from inside.
"Jethro, I'm coming in," Fornell said, and reached for the handle. It didn't move. Fornell couldn't believe what his hand was telling him. Gibbs didn't even routinely lock the front door, much less any interior one. He tried it again, same result.
"Jethro, open the door," Fornell called loudly. He rattled the door in the frame. The water kept flowing.
"Jethro, you hear me? Get out and open the door," Fornell repeated, raising his voice. Nothing.
"Don't make me break it down!" he threatened and shook the door harder. It was just a hollow-core plywood item, probably easily breeched, but he didn't figure Gibbs would want to have to replace it.
He was saved from having to make the choice by the water suddenly shutting off. The rings slid across the curtain rod and 30 seconds later, the door opened. Gibbs was standing on the mat in a white bathrobe. Fornell had seen the bathrobe hanging on the back of the bathroom door for years, but had never seen Gibbs wear it.
"You okay?" he asked.
"Fine," Gibbs said. He retreated, returning to the sink. He picked up his toothbrush and spread paste on it.
"I've got soup on downstairs. Come down when you're ready," Fornell said. Gibbs nodded and Fornell left him there. As he descended to the main floor, Fornell wondered how many times Gibbs was going to have to brush his teeth before he stopped tasting that bastard.
Gibbs appeared downstairs fifteen minutes later. He was dressed in sweats, night clothes for him even though it was still early. He paused by the thermostat at the bottom of the stairs and made an adjustment. A moment later, the boiler kicked on. He came into the kitchen.
"It'll be ready in a few minutes," Fornell said, stirring the soup.
"Not hungry," Gibbs said.
"You need to eat. You can't take those meds on an empty stomach."
Gibbs nodded. He opened the pantry and stared inside for a minute before swinging the door shut.
"I'll go shopping tomorrow," Fornell said. Gibbs nodded again. He drifted out into the dining room. He pulled out a chair, looking at it. With a sigh, he moved into the living room and picked up one of his pillows, bringing it back to the table. Gibbs set it on the chair before taking a careful seat. It still hurt, but not bad.
He glanced over the pill bottles Fornell had lined up and picked out the three bottles of antiretrovirals, forming them up in their own line a few inches ahead of the rest.
"What time is it?" Gibbs asked.
"Almost 7:00," Fornell answered. He set the stirring spoon aside and pulled Gibbs' watch out of his pocket, carrying it out to him.
"You thinking about starting those now?" Fornell asked, seeing his interest in the bottles.
"Good a time as any. Always up by then in the morning, usually at the end of the work day by then." He accepted the watch, setting it on the table. The abrasions on his wrists were far too tender to consider strapping it on.
"Might as well take them all at once," Fornell said, and poked the antibiotics and the stool softener out of line to join the first three bottles.
Gibbs nodded again, his head bobbing up and down.
"How's your pain?" Fornell asked, resting a finger on top of the Vicodin bottle.
"Don't need it yet," Gibbs said.
"Let me wrap your wrists," Fornell said, and Gibbs nodded once more. Fornell returned to the kitchen and washed his hands. He brought back a pair of scissors and sat beside Gibbs. He carefully applied the ointment, following up with the gauze, which he secured with medical tape.
Nursing done for now, Fornell served up two bowls of soup, carrying them out to the table. He poured two mugs of coffee and filled a large glass with water, grabbing spoons before taking his seat at the table.
Gibbs opened each of the ARV bottles, using the butt of the spoon to tear through the silver foil seals inside. He fished out the cotton padding and tapped a pill out of each. Two capsules and a tablet. All larger than an aspirin, smaller than a multivitamin. He opened the antibiotic bottle and removed one. Larger than the others. He tore open the box containing the stool softener and pushed one through the blister pack. A red and white liquid gel, the smallest of them all. He poked at the five items until they were in a line on the table, then stared at them.
"Eat, Jethro," Fornell said. "You can take them after."
Gibbs picked up the spoon and scooped up a little soup, blowing on it. As soon as the spoon crossed his lips, he gagged and began to cough. The soup spilled back into the bowl.
"Aw, come on, it's not that bad," Fornell said with an attempt at levity. Gibbs wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and tried again. Gagging, coughing. Gibbs put the spoon down next to the bowl, reflexively swallowing what was left in his mouth.
"What's wrong?" Fornell asked.
Gibbs shook his head. He looked at the soup, looked at the line of pills, picked up his coffee cup and took a sip. It went down easy, as always.
"You need to eat," Fornell said again, his voice soft and full of compassion.
Gibbs picked up the bowl and took a careful sip. It was too hot to eat that way, but he didn't choke on it. He set the bowl down and went to the kitchen, picking three ice cubes out of the freezer before returning to slide them into the soup. He stirred slowly until the ice was melted, then picked up the bowl again. That was better.
Fornell continued to sip slowly at his own dinner. He wasn't sure why Gibbs was having trouble, but he was happy enough that Gibbs was eating so he said nothing.
When the bowl was empty, Gibbs pushed it aside and again considered the pills. He wasn't someone who normally took a lot of medicine. Aspirin for a rare hangover, Excedrin for headaches, stronger stuff when he was injured on the job. That was about the limit of it. He'd occasionally taken antibiotics when injuries drew blood, and when he had his wisdom teeth out while he was still a young Marine. He'd never taken a long-term course of medication, and he'd never taken more than one medication at a time. The very idea of 10 pills or more every day for the next ten days, then at least six a day for another 18 days after that was daunting.
