Please note: This was written LONG before Trump ran for office or won the presidency. At the time I wrote this, and at the time the story is set, Trump was just a big, show-bizzy businessman.

Sunday, 1545, NCIS Headquarters

Tony looked up when Brad came in, but then he just looked down at his knees. "Not the guy you thought I was, am I?" Tony said.

"I don't know why you'd say that." Brad settled down on the floor beside him. "I knew you were a player, I just didn't know you sometimes played the other side of the field."

Tony shook his head. "This was the first and last time," he said emphatically. "And I haven't really been a player for some time."

"So you said," Brad replied. "The Love Machine fell in love, huh? Star-crossed and all that?"

Tony snorted. "Star-crossed. That's a nice way of saying 'fucked up beyond belief.'" He shook his head. "Did you see the woman I was with in Abby's office?"

Brad's brow furrowed. "I believe so, pretty brunette, curly hair?"

"That's her."

"Her who?" Brad asked.

"Her," Tony repeated, and Brad's eyes widened.

"The one who accused you of killing her father?" he asked incredulously.

Tony nodded. "She interrupted Brody during that last attack." Tony reconsidered that statement. "During the attack before the one you interrupted," he amended with a scowl. "My life really sucks at the moment."

"If she accused you of murder, what were you doing alone with her?" Brad asked. "That doesn't seem wise, somehow."

Tony blinked. "You know, I'm not actually sure how that happened. I went to sleep clutching a farting hippo – don't ask – and I woke up with Jeanne in my arms. I forgot to ask her how that came about."

"As a trade, it could be worse," Brad said thoughtfully, and Tony snorted. "Seriously, a farting hippo?"

"Named Burt. He belongs to Abby."

"Ah. 'Nuff said."

Tony laughed. "A lot of people have that reaction to Abby," he said. "Anyway, I'm sorry to drag you in on that. I just . . . after the way Manton was talking, I didn't want to be alone with her. I more or less trust Fornell, but if it came to a question of the FBI or me, I don't want to know which he'd pick."

"I get that," Brad said. "And there's no need to apologize. I'm glad to be able to help. I left Gibbs giving that woman what for, by the way, and sent Director Shepard after him."

Tony groaned and barely stopped himself from banging his head against the wall. "I need a hat," he muttered.

"Something soft," Brad advised. "That really looks awful, by the way."

"Thanks," Tony said. "I appreciate the honesty. Hearing people say 'it's not so bad' just makes me want to smack something."

Brad shrugged and was silent for a moment. Finally he said, "Tony, man, are you okay? I mean, have you been checked out?"

"I've had the tests," Tony said. "And I'll keep on getting them."

"Good, but that's not what I meant. I mean, have you been examined?"

"Since when?" Tony asked. "I gather I was looked at in the hospital."

"A rectal exam?" Brad asked, and Tony shuddered.

"I don't know, I was unconscious for most of the time the doctors were looking at me," Tony replied. The thought was not reassuring, but he was reasonably sure that someone would have told him if that had happened. "I hear there are evidence photos, so you could check."

"Or I could just look at your chart," Brad pointed out. "I doubt it, head trauma rarely requires that sort of exam – but rape does."

Tony's whole body tensed. He'd managed to ignore the reasoning behind the questions until Brad had said it outright like that. He shook his head. "He wasn't violent in that sense," he said. "He didn't injure me. I didn't . . ." He ground his teeth and looked away, feeling tears welling up in his eyes. "I didn't fight him."

Brad put his hand on Tony's back. "Okay," he said. "It's okay."

"No, it's not," Tony growled. "How can it be okay that I didn't even try to stop him?"

"You did. You said so."

"I told him to stop, I didn't make any actual effort to stop him. For a month, a month and a half, I just let him fuck me whenever he wanted to, and I didn't realize what was happening. It never even occurred to me that he was doing anything wrong. I thought I was . . ." He buried his face in his knees. "I thought it was my fault."

"And how many rape victims have told you exactly that, Tony?" Brad asked gently.

"I'm a cop. I should know better."

"This is a platitude, I know, but that doesn't make it untrue. What you know in your head doesn't always translate to your gut."

Tony looked up in immediate denial. "I know in my gut that the rape victims whose cases I've investigated weren't to blame for what happened to them," he said sharply.

"It's different when it happens to you," Brad replied implacably, and Tony looked away. "One of my friends is an oncologist. He's helped dozens of people get through cancer, their own or a loved one's. His mother got cancer and his world fell apart. He knew all the answers, but it didn't make the process any different for him than for anyone else. In fact, in some ways, I think it made it harder."

