"Are we...there yet?"
Jethro Gibbs bit the inside of one already sore cheek in an effort to keep his mounting frustration from bubbling to the surface and busting free and, instead, focused totally on the expanse of roadway spreading out before him, not even bothering to respond to the question voiced by the sulking young man enscounced in the back seat of the car. His low growl of discontent was barely audible as he forced himself to relax, to unclench his fists where they were gripping a bit too tightly around the hard steering wheel, and to just tune out the sporadic, juvenile comments drifting forward from the occupant in the rear of the dark sedan. But it was getting *so* much more difficult as the miles rolled on and on and he really didn't know how much longer he could go before something inside him just snapped under the pressure. Knowing himself better than just about anyone, Gibbs realized he was as close to the edge as he'd ever been.
Just two days out of Lost River, two fucking *long* days, and Gibbs was beginning to think this little plan of theirs to keep DiNozzo's whereabouts under wraps was nothing but a huge, honking mistake. He didn't like the idea of moving DiNozzo so soon after finally recovering him, he didn't like exposing the younger man to any more discomfort than was necessary, and he sure as hell didn't like being cooped up in this vehicle with a smart-mouthed, sulky, sophomoric-acting youngster and an equally smooth-talking, single-minded, slightly sympathetic FBI agent.
It was, without a doubt, the road trip from hell.
Beside him, sitting in a *somewhat* more relaxed position, Tobias Fornell forcably yanked once at the shoulder harness securing him to the front passenger seat and turned his body just enough to shoot a glare of extreme irritation toward the sound of the moody, muffled voice in the back. His face reflected the aggravation they *all* were feeling at the moment.
"You know, DiNozzo," he all but hissed between clenched teeth, "that got pretty damn old shortly after the fifth or sixth time you said it but after hearing it, oh, what is it now?...maybe five or six *dozen* times...it just gets down-right annoying. Do you think with your education and control of the English language you could possibly come up with something a little less childish and a bit more creative?"
Laid out across the narrow seat and wrapped securely in several cozy, warm blankets, head resting on a new-smelling pillow recently purchased from a local Wal-Mart, Tony DiNozzo turned just enough in his nest to peer comfortably up to where the older man was now glaring at him from over the back of the front seat and produced a sly, devilish grin. He tried to stretch out just a bit more but was immediately hindered by the confines of the vehicle and a persistent, aggravating soreness that continued to plague his joints and muscles. Ducky had said it may take awhile for his body to adjust to it's new size and to expect bouts of tenderness but he never expected to feel like this...especially if he was *supposedly* getting 'better'.
Of course, 'better' was a relative term. Better than he'd been when in the hands of Emilio Martinez, certainly, but not much better than he'd been hoping to be once well away from Idaho. As far as he was concerned, this all just sucked.
DiNozzo hated feeling so weak and he hated not being able to take care of himself but, more than anything, he hated how these two particular companions were now forced to do literally *everything* for him. There were moments when they they made him feel even less than a child...more along the line of some fucking infant...and it grated severely on the man still trapped within. Sighing loudly and wondering, not for the first time, what could possibly be making this brand-new, fine-looking, sleek-as-a-colt, youthful body he now possessed feel more like it belonged to some decrepit, old, wheelchair-bound, doddering fart, DiNozzo decided to take another shot.
"Oh, come on...*Uncle Tobie*," he wheedled softly, purposefully using the nickname the FBI agent had repeatedly told him *not* to use, and plucked nervously at a loose fiber near one of the coverlet's machine-stitched hems, trying to appear as innocent as he could under the circumstances. Unfortunately, the tone emerging was more of an immature sneer but he was inordinately pleased to hear another short, low growl from the general direction of the stoically silent driver, knowing he was doing a good job of chipping away at his boss' calm-appearing veneer, too. "I was just trying to...amuse myself," DiNozzo quickly attempted to swallow his own flare of frustration but couldn't quite pull it off. Instead, he opted for a different direction, pitched his voice low, and shifted restlessly within the nest of blankets, choosing to toss out another barb he knew would not go over well with Gibbs. "Maybe I just need...a little *company*...back here."
