"Collateral" - NCIS, Tony/Ziva and more anger, with some resolution
disclaimer: Not mine. Just borrowed them for play. Put them back where they belong.
setting: NCIS, after 7x21 "Obsession". No spoilers for that ep, just early season seven.
warnings & rating: Continuation of Debris, which involved angry!sex, bordering on non-con. This is dealing with it. It is still not a nice story, and it still hurts, but I think it's at least getting them back on the right track.
word count: around 1,400
comments & feedback: very much appreciated.
Collateral
by Sammy
He barely makes it around the corner and to the nearest waste bin before he throws up. His stomach clenches, and his throat hurts, but he isn't sure if that is really just a physical reaction.
Eventually, he gets up and wipes his mouth, and he blinks away the involuntary tears before he takes the elevator down to the parking deck. He feels like he has to run a marathon to get out of here, out of his head, but in the end, he winds up just sitting in his car, feeling numb. Replaying what just happened over and over and over.
*** *** ***
He has no idea how much time has passed when he finally drags himself back inside. He just knows that facing her now will be worse than a lot of things that ever went on between them. Or didn't, really. And he wonders if this has broken them for good.
McGee's head shoots up when he moves to sit down at his desk, and when he sees it's Tony, he breathes a sigh of relief.
"Man, don't ever run off on me like that again!" the younger agent greets him, and Tony looks at him blankly. When he doesn't reply, McGee jumps to his feet and gets in his face. "Don't just vanish on me, Tony! Not when Ziva takes a sick day and Gibbs is God knows where! Why didn't you pick up your phone?"
Tony blinks, then digs his cell out of his pocket and flips it open. Seven missed calls from McGee, one from Ziva, five more text messages from McGee.
He snaps the phone shut and sees McGee's stare fixed on the back of his hand. The four perfect half-moons that Ziva's fingernails have marked his flesh with throb with a dull pain, and he knows that McGee sees the blood she has drawn, but he can't care about that now, not while he rewinds the Probie's words in his head and struggles to make sense of them.
"Ziva went home?"
"Yeah, she looked like hell... Tony, what happened?" McGee asks, interrupting himself.
He blinks, slowly. Processes. Then he turns and picks up his jacket.
"Cover for me, McGee. I need to check something," he says, and McGee protests loudly, but Tony doesn't care.
*** *** ***
She isn't home, of course, and she's not at any of the places he has known her to run to when things get rough, and after almost another hour of looking for her in vain, he calls McGee and orders him to locate her cell phone. The Probie objects for maybe thirty seconds, then Timmy's concern gets the upper hand and he tries.
It turns out that she has switched her phone off, and that makes Tony lose his concentration so effectively that he almost hits another car.
"Hang on, she tried to call me after she left NCIS," he says, pulling the car over, not caring about the angry shouts he gets from the other drivers. He stabs some buttons on his phone and looks up the time and then tells McGee to give him the location where that phone call went down.
*** *** ***
In a freakishly sarcastic way, it almost makes sense that he finds her just east of the Jefferson Memorial.
It also makes sense that she's slowly, deliberately getting drunk. She's already halfway through a bottle of Tequila when he gets there, and judging from the second one that's waiting in the grass beside her hip, it looks like she plans on getting more than acquainted with it anytime soon.
Her Sig is also sitting right beside her thigh, and that is the thing that makes him wary when he approaches her.
He wants to say her name, wants to say anything, really, but his voice doesn't work right, and so he just keeps standing beside her, watching her while she leans back against the broad trunk of a tree and raises her bottle once more. There are grass stains on her pants, and he keeps staring at them while quite different images are chasing each other in his mind.
"Sit down," she finally says with something that could have been a sigh. "You're making me nervous."
Her voice is slurred, and he wants to make a crack about that like he usually would, but that would just sound nasty today, and so he just complies and flops down beside her.
She keeps watching the sunset, not meeting his gaze. Every now and then she takes another swig, and he still has no idea what to say to her, so he keeps watching her in turn. Looks at her face, so lax and blank that it scares him. Forces himself to keep looking at her even when he sees the tears.
"I'm sorry," he says, and she closes her eyes, her face no longer blank, just like that. "I wish I could undo that."
She tries to shrug, but the movement is off. "I should not have let it happen in the first place," she replies.