Tony shook his head. "And now I'm going to get to face him in a court of law and tell the world I was an idiot, a dupe, and a victim." Just how public that could become was appalling. "My father is going to freak out."

"I know my father would," Brad said.

"No, you don't get it," Tony said. "My father wouldn't give a damn if he knew I was raped so long as it didn't get into the papers." He snorted. "It might affect stock prices for ALD Enterprises."

"Your father works for them?" Brad asked, sounding startled, and Tony remembered suddenly that his father had taken over a pharmaceutical company a few years back.

"ALD, Anthony Leonard DiNozzo." Brad's eyes widened. "He's a big name in business, but he doesn't have Trump-like notoriety, mostly because he's really good a spinning things, and none of his divorces have been very splashy."

"And he doesn't want notoriety," Brad said.

"Nope. Nor does he want a son in law enforcement." Tony shrugged. "Sometimes I don't think he wanted a kid at all." Abruptly, Tony noticed that he was talking a little too freely. He plastered a fake grin on his face. "Anyway, that's neither here nor there. If I'm lucky, he'll send his lawyer to try and shut me up."

"And if you're not?"

"He'll come in person." Tony levered himself up from the floor and went to the sink again. He turned on the water to wash his face. The cold water felt good. He pulled off a handful of paper towels and dried his hands and face. "I suppose I still need to talk to Madame Gigi."

"Not today."

His eyes, closed against the water and the rough paper towels, flipped open and he saw the director standing behind him in the entrance to the bathroom. The sound of the water must have obscured the opening of the door. He whirled, his stomach doing an angry twist. "Why not?" he demanded. He didn't want any kind of special treatment, and he would not accept pity, particularly not from Jenny Shepard.

"Agents Glick and Fornell are talking to Abby, and then they will be pursuing other leads that have turned up."

"Do they have any more questions for me?" he asked.

"If so, they can wait until –"

"I'd just as soon get them over with today," Tony said, not caring that he was interrupting her. "I don't need to be coddled. I needed a break, but I'm fine now."

Director Shepard nodded. "I'll find out if they have any further questions today," she said.

Tony grimaced. He knew what that meant. She'd ask them in a way that made it abundantly clear that the answer should be no, they'd demur politely, and he might as well not have bothered. "Where's –" Brad's phone rang, and Tony turned towards him. "Thanks, buddy, but if you have to go . . ."

Brad held up a hand and answered his phone. The call was brief. He hung up and said, "Tony, I'm sorry. I do have to go."

"Thanks for being here," Tony said. Brad gave him a very awkward hug made more so by the presence of Director Shepard. Then he hurried out, leaving Tony alone with Jenny. "Where's Gibbs?" he asked.

"In the lab with Glick and Fornell," she said. "Abby's tests were positive."

Tony blinked. "What tests?"

"On your hair and fingernails," Jen replied. "Gibbs was right. You were drugged."

Tony shook his head. "Not all the time," he replied. "Not . . ." Not the first time, he finished in his head. He didn't want to tell her that, though. He didn't want to tell her anything. He tried to slip by her, and she didn't block his way.

"Where are you going?" she asked.

"The lab," he replied, wondering why she'd bothered to ask. Where else would he be going?

"Are you sure? What you may learn –"

"I'd rather know," Tony said, and he took the stairs down to the squad room instead of the elevator. He slowed as he approached his desk, not sure exactly how McGee and Ziva would receive him. Ziva he'd seen once already, but he hadn't seen McGee yet. Besides, this was work, and how people treat you in the hospital isn't necessarily how they'll treat you at work. Chickening out, he took the path to the elevators that avoided their little bullpen. That way he could put off McGee's awkwardness and Ziva's . . . whatever . . . till later.

The elevator doors opened as he approached and disgorged Gibbs, Fornell and Glick. Tony grinned broadly, though a grin was about the last thing he felt. "I was just on my way down to the lab to find you," he said. "You have any more questions for me? Sorry about the impromptu break."

"No, Agent DiNozzo," Glick said. "I've got one or two other people I'd like to talk to. I'll let you know when I want to see you again."

Obviously Director Shepard had already made her wishes known. "Okay," he said. "I don't have my cell phone back yet –" Gibbs held a phone out to him, and Tony took it, feeling considerably more himself. Opening the new phone, he read out the number for Glick and Fornell.

"Thank you," Agent Glick said.