Fornell sucked in a quick breath, amazed to hear the sheer audacity of the underlying suggestion, and cast one, final warning glare back at the young man lounging almost seductively on the vehicle's backseat before turning to resume his original position facing forward. If he hadn't seen DiNozzo's original injuries or witnessed the almost pitiful moments of weakness, he would be hard-pressed, at the moment, to feel any sympathy or believe the younger man was anything but some flirtatous little twink. Fornell looked quickly toward Gibbs and caught sight of the livid face before the flashing, blue eyes were, once more, trained on the road ahead. Oh, shit...this was *not* good and Fornell knew something was going to have to give soon. DiNozzo continued to persistently push buttons the agent hadn't even realized he possessed and knew, if the kid didn't shut up soon and cease his tireless taunting, the fury known as Gibbs would be unleased and the resultant destruction would not be pretty.
Since renting a different car and leaving Lost River almost two short days ago, and as DiNozzo's youthful body inexplicably began to slowly heal itself of the cuts and abrasions and marks gathered during his captiviy, the men had personally witnessed personality shifts that were both frightening and amusing. There were unexplainable bouts of quite, brooding depression, of quick, seething anger, of simple, childish playfulness, and, worse of all, of coy, innuendo-laden, sexually charged propositions. They'd both been, at first, pretty much at a loss on how to respond to any of the sporadic fits, especially Fornell, and had to continually remind themselves of the precarious nature of his condition. Before leaving to pave the way for their arrival at a safer location, Ducky had surmissed the young body was merely trying to process the renewed rush of hormones and chemicals flooding through the bodily systems and, although DiNozzo certainly wasn't going through puberty again, his brain was reacting the only way it knew how: with juvenile impudence and emotional tirades.
So, the sometimes-silly, infantile verbal bouts had begun in earnest and both Gibbs and Fornell were finding it harder and harder to maintain their cool, especially when DiNozzo continually persisted in throwing such imflaming comments their way. Gibbs had done real well, at first, of deflecting and diffusing any uncomfortable situation with a word or a gesture or a look but, now, in the close confines of the rented vehicle and still several hundred miles away from where they needed to be, things seemed to be slowly spiraling out of control.
Fornell sighed. Watching the landscape pass without really noticing what he was seeing and trying to remember everything Ducky had said when they'd dropped him and McGee at the airport in Twin Falls, the agent frowned at the memory.
'Melancholy and sadness are to be expected, especially as more energy returns but be on the lookout for the more serious and telling indicators of a deeper and possibly darker despair. That young Anthony has survived this ordeal is a miracle in of itself and the amazing manner in which his body is working to repair itself is simply unbelievable but, you have to remember, the impact of his time spent in captivity and the subsequent alteration of his body will probably play havoc with his fragile mental stability. My God, I can't even imagine what must be going through his mind at times nor, I suppose, do I really want to know.'
The FBI agent shifted and looked down at his hands. All the verbal jabs DiNozzo tossed their way were nothing more than coping mechanisms but, right now, it just didn't appear DiNozzo was coping very well. Still, the young man sure didn't have to take it all out on them...they were, after all, merely trying to protect him. It was almost as if he was baiting them for another purpose but neither Gibbs or Fornell were going to hazard a guess as to why. DiNozzo's thought-processes seemed as screwed up as his body at the moment and, after nearly getting his head chewed off for jokingly murmuring some comment about PMS in adolescent boys late last night when they both thought the young man was asleep, Gibbs was sticking with the relative safety of grunts and growls to communicate his own declining temperament. Now, it looked as though even Gibbs' resolve was cracking.
In his own seat, Gibbs glanced in the rearview mirror he'd strategically tipped to angle just right and covertly watched as DiNozzo's green eyes slitted and drifted shut, the tight line of the smooth jaw and the furrowed slant of the dark eyebrows indicating some ache or pain he was trying to keep hidden from his two companions. Both men had learned pretty quickly about the muscle cramps and spasms that frequently racked the recovering body but they were just starting to recognize that the off-handed jabs and casually worded barbs were often used to deflect any unwanted attention given to his weakened state. In a way, *that* bothered Gibbs much more than any of the unkind words.
"You okay, DiNozzo?" The senior agent asked quietly, feeling his anger begin to instantly dissipate as concern jumped to the forefront, watching as the eyes lazily reopened and returned his gaze in the small, rectangular mirror.
