Silent Misery R&R - Chapter 17

by HidingInSight

After a shower only slightly longer than normal, Fornell helped Gibbs with the medications before Gibbs once again dressed in light sweats. Fornell was pleased to see he wasn't planning on trying to work. Fornell took his own shower and pulled on jeans and a t-shirt before joining Gibbs in the living room.

For Gibbs, the day passed with almost agonizing slowness. As Goetz had predicted, the good feeling didn't last long. He continued to drink a large glass of juice every time Fornell handed him one, which by his count happened about once an hour. By the time Fornell pronounced it lunch time, both Gibbs' headache and the unstable feeling was back. He drank another meal shake and ate a handful of soda crackers. When he finished eating, Gibbs laid out on the couch and closed his eyes. He was bone tired. He had gotten very little sleep in the last few days but he knew that wasn't the only reason. Fatigue was one of the side effects, too. It wasn't long before he drifted into a light sleep.

NCIS-NCIS-NCIS

Fornell was sitting on the easy chair watching the muted television when Ducky arrived hours later, carrying a small medical bag. Gibbs had been occasionally twitching and making sub vocal noises in his semi-sleep, but did not appear to be in any serious distress. The ME stood over the couch and looked down at his old friend. He fully expected Gibbs to sense him and wake, and was surprised when he didn't.

"How has he been sleeping?" Ducky asked softly.

"Not well," Fornell said. "He was up most of the night. I think he finally wore out. The medications are making him pretty tired, too."

"I'm awake," Gibbs said and sat up. He closed his eyes against another wave of dizziness and grabbed the edges of the couch.

"How are you feeling?" Ducky asked. He moved over to sit on the couch next to Gibbs.

"Fair," Gibbs said. He took a deep breath and squeezed his eyes tightly shut for a second, rolling them around in their sockets before opening them wide again. Fornell watched as he gathered his strength and once again put on his mask of power and control.

"Any nausea?" Ducky asked. He took Gibbs' wrist and checked his pulse.

"Some," Gibbs said. "Nothing like this morning. Thanks for that."

"Certainly," Ducky said. "I'm sorry I couldn't have come myself."

"It's alright. Chief Goetz took care of it."

"Have you been taking the Reglan?" Ducky asked. He took a stethoscope and blood pressure cuff out of his bag and pushed up Gibbs' sleeve to wrap the cuff around his arm.

"Every four hours," Gibbs said. Ducky nodded and pumped up the cuff. He listened while the cuff deflated.

Ducky stuck a digital thermometer in Gibbs' mouth and listened to his breathing while it worked. When it beeped, Ducky read it, then folded his stethoscope and put his equipment away.

"Everything appears to be relatively normal," Ducky pronounced. "Have you been eating today?"

"Yes," Gibbs said.

"Toast, crackers and meal shakes," Fornell said.

"Better than nothing, I suppose," Ducky said. "Drinking fluids?"

"Glass of juice every hour," Fornell reported.

"Good. What about the medications? Are you keeping to the schedule?"

"Yes," Gibbs repeated.

"Are you taking pain medicine?"

"As needed," Gibbs said.

Ducky turned to Fornell. "How often is he taking it?"

"When it gets bad," Fornell said.

"Fair enough. Any signs of infection in your wounds?" the doctor asked. Gibbs looked up at Fornell, who answered again.

"No. They look clean so far," Fornell said.

"Very good," Ducky said and cast his own gaze at the G-man. "You'll tell me if anything begins to look amiss?"

"Of course," Fornell said.

"Thank you." Ducky looked Gibbs up and down before turning back to Fornell. "I've had a rather stressful day, and I wouldn't mind spending a little time winding down with an old friend before I go home. If you've got somewhere you need to be for a few hours, Jethro and I will be fine here."

Fornell frowned. Ducky was smiling at him earnestly, trying to impart some message. Fornell wasn't getting it. He glanced at Gibbs, who was giving off definite vibes of 'no.' He looked back at Ducky, and suddenly did get it.