He watches her, carefully, while her expression slinks back into the numbness she has shown before. He has no idea what to do, how to go back in time half a day and make them laugh and hug instead of sitting here in a silence that cuts worse than every blade he knows.
"This is the first time it actually hurt," she says after a while, and his throat tightens. The sunset paints orange kisses on her face, but Tony feels cold as he gets what she's saying.
"You can hit me, if you want," he says, and he means it - she could club him to a bloody pulp right now and he wouldn't even lift a finger to resist.
"Why would I do that?" she asks and raises the bottle again, her eyelids fluttering while she takes a good mouthful.
He stares at her, and when she licks her lips, he raises a hand. She flinches hard when his fingertips touch her cheek to turn her face towards him, and there is a distinct moment of indecision, but then she opens her eyes and meets his gaze. Her tears are fresh, and his own eyes don't feel too good, either, but he keeps touching her because he can't help it.
"Is that why you love me?" she asks after a while. "Because I am so good at hurting you?"
His insides clench, and he wants to run and hide and get a bottle of his own, but he owes it to her to see this through.
"I could ask you the same thing," he replies, and she takes a deep breath and nods.
Her hand comes up to cover his suddenly, and this time he is the one who flinches and wants to shy away from the touch. His pulse picks up an unhealthy speed when she wraps her fingers around his and pulls his hand from her cheek, down into her lap. She doesn't let go, though, and he finds himself clinging to her touch, too, holding her hand so hard that it surely is close to painful.
"There is this one thing that hasn't changed since Africa," she murmurs. "Sometimes I forget about it, because there are good days and good people, but it never went away completely. I wonder if that will ever happen."
And she falls silent again, but he still gets what she means, and now he remembers when he has seen that blank look on her face before. He stares at her gun in the grass and moves his fingers against hers slowly, carefully, just to check if she is willing to allow it.
She doesn't complain, and she doesn't break his arm, and he supposes that is a good sign for someone who is still ready to die.
"Hit me, if that makes you feel alive," he offers once more, and she turns her head to look at him. He has to work hard to hold her gaze, and what he sees this time feels like being ripped apart tiny piece by tiny piece.
She's crying again, and he is right there with her this time. And then she proves that she really knows her way around inflicting pain because instead of beating him up, she leans towards him and kisses him.
*** *** ***
.
setting: NCIS, after 7x21 "Obsession". No spoilers for that ep, just early season seven.
warnings & rating: Continuation of Debris, which involved angry!sex, bordering on non-con. This is dealing with it. It is still not a nice story, and it still hurts, but I think it's at least getting them back on the right track.
word count: around 1,400
comments & feedback: very much appreciated.
Collateral
by Sammy
He barely makes it around the corner and to the nearest waste bin before he throws up. His stomach clenches, and his throat hurts, but he isn't sure if that is really just a physical reaction.
Eventually, he gets up and wipes his mouth, and he blinks away the involuntary tears before he takes the elevator down to the parking deck. He feels like he has to run a marathon to get out of here, out of his head, but in the end, he winds up just sitting in his car, feeling numb. Replaying what just happened over and over and over.
*** *** ***
He has no idea how much time has passed when he finally drags himself back inside. He just knows that facing her now will be worse than a lot of things that ever went on between them. Or didn't, really. And he wonders if this has broken them for good.
McGee's head shoots up when he moves to sit down at his desk, and when he sees it's Tony, he breathes a sigh of relief.
"Man, don't ever run off on me like that again!" the younger agent greets him, and Tony looks at him blankly. When he doesn't reply, McGee jumps to his feet and gets in his face. "Don't just vanish on me, Tony! Not when Ziva takes a sick day and Gibbs is God knows where! Why didn't you pick up your phone?"
Tony blinks, then digs his cell out of his pocket and flips it open. Seven missed calls from McGee, one from Ziva, five more text messages from McGee.
He snaps the phone shut and sees McGee's stare fixed on the back of his hand. The four perfect half-moons that Ziva's fingernails have marked his flesh with throb with a dull pain, and he knows that McGee sees the blood she has drawn, but he can't care about that now, not while he rewinds the Probie's words in his head and struggles to make sense of them.
"Ziva went home?"
"Yeah, she looked like hell... Tony, what happened?" McGee asks, interrupting himself.
He blinks, slowly. Processes. Then he turns and picks up his jacket.