"I'm fine," came the sharp, biting response he'd learned to expect when the younger man was anything but 'fine'.
"DiNozzo," he spoke the name like a reprimand and saw the youthful face twist in irritation, lips compressed tightly and eyes flashing hotly.
"Christ, *Gramps*...I said I was fine!" The sneer was all but yelled.
"Gibbs," Fornell was immediately trying to diffuse the potentially explosive situation, throwing a restraining hand out in the other man's direction, but it was too late...way too late.
The former Marine was instantly slowing the vehicle and quickly pulling over to the gravel shoulder of the highway, ignoring the startled hiss of alarm from the FBI agent and the small squeak of surprise from DiNozzo. As his blood pressure soared to an all-time record high, Gibbs knew he just needed to do something to get it back under control...quickly. As soon as the sedan came to a halt and he'd thrown the gear shift into park, Gibbs was rolling out and slamming the door soundly behind, stalking off in long strides down the service lane behind the vehicle in an attempt to put some distance between him and the infuriating young man still shut up within the confines of the car.
The air was brisk but, thankfully, they'd left the snow and bitter cold behind when they'd passed into Southern Utah, so he found he didn't much miss the coat he'd left behind in the haste of his getaway. In fact, it felt so good to just stretch his legs and get a taste of some fresh air that he swiftly decided he deserved a little break from the monotony of the journey.
Glancing about and spying a fairly large-sized rock sticking baldly up in a patch of low-growing grass, Gibbs paced a bit further from the nearby blacktop and eased down to sit on the small boulder's hard surface, releasing a long sigh of pent-up frustration and letting the tension roll away. Closing his eyes, Gibbs tipped his face up toward the brightly shining sun and basked in the peacefulness of the surroundings. If it hadn't been for the continual thrumming sound of the traffic moving on the section of Highway 191 just a few yards away, Gibbs could almost imagine he was somewhere far out in the country, taking in a few rays and letting the rest of the world pass by. Almost.
It didn't take long before the peacefulness was interrupted by the sound of approaching footsteps and Gibbs braced himself for a confrontation. The steps neared, closing the distance, and soon he could feel a figure blocking the sunshine from his face. Fighting the surge of irritation beginning again, he shifted on the rock and turned his back on the intruder, not willing or ready to give up his little slice of tranquility just yet.
"Gibbs." It was, of course, Fornell.
"Go away, Tobias," he spoke evenly, without letting any emotion leak out, working hard to keep his voice pitched just right. He heard the other man sigh and shift a bit closer.
"Gibbs," Fornell was going to keep trying no matter what, "the big brat in the backseat wants to talk to you."
The agent allowed a short bark of laughter at Fornell's apt description and turned his head in the direction of the other man, keeping his eyes closed. "And what makes you think *I* could even manage to talk to him right now without taking a swing at him?"
"Gibbs..."
"Go away, Fornell," he insisted with a bit more heat.
"Come on, Jethro, just come back to the car," the FBI agent was trying his best to persuade calmly, risking another step closer. "He knows he fucked up. He just wants a couple of minutes to speak with you in private."
"That's not going to happen."
Fornell squinted up at the sun and sighed again. "Shit, I can understand how you needed to clear your head...believe me, I know. The way he's been acting and the things he's been saying are wearing me out, too. I mean, he could really try the patience of the Pope right about now and..." His voice trailed off for only a moment. "Oh, hell!"
Gibbs whirled as Fornell took off at a sprint toward the car waiting by the side of the moderately busy roadway and immediately saw what had caused the interruption. DiNozzo had opened the back door and had, somehow, managed to pull himself into a standing position without assistance, shaking on wobbly legs and arms braced for support, one hand on the open back door and one on the car's roof. Each time a vehicle of any significant size rolled by on the highway, the resultant wind whipped and tore at the already-tossled hair and baggy sweatsuit, threatening to toppled the unsteady stance of the youthful figure.
Gibbs could make out the mostly contrite expression DiNozzo now wore, even from across the distance dividing them, and found himself frowning when Fornell reached out and wrapped the weakened form into a supporting embrace, one strong arm around the trembling shoulders and the other...the other was...
'Where the fuck was Fornell's *other* hand?'