"Sure. I should go home, get some clothes," he said. Gibbs cleared his throat and Fornell looked that way again. Gibbs' eyes had widened, and the 'no' was more insistent now.

"Take your time," Ducky said. Fornell gave Gibbs a smile he hoped was reassuring and turned away. He jogged up the stairs to retrieve his cell phone, wallet and keys, pausing only a moment before clipping his holster onto his belt.

"I'll be back in a couple hours," Fornell said as he returned to the main floor. He purposefully did not look at Gibbs again. He headed toward the kitchen, snagging one of the papers off the table as he passed.

When the side door closed, Ducky's expression turned serious.

"So, Jethro, how are you feeling?" he asked.

"Fair," Gibbs said again.

"I can't begin to imagine how you're feeling," Ducky said. "An event like this can change a person."

"I'm fine," Gibbs said.

The ME continued as if Gibbs hadn't spoken. "It impacts literally every part of your life. You're going to have moments when familiar people and places seem foreign and frightening. You aren't going to know when an otherwise normal sight, sound or smell is going to make you remember the event so strongly you feel like you're experiencing it again."

Ducky paused and Gibbs recalled yesterday morning when he'd been with Tobias... He shook his head.

"I'll be fine," Gibbs said. He'd said the same thing to Abby, and to Ziva. It had rung hollow each time.

"You will be," the doctor agreed. "But it's going to take time. And in the meantime, you're going to have to give yourself time to recover. I expect you to take at least two weeks off, even if you physically feel like you're ready to work."

"What?" Gibbs said, incredulous. "Two weeks?"

"You clearly did not read the form I had you take to Navy Medical," Ducky said. "I authorized a full month of medical leave based on the antiretroviral course alone."

"Not a chance," Gibbs said. He pushed himself upright, staggering just a little, and moved across the living room.

"You have to give yourself time to recover," Ducky insisted. He turned on the couch to watch Gibbs as he stopped in front of the fireplace and rested his hands on the mantle.

"And what am I supposed to do at home?" Gibbs asked without looking back. "I'm already going crazy."

"Crazy is what I'm hoping to avoid," Ducky said gently. "The mental health implications of this kind of attack are severe. Have you had a chance to talk it through with anyone yet?"

"No," Gibbs said firmly. "The last thing I need is to relive the details."

"I'm not suggesting you do," Ducky said. "It's important, in fact, to get to a place where you can remember what happened without reliving it. It's the reliving that's causing your nightmares."

Gibbs turned around, leaning back against the mantle. "Who says I'm having nightmares?" he asked.

Ducky smiled. "I've known you for a long time, Jethro. I know something of how your mind works. I know that just because you don't talk about emotions doesn't mean you don't have them. And when such a strong mind as yours suppresses emotion over long periods, they tend to force their way out when defenses are down. When you're sleeping."

Gibbs nodded, his head bobbing lightly.

"Have you been taking sleep aids?" Ducky asked when Gibbs didn't speak.

"Night before last, when I needed to go to work," Gibbs said.

"You won't be needing to do that for a while. I'd advise against taking the pills as a way of avoiding nightmares. Dependency is a real concern."

"You have any better suggestions?"

"Talk to someone," Ducky said. He held up a hand when he saw Gibbs was going to argue. "You're not going to be able to avoid it forever. If you can't go to a counselor, try talking it through with someone you trust. Agent Fornell. Or me."

"And if I can't do that?" Gibbs asked.

"I am certain it's not a matter of can't. However, considering your physical state, I'm willing to give you a little time to rest before I starting to insist."

"Insist?"

"You know the responsibilities the Director has given me when it comes to you and your team," Ducky said. "If you're not fit for duty in any capacity, I have the responsibility to be certain he is informed."

Gibbs considered him. "You wouldn't," he said.

"I will, if you give me no choice."

"Geez, Duck, can't you just let me work through this my way?"

"I would, if I thought your way was anything more than suppress and ignore."

