FIC: Through the Years: Twelve (3 of 4)
Title: Through the Years: Twelve (3 of 4)
Author: Matt
Fandom:NCIS
Rating FRM
Category: AU series, pre-slash, angst, H/C, het, drama. mention of child abuse
Summary: Continuing AU series of the growing relationship between Gibbs and DiNozzo. This story: Tony reveals a traumatic experience.
Notes: Should beread after. Through the Years: Twelve (2 of 4)
Disclaimer: Most of these characters belong to DPB, CBS, Paramount, et al. No copyright infringement intended.
It is a fact of life that growing up and maturing in today’s society can be a complicated and trying task for many young people. For most, the complexity of going through puberty, undergoing the multitude of bodily and emotional changes, and experiencing the new pressures of peers, family, and society can usually be done without any trauma or damage. They manage to shift into this new awareness with relative ease and grace, secure in themselves and the world around them. They have strong family ties and varied support groups and are able to swing smoothly into their new roles, using the knowledge they've gathered during their young lives by observing those closest to them, remembering the morals and values taught, and stepping forward with pride and dignity, unafraid of harm or ostracization for minor infractions or deviations from the established norm.
But for some, there are incidents that tarnish, that taint, that pollute this time of transformation from child to young adult into an emotional roller coaster from Hell, the peaks and valleys determined by memories of past hurts and prior abuse. They stumble more than most, as they try to bury the harmful memories of their childhood, attempting to mold themselves into the likeness of others and not remaining true to themselves. They endeavor to fit in with their friends and family, concealing essential parts of their souls, ashamed or afraid the demons of remembrance will rear their terrifying visages and pull them straight back to a place so horrible, so unimaginable that usual nightmares pale in comparison. Some are able to keep a tight lock on that part of their remembrances, refusing to examine those hurtful memories in any way, shape, or form: no speaking, no thinking, no anything. They want strive for nothing more than to be considered 'normal'.
Mere minor stumbling is expected for any young person attempting to fit in, to belong, to be like everyone else. They carefully traverse the path, navigating over those peaks and around those valleys, finding the best route and passage they can. The road may not be easy, at times, but it merely leads to nothing more than the regaining balance, by placing one foot in front of the other, and continuing on with the journey. But, for the children carrying the scars of abuse, the usual stumbles and staggers sometime become terrible falls and descents into their hellish world of unwanted remembrance.
On the evening of the third day of his visit with his Gunny, twelve-year old Tony DiNozzo fell. Hard.
Jethro Gibbs hastily met the emotional adolescent at the doorway of his apartment, detected the tight set of the slim shoulders, and saw the stark misery etched in the youthful face. Worse, he heard the rough, painful tone of misery that tainted the boy's usually light, sweet voice.
"Oh, Gunny," Tony's words were broken, tears beginning to run down his cheeks and drip off the quivering chin, "I...I've done something really bad."
Jethro immediately pulled the boy into a tight embrace, briefly lifting him from the floor in his desire to soothe, and held him close, feeling the smaller arms clutching back at the gesture of support and holding on with every ounce of strength they possessed. The tears continued to fall, dampening the fabric at the shoulder of the man's casual shirt, the boy's hot face pushed securely into the crook of Jethro's neck, and his fingers keeping their grip on the material across the strong back.
Jethro quickly shot his gaze toward the clock high on the kitchen wall and saw it was just a little after eight o'clock. He knew Tony had planned on meeting with Jessie and her friends by the pool to swim and talk until around nine-thirty and had seemed so genuinely happy to find other kids close to his age to hang out with for a while tonight. But the boy was used to the population of his own safe neighborhood, where kids could always find appropriate playmates and friends among those of a shared age. That Jessie and her friends had been a bit older had concerned Jethro at first but, after Tony's insistence that he felt comfortable around them, the man had relented to his own misgivings and given his permission for the boy to join them. Now, he silently damned himself for allowing that to happen. But what could have possibly occurred to cause Tony to react this way? What had the boy done?
"Tony," Jethro kept his voice as calm as he could and tried to ease up on their mutual embrace, his action immediately causing the boy's fingers to clutch harder onto his shirt, the frantic digits trying to maintain their desperate hold on his only perceived island of safety. "Shhhhh...it's okay. Tony, I'm here."
Deciding the living area was just too far away, Jethro maneuvered their bodies until he was resting against the now-closed front door and slowly began to slide down the hard, flat surface, keeping the descent controlled and unhurried. He spread his legs so the bulk of Tony's body remained within the protection of his limbs and continued to hold tight, rubbing soothing circles across the tense and trembling back and whispering tranquil nonsense into the shell of one ear. He felt Tony shift and flow with him, saw the boy pull his knees up and turn so he was almost in a fetal position against his torso, and heard the rough, ragged breathing continue. Jethro brought his own knees up, caging the youth in on both sides, providing a solid haven of security and safety and remained determined to ride this one out, no matter how long it took.
The situation swiftly brought back flashes of the past for the man as he quickly recalled other times he'd held the emotional boy while he struggled with some memory or hurt. Jethro could vividly recall rocking the small body until sleep drew the child away from his perceived misery or until he became calm enough to speak of the monsters that continued to haunt his dreams and memories. Even as he got older, the need for physical contact endured, and Tony would track Jethro down, if available, crawl into the man's lap, and demand to be held, simply because he wanted the close contact. It was a habit the boy had perfected on the day of Mike Johnson's funeral and, obviously, had no intention of giving up any time soon. Once he'd gotten a taste of how sweet it was to be held in the embrace of someone who actually cared about him, the boy looked for any opportunity to engage in the activity. The former-Marine firmly believed the child was unintentionally trying to make up for all the hugs and snuggles he'd missed during the first horrendous six years of his life and today, it seemed, was no exception. Tony needed the reassurance he could only get by being held safely in his Gunny's strong, secure arms.
Sometime later, Jethro could sense the sobbing was easing, could feel the trembling body calm and, finally, still. He continued to smooth his broad hand over the planes of Tony's back, switching from a variety of small circles into long, drifting patterns that traveled from the base of the boy's spine, up to the nape of his neck, and through the soft hair at the bottom of his skull. The gentle massage loosened the tense shoulders and back and the boy slowly began to uncoil from his tightly drawn-up position, head lifting until his nose was pressing into the warm, exposed skin at Jethro's neck and one leg moving until it was resting comfortably over a firm thigh. His grip on the man's shirt relaxed but the embrace continued, one slim arm draping over Jethro's shoulder and the other snaking around at waist height. They were chest to chest, now, and Jethro could actually feel the beating of the younger heart against his torso, the rhythm slowly settling to a more natural, tranquil pace. It was, he reasoned, time to try some words again.
"Tony," Jethro whispered, lips moving gently against the boy's forehead, "everything's going to be all right. I've got you, babe, and I'm not going to let anything happen to you. Okay?"
He detected a tiny nod of Tony's head against his neck, could feel the boy's wet nose pressing near his chin, and slowly lowered his mouth until he could place a brief, caste kiss to one tear-slick cheek. He heard a soft sigh of contentment.
"Now, tell me," he prompted gently, keeping his hands moving over the youngster's back.
Another sigh escaped, this one containing a hint of resignation. The arm looped loosely around Jethro's waist uncurled and rose, moving to mirror the one already placed around his right shoulder, and Tony's mouth was suddenly resting near his left ear.
"I hit Jessie."
The softly spoken confession was *not* what Jethro expected. To be honest, Jethro really hadn't really known what he'd been expecting but, to hear Tony had resorted to violence…especially against a girl…was possibly the very last thing he would have ever expected from the adolescent. In all the years Jethro had known the boy, he was only aware of one other time when physical contact had been used as a means to end a confrontation. It just wasn't in his nature to hurt. Then again, with the on-set of puberty and the sudden flow of testosterone, who really knew what the boy was capable of doing? Keeping that thought in mind, he pushed his shock away and refocused on getting to the bottom of this new problem.
"Maybe you should start at the beginning for me," he suggested quietly. "It would probably all make better sense if you gave me the whole story."
"Okay," came the muted reply. There was a slight moment of hesitation before he spoke again and Jethro expected it was merely Tony's way of deciding where to begin. "I met the other kids at the pool, like I told you I was going to do. We were swimming and having a good time, just playing around.” One fist quickly swiped away the moisture still hanging on to his chin. “There were more people there, grown ups and little kids both, so we stayed pretty much in the deep end of the water, just diving in and goofing off. It was fun...for awhile."
He shifted again against Jethro, bringing his other leg up over the man's opposite thigh, and resettling so he was straddling the adult's lap, body resting fully against the strong, solid torso. The former-Marine remembered often carrying the boy like this when he was very young, too tired to walk any further on little legs, and it brought a lick of warmth that coiled gently around his heart. He hugged the boy closer.
"Go on," he encouraged softly.
There was a fleeting moment of hesitation again. "Jessie…“ The boy stumbled a bit before continuing. “Jessie said she wanted to go back to her place for a little while and that we all should come with her. She said she had soda and junk food we could snack on, ‘cause some of the others said they were hungry. I didn't want to go but they...they kept saying it was okay and that we'd come right back.” He squeezed the man tightly. “I knew I told you I was going to be at the pool and I was afraid if you came looking for me, you'd be mad if I wasn't there."
Jethro patted the tense back but didn't speak. Tony sighed again and continued.
"The other guys...they called me a chicken...said I was scared.” One hand fisted into the soft fabric of Jethro’s shirt. “They made me mad but Jessie told them to shut up. She said I didn't have to come if I didn't want but she said she had a pet iguana in her room and thought I'd like to see it.” He released a huff of air. “I've never seen one, Gunny, and I wanted to see it. I knew it wouldn't take too long, so...I went with them."
"Does Jessie live in this building or one of the others?" Jethro asked, trying to get a handle on just how far he'd traveled from the central pool area.
"This one," Tony replied quickly. "Just at the other end."
Well, that was a bit of a relief. "Okay, go on."
"When we got there," Tony rested his head again on Jethro's shoulder, the tip of his nose brushing the lobe of the man's ear, "no one else was home. I was a little uncomfortable, especially when Jessie said her mom was at work and wouldn't be back until real late.” He swallowed and shrugged a shoulder. “I thought...I thought maybe her dad was there but...she doesn't have a dad. We were there all by ourselves."