Gibbs was swiftly on his feet and heading back toward the two people by the side of the car, watching as the FBI agent dipped his head lower to get closer to the younger man's face. DiNozzo was in an obviously agitated state, frowning up at the older man, and struggling weakly in the careful hold. It really didn't look like Fornell was doing anything but trying to offer assisitance but, for some reason, it just made Gibbs' skin crawl to observe them in such close proximity. Remembering Fornell's off-handed comment about his personal feelings for DiNozzo well over a month ago, the NCIS agent just couldn't hold back the growl of jealousy building up in his chest.
"I just need...to talk to him," DiNozzo was almost pleading, his green eyes wide with worry.
"He's coming back, Tony," Fornell assured quickly, arms stabilizing the tilting form. "He just needed a little space, that's all. Now, please, get back in the car."
"No..." DiNozzo again tried to pull free but immediately stopped his feeble struggling when he saw his supervisor appear.
"Get your ass back in the car, DiNozzo," Gibbs barked his order as he shoved Fornell aside, reaching to get his own hands on his agent and carefully redirecting the unresisting body until it was, once again, safely back on the rear seat.
"Boss..." DiNozzo looked up from his position and tried to explain.
"For once would you just shut up?" He snapped brusquely and immediately whirled back to face Fornell. "Give us a few minutes alone, Tobias. DiNozzo and I need to clear the air."
"Jethro," Fornell's voice and face were rife with undisguised apprehension, "he didn't mean any harm, you know that. He was just venting and I suspect he's not really feeling..."
"Fornell," Gibbs interrupted, a bit amazed the FBI agent would try to explain the situation to him and a bit angered at the man's audacity. *No one* knew DiNozzo the way he did and no testosterone-driven fibbie was going to insinuate otherwise. "Just take a little hike and let me handle this."
Relunctantly, Fornell dropped his gaze to look once more at the pale, anxious expression of the young man slouched in the backseat and then turned away, moving slowly back in the direction of Gibbs' recently vacated rock. He kept casting concerned glances back over his shoulder that Gibbs chose to pointedly ignore. When he was well enough away from the vehicle, Gibbs turned to the problem at hand.
"Slide over, Tony," Gibbs finally spoke as he nudged his agent and shifted in to sit on the back seat, too. He slammed the door shut, took a deep breath, and turned his icy gaze on the other occupant, instantly choking up at what he saw.
Pale and trembling slightly, green eyes wide with dread, DiNozzo was all but hunched into into a corner, plucking nervously at a discarded blanket. He didn't wait for the older man to speak, wanting to get his apology out while he still could.
"I'm sorry...I didn't mean to act like...such an ass."
Humbled by the contrite confession, Gibbs started to reach out to pull the young man close but instantly froze when DiNozzo misread the intentions of the upraised hand and flinched away, obviously expecting some form of physical reprimand or punishment. This had happened several times since DiNozzo's retrieval and, each time, it made Gibb' chest ache to think of what could have been done to his agent to produce this kind of reflexive defensive move. Knowing he just needed to let the younger man work through this, Gibbs remained quiet and unmoving.
It didn't take long before DiNozzo realized what he'd done and, as he finally understood the significance of his actions, the pale face flushed with embarrassment and he struggled to sit up, awkwardly tugging his sweatshirt back into place and clearing his throat. It was pretty scary for everyone to witness the swift shifts of emotions but it had to be far worse to actually be the one experiencing them.
"You okay?" Gibbs finally asked and was gratified when DiNozzo straightened even more and turned to face him, the green eyes focusing on some point close to his left shoulder but not anywhere near the worried face.
"You mean besides the fact...I'm a fucking mess? Uh...yeah, I'm just peachy," he sighed softly, wetting his lips and dropping his gaze to his hands. "Look, Boss...I'm sorry I acted..."
"Stop apologizing right now," Gibbs spoke equally quiet and risked placing a hand gently on the youth's closest knee, glad when there was no adverse reaction or shying away. "I'm tired of hearing those words from you. Either you're bitching about something or apologizing...how about you just stop doing both?"
"Boss...I was acting like...a spoiled kid," DiNozzo huffed.
"Well, yeah, you were," Gibbs agreed in bemused exasperation. "Christ, Tony, what do I have to do to make you behave? Spank you?"