Gibbs scoffed a little. "I have other ways."

"Of course you do. You drink too much, you take unnecessary risks, and you hide in your basement."

"I don't hide in the basement," Gibbs objected.

"What do you call it?"

"Woodwork," Gibbs said. "It helps."

"And when were you last down there?" Ducky challenged.

"Monday," Gibbs said after a second's thought.

"As I thought. So you're not working in the basement and you're not drinking alcohol. Which leaves risk taking. Not something I would suggest in your condition."

"What do you want from me, Ducky?" Gibbs asked, his voice hardening.

"I want you to be well, Jethro. As quickly as possible. And to do that, you're going to have to talk to someone."

"No, I'm not," Gibbs said. He pushed off the wall. "Thank you for your concern, doctor, but I'm tired. I'm going to lay down. You can see yourself out."

"Jethro..." Ducky objected, but Gibbs ignored him and headed up the stairs.

With a sigh, Ducky stood and went to the kitchen. It was worse than he'd thought. He was usually very good at knowing exactly how far he could push Jethro without overplaying his hand. This time, he'd obviously overestimated. Or more likely, underestimated the depth of Jethro's pain.

He poked through Gibbs' cupboards until he found the tea he knew was there. Despite Gibbs' attempt at dismissing him, he would not be leaving his old friend alone. He'd wait until Agent Fornell returned. Or Gibbs did.

NCIS-NCIS-NCIS

Fornell stood in the doorway of Gibbs' bedroom, watching his partner sleep. He'd been more than a little disturbed by Ducky's report of Gibbs' reaction to their conversation. The ME was one of the few people Gibbs called friend, and the navy man knew he didn't have enough of those to waste. He was usually gentle and accommodating with true friends, letting small annoyances roll off in favor of maintaining those precious personal allegiances. Fornell had only known one other time there'd been any kind of disagreement between Gibbs and Ducky: In the months after Gibbs had returned from his Mexican sojourn. Like his outburst at lunch on Thursday, a non-professional disagreement with Ducky was unusual, and a cause for concern.

Gibbs was lying mostly on his stomach with one of his arms beneath himself and the other wrapped around Fornell's pillow. His head was turned to the empty side of the bed. He was lying still, his back rising and falling smoothly with each slow breath. Though Fornell couldn't see his face, his body language looked peaceful. He wondered if Gibbs had taken a sleeping pill. It was early, but he hadn't gotten any sleep the night before. Then Fornell wondered if he'd taken his evening meds.

He moved carefully through the bedroom to the bath. Everything was in place. Short of opening the bottles and counting the pills, there was no way to know. Fornell had to trust that Gibbs had taken care of it. Which left the douche and cream. He supposed they could wait until Gibbs woke naturally to take care of it. The timing on that wasn't as critical, he knew.

Fornell slipped out to his own bedroom and got ready for bed. He was plenty tired himself. A good night's sleep would do them both some good.

Returning to the master bedroom, Fornell laid carefully on his side of the bed, facing Gibbs. He pulled the sheet up over them both and tucked one hand under his head. For five minutes or more, he watched Gibbs' face. His old friend's expression was slightly drawn and occasionally, a muscle twitched. Fornell ached to reach over and smooth out the lines. He was pretty sure the normally comforting gesture would not be welcome.

"Knock it off," Gibbs suddenly said, and opened his eyes.

"What?" Fornell asked, surprised. He'd honestly thought Gibbs was deeply asleep.

"You're thinking too loud," Gibbs said. "I can hear it."

"Oh yeah? So what am I thinking about?" Fornell asked.

"Me," Gibbs said.

Fornell grunted. "That's some ego you've got there, Marine."

"You gonna deny it?" Gibbs asked.

Fornell shook his head a little. "No." He took a breath. "How do you feel?"

"Fine," Gibbs said.

Fornell frowned. "Try again?"

"I'm really wishing people would leave me alone," Gibbs said.

