My apologies for the long delay between chapters. The muse has apparently flown south for the winter. Can't promise I'll be posting regularly, but here's something, anyway.

Silent Misery R&R - Chapter 18

by HidingInSight

It was dark. A complete lack of light that left him wanting to touch his eyes to be sure they were open. There was a feeling of cold that wasn't exactly physical. More like the cold press of fear. Something was coming. Something bad. He strained to see something – anything – that would tell him where the threat was coming from. He thought he heard something, too small and fleeting to track. He looked left, right, left again. Nothing but blackness. His breath came in short gasps, the silence between deafening. Something was coming for him. He could feel it. He had to move. He couldn't move. Something was holding him in place. He twisted, pulled, struggled, nothing. He screamed – frustration and fear – but he made no sound. He felt the fear pushing in, overwhelming. It was... was... A sound again. His name? Yes. Low, hardly discernible. Was someone there?

"Tobias!" He heard his name again, and he jolted from sleep, sitting up suddenly. Light and sound came rushing back. He looked around, seeking the source. Jethro, standing in the doorway of Tobias' bedroom. The room was well-lit, sun streaming in through shutters he hadn't closed.

"Tobias?" Gibbs said again, and the concern on his face was clear.

"Yeah," Fornell said. He took a deep breath and let it out, shaking his head slightly. "What time is it?" Gibbs was dressed, jeans and a sweatshirt, socks but no shoes.

"Almost 8:00," Gibbs said. When Fornell looked surprised that he'd slept so late, Gibbs explained: "Your phone's in the other room."

Fornell nodded. He sat for a moment, letting the dream – and the emotion that had flooded his system with adrenalin – fade.

After Gibbs left their room the night before, Fornell had spent less than half an hour staring at the ceiling, waiting for his erection to die, before moving to his own bed. He'd slept fitfully and had descended the stairs several times to check on Gibbs. The last time he'd looked at the nightstand clock was just past 5:30. He must have fallen hard asleep after that.

"You know, that's s'posed to be my part in this little drama," Gibbs said. He moved into the room and sat on the edge of the bed near Fornell's legs, reaching for his hand.

"What?" Fornell asked.

"Nightmares." Gibbs squeezed his fingers. Fornell shrugged a little.

They sat together for several minutes while Fornell caught his breath. The silence was strained. Gibbs finally broke it.

"About last night..." he started.

"It's alright," Fornell said immediately. Gibbs shook his head.

"No, it's not. I acted like an ass."

"Maybe a little," Fornell acknowledged with a smile. "But it's still alright. You're hardly at your best right now."

"No excuse," Gibbs said. "I shouldn't have..." he paused, took a breath. "Aw, hell, Tobias. I'm sorry."

Fornell's eyes widened and he made a small sound of disbelief. He felt a rock settle into the pit of his stomach. Jethro didn't apologize. He just didn't. More than anything that had happened this week, that proved the extent of Jethro's turmoil.

"Tobias?" Gibbs said, his voice uncertain. Fornell pulled himself together.

"You're forgiven," he said. He squeezed Gibbs' hand. "Always."

Gibbs took a deep breath, letting it out in a hard rush. "Why do you put up with me?"

Fornell chuckled a little. "Because you put up with me." He let Gibbs' hand go and pulled his legs up and around Gibbs to sit on the edge of the bed. "You need help with the meds?"

"Already done," Gibbs said.

"Okay. How about breakfast?"

Before Gibbs could answer, there was a knock on the front door. Followed immediately by the door opening.

"Gibbs?"

"McGee," Gibbs said to Fornell.

"You want me to come down?" Fornell asked.

After a moment, Gibbs said: "Yeah."

"It'll take a minute to get dressed." Gibbs nodded and stood. He paused a moment to gather himself before descending the stairs.

McGee was standing in the middle of the living room, waiting for him. He had his gear pack over his shoulder.