DiNozzo reared slightly back again, searching the face of the man sitting so close, and then relaxed, tilting his head almost coyly to one side. There was frank appraisal and a hint of something a bit primal and then, unbelievably, the green eyes turned smoky and filled with open desire.
"You gonna pull down my pants to spank me, Boss?" The question was whispered almost like a wish and without the usual hesitation.
Again, the quick shifting of emotions should have been a warning to the older man but Gibbs found himself suddenly at a loss, his mouth going a bit dry as his young agent moved a little closer on the seat. "Tony..."
"Maybe turn me over...your lap?" A hand crept up from the blanket and traced a light but deliberate path over Gibbs' cotton-covered arm and across the chest to splay over his heart. "Rub your big hands...all over my ass?"
"Tony," the name came out as a low growl as a vivid mental picture was quickly painted, of skin on skin, of pale, smooth flesh bared for his touch, of a willing body waiting to receive him.
The wandering hand was moving south now, traveling with agonizing slowness and traversing the planes and hollows. "Maybe make me lick your fingers...get a couple good and wet...so you can slip them in and..."
When DiNozzo's wicked hand crept into the area of Gibbs' crotch, the older man jerked and quickly captured the roving fingers, breaking the spell and bringing the digits back up to the space over his pounding heart, holding tight. He frowned into the dreamy-looking, half-focused eyes and shook his head at the situation.
"What in the hell do you think you're doing?" He breathed quietly, watching the lids flutter and the glassy eyes momentarily clear. "You trying to seduce me?"
"Um, yeah..." came the honest reply, as the slightly pouting mouth lifted at the corners, "I suppose I was...thinking about it."
"In the back seat of a rental? With Fornell sitting just a few yards away?" Gibbs couldn't help the teasing smile that tugged at his own lips and he pressed a quick kiss to DiNozzo's temple.
The younger man arched into the chaste gesture and spoke before he could really think about the implications and repercussions of his playful suggestion. "We could ask him...to join us."
In a flash, DiNozzo found himself flat on his back with a very angry man looming overhead, breathing hotly down into his face, the larger, stronger body pushing all his air out in a single, sharp whoosh. The forceful, possessive look in the steely eyes set his heart hammering within his chest.
"You will *never* suggest anything like that to me ever again," he hissed heatedly before covering the surprised mouth with a deep, claiming kiss, shoving his tongue roughly between the open lips and staking ownership deep within the wet, slick confines. He easily held the slighter body down, capturing DiNozzo's face between both hands, and kept the connection intact until he tasted the ultimate sweetness of the younger man's surrender. He licked one, last, lazy swipe across the trembling lower lip, caught it briefly between his sharp teeth before releasing it, and pulled just far enough back to gaze comfortably into the liquid, dazed eyes. "You understand me, DiNozzo? Have I made myself clear about this?"
The younger man could only nod dumbly, eyes bright with passion and amazement. "O...o...okay..."
"And you're going to stop leading Fornell on," came the next instruction.
DiNozzo frowned in confusion. "But I don't..."
His mouth was recaptured and held hostage once more, tormented and assaulted, subdued and mastered, until he was all but struggling for breath. Gibbs pulled back and tried again, staring down at the panting youth.
"What were you going to say?" The former Marine taunted, arching an eyebrow and grinning almost ferally.
DiNozzo squirmed a bit and sent the older man a strangely assessing glare. "You know, Gibbs, if you're trying...to deter me...you're going about it the wrong way."
Gibbs grunted and pulled back, rising to sit upright and tugging the younger man along in his wake. He could see the erection pushing at the front of the soft, navy sweatpants DiNozzo was wearing but chose to ignore the obvious indication of the youth's arousal. He combed his fingers through the soft hair and directed his agent's head with one, big hand until it rested against his shoulder. He felt a slender arm snake out to wrap itself around his mid-section and allowed himself a small squeeze of affection before easing back.
"You know we can't do anything about this now," he waved a hand in the space directly above DiNozzo's hard length and had to forcibly keep the younger man from crawling into his lap.
"Hell," DiNozzo pouted as his movements were easily and effectively rebuffed and redirected, having nothing else to do but settle back into the seat, "you wouldn't do anything with me even if there was time."