Not wanting to jump to conclusions, Jethro tamped down on the flash of dread that immediately flared in his mind. Just because there wasn't an adult home to supervise the teenagers didn't necessarily mean there was going to be trouble. But, throw in the mix of both sexes, attired in nothing more than swimwear, and it was certainly a recipe for disaster. He took a deep breath, tried to keep an open mind, and just listen to the boy's tale.
"Jessie got us some soda and chips and we sat around in the living room, watching TV. MTV or something like it, I think.” He seemed much calmer for the moment. “I knew I shouldn't stay and told Jessie I had to either go back to the pool area or come back to your apartment. She said okay but to come see her iguana before I left.” He started to tense up again and began to pluck nervously at one of Jethro’s sleeves. “I went to her room with her. She...she shut the door, said she didn't want it to escape when she took it out of the cage."
Jethro's gut clenched tightly but remained stoic. "Did she have an iguana, Tony?"
"No." The singular word was barely whispered.
He felt the young arms tighten around his shoulders and, instinctively, hugged back. The minutes stretched out before Tony finally spoke again.
"When I turned around, she was right in front of me…real close.” Tony pressed his cheek to Jethro’s neck. “She asked me if I wanted to kiss her and I...I really did want to kiss her, Gunny. When I said 'yes', she just pushed up against me and started kissing me...hard.” He squirmed a bit. “She even put her tongue into my mouth. I've never had a girl kiss me before and it was...it was..."
"What?" Jethro prompted at the hesitation.
Tony turned his face and huffed out a slightly frustrated breath. "It was kind of weird, you know? It was good and bad at the same time. I knew I wasn't suppose to be there, that you'd be mad if you knew where I was and what I was doing but it felt good to kiss her. And I liked how it was making me feel, all itchy or something.” One hand dropped to toy with the top button of the man’s shirt. “She pulled me over to her bed and we sat down and kissed some more. She started squirming and telling me to 'come on'. I...I wasn't sure what she wanted me to do.” He stilled his fingers and sighed. “I mean, I know we talked about things yesterday but I...I didn't think she really wanted to have sex with me. But, Gunny, she kept saying it over and over and, then, her tongue was in my mouth again and I was *so* hard and it was getting harder to think and I knew I wasn't suppose to be there and the others were right out there in the living room and she was moaning and..."
"Breathe, Tony," Jethro tried to slow the sudden stream of words gushing from the boy's mouth, tried to calm the rapidly beating heart he could feel pounding again against his chest. "Just take a moment and breathe."
The boy nodded against his shoulder and quietened. Jethro let his hands resume running the path from the small of the youth's spine to his skull, combing his fingers through the short, soft hair, waiting until he was ready to go on.
"I love you, Gunny," Tony whispered unexpectedly, pressing a soft kiss to the man's warm neck.
For a moment, Jethro thought he wouldn't be able to contain the sudden swell of emotion that blossomed within his chest. The quiet declaration of love and trust was almost too much to fathom but he managed to take a ragged breath and reply steadily.
"I love you, too, Tony," he responded gently. "Do you think you can continue telling me the rest now?"
"Yeah, I think so," the boy sighed, shifting his legs off the man and slithering down until he could lay with one cheek pressed against Jethro's stomach, arms wrapped around the trim waist. "She kept kissing and kissing and it was getting hard to breath. And I was *so* excited.” He shifted restlessly before settling again. “I've never been that hard before, Gunny. I was so hard, it kind of hurt a little. I...I put my hand on her boobs and she...she put her hand on my dick and I remembered about what happened to Stevie with Brittany's mom and thought I was gonna come in my pants like he did."
"Did you?" Jethro asked, not remembering seeing any evidence of ejaculate on Tony's swim trunks when the boy had returned earlier. But, honestly, he hadn't been looking for anything like that at the time.
"No. I...I was real close but I didn't. She...she pushed me down on the bed. Got on top of me," his breathing was getting ragged again and his tone was a little strained. "She held me down, kissing and moving. Something...something happened...made me feel...I...I kind of freaked."
"Easy, now," Jethro soothed, frowning at the strange tone of the boy's voice. "Freaked? Why?"
"I...I don't really know. I was okay until...until she got on top of me. Sort of," Tony sighed and rubbed his nose against Jethro's belly.
"Hey, that better not be snot," Jethro chided gently, tapping the boy on the back of the head, trying to ease some of the growing tension.
Tony laughed quietly but then quickly sobered, his mind back on what had occurred. "When she pushed me down like that, almost like she was trapping me there, something...something happened. I...I remembered Uncle Robert for some reason.” He looked up at his mentor with confusion. “Why would I do that, Gunny? Why?"
Well, shit.
Jethro's stomach was rolling again, knowing he had to ask the tough questions. "Did he ever lay on you like that? Hold you down?"
Silence.
"Tony?" He prodded kindly.
"Yes," the answer was harshly whispered and almost undetectable.
"Maybe that's what you were remembering," the man forced the words out calmly, not wanting to upset the boy further. Inside, he wanted to get his hands on Robert DiNozzo again and, this time, finish the job properly.
Tony seemed to consider the reasoning for a few moments but he was struggling a bit to comprehend. "But why would I think about him when Jessie was on me? She's not anything like Uncle Robert."
"No." This was way out of Jethro's league but he knew he had to give it a try. Where was Doctor Amberg when she was needed? "But maybe you don't like how it feels now because you didn't like how it made you feel back then."
"What?” He seemed to catch on to Jethro’s suggestion. “You mean, I'm never going to be able to...I'm not going to...just because he did...I'll always think about...never?" The broken sentences were taking on a strained, injured quality.
"Tony," Jethro had to get a handle on this now. He pulled the boy up until the youth was sitting directly in front of him, his large hands gripping each slim shoulder. He could see the lost, haunted look in the young eyes. "Let's just...let's just get through what happened tonight before we start talking about your uncle. One thing at a time."
"But..." Tony’s expression was pained.
"Tony, I promise," he gently shook the shoulders under his palms, "we *will* talk about it. Let's just do this first. Okay?"
The boy pressed his lips tightly together and nodded reluctantly. He seemed to focus on a spot just to one side of Jethro's throat and didn't look back up into the man's face. The former-Marine sighed loudly.
"Tony?" He prodded. "You said you 'freaked'. How?"
"I...I pushed her off, hard, and she landed on the floor. When I got to the door, she was right behind me again, pulling on me, trying to get me to come back to the bed. I pushed her again. I opened the door and the others were...they were watching a movie... a porn movie." He swallowed and finally met Jethro's eyes once more. "I've never...I've never seen one before. Jeffery did at his dad's but I...I didn't know they were like that, Gunny. You could see...*everything*."
The man nodded his understanding at the boy‘s amazement. "Go on, Tony. What happened next?"
"Jessie came up behind me and put her arms around me, said if I came back to her room, she'd 'make me into a man'," he was beginning to sound a little angry now and, secretly, Jethro was glad to see a spark of spunk appear, hoping the defeat and hurt that had tinged his earlier words would now be gone. "The others...the others had their swimsuits off and were...on the couch and on the floor and they...they were...doing it. Right there in front of each other.” His green eyes were wide. “I felt like I couldn't breath, like all the air was gone. Jessie grabbed my dick again and I started to feel sick, like I was going to puke right on her. I told her I had to leave and she said...she said she would suck me off.” Tony shook his head. “She just said it like it was nothing, Gunny! I was still hard but it all felt so wrong and she...she just wouldn't let go."
Jethro tightened his grip some more on the shaking shoulders and could understand why the boy was angry. He was getting angry, too.
"Gunny, I think I wanted to do it but...it was almost like I couldn't. Does that make any sense?"
Jethro nodded. "Believe it or not, it makes perfect sense. Your body was trying to battle with your conscience and it was either going to have it it's way or it was going to throw a fit. That's why you felt ill."
Tony offered him a weak, trembling smile. "I told her I was going to be sick and she called me a 'little pussy'. She pushed me against the wall and put her hand inside my swimsuit. I…I didn‘t know what to do, at first. When I tried to get her to stop, she grabbed my dick again and squeezed it real hard. And it...hurt. All I could think about was getting away from her and out of there before I puked all over the place. So, I hit her. In the face."
'Good for you,' the man thought with a smirk. 'Hope to hell she's got a broken nose.'
"Bet she let go of you then, didn't she?" Jethro teased gently instead, ruffling the boy's hair softly.
"Yeah, but she scratched me as she pulled her hand away.” He frowned and shifted again. “I think I'm bleeding a little."
Jethro frowned and tugged on the youth. "Stand up and let me take a look."
"Gunny, it's okay. You don't have to do that…"
"Stand up, Tony," Jethro repeated, the order very clear and not to be ignored. "I've seen you naked more times than I can count, so don‘t get all bashful on me now. Come on, let me see how much damage was done."
Tony got to his feet and reluctantly pulled his trunks down far enough to reveal his penis, lifting the well-formed shaft until the underside was exposed to Jethro's cautious examination. The man didn't touch the youth but assessed the damage carefully, grunting when he saw the reddened line running from the base of the penis almost to the sensitive glans. It had, indeed, bled in a bit in a couple of places but didn't seem too bad now. The bitch had really tried to take a piece of him with her though.
"Well?" Tony asked impatiently, looking down, too.
Jethro decided to play it up a bit, to lighten the mood while he could. Slowly, he got to his feet and put on a grim expression, shaking his head down at the youngster.
"Looks like you may need a few stitches."
"Stitches?" Tony squeaked, face paling and hands quickly reaching to cradle his genitals protectively. "No, I mean, it doesn't really hurt that bad..."
"Might even need a cast."
"A cast..." The voice rose to a higher pitch.
"Or they may decide just to amputate."
"Ampu…" Tony sputtered and cast a furious gaze at the man, launching himself at the former-Marine. "Gunny! That's not funny!"
Jethro caught the boy up easily into his strong arms and threw him over one solid shoulder, slapping him sharply on the ass. "Oh, suck it up, soldier."