"Morning, Boss," McGee said. His eyes widened suddenly and Gibbs realized this was the first time his junior agent had seen the bruising around his neck. It was getting better, but it was still ugly. Thankfully, the petechiae had faded to the point his eyes just looked a little bloodshot.

"Good morning," Gibbs said. "You want coffee?"

"Sure." Gibbs picked his half-full mug off the table and moved through into the kitchen. The pot he'd started when he first got up was already half gone.

It had been a long night and Gibbs had slept very little. He'd woken every time Fornell had come down the stairs, but had pretended to be asleep. He wasn't ready to address the reason he was sleeping down here. Sometime after 5:00, he'd finally fallen into a deeper sleep only to be woken again by the sun streaming through the front windows less than an hour later. He'd showered, expecting Fornell to wake at any time. He didn't, so Gibbs had taken care of the wash and cream himself. He was so glad that part of it was almost over. Meds followed, including a dose of Vicodin and one of Reglan. No end in sight for either of those, he supposed.

When Fornell's phone alarm went off at 7, Gibbs had shut it off then gone to check on Fornell, finding him still deeply sleeping. He'd watched for a few minutes before returning to the main floor. He was sitting at the table with his coffee, trying to settle his already-spinning thoughts, when he heard Fornell crying out in his sleep.

Gibbs refilled his mug and filled a second one, bringing it out to McGee. He sat at the table and invited McGee to join him.

"How's DiNozzo?"

"Getting better," McGee said. He sipped at the coffee, trying hard not to wince at the strong brew. "He was awake when I left. Eating breakfast. Ziva brought bagels and lox."

Gibbs nodded. "Appreciate you staying with him."

McGee shrugged. "He'd do the same for me." His eyes slid down to Gibbs' neck, and he quickly looked away.

"It looks worse than it feels," Gibbs said.

A guilty look crossed McGee's face. He was saved from having to comment by Fornell's feet on the stairs. The younger agent turned in his chair.

"Agent Fornell," he said, clearly surprised.

"Agent McGee." Fornell filled his own mug and joined them at the table. "You tell him yet?"

"No," Gibbs said. McGee looked back and forth between the two senior agents, one hand wrapped around his coffee mug, the fingers of the other tapping lightly on the table. Whatever Gibbs hadn't told him yet, he could wait.

"You have the six pack?" Gibbs asked. McGee nodded and dug into his bag. He produced a manila folder and slid a piece of heavy paper out of it, holding it out to Gibbs.

"I put him..."

"Stop," Fornell said sharply and McGee froze.

"It's possible the guy who assaulted them is on there. Which makes him a witness. You'd better do it right," Fornell said.

McGee looked a little chagrined. "Oh. Right." He held the paper printed side toward his chest.

"I'm going to show you photos of six men," he began, quoting the standard admonitions they gave victims when asking them to pick someone out of a paper lineup. "Just because their photos are on this page doesn't' mean any of them has committed or is suspected of committing any crime. You might see someone you recognize, you might not. If you do, point him out to me. But don't pick anyone just because he might resemble someone you recognize."

"Get on with it," Gibbs said, a slight growl in his voice.

"Okay." McGee turned the paper over and laid it flat on the table, pushing it toward Gibbs.

For a second, Gibbs' eyes slid across the six faces, two rows of three mugshots with a number under each. They were all similarly featured, approximately the same age, hair color, skin tone and eye color. Then his attention was captured by the first photo on the bottom row. He narrowed his gaze. His focus drew in tight until the face was all he could clearly see. Then he picture began to grow, filling his vision. A buzzing sound rose in his ears, and he felt himself begin to tremble.

"Boss?" McGee said. His concern was clear. Gibbs had gone pale, and his hand had begun to shake where it rested on the photos. There was no response.