Gibbs sighed. Even though they'd only had a few days to discuss their feelings for each other, it had been just too damned difficult to put into words how he actually felt about being physically intimate with this newer, younger DiNozzo. And, it seemed, it was rapidly becoming an old, tired argument neither was ever going to win: DiNozzo kept flaunting and offering and Gibbs kept rebuffing and declining.
"These teenage hormones are yelling out to me, Boss," DiNozzo wriggled seductively to prove his point, pushing and turning just enough to rub his erection against Gibbs' closest thigh. "Come on...just touch me. You *know* you want to."
And that was just it. Gibbs really didn't know *what* he wanted.
"No, Tony," he pushed gently at the persistent youth, looked quickly back to make sure Fornell was still well away, and scowled down into the wicked, green eyes, "I'm not going to start anything with you."
DiNozzo scooted down a bit and reclined back, dragging a palm repeatedly over his hard-on and then squeezing it tightly, forcing a low moan of aching need from his own throat. His eyes were fairly smoldering with lust as they fixed on Gibbs' face.
"I'd say...you already started something. Kissing me like that...holding me down," he pulled at the elastic at his waist and slipped a hand slowly, sensually inside the sweats, moaning again and biting at his bottom lip. He rolled his head against the back of the seat. "How did you honestly expect me to react?"
"I'm getting out of this vehicle right now," Gibbs threatened, wrapping his fingers around the door handle, determined to keep his eyes away from what that depraved hand was doing under those soft, thin pants.
DiNozzo deftly arched his hips up and quickly shoved the sweatpants down, letting the fabric catch just below his testicles and stopping the older man in an instant. The slim fingers of both hands now joined in the obscenely erotic display, dancing across the surface of the skin, skimming over hot, pulsing areas, pulling and tweaking the leaking erection, and cupping and fondling the twitching balls until it was painfully obvious how all of this was going to end.
"Christ, Jethro," DiNozzo panted raggedly, green eyes locking on and pleading with his lover, hands moving restlessly on his primed body, fingertips of one hand driting over and around the sensitive head and capturing the thick bead of moisture, "just touch me already."
Gibbs' own eyes darkened at the forbidden sight and he pressed his lips tightly together to keep his own moan of desire at bay, the feeling of unbelievable longing colliding dead-on with the overpowering sensation of innate wrongness. He let his gaze travel away from the wanton eyes and drift down to the throbbing length being stroked between the younger man's hands, immediately seing what was causing the battle within: the differences, like before, struck him full in the face and were causing these God-awful second-thoughts. The smooth skin of DiNozzo's groin was covered with a softer, thinner coating of hair than he could recall and the cock, itself, seemed slightly diminished, the length a bit shorter maybe and the girth not quite as substantial. Minimal changes...but changes nonetheless.
But the differences didn't just stop there.
There was a variance to the torso, too. Gibbs swallowed convulsively at the disparity he could plainly see. Of course, the obvious bruises and scabs were a deterent but those injuries were pretty much superficial. It was more than that. Where the 'old' Tony was buff and strong and filled out so nicely in all the right places and could give back just as hard as he could take, this 'new' Tony was slim and slight and probably couldn't fight his way out of a brown paper bag in his present condition. Gibbs had liked the feel of the 'old' Tony in his arms, liked not having to be gentle or careful or subdued. And the 'old' Tony had been a force to contend with in bed: demanding, powerful, energetic.
Gibbs let his eyes roam the youthful body and silently cursed. There were just too many things that made this all seem so wrong, so distasteful, so...perverted.
He hadn't realized he was frowning at the body laid out so lewdly before him or how his obvious relunctance to the situation was so clearly communicated by his expression alone until he saw the hand leave the rapidly-fading erection and the lightning-quick flash of devastation change the youthful, open face into a closed, blank mask of utter rejection. Scrambling backwards as quickly as he could and yanking the sweatpants back up, DiNozzo hoisted himself as far to one side of the bench seat as possible, huddled against the door and the man's evident aversion, and wrapped his arms around his torso in a clear gesture of protection. The green eyes were, at first, wide with accusation and hurt that swiftly faded into a dull, empty stare.
Swearing to himself for his stupidity, Gibbs reached out and started to speak, needing to voice his apology. "Tony..."