Fornell said nothing. There was a tension surrounding Gibbs that he could feel from across the table. He watched out of the tops of his eyes as Gibbs used his index finger to push the pills around on the table. He lined them up biggest to smallest. He arranged them in a triangle. He pushed then back into a straight line.
"It's good medicine, Jethro. It'll do its thing, you'll be done with it, you'll move on. It's short term."
"I know," Gibbs said. He picked up the water glass and started tossing back the pills, one at a time, largest to smallest. When they were all gone, he finished the water before turning back to his coffee.
They spent the rest of the evening mostly in silence. When the dishes were washed and the remains of the soup was stored in the fridge, Gibbs moved out to the living room and sat on the couch. He sat there for more than an hour with his head back, saying nothing, doing nothing. Fornell sat on the easy chair, at first watching Gibbs, then reading through a technical journal he'd brought over the week before. Normally, Gibbs would have gone down to the basement to work on something, with Fornell sitting on a stool watching him, sharing space and comfortable small talk. Tonight – not surprisingly – Gibbs didn't make the descent.
Finally, Gibbs broke the silence. "We weren't expecting anyone to be there," he said without raising his head or opening his eyes.
Fornell put down the magazine. "Oh?" he asked.
"It was a routine property check. The building'd been abandoned for more than a year. Condemned by the District."
"What were you looking for?" Fornell asked.
"Forensics, mostly," Gibbs said. "It was a long shot, hoping there'd be prints or trace that matched what we found on our Navy victim."
"Reasonable," Fornell said.
"The building had two halves, branching off from the lobby. We split up to clear it."
Fornell said nothing.
"I finished my side, Tony wasn't there. I started to double back and one of them stepped out of a side room, gun already up. I didn't even get a chance to draw."
"It happens sometimes," Fornell said. "No one's perfect."
"This guy was silent. Didn't even sense him 'til he was standing in front of me."
"It happens," Fornell repeated.
"The guy dragged me to an upper room. The whole time, I was hoping Tony'd just been slow. That he'd get to the end and come looking for me."
Gibbs took a breath. "They got him first. Beat the hell out of him before I even knew he was in trouble. Took our guns, went through our wallets... He called me by name the whole time."
A long pause followed. Fornell watched him. When he was pretty sure Gibbs wasn't going to continue, he asked the question that had been bothering him all day.
"Why'd you make the deal?" he asked. Gibbs rolled his head toward Fornell, looking at him for the first time in more than an hour.
"I had to," Gibbs said. "I couldn't let them..." he swallowed. "I couldn't let them hurt him like that."
"So you let them hurt you instead," Fornell said. He was trying to keep his voice level. Apparently he failed, because Gibbs' eyes narrowed.
"What choice did I have?" Gibbs asked.
Fornell sighed. "Hell, I don't know. Just... it had to be you?"
"You saw what they did to him, Tobias. He'd already taken his share. I had to stop them from hurting him anymore."
Fornell struggled not to further the argument. He didn't know what he would have done in the same situation. He wouldn't wish that fate on anyone, but with everything he was, he wished it had been anyone other than the man he loved.
Gibbs settled back against the couch and the silence returned. Fornell didn't go back to his magazine, instead trying to let his mind clear. He didn't want to think about it. He didn't want to think about anything.
It was almost nine o'clock and Fornell was starting to feel a little drifty when Gibbs shoved himself off the couch.
"Wanna give me a hand?" he asked. Fornell nodded and joined him as Gibbs gathered the cream, the medicated powder, and the douches. He hesitated, then picked up the Vicodin and the sleep aid. With Fornell hovering behind him, he climbed the stairs to the master bedroom.
"Can you..." He held up the meds.
"Of course," Fornell said. He took the supplies from Gibbs. "You want to do the enema first?"
Gibbs sighed. He'd forgotten that part. "Sure," he said, and went into the bathroom.
They'd done it many times before and were comfortable with the procedure, though usually it was for a more pleasurable purpose. This time, there was a stiffness between them that made Gibbs hesitate and Fornell fumble. What was usually second nature was instead tense and awkward. When the bag was ready, Gibbs carefully laid down on towels on the bathroom floor. He declined Fornell's offer to help and inserted the nozzle himself. He groaned a little at the burn of the nozzle against the tears, groaned a lot minutes later when he transferred to the toilet and the resulting material flowed out.
When it was done, Fornell mixed the wash and helped him with that, too. Again, Gibbs did the insertion himself. The douche nozzle was smaller and went in easier. The fluid was warm and caused a tingling sensation against sensitive tissues that wasn't exactly unpleasant. It flowed in and out immediately, soothing the burn from the enema.
Afterwards, Gibbs laid out on his stomach on the bed with his arms by his sides and let Fornell apply the cream. Fornell took it slow, talked him through it, and was pleased when Gibbs flinched only slightly. It was Fornell's first look at the damage, and he barely managed to keep silent. He wanted to scream, yell, curse at the bastard who'd done this. He held his tongue only because he knew that wasn't what Gibbs needed right now. Now, he had a partner to take care of, and that was all that mattered.
To be continued...
{Staring right back at "E," trying not to be creeped out...}
{grin}