"Cover for me, McGee. I need to check something," he says, and McGee protests loudly, but Tony doesn't care.
*** *** ***
She isn't home, of course, and she's not at any of the places he has known her to run to when things get rough, and after almost another hour of looking for her in vain, he calls McGee and orders him to locate her cell phone. The Probie objects for maybe thirty seconds, then Timmy's concern gets the upper hand and he tries.
It turns out that she has switched her phone off, and that makes Tony lose his concentration so effectively that he almost hits another car.
"Hang on, she tried to call me after she left NCIS," he says, pulling the car over, not caring about the angry shouts he gets from the other drivers. He stabs some buttons on his phone and looks up the time and then tells McGee to give him the location where that phone call went down.
*** *** ***
In a freakishly sarcastic way, it almost makes sense that he finds her just east of the Jefferson Memorial.
It also makes sense that she's slowly, deliberately getting drunk. She's already halfway through a bottle of Tequila when he gets there, and judging from the second one that's waiting in the grass beside her hip, it looks like she plans on getting more than acquainted with it anytime soon.
Her Sig is also sitting right beside her thigh, and that is the thing that makes him wary when he approaches her.
He wants to say her name, wants to say anything, really, but his voice doesn't work right, and so he just keeps standing beside her, watching her while she leans back against the broad trunk of a tree and raises her bottle once more. There are grass stains on her pants, and he keeps staring at them while quite different images are chasing each other in his mind.
"Sit down," she finally says with something that could have been a sigh. "You're making me nervous."
Her voice is slurred, and he wants to make a crack about that like he usually would, but that would just sound nasty today, and so he just complies and flops down beside her.
She keeps watching the sunset, not meeting his gaze. Every now and then she takes another swig, and he still has no idea what to say to her, so he keeps watching her in turn. Looks at her face, so lax and blank that it scares him. Forces himself to keep looking at her even when he sees the tears.
"I'm sorry," he says, and she closes her eyes, her face no longer blank, just like that. "I wish I could undo that."
She tries to shrug, but the movement is off. "I should not have let it happen in the first place," she replies.
He watches her, carefully, while her expression slinks back into the numbness she has shown before. He has no idea what to do, how to go back in time half a day and make them laugh and hug instead of sitting here in a silence that cuts worse than every blade he knows.
"This is the first time it actually hurt," she says after a while, and his throat tightens. The sunset paints orange kisses on her face, but Tony feels cold as he gets what she's saying.
"You can hit me, if you want," he says, and he means it - she could club him to a bloody pulp right now and he wouldn't even lift a finger to resist.
"Why would I do that?" she asks and raises the bottle again, her eyelids fluttering while she takes a good mouthful.
He stares at her, and when she licks her lips, he raises a hand. She flinches hard when his fingertips touch her cheek to turn her face towards him, and there is a distinct moment of indecision, but then she opens her eyes and meets his gaze. Her tears are fresh, and his own eyes don't feel too good, either, but he keeps touching her because he can't help it.
"Is that why you love me?" she asks after a while. "Because I am so good at hurting you?"
His insides clench, and he wants to run and hide and get a bottle of his own, but he owes it to her to see this through.
"I could ask you the same thing," he replies, and she takes a deep breath and nods.
Her hand comes up to cover his suddenly, and this time he is the one who flinches and wants to shy away from the touch. His pulse picks up an unhealthy speed when she wraps her fingers around his and pulls his hand from her cheek, down into her lap. She doesn't let go, though, and he finds himself clinging to her touch, too, holding her hand so hard that it surely is close to painful.
"There is this one thing that hasn't changed since Africa," she murmurs. "Sometimes I forget about it, because there are good days and good people, but it never went away completely. I wonder if that will ever happen."
And she falls silent again, but he still gets what she means, and now he remembers when he has seen that blank look on her face before. He stares at her gun in the grass and moves his fingers against hers slowly, carefully, just to check if she is willing to allow it.
She doesn't complain, and she doesn't break his arm, and he supposes that is a good sign for someone who is still ready to die.
"Hit me, if that makes you feel alive," he offers once more, and she turns her head to look at him. He has to work hard to hold her gaze, and what he sees this time feels like being ripped apart tiny piece by tiny piece.
She's crying again, and he is right there with her this time. And then she proves that she really knows her way around inflicting pain because instead of beating him up, she leans towards him and kisses him.
*** *** ***
.