"Don't!" DiNozzo hissed and looked away, unable to face the revulsion he knew would be looking right back at him. The line of his jaw flexed in anger and frustration as he tried to control his emotions. "I...I get it now. I understand. You just can't get past this...this body. I'm a freak..."
"You are *not* a freak!" The older man gritted, trying to regain control of the situation but floundering slightly. "You're just...not the same."
The green eyes bored into his with terrible accusation. "I tried to tell you...but you just wouldn't listen, would you? You said I was still here," he rapped a fist against his own chest, "that I was...still *here*. But you...can't even see me anymore. All you see...is this fucking body."
Gibbs scooted a bit closer and placed a hand on the now-shaking shoulder, only to have it knocked angrily away. He could see the younger man was having a hard time holding himself together, especially when the back of the trembling hand quickly swiped roughly at the hurt-filled eyes, and he'd never felt more like the world's biggest bastard than he did at the moment.
"You can tell Fornell to...come on back," DiNozzo whispered, eyes shifting to gaze out the window on his side, closest to the lanes of the highway. "I think we're...finished...talking. I won't give you...anymore problems."
"Tony," Gibbs tried again but was ignored, "I didn't mean to hurt you..."
"I know what hurt feels like!" Came the hot reply but, still, the eyes stayed fixed on the passing traffic. "But you know what? I'm a big boy and no matter what you think...I can handle it." DiNozzo worked to pull himself up straighter in the seat and, when he spoke again, the youthful tenor was more calm, more adult, more empty. "I can handle it."
Gibbs sat for a few moments, pretty much at a loss of what to do, and watched as DiNozzo tiredly dropped his head back against the seat, the expressive eyes sliding shut and closing the rest of the world away. Gibbs picked up one of the discarded blankets and carefully draped it over the still form, tenderly tucking it around the slighter shoulders and leaning just far enough over to brush a chaste, dry kiss to the smooth forehead.
"I'm sorry," Gibbs whispered, eyes fixed on the expressionless face.
DiNozzo never opened his eyes but Gibbs saw him swallow. When he finally spoke, his tone was soft and filled with a world-weary fatigue that made Gibbs' chest ache.
"I know...but it doesn't really matter anymore."
Realizing nothing else was going to be said, Gibbs took one last look into the closed face and turned away, opening the door and stepping back out into the sunshine and fresh air. His eyes immediately tracked to Fornell's position and watched as the FBI agent rose hesitantly from the rock, the concern and worry still etched clearly in the tell-tale lines of his friend's face. Sighing loudly, pulling his sagging shoulders up, Gibbs raised a hand and signaled for Fornell to approach. They'd wasted enough time here as it was...they had to move on.
It wasn't until sometime during the mid-afternoon hours, when they stopped to get something to eat and use the facilities at a small, non-descript diner about two hours away from their intended destination, that they had their first real scare of the trip and were reminded of just how precarious DiNozzo's safety really was. As federal agents, they all knew a threat could come in any form, no matter how innocent or innocuous it appeared, but neither of them were prepared for what occured.
Sitting quietly in a window booth and gazing out through the grime-covered glass at the busy afternoon traffic on the highway, DiNozzo closed his eyes and basked in the warmth of the afternoon sun. It was mild and comfortable in here and, with his stomach as full as he could stand it without pushing past his limit into sickness, he chose to just tune out his two companions and drift within the confines of his mind. He knew Gibbs and Fornell were concerned about his continued silence but knew it really was for the best. It wasn't like they asked for his opinion or his input on anything yet, even going as far as ordering his meal for him instead of inquiring what he'd really like to have to eat. Irked beyond words at their boldness, he remained quiet and accepted their offerings, letting the seed of discontent sprout and begin to grow.
Now, with the mostly-full bowl of cold vegetable soup and a congealing mass of partially eaten grilled cheese sandwich resting on the table before him, DiNozzo just didn't think he'd be able to stand much more of this. Sighing loudly and reopening his eyes, he immediately felt the two sets of gazes shift in his direction.
"You okay, DiNozzo?" Gibbs asked from his position directly across from him at the rectangular table, the keen blue eyes taking in the subdued posture and the unreadable face.