Fornell raised his eyes. "Since when am I 'people'?" he asked with mild censure. "Or Ducky, for that matter."

Gibbs sighed. "Yeah," he said. He adjusted his position so he was lying on his side facing Fornell. "Where'd you go tonight?"

Fornell paused while he internally debated pushing for an answer to his first question. He decided it didn't really matter: He could tell Gibbs was at physically stable at least.

"Went to check on DiNozzo," he answered.

"And?" Gibbs asked.

"He's sleeping a lot. McGee is over there, says whenever he's not in the bathroom or on the phone, he's sleeping."

"Drugs?" Gibbs asked.

"Not that they can tell. Unless he's got a secret stash in his bedroom. Which McGee looked for while DiNozzo was in the bathroom. Nothing."

"He eating?"

"Some," Fornell said. "McGee's not worried."

Gibbs nodded. "Who's he on the phone with?"

"Don't know. But he's spent a couple hours altogether talking to someone."

Another nod. There were a few moments of silence while the two men considered each other from a distance of about 18 inches.

"Where else?" Gibbs asked.

"Hmm?" Fornell asked.

"You didn't spend three hours checking on DiNozzo."

"No," Fornell agreed. "Talked to McGee for a while. He's got a name."

"Of who?"

"Someone," Fornell said. "There was a credit card receipt recovered from a trash can. Name and account number on it. The guy's history makes him a viable suspect."

"What history?" Gibbs asked.

"Two sexual assault convictions, charges dropped in three other cases," Fornell said.

Gibbs stiffened. "He got a mug shot?" he asked.

"He's planning on putting together a six pack in the morning, showing it to the victims." He waited a few heartbeats before continuing. "I told him to bring it by on his way home in the morning. So you can approve it."

Gibbs slowly nodded. "I should've told him by now," he said.

"You haven't exactly had the chance," Fornell said.

"Won't matter."

"Not to him, no," Fornell agreed. "It's not going to be pretty."

They lay together for another set of minutes.

"After DiNozzo's I stopped by a survivor partner support group," Fornell said.

"Oh yeah?" Gibbs said. He appeared to be mildly curious, nothing more. It was obviously an act.

"Eight other guys. All spouses or significant others of survivors of sexual assault."

Gibbs nodded. When he said nothing, Fornell continued. "The group is for same-sex couples."

"Hmm," Gibbs said.

"It was interesting. I was surprised."

Gibbs nodded again. "You tell them about me?" Gibbs asked.

"No. Just listened."

Gibbs had nothing to say to that. After a moment, he reached over and laid a hand alongside Fornell's face. His cheek was scratchy with evening stubble. Gibbs flexed his fingers slightly, rubbing at it. He held Fornell's gaze for perhaps a minute before speaking again.

"Touch me," he said. Fornell immediately moved his hand to mirror his partner's position. Gibbs' face was rougher: He hadn't shaved in a day or two.

Gibbs moved his fingers around to Fornell's lips. After a second, Fornell pursed his lips and kissed Gibbs' finger tips. He moved his own hand to Gibbs' lips, who did the same.

Without a word, Gibbs moved his hand down Fornell's neck to his shoulder and around to rest it on his chest. When he paused, Fornell again followed him.

Gibbs moved again, down toward Fornell's waistband. He slipped his fingers under the band and rested in the warmth he found there.

Fornell hesitated. When Gibbs nodded a little Fornell followed suit. They lay facing each other in the silence for a long moment before Gibbs moved once more. He slid his hand further down into Fornell's groin and gently palmed Fornell's soft penis, his fingers just brushing his balls. Fornell twitched a little and swallowed. Again, he hesitated. He wasn't sure what he was waiting for. Consent? Permission?

"It's okay," Gibbs said, his voice barely more than a breath. That would do. With a whisper of a smile, Fornell echoed his move. When his hand made contact with Gibbs' member, his partner shuddered slightly and immediately tensed. Fornell froze.

