Tim stood at the window and looked out into the bright neon filled night and tried to let the cold silence creep into his heart and still his shaking hands. The longer he stood there it seemed like a sort of Zen meditation and he was loath to break the spell as he stood and tried to absorb the familiar uncomplicated visions of the increasingly blurry city lights as they danced in front of his eyes.
Well it goes like this
The fourth, the fifth
The minor fall and the major lift
The baffled king composing Hallelujah
He had failed.
He was weak.
After years of waiting he had finally had his chance. He had wanted so much to show everyone that he could handle the unexpected that came with going undercover. He wanted to show his skill in more than the ordered and neatly controlled binary world of code. No he could handle himself out in the real world.
And he had failed.
Well Your faith was strong but you needed proof…
Tim could still taste the acidic bite of bile and stomach acid in his mouth long after he has rinsed his mouth and brushed his teeth. It seemed the only thing that could dissolve the taste was the whisky in his hand as it burned its way through his mouth.
Gibbs had seen him throw up. Gibbs had seen him act just like the 'Probie' he really was. As soon as the scenario got a little off plan and a little off center he practically freaked. Instead of showing them how much he had changed he had simply reinforced his lack of skill. God knows when he would be asked undercover again.
Tim felt bitter and he swallowed more of the burning whisky and let its overwhelming smell and taste lure him to the glow of the lights.
Rain.
It looked like it might rain soon. Tiny little drops were hitting the window and it was getting colder. His warm slow breaths were starting to fog up the glass.
He should move. He needed a shower. A hot shower to cleanse and burn away his skin. He could still taste the man on his tongue and feel his rough hands on his soft skin. He knew he would have a bruising dark hicky on his neck tomorrow and something about that revolted him. He had been marked. Marked for his failure. Marked by a man. A murderer.
He would sit in the Bullpen tomorrow and they would go over the case making sure it was all locked away and they would see. It was too big and high up to be covered up with a closed collar and tie. Oh no it couldn't be that simple. They would all talk and smile encouragingly but when he wasn't looking they would all look at how he had been marked.
Tim shuddered.
He could smell the stale stench of cigarette smoke and dried sweat underneath Shane's expensive cologne. He knew when he did finally undress that he would be covered in tiny scratches from the sharp edges of Shane's trim nails as he teased and tormented him while he had smirked and encouraged his advances. He knew he would have bruises on his thighs where he was pinched and prodded, his sensitive skin never responding well to force.
His jaw felt scratched and raw from the rough stubble of Shane's whiskers as he had nuzzled into his face and neck. Stubble rash. Tim wasn't exactly pleased to have now added it to his list of experiences.
He had wanted to be so confident and cocky, just like Tony was. When Shane had first turned his attention to him, that was what he had done. He had become Tony. Flirty and confident in any situation. But then had come that moment when he knew he couldn't continue on and that Shane wanted far more from him than he was willing to give.
Images of what Shane had done had started flashing into Tim's mind as they kissed. Broken bodies, missing husbands, anonymous accounts, stolen lives, tearful children, blood soaked clothes. One after the other flashed up and appeared on the back of his closed eyelids like a horror film he could not close his eyes to. It wasn't the fact that Shane was a man but who that man truly was that made Tim want to gag and he swallowed deeply to try and control his body and its responses.
Shane the disgusting, violent, arrogant, multiple murderer whose blood stained hands where traveling down his twisting belly towards the waist band of his pants………
And it's not a cry that you hear at night
It's not somebody who's seen the light
It's a cold and it's a broken Hallelujah
He had wanted to show Tony how it was done and in the end it was Tony's touch that had saved him. Tim had felt Tony's hand under the edge of the table reassuring him just as it became too much and suddenly he knew he would be ok. He wasn't alone and Tony would look after him. He had clutched at Tony's hand like it was the only thing that would save his soul from damnation.
He hadn't even been able to do that alone.
Tony got the information. He got the collar and managed to help his pathetic protégé through the situation as well. Again.
He was probably somewhere in the Hotel bar laughing it up and celebrating somewhere, catching peanuts in his mouth, flirting with some waitress and being clapped on the back with that dizzyingly bright smile on his handsome face.
Baby I've been here before
I've seen this room and I've walked this floor
I used to live alone before I knew ya
Tim didn't want to think why Tony's touch had calmed him like a skittish horse. How it had seemed to lend him strength from its warmth and its strength. For an instant Tim hated Tony. Hated the man and all that he meant to him.
How could someone as bold and brave as Tony care for someone as mild and pathetic as he was? It was ridiculous and wasn't worth even wasting a thought over.
I've seen your flag on the marble arch
But love is not a victory march
It's a cold and it's a broken Hallelujah
It was ridiculous really. It wasn't like he was facing down a gun. It hadn't been a hostage situation. No one had been shot or killed. A man had been attracted to him and he had distracted him until they had been able to get the information they had come for. Simple. And yet here he was gut churning with anxiety and loss as he mourned ……mourned? Mourned what? What was affecting him so badly? What was it really?
The sweet comfort of Tony sliding his warm strong hand into his …..
And then the sudden yearning was gone leaving Tim staring out desolately at the heavy rain now pounding against the window and turning the lights into trembling puddles of color.
Once he moved the spell would be broken and everything else would start. He would shower, he would vomit again this time from the drink, he could cry softly, despairingly at himself and wonder why he couldn't be harder or stronger. Then he would sleep poorly and report back at NCIS head quarters to return back to his old life.
And so he didn't move and continued to look out at the night, hesitant to blink and break the spell of stillness that held him for this moment safe.
He didn't even hear the tiny click of the door as Tony left.
And even though it all went wrong
I'll stand before the lord of Song
With nothing on my tongue but hallelujah
(
(One of my personal favourites. I hoped you liked to...well you know liked in a sad sort of way.Precious)