He carried the squirming, huffing boy to the bathroom door, listening to the flow of useless threats that poured from Tony's mouth the whole way, and put him back on his own feet just inside the threshold. He grinned down at the sputtering youth and had to laugh at the expression he saw.
"That wasn't funny!" Tony fumed, pushing away from the man and crossing his arms over his heaving chest.
"Yes, it was," Jethro contradicted easily, never losing the easy grin. He reached out and directed the spitting boy toward the shower stall. "Now, get your butt in there and wash yourself thoroughly...and I mean thoroughly...especially between your legs. The soap may sting a bit but it's got to be done. When you finish, I'll put some Neosporin on it.” He cocked an eyebrow. “You got something loose to sleep in tonight?"
"Yes." The boy's tone was pretty insolent.
The defiance was getting a little tiring and Jethro was having no more of it. "Enough, Tony."
The boy glared up at the man but wisely kept his mouth shut. He turned away, peeled off his trunks, and stepped into the shower, fooling with the knobs until he got the water temperature just the way he liked. Jethro remained by the door as the water continued to run, listening to the boy mutter quietly within the stall. Suddenly, the shower curtain was jerked to one side and Tony peeked out.
"You just going to stand there and wait?" He asked suspiciously but without the snarky attitude of earlier.
"Yep."
Tony looked like he was tempted to say something else in response but, again, wisely held his tongue, flipping the curtain back into place and continuing with his cleansing ritual. Jethro smirked again and ambled all the way in, snagging a thick towel from the wall rack and reaching into the medicine cabinet to grab the tube of antibacterial ointment. He moved to sit on the closed lid of the toilet and waited for the boy to finish, thinking about the day and how it was now ending. All in all, it could have been worse. Much worse.
Jethro shuddered as he thought of how close Tony had almost come to losing his virginity to Jessie. He knew it would happen, eventually, one day but was damn glad it hadn't been today, with someone who obviously didn't really care about the boy. It had been a close call though and the thought actually made his stomach hurt and his head ache. He listened as the shower continued and thought about the youngster, wondering, when the time finally arrived, if he'd be able to work around those demons and connect deeply enough to forget about his past hurts.
The water stopped and Tony was holding an arm out expectantly toward Jethro‘s position without even looking. The man smiled, draping the fluffy cloth over the outstretched arm and watching it disappear back behind the curtain. He should have known the boy was aware of his presence. Tony had a way finding things and detecting a person's position that was slightly uncanny at times.
The shower curtain was finally pulled to one side and Tony stepped out, towel positioned strategically around his slim hips. He moved toward Jethro and stopped right in front of the man, hair damp and cheeks pinkened. He smelled of soap and shampoo and Jethro just couldn't help himself. He swiftly reached out and pulled the surprised boy into his arms, embracing him tightly and breathing deeply of the sweet, young scent of the freshly cleansed body.
"Gunny?" Tony's voice was slightly muffled against one broad shoulder.
Jethro eased back slightly and offered a weak, apologetic smile. "Sorry. I guess...I guess I just realized how quickly you're growing up,” he grinned slyly, “and that you won't be a little turd too much longer."
Tony grinned and tipped his chin up. "No. I'll just be a bigger turd. Like *you*."
"Hey!" Jethro barked out quickly but there was no bite to it at all. He began to unscrew the lid to the tube of ointment and watched covertly as the boy drop the towel, reaching with both hands to pull his wounded penis up for easier treatment. The ex-Marine studied the scratch again. "You did wash real good, right?"
"Yes, Gunny," the boy sighed, rolling his eyes.
The man nodded and squeezed a little onto a finger and reached to slowly dab the healing ointment on the injured flesh, careful not to put too much pressure against the red mark. "Does it hurt?"
"A little," Tony confessed, shifting slightly from foot to foot. "Just...a little."
"That the truth?” He frowned, concentrating on he wound. “You've got to be honest with me about something like this."
"I wouldn't lie to you, Gunny," he shifted restlessly again. "Yes, it hurts a little but..."
"What?" Jethro asked without looking up, eyes focused on the task, head bent close to make sure he was covering all the scraped areas. "Hold still, Tony."
"Um," the boy moved nervously again, his hands trying to hold and shield his penis at the same time, "maybe you...maybe you should...um..."
"What?" Jethro muttered without looking up from the task.
"Um..."
Jethro huffed at the response. “Um, what, Tony?”
“Stop,” Tony managed to wheeze.
"Stop? Tony, I can't stop until I…“ Jethro finally realized what was happening. “Oh."
Jethro swiftly removed his hands and got to his feet, moving to the sink so he could wash the creamy ointment from his fingers. He saw Tony's reflection in the mirror and watched the cheeks bloom with embarrassment, knowing neither of them had expected the youth's body to respond to the gentle, caring touch.
"I'm sorry..." The youth’s head was bent downward.
Jethro whirled and moved his face close to Tony's, forcing the green eyes to meet his. "Don't apologize for something you don't have any control over. It’s a normal reaction and it doesn't mean anything. Okay? Now, go get dressed and we can talk some more, if you want."
Tony nodded but still looked unsure and confused. "Okay, Gunny."
Jethro watched him go and shook his head, knowing they'd get past this, too. He took a few minutes to straighten the bathroom, flicked off the light, and moved back to the kitchen, suddenly feeling the distinct need for a beer. He stood by the open refrigerator, twisted off the lid, and quickly took a long drink of the cold ale, feeling the yeasty tingle as it moved past his tongue and into his throat. Closing the door, he moved back to the living room and waited for Tony to reappear, checking several channels on the TV before finally finding and settling on a college basketball game to watch.
As the time continued to pass and Tony remained out of sight, Jethro got concerned and finally went to see if everything was all right with the boy. Arriving at the open door of the guest bedroom, he started to tap on the frame to announce his presence but stopped as he caught sight of the youth, standing like a statue at the foot of the bed. There was no movement, except for the small rise and fall of the chest as the boy breathed, and the slow, reflexive blink of eyes that seemed to be seeing something else, something inward.
"Tony?" Jethro spoke quietly, watching as the youth's head rose fractionally. "You okay?"
"Why did he do those things to me?" He asked without turning around.
The young voice was soft and devoid of emotion and, more than anything, that scared Jethro. He took a step closer, coming into the room, but kept the doorway clear and open, unsure what was going through Tony's mind right now. But if the boy needed to feel safe, he needed to be able to see he wasn't trapped within this room without a way out.
"He was a sick man, Tony," Jethro explained, knowing the truth sounded pretty lame.
"I saw what he did with women," the unfocused gaze dropped and focused on the bed, almost as if he was watching the scene play out before him. "Why would he need to do things with me, too? I was just a little kid. I didn't know what it was all about back then."
"It was his way of exerting his power and control over you..."
"He did that with his belt and his fists," Tony interrupted, voice still empty, dead, like he was talking about someone else. "He didn't need to do it that way, too."
Jethro took another step closer and sat on the edge of the bed, trying to get the boy to look at him. He saw a slight twitch at the corner of one eye. "What are you seeing, Tony?"
There was a tense moment and then, suddenly, Tony was pointing at the bed. "Me."
Jethro closed his eyes and swallowed. He took a deep breath, reopen his eyes, and looked closely at the boy, seeing a small frown appear between the green eyes.
"Do you want to tell me?" He asked quietly.
"No," came the hollow reply, hand moving back to his side, "but…but I think I have to."
Jethro waited, watching carefully, closely, for some emotion to appear and for the words to start. Hopefully, they would arrive at the same time.
"Tell me, then."
Tony nodded absently. "He drank a lot sometimes. He would get drunk and get real mean. I always tried to hide when he was drinking and most times...most times I could stay out of his way and he would forget all about me even being there. He would go away for days sometimes and I would be happy. Hungry but happy." Tony stepped closer to the bed, his body growing stiff and tense. "One night, I was sleeping in the closet when he came home. I didn't hear him, at first, and he found me before I could find a better place to hide. He grabbed me by the hair and yanked me close," he wrinkled his nose at the memory, "and I could smell his breath. He'd been drinking and he was acting real weird." He took another step and stopped, knees brushing against the edge of the mattress. "He pulled me over to the bed, pulled off my underwear, pushed me down, started touching me, telling me he was going to make me feel so good.” He swallowed thickly and rubbed one hand across his mouth. “He...he held me down when I started crying, told me to shut up, hit me. Then, he got on top of me."
The boy's body was beginning to shake slightly and the mouth closed abruptly, lips pressing into a tight, thin line. There was a difference to his eyes now, too, holding some dark, horrible glint that spoke of some barely contained fury, bubbling just under the surface. This was not good.
"He put his dick in me," he gritted out between clenched teeth and then looked directly at Jethro. "Why would a grown man do that to a little kid? He didn't love me, I don't think he even liked me, so why would he do that to me?"
"It had nothing to do with love, Tony," Jethro tried to rationalize.
"I know that!" Tony screamed, finally snapping under the strain, unable to hold it all in any longer. "I know that *now*. Don't you understand?” His eyes were wild with anger. “I know what love is *now* but, back then, when I was little, I didn't know. I didn’t know! It was all I ever had! All I knew! The only kind of attention I got was when he hit me or whipped me or when he…he…."
"Tony, don't..."
"NO!" Tony whirled to scowl at Jethro, his face twisting into an ugly mask. "You can't tell me 'don't'. You weren’t there! You don’t know what it was like! It was all I knew back then, so don't tell me to stop! It was who I was then!"
Jethro inched nearer, waiting, needing to close the space between them, emotionally and physically, as much as possible. Tony's eyes remained locked with his. "You know what real love is now, don't you, Tony? You know how much I love you and how much Candace loves you. Hell, even your grandfather loves you. We would never do anything like that to you. Everyday, we show you what real love is."
"It's not that!" He screamed again and Jethro fleetingly wondered what the neighbors were thinking about this unusual outburst.
"Then, you tell me, Tony," he asked calmly, trying to get the boy to settle some by hearing how soft his own voice was right now. “What is it?”
Tony looked like he was going to yell again but, instead, he moved so he was standing directly in front of Jethro, eyes growing desperate and scared. "What if...what if I can't do it with anyone because of what he did to me? What if...what if he ruined me?"