"Don't stop," Gibbs said in the same small voice. Fornell scrutinized his love's face. There was something there, too fleeting to catch. He pushed a little deeper, scratching his fingers through the wiry curls in Gibbs' groin. The action usually made Gibbs groan. This time, there was silence. Another check of Gibbs' face showed calm. Fornell wasn't sure if it was real or feigned.

Gibbs began to massage Fornell's shaft and he immediately began to harden. At Gibbs' hand, it was as certain as the sun rising in the east. Fornell followed suit. This simple giving and receiving of manual pleasure was something they often did, when the day had been long or they were just too tired to do anything more.

The two men had a healthy sex life. Since they'd let their feelings for one another turn, they'd taken every opportunity that presented itself to share mutual comfort. They didn't have sex every day, but whenever they got the chance, they took pleasure in one another's bodies. These last few days, Fornell had missed that. It made the feelings now somehow sweeter.

Within a few minutes, Fornell was hard and straining against Gibbs' hand. He began to leak precum, which Gibbs gathered and used to lubricate his shaft. Fornell's breathing had quickened, and he was almost panting, his eyes drifting shut of their own accord.

Despite Fornell's return attention, Gibbs remained soft. Fornell realized quickly that the response he had come to know as well as his own was not forthcoming. He adjusted his grasp several times, trying every trick he knew to get a rise out of his partner. Still, nothing. He opened his eyes and found Gibbs staring at him with such a look of intense concentration that it threw him off and he stuttered to a stop. When Gibbs nonetheless continued his massage, Fornell pulled back a little.

"Don't. It's okay," Gibbs said once more. Fornell frowned and his breath caught in his throat.

"No, it's not okay," Fornell said, and used his other hand to gently grab Gibbs' wrist and still his movements. Fornell could feel his own pulse pounding; in his chest, his head, his dick. Gibbs tried to make another move and Fornell pulled back his hand even as he twisted further away from Gibbs' touch.

"Please," Gibbs said, trying to keep them together. "Don't stop. It'll happen."

Fornell was already shaking his head. "No, Jethro, it's too soon," he said.

Gibbs stared at him, then jerked his hand free of Fornell's pants and flipped over onto his back.

"Damn it," he said. Then he repeated it more loudly. "Damn it!" He twisted both fists into his hair and pulled lightly.

"It's alright," Fornell said. He took a deep breath and laid a hand on Gibbs' chest. "We'll do it when you're ready."

"I am ready," Gibbs said.

"No, you're not," Fornell said. Gibbs let his hair go and looked over at him. His eyes purposefully wandered to where Fornell's still-straining erection was tenting his pants.

"It's not your decision to make, Tobias," Gibbs said. "For God's sake, it's been almost a week. When was the last time we went that long without..." He swallowed. "I want to."

"Well I don't. Not until you can enjoy it too."

"Who says I'm not enjoying it?" Gibbs challenged. But there was no strength behind the words.

"You have to give it time," Fornell said gently. Ignoring his own condition, he patted Gibbs' chest through his t-shirt. Gibbs rolled away. After a pause, he sat up, stood, and headed out of the room.

"Where you going?" Fornell asked.

"Downstairs," Gibbs said without looking back. "To sleep."

"Jethro!" Fornell called after him. There was no response. Fornell rolled onto his back with a sigh. He punched his fist into the mattress and cursed.

It took a minute or more for Fornell's breathing to slow and his heart rate to settle. Many minutes after that, Fornell raised his head to stare down at his still-tented pants. A few minutes in the shower – either warm or cold – would take care of it one way or the other, he knew. But even the thought of relief made Fornell feel somehow guilty. Why should he enjoy that momentary pleasure when his partner was suffering?

Instead, Fornell stared at the ceiling and thought about what he was going to do to the bastard who'd caused all this. He wasn't sure anymore if he would kill him outright, or just hurt him bad enough to make him regret ever touching the man Fornell loved, then send him to prison for life. The former might be easier. And Fornell was sure Abby would help him hide the body.

To be continued.