"Gibbs?" Fornell called. Still nothing. "Jethro," he said firmly. Gibbs jerked back, his hand spasming, the paper wrinkling beneath it. He opened his mouth slightly, licked his lips. He looked up at Fornell and took a breath, letting it out slowly. His hand relaxed and his fingers smoothed out the picture. He rested one finger on one of the mugshots.

"Number four," Gibbs said, his voice breaking on the second word. He cleared his throat. "Number four's the son of a bitch that beat DiNozzo."

"Okay," McGee said slowly. He was at a loss to understand what had just happened and he had no explanation for the sudden change of temperature in the room. Gibbs' eyes were locked with Fornell's. He was breathing slowly through his nose, chest expanding and contracting in even rhythm. Over the next few moments, Gibbs' shaking stopped and his color began to return. After almost a minute, he wrenched his eyes from Fornell and turned to McGee.

"I want a list of everyone this dirtbag's had anything more than casual contact with for the last six months. Names, bios, photos, everything. Today." He pushed the photo page back toward McGee.

"Okay," McGee said again. He slid the paper back into the folder, then looked over at Fornell, who was still looking at Gibbs.

"Jethro?" Fornell said. Gibbs turned back that way. They stared at one another while McGee watched them, confused. There was obviously something passing between them, though their faces betrayed nothing.

McGee had never seen Gibbs react like that to anything. Not to horrible crimes, not to the death of friends. Sure, the guy had hurt Tony – badly – but Tony'd been hurt before, and Gibbs' reaction was always anger and determination. Not... whatever that had been.

"You gotta tell him, now," Fornell said, breaking the tense silence. Gibbs nodded, and turned to McGee.

"The other one, his boss," he pointed toward the folder, "after they beat DiNozzo, he raped me."

There was a stunned moment when McGee was sure he hadn't heard right. "He... what?"

"You heard me," Gibbs said.

McGee stared at him with a look of shock clear on his face. He glanced over at Fornell. This had to be some sick joke, right?

"He... you... Really?"

"No, I'm making it up," Gibbs said, sarcasm equally mixed with frustration.

McGee shook his head. "No. I mean. He... You were..."

"Raped," Fornell said firmly. "And the sooner you can get your head around that, the better."

"No, it's not... it's just..." McGee paused to collect his thoughts. "Are you alright?" he finally asked.

"Yes," Gibbs said.

"That's what the exposure was from," McGee said.

"Yes," Gibbs said again. McGee nodded. They could almost see his brain working. His expression changed from shock to one more approaching sorrow.

"God, Boss. That's... Are you alright?" he asked again.

"Yes," Gibbs repeated, his tone softening. "I'm fine, Tim."

McGee looked him up and down, though Gibbs noticed the young agent didn't meet his eye. "Tony was there," he said.

"Yes."

"He saw it happen," McGee said.

"He did."

"And he couldn't do anything to stop it."

"He couldn't."

McGee nodded several times. He looked down at the folder still lying on the table. Gibbs suspected he wasn't seeing the unmarked cardboard. After a full minute had passed, Gibbs spoke again.

"Tim?"

McGee looked up suddenly, startled. "What can I do, Boss?" he asked.

"Locate him, identify his partner," Gibbs said, gesturing toward the folder.

McGee nodded rapidly. "Okay. I can. I will." He stood abruptly, grabbing the folder and stepping away. "I have to go." He grabbed his pack and started for the door.

"McGee?" Gibbs called to him. McGee stopped, but didn't turn back. Gibbs waited. Finally, he did, but he still wouldn't look at Gibbs.

"Let me know when you find something."

"I will." The young agent strode away, the front door banging shut behind him.

For a long moment after he left, Gibbs and Fornell sat in silence. Fornell was first to speak.

"He gonna be okay?" he asked.

"He'll be fine," Gibbs said. "He's just locked up a bit. His programming doesn't allow for the possibility of me being a victim."

Fornell grinned. "Mine neither." He stood, dropping a kiss on the top of Gibbs' head before heading for the kitchen and breakfast.

To be continued...