Tony got on the elevator, figuring Gibbs would know where he was going. Or at least he'd be able to figure it out within two guesses if he was being dense. He hit the button for Abby's floor, but when the doors opened, he stopped before getting out and hit the door close button. Where was Jeanne? He hadn't noticed her in the bullpen, but that didn't mean she wasn't there. On the other hand, she could still be with Abby. He wasn't sure he was ready to see her yet. That unexpected declaration had caught him off guard, and he didn't quite know how to react.

Taking a deep breath, he leaned back against the wall. If he knew Gibbs – and he did – his boss would be along shortly.

Sunday, 1623, NCIS Headquarters

As Gibbs walked back from seeing Fornell and Glick out, McGee and Ziva looked up from the work they had so diligently pretended to do when the three of them had passed earlier. "What's going on, Boss?" McGee asked.

Gibbs snorted. "I'll tell you when I know," he said.

He'd just passed McGee's desk, headed towards the elevator when McGee spoke again. His voice was muffled, clearly not intended for anyone else's ears. "Promise?"

Gibbs turned back and walked up to stand at the divider between McGee's desk and the empty cubicle. McGee looked up, alarmed. "Yes, McGee. I promise," he said, tapping the boy lightly on the back of the head. McGee's eyes widened, and he got back to work.

Gibbs hit the elevator button and waited for it to come back up from wherever DiNozzo had taken it. The doors opened to reveal DiNozzo in a carefully cultivated nonchalant pose. He was leaning back against the center of the back wall of the elevator, his hands in his pockets, his ankles crossed, his eyes studying some point on the floor about a little ways in front of his feet, and he was taut as a bowstring. DiNozzo didn't look up, but Gibbs knew he would recognize the shoes.

Gibbs stepped inside and let the doors shut behind him. "I thought you were going down to the lab," he said neutrally.

DiNozzo looked up, his air of repose replicated on his face if not in his eyes. "I was, but I figured you'd be along in a couple of minutes, so I waited."

"Could've been a long wait," Gibbs observed.

"Naw," DiNozzo said, shaking his head. "I know you. Once you're done, you kick the guests out and get back to what you were doing before they showed up."

"Which was?"

"Checking up on me," DiNozzo said with a trace of self consciousness. He leaned forward and hit the emergency stop on the elevator. "Look, Boss, I know you well enough to know that you found out why Jeanne came back, and that if you weren't satisfied with her reasons, you'd have sent her packing, or at least given her limited access to the hospital and NCIS."

Gibbs shrugged, waiting. DiNozzo hadn't asked a question, he'd made a statement that Gibbs had no argument with.

"She tells me you ordered her not to talk about it."

Gibbs shrugged again.

"Why is she here, Boss? I need to know, and the current situation isn't changing in the foreseeable future, so waiting seems a little silly."

"What situation is that, DiNozzo?" Gibbs asked.

"Me being freaked out about . . . stuff," DiNozzo said, shying away from naming his issues.

Gibbs sighed. "I can see your point, DiNozzo, but can you see mine? Don't you have enough pressures on you at the moment?"

"Having her here and not knowing why isn't easing that any, Boss."

Gibbs considered that. When DiNozzo had been in the hospital and incapable of sustaining a conversation for long, restricting what people talked to him about made sense, but it made less sense now that he was demanding the information. "I'm not the one who should tell you," he said.

"But you'll lift the restriction?" DiNozzo asked.

"She doesn't have to do what I say. She's made that clear already."

"She has?" DiNozzo's brows knit. "But she said she . . . what are you talking about?"

Gibbs shrugged with a small grin. "I asked her what you two were talking about after you woke up in the same room."

DiNozzo's eyes grew very round. "And?"

"And she very politely told me it was none of my business."

"And you let her?" DiNozzo seemed astounded.

Gibbs snorted. "Technically, it wasn't," he said. "She's not under investigation, she's not my subordinate, and you weren't on company time."

"And you didn't ask me."

"No, I didn't." Gibbs looked at him. "And I'm not going to."

DiNozzo didn't seem to know what to make of that. He leaned forward again like he was going to turn the elevator back on, but then he stopped and leaned back. He glanced up into Gibbs's eyes, then down again. Staring at the floor, DiNozzo said, "Would you think I was nuts if I told you I'm still in love with her?"

Gibbs had wondered if this was going to come up. He leaned against one of the side walls. "No. Are you?"

DiNozzo let out a mirthless chuckle. "Oh yeah. Seeing her again, talking to her – I mean, I knew before, but now it's even more obvious. The trouble is, I don't know if I trust her."

"I can see where that might be a problem after your history."