"Tony," Jethro reached out but flinched when Tony jerked back from the touch. He sighed and ran a hand roughly through his own hair. "What happened with you and Jessie was a fluke. You had a hard-on, you said you wanted to have sex..."
"But I didn't! I couldn't!” The voice was shrill again. “I started to feel sick. What if that happens every time now? What if I always think of him when I'm with someone else?"
"You won't..."
"You don't know that! How can you pretend to know that?!"
"And you don't know that you will," he said just loudly, rising from the bed and stepping close to the boy.
Tony glared up at him but didn't move away. He was breathing way too fast now and his eyes were full of misery, pooling with hot, anguished tears. "I hate him! I hate him for what he did to me. And I hate him for doing it to me still!"
Jethro reached out once again and, thankfully, Tony did not pull away this time. He grabbed a hold of the youth and took the trembling body into his strong embrace, wondering if the child's question could, somehow, hold a measure of truth, if he'd ever be able to have a ‘normal’ relationship with anyone without thinking of his horrible past. The thought almost made the former-Marine double over in agony for the boy. He instinctively pulled Tony up and the boy's legs went immediately around his waist, locking them together into a single, safe unit. Jethro eased down and sat on the edge of the bed, holding, rocking gently, soothing with his presence and his soft words.
Tony's anger was gone and, with it, the tears came again, not hard and rough as before, but soft and silent like a warm, soft, spring rain. It spoke volumes of the boy's fatigue.
"I'm so tired of crying, Gunny," he confessed after a short while, sniffing and rubbing against Jethro's shirt. "I'm just so tired of everything. If this is what it's like to grow up, I really don't think I want to."
Jethro nodded in agreement but knew words of assurance were needed. "Things will get better for you, Tony, I promise. This is just a real rough patch you're going through right now, that's all. And I'll always be here for you."
"You're so far away," Tony whispered grumpily around a yawn. "I don't get to see you unless it's vacation time or you make a quick trip to New York."
"I know,” Jethro sighed, “but that may all change. As soon as I get my training out of the way, I'm hoping to move closer. And Candace said your grandfather was offering to move both of you to the Washington area. We would be real close then."
"I like where I'm living now," he pouted against Jethro's ear.
"Tony, that house is way too big for just you and Candace and your grandfather can help out in ways you can't imagine."
"Why? Because he's rich?"
"Well, yes, that's one reason. He's a good man..."
"He's so old, Gunny."
"Tony," Jethro chided gently and pulled back to make the youth look him in the eye, "you've got to get over the fact he doesn't like baseball. Candace tells me you've gone to the theater and the opera and places she'd never be able to take you. You're seeing things and experiencing things most kids will never get the chance to do. Someday, you'll be glad he did these things with you."
"That's what Candace keeps telling me," he continued to sulk, "but it's real hard to remember when some fat lady is singing in some foreign language that makes no sense…“ he thought of something else and brightened a bit, “or the men are wearing outfits so tight you can see their nuts..."
Jethro had to laugh at *that* visual. "So, you've been to the ballet, too?"
"Yes," Tony grinned. "Guess what we saw?"
"What?"
"The Nutcracker!" He giggled at the title and, like most young boys, loved the play on words.
They both relaxed and Jethro finally eased the boy off his lap, feeling the youth lean against him as they sat side by side on the bed. Jethro put an arm around the slim shoulders and drew him close for one, final hug before rising.
"There's a game on TV and I'm going to fix some popcorn. Want to join me?" He wanted to get them out of this room and away from the conversation.
Tony nodded and rose to follow, tugging up his loose-fitting sweatpants. "Can I fix a sandwich?"
"Sure. Anything you want."
They puttered around the kitchen, Jethro by the microwave and Tony by the sink, each fixing their own snack. When the boy pulled the milk jug from the refrigerator, the man snagged another bottle of beer and, together, they finished preparing what they needed.
Once settled on the couch, Jethro let the quiet sound of the TV settle around them, enjoying a moment of peace with the boy. He glanced over and watched him make short work of the sandwich and knew the smaller hands would be reaching toward the bowl of popcorn real soon. He shifted the container closer to the youth and sighed in contentment, refocusing on the images of the game.
"What did you do while I was...gone?" Tony asked absently, stumbling slightly over his choice of words. "Anything exciting?"
"Wrote a few letters, paid a few bills, made a few calls. Oh," he suddenly remembered one call in particular, "we are going out tomorrow night for dinner...with an old friend."
Tony turned to look closely at the man. "A friend?"
"Yep."
"Man or woman?"
"Does it matter?"
"I guess not," the boy sighed and looked back toward the TV. "So, what happens after dinner?"
"Ah, I guess we'll bring you back here and then we'll go to a club or something."
"So, it's a real date," Tony surmised quietly.
"Yep."
Tony turned fully on the couch and waited until Jethro finally looked at him. "You know, Gunny, I don't have to go out to dinner with you. I'm old enough to stay here by myself."
"This is your break from school, Tony. I'm not going to leave you alone here..."
"Gunny," Tony interrupted and shook his head, "won't your 'friend' be more impressed if you don't have a twelve-year old kid tagging along on this date? I mean, what's that all about?"
"My friend already knows about you and has no problem with you being there for dinner."
Tony frowned and looked away. He fiddled with his empty plate and glass, not really watching the game.
"What is it, Tony?" Jethro asked, seeing something flit across the young face. "What's really bothering you?"
"I...I don't want to go," came the soft response.
"Can I ask why?"
One shoulder rose and fell and Jethro sighed. He grabbed the remote and clicked off the TV, waiting until the boy relented. It didn't take too long.
"I just...I would rather not..” he stammered a moment and then huffed in frustration. “If you're going to have sex, I would rather not know who it is," he finally got out. He sat stiffly on the couch, head down, and waited nervously.
Jethro eyed the boy, not sure what to think. "What makes you think we'll be having sex?"
"Well," the head remained focused on his lap, "that's what the date is all about, isn't it? I mean, that's what we talked about earlier today, right? You said you needed...you know…sex."
Jethro reached out and placed a hand on the boy's shoulder, squeezing gently until the face rose and the eyes met his. There was something in the green depths that confused the man, something strange. He'd seen the look before but never, ever, expected to see it in Tony's gaze.
"Tony," he asked gently, "are you jealous?"
The boy looked quickly away and sighed, shifting uncomfortably on the soft sofa, pulling on a loose thread hanging off the edge of his t-shirt. His fingers played nervously with the thin fiber until Jethro captured them with one big hand.
"Tony?" Jethro pushed.
"Yes," he finally hissed out, sagging back against the couch. "Okay? I...I don't want to meet the person you're going to fuck."
"Tony!" Jethro gripped the hands hard. "You don’t have to say it like that!"
"Well, that's what it is, isn't it? You don't love this person, do you? It's just for sex, that's all," the boy's voice was strained with raw emotion. He finally turned his haunted eyes to Jethro. "I...I don't want to know this person that you will be…“ he caught himself this time, “that you're going to have sex with. I don't want to be around him or her or whoever it is. That person is going to be closer to you than I ever will be and I don't...I don't like it. Okay? I just don't like it."
The confession rocked the man to his soul, hearing and seeing a side to the youth he never expected. He stared at the boy, saw the truth in the young eyes, and realized, in all the time he'd spent with Tony, he'd never thought about what his words and actions meant to the impressionable child.
"Tony," he whispered gently, "what are you saying?"
"I...I love you, Gunny."
"And I love you, too, Tony..."
"No!” Tony was shaking his head. “I mean, I *really* love you. Don't you understand? You make me feel good and wanted and safe and, sometimes, when I masturbate..."
"Don't!" Jethro's arm shot out and a hand grabbed Tony's thinner bicep tightly, effectively halting the words from taking form. He didn't need to hear the rest, couldn't stand to think what it all meant, and needed to put a stop to this foolishness now. "Tony, what you think is love is *not* the kind that two adults have for each other. You look up to me, respect me, and you're confusing that with a physical love. I'm like a father to you, like..."
"I don't know what a father is!" He was starting to cry again, frustrated by his emotions. "Jimmy was the closest, I guess, but he always let me know he wasn't my real father, that he was more like a close cousin. I loved Jimmy but I didn't feel for him the way I feel for you. Don't you understand?"
"Yes, I do," he nodded his head, "but I don't feel that way about you."
The admission was like a blow to the face and, even with Jethro firmly holding his upper arms, Tony jerked back and crumpled, his complexion paling drastically. He sunk back and let his head fall against the sofa cushion at the rear of his skull, all energy draining away. His wet, dull eyes bored into Jethro's.
"You...you don't love me anymore?" He choked out in an anguished whisper.
"I love you more than life itself," Jethro shifted closer, pulling the limp, listless body into a tight embrace, "but not like one adult loves another adult. Not like the way I loved Mike."
"Why not?" The small, dejected voice asked pitifully.
"Because you're still a boy, Tony, and I'm a grown man.” Jethro bit back his frustration. This was *not* a conversation he wanted to be having. “There's too many years dividing us and too many experiences you still need to have before you give yourself totally to one person like that. You have so much more growing to do, so many places to go, so many people who will touch and help shape your life. You've got to be patient, Tony, and give life a chance. One day, you'll understand and one day you'll have what you want. You've just got to be patient."
Tony curled into the embrace and cried softly. "I don't know if I can, Gunny. It just hurts so much right now."
"I know, I know," he comforted the best he could, hugging the boy tight. "For now, you've just got to be satisfied with the way things are between us. One day,” he assured, “everything will make perfect sense to you. I promise."
Tony remained silent for a very long time and Jethro thought he might have gone to sleep, until the smaller head rose from where it had been tucked against the man's shoulder. The former-Marine eased back and looked down into the sad, sweet face.
"You don't hate me now, do you?" The trembling voice asked meekly.
"God, no, Tony. I will always love you, you've just got to believe me. It may not be the kind of love you were hoping for but it's all I can give. It's all I've ever been able to give you. Nothing will change but I'm asking you to respect how I feel and to understand, as best as you can, that it's the only way things can ever be for us."
Tony sniffed and nodded slowly, averting his eyes before speaking. “Okay, Gunny. I'll try."
"That's all I can ask," Jethro smiled slightly and pulled the boy close again. "That's all I can ask."