Directly beside the young man, Fornell held his coffee cup cradled between both hands but his focus was totally on DiNozzo. He saw the slight nod of the head but had to strain to hear the whispered words.
"Yes, I'm okay."
"You sure?" Fornell asked, putting the cup down and reaching to rub gently across the too-tense shoulders. He was gratified to see the eyes close in appreciation and the lips form a small, half-smile. "You've been awfully quiet."
Across the table, Gibbs gritted his teeth and bristled at Fornell's actions, wanting nothing more than to knock the man's hand away from DiNozzo's back. But Fornell was right. DiNozzo had been too quiet and Gibbs knew it was all his fault. The problem was, he had no idea how to fix the problem...
"I need to go to the restroom," DiNozzo announced and nudged at Fornell with an elbow. "Come on, let me out."
Fornell was sliding but watching the young man carefully. "Are you going to be sick? Do you need some help?"
Huffing out a soft breath of exasperation, DiNozzo looked up as the man stood to let him out. "No, Tobias...I just need to take a leak. Okay?"
"I'll go with you," Gibbs suddenly announced, wiping his mouth with a thin, paper napkin.
"I can go by myself," DiNozzo gripped the edge of the table and fought back his anger as the discontent grew a bit more. "I'm not a fucking baby."
"Never said you were," Gibbs responded calmly. "But you're still weak and you don't eat enough to keep a kitten alive."
"Well, maybe if I'd been able to chose what I wanted I would have eaten more," the green eyes locked with the blue gaze.
Gibbs shrugged nonchalantly. "Why didn't you speak up?"
"Why didn't you at least give me a chance to speak up?"
They stared at each other across the table, only remotely aware of Fornell standing close by and watching the interaction with a keen eye, and let everything that *really* stood between them now go unspoken. Looking into the face of the man he thought he knew and loved, DiNozzo felt the discontent increase.
Suddenly, something shifted behind Gibbs' eyes and he leaned back, a soft sigh escaping. "Go ahead then. We won't stop you."
DiNozzo's eyes widened slightly at the resigned tone but pushed quickly to his feet, moving with great care toward the back of the diner where the facilities were located. He chanced a glance back and saw the two men were involved in some heated discussion, ignoring him completely.
Slipping into the small, old-fashioned restroom, DiNozzo's eyes quickly scanned the area, fighting back a surge of nausea as the smell of urine and disinfectant assaulted his nostrils. For a moment, he thought he'd hit a dead end and, then, he saw exactly what he was hoping to see. High up on one side of the wall, directly beside the stall housing the room's only toilet, was a small, rectangular window, too small for a grown man but just right for a slightly-underweight teenage boy.
Stepping into the stall and locking it closed behind him, DiNozzo took a deep breath and gathered his rapidly waning strength. Carefully easing up on the back of the toilet, he pushed against the dirty glass with one hand, and shoved the panel open. It took a bit of maneuvering, a shimmy here, and a twist there, but he finally got his body through the undersized opening and dropped unsteadily to the ground on the other side.
Feeling a bit light-headed and needing a moment to catch his breath, he was grossly unprepared for the rough shove that pushed him up against the building's uneven surface, the tight hands that forced his wrists to the small of his back, and the move that swept his legs out from underneath his shocked body. He went down hard, losing his breath, and was stunned when he felt the undeniable pinch of handcuffs being applied. Pulled roughly to his feet and lifted slightly off the ground by a set of strong hands bunched into the fabric at the front of his sweatshirt, DiNozzo was shook until his teeth rattled...and then unceremoniously dropped to land flat on his ass on the hard concrete surface.
Gulping in a huge lungful of air, DiNozzo slumped back against the solid support of the wall and looked up into the face of his captor, knowing he was now in for a world of hurt. He coughed once and spit out a small amount of blood from a cut on his tongue.
"Well," he gasped in defeat, "you can't blame a guy for trying."
Standing a few feet away and looking down at the young man in undisguised fury, Gibbs turned and pushed past the stunned FBI agent. "You handle him now, Tobias. If I do, I swear I'll kill him myself!"
TBC
Author's Chapter Notes:
The misadventures of two and a half men on the road.
Chapter End Notes:
Language and mild sexual activity. Remember: DiNozzo's body has regressed, not his thoughts, feelings, or experiences.