"But part of me wants to," DiNozzo added. "And, shockingly enough, it's not the part that wants to get laid." He paused and shrugged slightly. "Or not only the part that wants to get laid."

Gibbs laughed and nodded. "Okay."

"I just want to know if you think that's crazy."

Gibbs shrugged. "Love is a crazy emotion, DiNozzo." The younger man sighed. "You asking me for my advice?"

"Kind of."

"Take it slow and talk to her. I wouldn't jump into anything." DiNozzo grimaced thoughtfully. Gibbs gestured toward the emergency stop, and DiNozzo nodded.

Just before the door opened, DiNozzo said, "Gibbs, would you say I need human contact more than the average person does?"

Gibbs looked at him, wondering where that question was coming from. He shook his head. "How do I answer that without sounding like a Barbra Streisand song?"

DiNozzo's eyes widened, and he started to laugh. "People," he sang in a pleasant tenor. "People who need people . . ." He shook his head, still chuckling. "Never mind."

They got off the elevator together and walked into Abby's office. "Tony!" Abby exclaimed, and she launched herself across the room at DiNozzo. Gibbs moved slightly out of the way and watched her give DiNozzo a tight hug. Looking startled, DiNozzo caught her and returned the embrace.

"Abby, I haven't been gone for more than an hour," he said in a puzzled voice.

Abby drew back. "I'm so sorry," she said. "I didn't mean to get you punched."

DiNozzo's brows drew together. "That wasn't your fault," he said. "What the hell did Gigi say?"

"Gigi?" Gibbs asked mildly, amused by the fact that DiNozzo had already given Glick one of his irreverent nicknames.

"What did Agent Glick say to you Abby?" DiNozzo asked.

"It's not just Agent Glick, Gibbs told me before but I forgot. My farewell after the Undead Ants concert made that jerk punch you."

"You didn't do anything wrong, Abby," Tony said. "Don't let anything she said get to you. It wasn't your fault."

"I know that," Abby said. "I just feel bad anyway!"

Gibbs glanced over at Dr. Benoit and saw her staring at DiNozzo. He had the impression that she was holding herself back from participating in the scene that Abby and DiNozzo were playing out between them, as if not wanting to intrude. After a moment, she glanced aside and her eyes met his. She flushed a little and turned away.

"So, what did you find in my hair and fingernails?" DiNozzo asked.

"That you are a frequent user of commercial hair and nail products," Abby said with an impish grin.

"Abby," DiNozzo said softly, and her expression grew serious.

"Just like Gibbs thought. Sedatives. Clonazepram and sodium thiopental."

"Like they use in lethal injection?" DiNozzo asked, brows knitting.

Abby nodded, but she added to the list earnestly. "Or truth serum, or to induce coma, it has all sorts of uses."

"Great, my . . . my boyfriend dosed me with coma-inducing drugs so he could get laid. Do I know how to pick them or what?"

"As I understand it, you didn't pick him," Gibbs pointed out. "You were set up from the start."

DiNozzo grimaced. "Yeah."

"Actually, the coma-inducing drug was only given to you once," Abby said. "Probably to anesthetize you." For the photo shoot Gibbs thought, but didn't say. DiNozzo looked like he felt slightly ill. "It's very quick-acting."

"He can't have given you the clonazepram very often, either," Dr. Benoit added, putting her hand on Tony's arm.

DiNozzo snorted. "No, no oftener than once or twice a week for a couple of months." He covered his mouth with a hand, but the yawn he tried to suppress got away from him.

Gibbs reached into his pocket for his keys. "You need to get some real rest, DiNozzo, something other than sleeping on the floor in someone's office. I'll take you to my place, and you –"

"No," DiNozzo said instantly.

"What?" Gibbs asked sharply.

DiNozzo's face creased anxiously. "Sorry, Boss, but I can't stay with you. It could get you into trouble."

"DiNozzo, you can't be serious."

"God knows what he's insinuated about us, Boss," DiNozzo said, his eyes intent and earnest. "She already asked me if I really told Brody that I wouldn't go to Switzerland with him because 'you wouldn't approve,' which is just ridiculous."

"What did you tell him?"

"After about five or six different attempts to convince him that I simply didn't want to go with him, and that we weren't a 'couple' in that sense, he wouldn't let it go, so I told him you wouldn't approve the time off." He shook his head. "After everything Brody's said, for me to go stay with you would look kind of bad."

"I don't give a damn how it looks, DiNozzo!" Gibbs snapped, expecting that to be the end of it.