TBC
Author: Matt
Fandom:NCIS
Rating FRM
Category: AU series, pre-slash, angst, H/C, het, drama. mention of child abuse
Summary: Continuing AU series of the growing relationship between Gibbs and DiNozzo. This story: Tony reveals a traumatic experience.
Notes: Should beread after. Through the Years: Twelve (2 of 4)
Disclaimer: Most of these characters belong to DPB, CBS, Paramount, et al. No copyright infringement intended.
It is a fact of life that growing up and maturing in today’s society can be a complicated and trying task for many young people. For most, the complexity of going through puberty, undergoing the multitude of bodily and emotional changes, and experiencing the new pressures of peers, family, and society can usually be done without any trauma or damage. They manage to shift into this new awareness with relative ease and grace, secure in themselves and the world around them. They have strong family ties and varied support groups and are able to swing smoothly into their new roles, using the knowledge they've gathered during their young lives by observing those closest to them, remembering the morals and values taught, and stepping forward with pride and dignity, unafraid of harm or ostracization for minor infractions or deviations from the established norm.
But for some, there are incidents that tarnish, that taint, that pollute this time of transformation from child to young adult into an emotional roller coaster from Hell, the peaks and valleys determined by memories of past hurts and prior abuse. They stumble more than most, as they try to bury the harmful memories of their childhood, attempting to mold themselves into the likeness of others and not remaining true to themselves. They endeavor to fit in with their friends and family, concealing essential parts of their souls, ashamed or afraid the demons of remembrance will rear their terrifying visages and pull them straight back to a place so horrible, so unimaginable that usual nightmares pale in comparison. Some are able to keep a tight lock on that part of their remembrances, refusing to examine those hurtful memories in any way, shape, or form: no speaking, no thinking, no anything. They want strive for nothing more than to be considered 'normal'.
Mere minor stumbling is expected for any young person attempting to fit in, to belong, to be like everyone else. They carefully traverse the path, navigating over those peaks and around those valleys, finding the best route and passage they can. The road may not be easy, at times, but it merely leads to nothing more than the regaining balance, by placing one foot in front of the other, and continuing on with the journey. But, for the children carrying the scars of abuse, the usual stumbles and staggers sometime become terrible falls and descents into their hellish world of unwanted remembrance.
On the evening of the third day of his visit with his Gunny, twelve-year old Tony DiNozzo fell. Hard.
Jethro Gibbs hastily met the emotional adolescent at the doorway of his apartment, detected the tight set of the slim shoulders, and saw the stark misery etched in the youthful face. Worse, he heard the rough, painful tone of misery that tainted the boy's usually light, sweet voice.
"Oh, Gunny," Tony's words were broken, tears beginning to run down his cheeks and drip off the quivering chin, "I...I've done something really bad."
Jethro immediately pulled the boy into a tight embrace, briefly lifting him from the floor in his desire to soothe, and held him close, feeling the smaller arms clutching back at the gesture of support and holding on with every ounce of strength they possessed. The tears continued to fall, dampening the fabric at the shoulder of the man's casual shirt, the boy's hot face pushed securely into the crook of Jethro's neck, and his fingers keeping their grip on the material across the strong back.
Jethro quickly shot his gaze toward the clock high on the kitchen wall and saw it was just a little after eight o'clock. He knew Tony had planned on meeting with Jessie and her friends by the pool to swim and talk until around nine-thirty and had seemed so genuinely happy to find other kids close to his age to hang out with for a while tonight. But the boy was used to the population of his own safe neighborhood, where kids could always find appropriate playmates and friends among those of a shared age. That Jessie and her friends had been a bit older had concerned Jethro at first but, after Tony's insistence that he felt comfortable around them, the man had relented to his own misgivings and given his permission for the boy to join them. Now, he silently damned himself for allowing that to happen. But what could have possibly occurred to cause Tony to react this way? What had the boy done?
"Tony," Jethro kept his voice as calm as he could and tried to ease up on their mutual embrace, his action immediately causing the boy's fingers to clutch harder onto his shirt, the frantic digits trying to maintain their desperate hold on his only perceived island of safety. "Shhhhh...it's okay. Tony, I'm here."
Deciding the living area was just too far away, Jethro maneuvered their bodies until he was resting against the now-closed front door and slowly began to slide down the hard, flat surface, keeping the descent controlled and unhurried. He spread his legs so the bulk of Tony's body remained within the protection of his limbs and continued to hold tight, rubbing soothing circles across the tense and trembling back and whispering tranquil nonsense into the shell of one ear. He felt Tony shift and flow with him, saw the boy pull his knees up and turn so he was almost in a fetal position against his torso, and heard the rough, ragged breathing continue. Jethro brought his own knees up, caging the youth in on both sides, providing a solid haven of security and safety and remained determined to ride this one out, no matter how long it took.
The situation swiftly brought back flashes of the past for the man as he quickly recalled other times he'd held the emotional boy while he struggled with some memory or hurt. Jethro could vividly recall rocking the small body until sleep drew the child away from his perceived misery or until he became calm enough to speak of the monsters that continued to haunt his dreams and memories. Even as he got older, the need for physical contact endured, and Tony would track Jethro down, if available, crawl into the man's lap, and demand to be held, simply because he wanted the close contact. It was a habit the boy had perfected on the day of Mike Johnson's funeral and, obviously, had no intention of giving up any time soon. Once he'd gotten a taste of how sweet it was to be held in the embrace of someone who actually cared about him, the boy looked for any opportunity to engage in the activity. The former-Marine firmly believed the child was unintentionally trying to make up for all the hugs and snuggles he'd missed during the first horrendous six years of his life and today, it seemed, was no exception. Tony needed the reassurance he could only get by being held safely in his Gunny's strong, secure arms.
Sometime later, Jethro could sense the sobbing was easing, could feel the trembling body calm and, finally, still. He continued to smooth his broad hand over the planes of Tony's back, switching from a variety of small circles into long, drifting patterns that traveled from the base of the boy's spine, up to the nape of his neck, and through the soft hair at the bottom of his skull. The gentle massage loosened the tense shoulders and back and the boy slowly began to uncoil from his tightly drawn-up position, head lifting until his nose was pressing into the warm, exposed skin at Jethro's neck and one leg moving until it was resting comfortably over a firm thigh. His grip on the man's shirt relaxed but the embrace continued, one slim arm draping over Jethro's shoulder and the other snaking around at waist height. They were chest to chest, now, and Jethro could actually feel the beating of the younger heart against his torso, the rhythm slowly settling to a more natural, tranquil pace. It was, he reasoned, time to try some words again.
"Tony," Jethro whispered, lips moving gently against the boy's forehead, "everything's going to be all right. I've got you, babe, and I'm not going to let anything happen to you. Okay?"
He detected a tiny nod of Tony's head against his neck, could feel the boy's wet nose pressing near his chin, and slowly lowered his mouth until he could place a brief, caste kiss to one tear-slick cheek. He heard a soft sigh of contentment.
"Now, tell me," he prompted gently, keeping his hands moving over the youngster's back.
Another sigh escaped, this one containing a hint of resignation. The arm looped loosely around Jethro's waist uncurled and rose, moving to mirror the one already placed around his right shoulder, and Tony's mouth was suddenly resting near his left ear.
"I hit Jessie."
The softly spoken confession was *not* what Jethro expected. To be honest, Jethro really hadn't really known what he'd been expecting but, to hear Tony had resorted to violence…especially against a girl…was possibly the very last thing he would have ever expected from the adolescent. In all the years Jethro had known the boy, he was only aware of one other time when physical contact had been used as a means to end a confrontation. It just wasn't in his nature to hurt. Then again, with the on-set of puberty and the sudden flow of testosterone, who really knew what the boy was capable of doing? Keeping that thought in mind, he pushed his shock away and refocused on getting to the bottom of this new problem.
"Maybe you should start at the beginning for me," he suggested quietly. "It would probably all make better sense if you gave me the whole story."
"Okay," came the muted reply. There was a slight moment of hesitation before he spoke again and Jethro expected it was merely Tony's way of deciding where to begin. "I met the other kids at the pool, like I told you I was going to do. We were swimming and having a good time, just playing around.” One fist quickly swiped away the moisture still hanging on to his chin. “There were more people there, grown ups and little kids both, so we stayed pretty much in the deep end of the water, just diving in and goofing off. It was fun...for awhile."
He shifted again against Jethro, bringing his other leg up over the man's opposite thigh, and resettling so he was straddling the adult's lap, body resting fully against the strong, solid torso. The former-Marine remembered often carrying the boy like this when he was very young, too tired to walk any further on little legs, and it brought a lick of warmth that coiled gently around his heart. He hugged the boy closer.
"Go on," he encouraged softly.
There was a fleeting moment of hesitation again. "Jessie…“ The boy stumbled a bit before continuing. “Jessie said she wanted to go back to her place for a little while and that we all should come with her. She said she had soda and junk food we could snack on, ‘cause some of the others said they were hungry. I didn't want to go but they...they kept saying it was okay and that we'd come right back.” He squeezed the man tightly. “I knew I told you I was going to be at the pool and I was afraid if you came looking for me, you'd be mad if I wasn't there."
Jethro patted the tense back but didn't speak. Tony sighed again and continued.
"The other guys...they called me a chicken...said I was scared.” One hand fisted into the soft fabric of Jethro’s shirt. “They made me mad but Jessie told them to shut up. She said I didn't have to come if I didn't want but she said she had a pet iguana in her room and thought I'd like to see it.” He released a huff of air. “I've never seen one, Gunny, and I wanted to see it. I knew it wouldn't take too long, so...I went with them."
"Does Jessie live in this building or one of the others?" Jethro asked, trying to get a handle on just how far he'd traveled from the central pool area.
"This one," Tony replied quickly. "Just at the other end."
Well, that was a bit of a relief. "Okay, go on."
"When we got there," Tony rested his head again on Jethro's shoulder, the tip of his nose brushing the lobe of the man's ear, "no one else was home. I was a little uncomfortable, especially when Jessie said her mom was at work and wouldn't be back until real late.” He swallowed and shrugged a shoulder. “I thought...I thought maybe her dad was there but...she doesn't have a dad. We were there all by ourselves."
