Fic: Ambiguous
Title: Ambiguous
Pairing: Er... none?? I suppose, on the other hand, it could be anything. Depends on how you interpret the ending. Tony-centric.
Rating: MA15+… just to be safe.
Warning/s: Angst, angst, angst. Don’t say I didn’t warn you. Sorry in advance!
Disclaimer: Clearly not mine. Otherwise Tony and Gibbs would be a lot more naked.
Word count: Around 500
Summary: This is the way the world ends. Not with a bang, but with a whimper.
Authors note: Because I have a sick and twisted mind with a plot bunny that loves mixing poetry and prose. The summary is a quote from T.S. Elliot’s “The Hollow Men”. The below is a definition from Dictionary.com.
Ambiguous: lacking clearness or definiteness; obscure;
indistinct: an ambiguous shape; an ambiguous future.
Anthony DiNozzo carefully brushed his hair. The teeth scraped lightly against his scalp as he worked, his hand methodically preforming the task as he styled his hair to perfection. Squirting a dollop of gel onto his palm, he rubbed his palms together and went about ensuring that it stayed that way.
Then came the aftershave. Ridiculously expensive, the cool vapour of the spray hit his bare chest so lightly he barely felt it. He counted to three Mississippi’s in his head before pulling on his best shirt. A light green that perfectly matched his eyes, it was faultlessly crisp and only recently ironed. He brushed the lapels down systematically, taking a brief moment to appreciate the pure decadence of the fabric against his skin.
The pants were pulled on next, the material sliding up his legs like a physical caress. A dark grey they were, of course, of the highest quality. The zipper snicked quietly as he drew it up, the button making a barely audible clicking noise as he slid it though the assigned hole.
Mostly dressed, he turned his attention to his hands. His manicure kit open at his fingertips, he worked diligently to make sure that every nail was even, curved and shining. Any residual dirt trapped beneath was scrapped out, and imperfections briskly filled away. His toes got the same treatment. The resulting nails were gleaming, white and perfect. The instant his toes were finished off, he covered them with fine white socks then slid them easily into his most expensive shoes.
At last done, he looked at himself in the mirror and assessed the image gazing back at him. Satisfied, he made his way to the door of his apartment, his shoes tapping all the while, and turned the deadbolt. He went to the phone on the counter next, unplugging it from the wall with a single tug, gently laying his disengaged mobile beside it. Going then to the chest of draws beside his bed, he slid the topmost draw open and took out the revolver lying quietly inside.
There was no hesitation. No pause. He merely lifted the barrel to his temple, glanced at the photograph lying on his pillow, and pulled the trigger.
~Fin~
Pairing: Er... none?? I suppose, on the other hand, it could be anything. Depends on how you interpret the ending. Tony-centric.
Rating: MA15+… just to be safe.
Warning/s: Angst, angst, angst. Don’t say I didn’t warn you. Sorry in advance!
Disclaimer: Clearly not mine. Otherwise Tony and Gibbs would be a lot more naked.
Word count: Around 500
Summary: This is the way the world ends. Not with a bang, but with a whimper.
Authors note: Because I have a sick and twisted mind with a plot bunny that loves mixing poetry and prose. The summary is a quote from T.S. Elliot’s “The Hollow Men”. The below is a definition from Dictionary.com.
Ambiguous: lacking clearness or definiteness; obscure;
indistinct: an ambiguous shape; an ambiguous future.
Anthony DiNozzo carefully brushed his hair. The teeth scraped lightly against his scalp as he worked, his hand methodically preforming the task as he styled his hair to perfection. Squirting a dollop of gel onto his palm, he rubbed his palms together and went about ensuring that it stayed that way.
Then came the aftershave. Ridiculously expensive, the cool vapour of the spray hit his bare chest so lightly he barely felt it. He counted to three Mississippi’s in his head before pulling on his best shirt. A light green that perfectly matched his eyes, it was faultlessly crisp and only recently ironed. He brushed the lapels down systematically, taking a brief moment to appreciate the pure decadence of the fabric against his skin.
The pants were pulled on next, the material sliding up his legs like a physical caress. A dark grey they were, of course, of the highest quality. The zipper snicked quietly as he drew it up, the button making a barely audible clicking noise as he slid it though the assigned hole.
Mostly dressed, he turned his attention to his hands. His manicure kit open at his fingertips, he worked diligently to make sure that every nail was even, curved and shining. Any residual dirt trapped beneath was scrapped out, and imperfections briskly filled away. His toes got the same treatment. The resulting nails were gleaming, white and perfect. The instant his toes were finished off, he covered them with fine white socks then slid them easily into his most expensive shoes.
At last done, he looked at himself in the mirror and assessed the image gazing back at him. Satisfied, he made his way to the door of his apartment, his shoes tapping all the while, and turned the deadbolt. He went to the phone on the counter next, unplugging it from the wall with a single tug, gently laying his disengaged mobile beside it. Going then to the chest of draws beside his bed, he slid the topmost draw open and took out the revolver lying quietly inside.
There was no hesitation. No pause. He merely lifted the barrel to his temple, glanced at the photograph lying on his pillow, and pulled the trigger.
~Fin~