DiNozzo met his eyes solidly. "Well, I do," he said, and Gibbs was rocked back by the sincerity of his response.

"You could stay with me," Abby said.

"Abby, you sleep in a coffin," DiNozzo replied. "And you don't have a spare room."

"I have a couch. After all, how long would you be staying with me for anyway? The FBI can't keep your apartment locked up forever." DiNozzo looked away, and no one spoke for a moment. Abby cleared her throat uncomfortably. "You're not going back to your apartment, are you?"

DiNozzo didn't answer her directly. "Anyway, they'd just say you were under Gibbs' influence. Staying with anyone from here is out."

"You could stay with me," Dr. Benoit suggested diffidently. "I'm not connected to NCIS or the navy in any way." Gibbs gave her a startled look.

"Jeanne, you don't have an apartment," DiNozzo said.

"No, but I can get a larger suite at the hotel. Where were you planning to stay?"

DiNozzo shrugged. "A hotel, but –" He trailed off, looking unsure.

"Then what's the problem?" she asked.

He blinked at her, then grinned weakly. "There isn't one . . . except . . ."

"What?" Dr. Benoit asked.

"I don't know how I'm going to get my clothes," DiNozzo said.

Gibbs rolled his eyes. "I'll pick up your clothes, DiNozzo," he replied.

"As if!" Abby exclaimed, and Gibbs turned to her in surprise.

"I could do it," Dr. Benoit said quietly. They all turned to look at her. "I mean, unless you dress significantly differently as Tony DiNozzo than you did as Tony DiNardo."

DiNozzo shook his head. "I wore the same stuff . . . I mean, I'd leave work and go . . . no difference, really."

"Then I could do it." DiNozzo's eyebrows went up. "I promise, I won't snoop. Or at least no more than any normal person might."

"That still puts you behind me," DiNozzo said. "God, but you're honest." She flushed.

"Except when you try to get him arrested for murder," Abby said sarcastically. Both DiNozzo's and Benoit's eyes opened wide, and Gibbs gave Abby a light smack between her ponytails. She gave him a startled look and fell silent.

DiNozzo patted his pockets for his keys, then looked up at Gibbs, who shrugged. "Ziva will go with her."

"But, Boss, I got really good locks." Gibbs just looked at him. "Right. That should work."

Gibbs considered the question for a moment, then nodded. "Fine. Jeanne, you go tell Ziva that I told her to take you to DiNozzo's place."

"How are we going to get in?"

"Ziva will take care of it."

"But how –"

"Jeanne, just go," Gibbs said. "The faster you get back, the sooner DiNozzo can crash."

"Right." She turned and went.

"Abby, don't you have work to do on Peterson's case?"

"Yes, Gibbs," she said. He waited, and she bit her lip. "And I'll get back to doing that, sir." She returned to her machines, and Gibbs gestured with his head for DiNozzo to follow him out.

In the elevator, he said, "Ten minutes ago, you told me you weren't sure you trusted her, and now you plan to stay with her?"

DiNozzo grimaced. "Not that way . . . I don't think she'll do anything like accusing me of a crime again." He shook his head. "How do you trust someone with . . . God, but this sounds melodramatic."

Gibbs hit the emergency stop. No doubt he'd get another memo from the director about proper use of agency facilities. "Just say it, DiNozzo."

"I love her, and she just told me that she loves me." Gibbs contained his reaction, striving to keep his expression calm and dispassionate. "But trust between two people . . . how does one regain that after what's happened? When you feel that strongly . . . it's so much easier to get hurt."

Gibbs nodded slowly. "And staying with her won't make that more likely?"

"Do you think it's a bad idea? I could still get a room at another hotel."

Gibbs could see how little that plan appealed to DiNozzo, and he particularly didn't want the man alone right now. "Not necessarily, I just wondered about the apparent contradiction."

DiNozzo shrugged. "It's a contradiction."

"And that's the way life works," Gibbs replied with a sigh.

"Well, you know what they say about life," DiNozzo said, and Gibbs raised an eyebrow. "It beats the alternative."

"Nine times out of ten," Gibbs agreed, hitting the switch again.

DiNozzo gave him a sideways look. "That's rather grim, you know."

"Is it?" The elevator stopped at the squad room, but DiNozzo hung back when Gibbs got out. "You coming?"

"I forgot my pain meds in Autopsy," DiNozzo said, hitting the button.

Gibbs watched the doors close with a sigh. The longer DiNozzo put the first real meeting with McGee off, the more awkward it was going to get. He shrugged and went back to his desk.