Not wanting to jump to conclusions, Jethro tamped down on the flash of dread that immediately flared in his mind. Just because there wasn't an adult home to supervise the teenagers didn't necessarily mean there was going to be trouble. But, throw in the mix of both sexes, attired in nothing more than swimwear, and it was certainly a recipe for disaster. He took a deep breath, tried to keep an open mind, and just listen to the boy's tale.
"Jessie got us some soda and chips and we sat around in the living room, watching TV. MTV or something like it, I think.” He seemed much calmer for the moment. “I knew I shouldn't stay and told Jessie I had to either go back to the pool area or come back to your apartment. She said okay but to come see her iguana before I left.” He started to tense up again and began to pluck nervously at one of Jethro’s sleeves. “I went to her room with her. She...she shut the door, said she didn't want it to escape when she took it out of the cage."
Jethro's gut clenched tightly but remained stoic. "Did she have an iguana, Tony?"
"No." The singular word was barely whispered.
He felt the young arms tighten around his shoulders and, instinctively, hugged back. The minutes stretched out before Tony finally spoke again.
"When I turned around, she was right in front of me…real close.” Tony pressed his cheek to Jethro’s neck. “She asked me if I wanted to kiss her and I...I really did want to kiss her, Gunny. When I said 'yes', she just pushed up against me and started kissing me...hard.” He squirmed a bit. “She even put her tongue into my mouth. I've never had a girl kiss me before and it was...it was..."
"What?" Jethro prompted at the hesitation.
Tony turned his face and huffed out a slightly frustrated breath. "It was kind of weird, you know? It was good and bad at the same time. I knew I wasn't suppose to be there, that you'd be mad if you knew where I was and what I was doing but it felt good to kiss her. And I liked how it was making me feel, all itchy or something.” One hand dropped to toy with the top button of the man’s shirt. “She pulled me over to her bed and we sat down and kissed some more. She started squirming and telling me to 'come on'. I...I wasn't sure what she wanted me to do.” He stilled his fingers and sighed. “I mean, I know we talked about things yesterday but I...I didn't think she really wanted to have sex with me. But, Gunny, she kept saying it over and over and, then, her tongue was in my mouth again and I was *so* hard and it was getting harder to think and I knew I wasn't suppose to be there and the others were right out there in the living room and she was moaning and..."
"Breathe, Tony," Jethro tried to slow the sudden stream of words gushing from the boy's mouth, tried to calm the rapidly beating heart he could feel pounding again against his chest. "Just take a moment and breathe."
The boy nodded against his shoulder and quietened. Jethro let his hands resume running the path from the small of the youth's spine to his skull, combing his fingers through the short, soft hair, waiting until he was ready to go on.
"I love you, Gunny," Tony whispered unexpectedly, pressing a soft kiss to the man's warm neck.
For a moment, Jethro thought he wouldn't be able to contain the sudden swell of emotion that blossomed within his chest. The quiet declaration of love and trust was almost too much to fathom but he managed to take a ragged breath and reply steadily.
"I love you, too, Tony," he responded gently. "Do you think you can continue telling me the rest now?"
"Yeah, I think so," the boy sighed, shifting his legs off the man and slithering down until he could lay with one cheek pressed against Jethro's stomach, arms wrapped around the trim waist. "She kept kissing and kissing and it was getting hard to breath. And I was *so* excited.” He shifted restlessly before settling again. “I've never been that hard before, Gunny. I was so hard, it kind of hurt a little. I...I put my hand on her boobs and she...she put her hand on my dick and I remembered about what happened to Stevie with Brittany's mom and thought I was gonna come in my pants like he did."
"Did you?" Jethro asked, not remembering seeing any evidence of ejaculate on Tony's swim trunks when the boy had returned earlier. But, honestly, he hadn't been looking for anything like that at the time.
"No. I...I was real close but I didn't. She...she pushed me down on the bed. Got on top of me," his breathing was getting ragged again and his tone was a little strained. "She held me down, kissing and moving. Something...something happened...made me feel...I...I kind of freaked."
"Easy, now," Jethro soothed, frowning at the strange tone of the boy's voice. "Freaked? Why?"
"I...I don't really know. I was okay until...until she got on top of me. Sort of," Tony sighed and rubbed his nose against Jethro's belly.
"Hey, that better not be snot," Jethro chided gently, tapping the boy on the back of the head, trying to ease some of the growing tension.
Tony laughed quietly but then quickly sobered, his mind back on what had occurred. "When she pushed me down like that, almost like she was trapping me there, something...something happened. I...I remembered Uncle Robert for some reason.” He looked up at his mentor with confusion. “Why would I do that, Gunny? Why?"
Well, shit.
Jethro's stomach was rolling again, knowing he had to ask the tough questions. "Did he ever lay on you like that? Hold you down?"
Silence.
"Tony?" He prodded kindly.
"Yes," the answer was harshly whispered and almost undetectable.
"Maybe that's what you were remembering," the man forced the words out calmly, not wanting to upset the boy further. Inside, he wanted to get his hands on Robert DiNozzo again and, this time, finish the job properly.
Tony seemed to consider the reasoning for a few moments but he was struggling a bit to comprehend. "But why would I think about him when Jessie was on me? She's not anything like Uncle Robert."
"No." This was way out of Jethro's league but he knew he had to give it a try. Where was Doctor Amberg when she was needed? "But maybe you don't like how it feels now because you didn't like how it made you feel back then."
"What?” He seemed to catch on to Jethro’s suggestion. “You mean, I'm never going to be able to...I'm not going to...just because he did...I'll always think about...never?" The broken sentences were taking on a strained, injured quality.
"Tony," Jethro had to get a handle on this now. He pulled the boy up until the youth was sitting directly in front of him, his large hands gripping each slim shoulder. He could see the lost, haunted look in the young eyes. "Let's just...let's just get through what happened tonight before we start talking about your uncle. One thing at a time."
"But..." Tony’s expression was pained.
"Tony, I promise," he gently shook the shoulders under his palms, "we *will* talk about it. Let's just do this first. Okay?"
The boy pressed his lips tightly together and nodded reluctantly. He seemed to focus on a spot just to one side of Jethro's throat and didn't look back up into the man's face. The former-Marine sighed loudly.
"Tony?" He prodded. "You said you 'freaked'. How?"
"I...I pushed her off, hard, and she landed on the floor. When I got to the door, she was right behind me again, pulling on me, trying to get me to come back to the bed. I pushed her again. I opened the door and the others were...they were watching a movie... a porn movie." He swallowed and finally met Jethro's eyes once more. "I've never...I've never seen one before. Jeffery did at his dad's but I...I didn't know they were like that, Gunny. You could see...*everything*."
The man nodded his understanding at the boy‘s amazement. "Go on, Tony. What happened next?"
"Jessie came up behind me and put her arms around me, said if I came back to her room, she'd 'make me into a man'," he was beginning to sound a little angry now and, secretly, Jethro was glad to see a spark of spunk appear, hoping the defeat and hurt that had tinged his earlier words would now be gone. "The others...the others had their swimsuits off and were...on the couch and on the floor and they...they were...doing it. Right there in front of each other.” His green eyes were wide. “I felt like I couldn't breath, like all the air was gone. Jessie grabbed my dick again and I started to feel sick, like I was going to puke right on her. I told her I had to leave and she said...she said she would suck me off.” Tony shook his head. “She just said it like it was nothing, Gunny! I was still hard but it all felt so wrong and she...she just wouldn't let go."
Jethro tightened his grip some more on the shaking shoulders and could understand why the boy was angry. He was getting angry, too.
"Gunny, I think I wanted to do it but...it was almost like I couldn't. Does that make any sense?"
Jethro nodded. "Believe it or not, it makes perfect sense. Your body was trying to battle with your conscience and it was either going to have it it's way or it was going to throw a fit. That's why you felt ill."
Tony offered him a weak, trembling smile. "I told her I was going to be sick and she called me a 'little pussy'. She pushed me against the wall and put her hand inside my swimsuit. I…I didn‘t know what to do, at first. When I tried to get her to stop, she grabbed my dick again and squeezed it real hard. And it...hurt. All I could think about was getting away from her and out of there before I puked all over the place. So, I hit her. In the face."
'Good for you,' the man thought with a smirk. 'Hope to hell she's got a broken nose.'
"Bet she let go of you then, didn't she?" Jethro teased gently instead, ruffling the boy's hair softly.
"Yeah, but she scratched me as she pulled her hand away.” He frowned and shifted again. “I think I'm bleeding a little."
Jethro frowned and tugged on the youth. "Stand up and let me take a look."
"Gunny, it's okay. You don't have to do that…"
"Stand up, Tony," Jethro repeated, the order very clear and not to be ignored. "I've seen you naked more times than I can count, so don‘t get all bashful on me now. Come on, let me see how much damage was done."
Tony got to his feet and reluctantly pulled his trunks down far enough to reveal his penis, lifting the well-formed shaft until the underside was exposed to Jethro's cautious examination. The man didn't touch the youth but assessed the damage carefully, grunting when he saw the reddened line running from the base of the penis almost to the sensitive glans. It had, indeed, bled in a bit in a couple of places but didn't seem too bad now. The bitch had really tried to take a piece of him with her though.
"Well?" Tony asked impatiently, looking down, too.
Jethro decided to play it up a bit, to lighten the mood while he could. Slowly, he got to his feet and put on a grim expression, shaking his head down at the youngster.
"Looks like you may need a few stitches."
"Stitches?" Tony squeaked, face paling and hands quickly reaching to cradle his genitals protectively. "No, I mean, it doesn't really hurt that bad..."
"Might even need a cast."
"A cast..." The voice rose to a higher pitch.
"Or they may decide just to amputate."
"Ampu…" Tony sputtered and cast a furious gaze at the man, launching himself at the former-Marine. "Gunny! That's not funny!"
Jethro caught the boy up easily into his strong arms and threw him over one solid shoulder, slapping him sharply on the ass. "Oh, suck it up, soldier."
He carried the squirming, huffing boy to the bathroom door, listening to the flow of useless threats that poured from Tony's mouth the whole way, and put him back on his own feet just inside the threshold. He grinned down at the sputtering youth and had to laugh at the expression he saw.
"That wasn't funny!" Tony fumed, pushing away from the man and crossing his arms over his heaving chest.
"Yes, it was," Jethro contradicted easily, never losing the easy grin. He reached out and directed the spitting boy toward the shower stall. "Now, get your butt in there and wash yourself thoroughly...and I mean thoroughly...especially between your legs. The soap may sting a bit but it's got to be done. When you finish, I'll put some Neosporin on it.” He cocked an eyebrow. “You got something loose to sleep in tonight?"
"Yes." The boy's tone was pretty insolent.
The defiance was getting a little tiring and Jethro was having no more of it. "Enough, Tony."
The boy glared up at the man but wisely kept his mouth shut. He turned away, peeled off his trunks, and stepped into the shower, fooling with the knobs until he got the water temperature just the way he liked. Jethro remained by the door as the water continued to run, listening to the boy mutter quietly within the stall. Suddenly, the shower curtain was jerked to one side and Tony peeked out.
"You just going to stand there and wait?" He asked suspiciously but without the snarky attitude of earlier.
"Yep."
Tony looked like he was tempted to say something else in response but, again, wisely held his tongue, flipping the curtain back into place and continuing with his cleansing ritual. Jethro smirked again and ambled all the way in, snagging a thick towel from the wall rack and reaching into the medicine cabinet to grab the tube of antibacterial ointment. He moved to sit on the closed lid of the toilet and waited for the boy to finish, thinking about the day and how it was now ending. All in all, it could have been worse. Much worse.
Jethro shuddered as he thought of how close Tony had almost come to losing his virginity to Jessie. He knew it would happen, eventually, one day but was damn glad it hadn't been today, with someone who obviously didn't really care about the boy. It had been a close call though and the thought actually made his stomach hurt and his head ache. He listened as the shower continued and thought about the youngster, wondering, when the time finally arrived, if he'd be able to work around those demons and connect deeply enough to forget about his past hurts.
The water stopped and Tony was holding an arm out expectantly toward Jethro‘s position without even looking. The man smiled, draping the fluffy cloth over the outstretched arm and watching it disappear back behind the curtain. He should have known the boy was aware of his presence. Tony had a way finding things and detecting a person's position that was slightly uncanny at times.
The shower curtain was finally pulled to one side and Tony stepped out, towel positioned strategically around his slim hips. He moved toward Jethro and stopped right in front of the man, hair damp and cheeks pinkened. He smelled of soap and shampoo and Jethro just couldn't help himself. He swiftly reached out and pulled the surprised boy into his arms, embracing him tightly and breathing deeply of the sweet, young scent of the freshly cleansed body.
"Gunny?" Tony's voice was slightly muffled against one broad shoulder.
Jethro eased back slightly and offered a weak, apologetic smile. "Sorry. I guess...I guess I just realized how quickly you're growing up,” he grinned slyly, “and that you won't be a little turd too much longer."
Tony grinned and tipped his chin up. "No. I'll just be a bigger turd. Like *you*."
"Hey!" Jethro barked out quickly but there was no bite to it at all. He began to unscrew the lid to the tube of ointment and watched covertly as the boy drop the towel, reaching with both hands to pull his wounded penis up for easier treatment. The ex-Marine studied the scratch again. "You did wash real good, right?"
"Yes, Gunny," the boy sighed, rolling his eyes.
The man nodded and squeezed a little onto a finger and reached to slowly dab the healing ointment on the injured flesh, careful not to put too much pressure against the red mark. "Does it hurt?"
"A little," Tony confessed, shifting slightly from foot to foot. "Just...a little."
"That the truth?” He frowned, concentrating on he wound. “You've got to be honest with me about something like this."
"I wouldn't lie to you, Gunny," he shifted restlessly again. "Yes, it hurts a little but..."
"What?" Jethro asked without looking up, eyes focused on the task, head bent close to make sure he was covering all the scraped areas. "Hold still, Tony."
"Um," the boy moved nervously again, his hands trying to hold and shield his penis at the same time, "maybe you...maybe you should...um..."
"What?" Jethro muttered without looking up from the task.
"Um..."
Jethro huffed at the response. “Um, what, Tony?”
“Stop,” Tony managed to wheeze.
"Stop? Tony, I can't stop until I…“ Jethro finally realized what was happening. “Oh."
Jethro swiftly removed his hands and got to his feet, moving to the sink so he could wash the creamy ointment from his fingers. He saw Tony's reflection in the mirror and watched the cheeks bloom with embarrassment, knowing neither of them had expected the youth's body to respond to the gentle, caring touch.
"I'm sorry..." The youth’s head was bent downward.
Jethro whirled and moved his face close to Tony's, forcing the green eyes to meet his. "Don't apologize for something you don't have any control over. It’s a normal reaction and it doesn't mean anything. Okay? Now, go get dressed and we can talk some more, if you want."
Tony nodded but still looked unsure and confused. "Okay, Gunny."
Jethro watched him go and shook his head, knowing they'd get past this, too. He took a few minutes to straighten the bathroom, flicked off the light, and moved back to the kitchen, suddenly feeling the distinct need for a beer. He stood by the open refrigerator, twisted off the lid, and quickly took a long drink of the cold ale, feeling the yeasty tingle as it moved past his tongue and into his throat. Closing the door, he moved back to the living room and waited for Tony to reappear, checking several channels on the TV before finally finding and settling on a college basketball game to watch.
As the time continued to pass and Tony remained out of sight, Jethro got concerned and finally went to see if everything was all right with the boy. Arriving at the open door of the guest bedroom, he started to tap on the frame to announce his presence but stopped as he caught sight of the youth, standing like a statue at the foot of the bed. There was no movement, except for the small rise and fall of the chest as the boy breathed, and the slow, reflexive blink of eyes that seemed to be seeing something else, something inward.
"Tony?" Jethro spoke quietly, watching as the youth's head rose fractionally. "You okay?"
"Why did he do those things to me?" He asked without turning around.
The young voice was soft and devoid of emotion and, more than anything, that scared Jethro. He took a step closer, coming into the room, but kept the doorway clear and open, unsure what was going through Tony's mind right now. But if the boy needed to feel safe, he needed to be able to see he wasn't trapped within this room without a way out.
"He was a sick man, Tony," Jethro explained, knowing the truth sounded pretty lame.
"I saw what he did with women," the unfocused gaze dropped and focused on the bed, almost as if he was watching the scene play out before him. "Why would he need to do things with me, too? I was just a little kid. I didn't know what it was all about back then."
"It was his way of exerting his power and control over you..."
"He did that with his belt and his fists," Tony interrupted, voice still empty, dead, like he was talking about someone else. "He didn't need to do it that way, too."
Jethro took another step closer and sat on the edge of the bed, trying to get the boy to look at him. He saw a slight twitch at the corner of one eye. "What are you seeing, Tony?"
There was a tense moment and then, suddenly, Tony was pointing at the bed. "Me."
Jethro closed his eyes and swallowed. He took a deep breath, reopen his eyes, and looked closely at the boy, seeing a small frown appear between the green eyes.
"Do you want to tell me?" He asked quietly.
"No," came the hollow reply, hand moving back to his side, "but…but I think I have to."
Jethro waited, watching carefully, closely, for some emotion to appear and for the words to start. Hopefully, they would arrive at the same time.
"Tell me, then."
Tony nodded absently. "He drank a lot sometimes. He would get drunk and get real mean. I always tried to hide when he was drinking and most times...most times I could stay out of his way and he would forget all about me even being there. He would go away for days sometimes and I would be happy. Hungry but happy." Tony stepped closer to the bed, his body growing stiff and tense. "One night, I was sleeping in the closet when he came home. I didn't hear him, at first, and he found me before I could find a better place to hide. He grabbed me by the hair and yanked me close," he wrinkled his nose at the memory, "and I could smell his breath. He'd been drinking and he was acting real weird." He took another step and stopped, knees brushing against the edge of the mattress. "He pulled me over to the bed, pulled off my underwear, pushed me down, started touching me, telling me he was going to make me feel so good.” He swallowed thickly and rubbed one hand across his mouth. “He...he held me down when I started crying, told me to shut up, hit me. Then, he got on top of me."
The boy's body was beginning to shake slightly and the mouth closed abruptly, lips pressing into a tight, thin line. There was a difference to his eyes now, too, holding some dark, horrible glint that spoke of some barely contained fury, bubbling just under the surface. This was not good.
"He put his dick in me," he gritted out between clenched teeth and then looked directly at Jethro. "Why would a grown man do that to a little kid? He didn't love me, I don't think he even liked me, so why would he do that to me?"
"It had nothing to do with love, Tony," Jethro tried to rationalize.
"I know that!" Tony screamed, finally snapping under the strain, unable to hold it all in any longer. "I know that *now*. Don't you understand?” His eyes were wild with anger. “I know what love is *now* but, back then, when I was little, I didn't know. I didn’t know! It was all I ever had! All I knew! The only kind of attention I got was when he hit me or whipped me or when he…he…."
"Tony, don't..."
"NO!" Tony whirled to scowl at Jethro, his face twisting into an ugly mask. "You can't tell me 'don't'. You weren’t there! You don’t know what it was like! It was all I knew back then, so don't tell me to stop! It was who I was then!"
Jethro inched nearer, waiting, needing to close the space between them, emotionally and physically, as much as possible. Tony's eyes remained locked with his. "You know what real love is now, don't you, Tony? You know how much I love you and how much Candace loves you. Hell, even your grandfather loves you. We would never do anything like that to you. Everyday, we show you what real love is."
"It's not that!" He screamed again and Jethro fleetingly wondered what the neighbors were thinking about this unusual outburst.
"Then, you tell me, Tony," he asked calmly, trying to get the boy to settle some by hearing how soft his own voice was right now. “What is it?”
Tony looked like he was going to yell again but, instead, he moved so he was standing directly in front of Jethro, eyes growing desperate and scared. "What if...what if I can't do it with anyone because of what he did to me? What if...what if he ruined me?"
"Tony," Jethro reached out but flinched when Tony jerked back from the touch. He sighed and ran a hand roughly through his own hair. "What happened with you and Jessie was a fluke. You had a hard-on, you said you wanted to have sex..."
"But I didn't! I couldn't!” The voice was shrill again. “I started to feel sick. What if that happens every time now? What if I always think of him when I'm with someone else?"
"You won't..."
"You don't know that! How can you pretend to know that?!"
"And you don't know that you will," he said just loudly, rising from the bed and stepping close to the boy.
Tony glared up at him but didn't move away. He was breathing way too fast now and his eyes were full of misery, pooling with hot, anguished tears. "I hate him! I hate him for what he did to me. And I hate him for doing it to me still!"
Jethro reached out once again and, thankfully, Tony did not pull away this time. He grabbed a hold of the youth and took the trembling body into his strong embrace, wondering if the child's question could, somehow, hold a measure of truth, if he'd ever be able to have a ‘normal’ relationship with anyone without thinking of his horrible past. The thought almost made the former-Marine double over in agony for the boy. He instinctively pulled Tony up and the boy's legs went immediately around his waist, locking them together into a single, safe unit. Jethro eased down and sat on the edge of the bed, holding, rocking gently, soothing with his presence and his soft words.
Tony's anger was gone and, with it, the tears came again, not hard and rough as before, but soft and silent like a warm, soft, spring rain. It spoke volumes of the boy's fatigue.
"I'm so tired of crying, Gunny," he confessed after a short while, sniffing and rubbing against Jethro's shirt. "I'm just so tired of everything. If this is what it's like to grow up, I really don't think I want to."
Jethro nodded in agreement but knew words of assurance were needed. "Things will get better for you, Tony, I promise. This is just a real rough patch you're going through right now, that's all. And I'll always be here for you."
"You're so far away," Tony whispered grumpily around a yawn. "I don't get to see you unless it's vacation time or you make a quick trip to New York."
"I know,” Jethro sighed, “but that may all change. As soon as I get my training out of the way, I'm hoping to move closer. And Candace said your grandfather was offering to move both of you to the Washington area. We would be real close then."
"I like where I'm living now," he pouted against Jethro's ear.
"Tony, that house is way too big for just you and Candace and your grandfather can help out in ways you can't imagine."
"Why? Because he's rich?"
"Well, yes, that's one reason. He's a good man..."
"He's so old, Gunny."
"Tony," Jethro chided gently and pulled back to make the youth look him in the eye, "you've got to get over the fact he doesn't like baseball. Candace tells me you've gone to the theater and the opera and places she'd never be able to take you. You're seeing things and experiencing things most kids will never get the chance to do. Someday, you'll be glad he did these things with you."
"That's what Candace keeps telling me," he continued to sulk, "but it's real hard to remember when some fat lady is singing in some foreign language that makes no sense…“ he thought of something else and brightened a bit, “or the men are wearing outfits so tight you can see their nuts..."
Jethro had to laugh at *that* visual. "So, you've been to the ballet, too?"
"Yes," Tony grinned. "Guess what we saw?"
"What?"
"The Nutcracker!" He giggled at the title and, like most young boys, loved the play on words.
They both relaxed and Jethro finally eased the boy off his lap, feeling the youth lean against him as they sat side by side on the bed. Jethro put an arm around the slim shoulders and drew him close for one, final hug before rising.
"There's a game on TV and I'm going to fix some popcorn. Want to join me?" He wanted to get them out of this room and away from the conversation.
Tony nodded and rose to follow, tugging up his loose-fitting sweatpants. "Can I fix a sandwich?"
"Sure. Anything you want."
They puttered around the kitchen, Jethro by the microwave and Tony by the sink, each fixing their own snack. When the boy pulled the milk jug from the refrigerator, the man snagged another bottle of beer and, together, they finished preparing what they needed.
Once settled on the couch, Jethro let the quiet sound of the TV settle around them, enjoying a moment of peace with the boy. He glanced over and watched him make short work of the sandwich and knew the smaller hands would be reaching toward the bowl of popcorn real soon. He shifted the container closer to the youth and sighed in contentment, refocusing on the images of the game.
"What did you do while I was...gone?" Tony asked absently, stumbling slightly over his choice of words. "Anything exciting?"
"Wrote a few letters, paid a few bills, made a few calls. Oh," he suddenly remembered one call in particular, "we are going out tomorrow night for dinner...with an old friend."
Tony turned to look closely at the man. "A friend?"
"Yep."
"Man or woman?"
"Does it matter?"
"I guess not," the boy sighed and looked back toward the TV. "So, what happens after dinner?"
"Ah, I guess we'll bring you back here and then we'll go to a club or something."
"So, it's a real date," Tony surmised quietly.
"Yep."
Tony turned fully on the couch and waited until Jethro finally looked at him. "You know, Gunny, I don't have to go out to dinner with you. I'm old enough to stay here by myself."
"This is your break from school, Tony. I'm not going to leave you alone here..."
"Gunny," Tony interrupted and shook his head, "won't your 'friend' be more impressed if you don't have a twelve-year old kid tagging along on this date? I mean, what's that all about?"
"My friend already knows about you and has no problem with you being there for dinner."
Tony frowned and looked away. He fiddled with his empty plate and glass, not really watching the game.
"What is it, Tony?" Jethro asked, seeing something flit across the young face. "What's really bothering you?"
"I...I don't want to go," came the soft response.
"Can I ask why?"
One shoulder rose and fell and Jethro sighed. He grabbed the remote and clicked off the TV, waiting until the boy relented. It didn't take too long.
"I just...I would rather not..” he stammered a moment and then huffed in frustration. “If you're going to have sex, I would rather not know who it is," he finally got out. He sat stiffly on the couch, head down, and waited nervously.
Jethro eyed the boy, not sure what to think. "What makes you think we'll be having sex?"
"Well," the head remained focused on his lap, "that's what the date is all about, isn't it? I mean, that's what we talked about earlier today, right? You said you needed...you know…sex."
Jethro reached out and placed a hand on the boy's shoulder, squeezing gently until the face rose and the eyes met his. There was something in the green depths that confused the man, something strange. He'd seen the look before but never, ever, expected to see it in Tony's gaze.
"Tony," he asked gently, "are you jealous?"
The boy looked quickly away and sighed, shifting uncomfortably on the soft sofa, pulling on a loose thread hanging off the edge of his t-shirt. His fingers played nervously with the thin fiber until Jethro captured them with one big hand.
"Tony?" Jethro pushed.
"Yes," he finally hissed out, sagging back against the couch. "Okay? I...I don't want to meet the person you're going to fuck."
"Tony!" Jethro gripped the hands hard. "You don’t have to say it like that!"
"Well, that's what it is, isn't it? You don't love this person, do you? It's just for sex, that's all," the boy's voice was strained with raw emotion. He finally turned his haunted eyes to Jethro. "I...I don't want to know this person that you will be…“ he caught himself this time, “that you're going to have sex with. I don't want to be around him or her or whoever it is. That person is going to be closer to you than I ever will be and I don't...I don't like it. Okay? I just don't like it."
The confession rocked the man to his soul, hearing and seeing a side to the youth he never expected. He stared at the boy, saw the truth in the young eyes, and realized, in all the time he'd spent with Tony, he'd never thought about what his words and actions meant to the impressionable child.
"Tony," he whispered gently, "what are you saying?"
"I...I love you, Gunny."
"And I love you, too, Tony..."
"No!” Tony was shaking his head. “I mean, I *really* love you. Don't you understand? You make me feel good and wanted and safe and, sometimes, when I masturbate..."
"Don't!" Jethro's arm shot out and a hand grabbed Tony's thinner bicep tightly, effectively halting the words from taking form. He didn't need to hear the rest, couldn't stand to think what it all meant, and needed to put a stop to this foolishness now. "Tony, what you think is love is *not* the kind that two adults have for each other. You look up to me, respect me, and you're confusing that with a physical love. I'm like a father to you, like..."
"I don't know what a father is!" He was starting to cry again, frustrated by his emotions. "Jimmy was the closest, I guess, but he always let me know he wasn't my real father, that he was more like a close cousin. I loved Jimmy but I didn't feel for him the way I feel for you. Don't you understand?"
"Yes, I do," he nodded his head, "but I don't feel that way about you."
The admission was like a blow to the face and, even with Jethro firmly holding his upper arms, Tony jerked back and crumpled, his complexion paling drastically. He sunk back and let his head fall against the sofa cushion at the rear of his skull, all energy draining away. His wet, dull eyes bored into Jethro's.
"You...you don't love me anymore?" He choked out in an anguished whisper.
"I love you more than life itself," Jethro shifted closer, pulling the limp, listless body into a tight embrace, "but not like one adult loves another adult. Not like the way I loved Mike."
"Why not?" The small, dejected voice asked pitifully.
"Because you're still a boy, Tony, and I'm a grown man.” Jethro bit back his frustration. This was *not* a conversation he wanted to be having. “There's too many years dividing us and too many experiences you still need to have before you give yourself totally to one person like that. You have so much more growing to do, so many places to go, so many people who will touch and help shape your life. You've got to be patient, Tony, and give life a chance. One day, you'll understand and one day you'll have what you want. You've just got to be patient."
Tony curled into the embrace and cried softly. "I don't know if I can, Gunny. It just hurts so much right now."
"I know, I know," he comforted the best he could, hugging the boy tight. "For now, you've just got to be satisfied with the way things are between us. One day,” he assured, “everything will make perfect sense to you. I promise."
Tony remained silent for a very long time and Jethro thought he might have gone to sleep, until the smaller head rose from where it had been tucked against the man's shoulder. The former-Marine eased back and looked down into the sad, sweet face.
"You don't hate me now, do you?" The trembling voice asked meekly.
"God, no, Tony. I will always love you, you've just got to believe me. It may not be the kind of love you were hoping for but it's all I can give. It's all I've ever been able to give you. Nothing will change but I'm asking you to respect how I feel and to understand, as best as you can, that it's the only way things can ever be for us."
Tony sniffed and nodded slowly, averting his eyes before speaking. “Okay, Gunny. I'll try."
"That's all I can ask," Jethro smiled slightly and pulled the boy close again. "That's all I can ask."
TBC