From the Internet manifesto of Professor Simon Mackenzie, Leader of the Dawn Alliance Group:-
For years, my wife, the government and certain moral authorities have made my life a living hell. I have decided to use my genetic engineering skills to get my revenge on them all. By the time this letter is received by the Washington Post, I will have completed plans that were ten years in the making.
At ten thirty on the 12th December, I detonated a bomb which members of my organisation placed in Georgetown. Within moments, it contaminated the air and water in our capital city. The powder is a virus, which has only one purpose. It delivers a sequence of DNA into your cells, one I carefully designed. On infection, you sought out the nearest suitable person to you, and... Well, you know by now. I foresee that the consequences will shatter the vile hell we call family life, and bring down the moral hypocrisy we call government.
*******
About a month and a half after the release of the Virus...
Tony screamed. His orgasm seemed to ignite fire inside him. Even as he sagged bonelessly back onto the bed, Jethro came inside him with a low groan. That was the moment Tony loved most of all. Something would flare in those blue eyes - a window into the private, secretive part of his lover. The part of Gibbs that, until the coming of the virus, had been tightly controlled and closed off. But the virus had broken open that lonely, desolate place and Gibbs was still trying to find his emotional balance as a result.
They had spent nearly every night together for the past month, and Tony still couldn't believe how great it was. They had never been so good together, seeming to strike the right balance between passion and tenderness, so that their lovemaking had reached new heights. Almost as intense as that first time, yet without the frantic violence of the newly infected.
This time, he had lain on his back, and offered himself to Gibbs, body and soul, spreading his legs wide and pulling his partner down. They seemed to understand each others' needs so much better now. Tony loved having Gibbs on top of him, so that he could watch the other man.
He was getting better at this, which wasn't really surprising, considering he had started with zero experience of being with a man. But already, he knew that he particularly liked some things. Such as positioning his body so that Gibbs could enter him while they were still face to face. Looking into Jethro Gibbs' blue eyes when he came was a new found pleasure. He was agile enough to wrap his legs round Gibbs' body as they had sex. The hedonist in him also noted slyly that it improved the angle of Gibbs' thrusts, intensifying the sensations he generated.
How could he ever have thought Gibbs cold and unfeeling? The depth of passion he saw in his partner's blue eyes stunned him. And he knew that Gibbs was beginning to let down his guard with the younger man. When they had first become lovers, both of them had been wary of each other, more hesitant and half-afraid of their true feelings. Maybe it was biological, but it was still astonishing.
What Tony saw growing slowly in Gibbs' eyes as their relationship developed was the beginnings of joy and trust. He didn't know what to make of it, but it was fascinating to see that hopefulness grow in his lover. Jethro Gibbs must have been hurt badly some time in the past to be so slow to lower his defences, but Tony hadn't asked him about it. If he decided to tell the young agent about his past, it would be when he was ready; Tony knew when to keep his mouth shut.
Both of them lay still after orgasm, Gibbs still buried deep within him. Tony felt his lover's breathing gradually slow, as his body relaxed in post-coital languor. He didn't seem inclined to move. They lay, as close as they could be to each other, utterly content, for a long time. It wasn't always about sex these days. Sometimes they just lay in each others' arms, enjoying a moment of intimacy. Again, Tony got the feeling that it was a luxury that Gibbs had long denied himself.
Tony finally found the strength to open his eyes again. He found himself looking up into Jethro Gibbs' intensely blue eyes, directly above his. Not for the first time, it struck him how odd the last month had been, for them both to end up in this situation.
"Come here often?" he grinned up at Gibbs. The older man's lips curved in that tiny, subtle Gibbs-smile that meant he was quite aware of the humour of the situation.
"I seem to have been spending a lot of time here recently," he acknowledged.
"You've found your comfort zone," Tony observed. Again that small hint of a ghost of a smile. Tony was learning to read Gibbs' moods far better than ever before, perhaps because he seemed to be spending so much time up close and personal with the older man. There were subtleties to Gibbs that he had never noticed before.
"Yeah. I have." There was a world of irony in his voice - Gibbs admitting he found their developing relationship just as strange as Tony did. Then, more considering. "Do you want me to move?" Tony shook his head. Having Gibbs' body on top of his, fitting so snugly against him, was nice.
"I like it," he admitted with a slight blush. "All of it... I didn't think I would, but you've persuaded me with the er... force of your personality." Gibbs had always called the shots in their relationship and Tony was happy with that.
A spark of amusement deep in those blue eyes. Then Gibbs lowered his mouth and placed a butterfly-soft kiss against Tony's cheek. Unexpectedly gentle. Making the younger man gasp. Another, and a third. Feather-light, soft kisses that began to trail their way down Tony's neck. The younger man moaned and arched into Gibbs' touch, and the older man saw his eyes turn dark with need, pupils expanding, even as his legs wrapped themselves around Gibbs once more. Tony realised for the first time that Jethro wasn't just having sex with him; this was making love. Something far more intimate and meaningful.
Gibbs was a study in contradictions. Tony loved being close to him. He loved the man's fierce concentration, the way he knew exactly what he wanted and went all out to get it. Gibbs' fanatical determination to solve a crime was familiar to Tony, but having that intense focus directed towards him with the sole intent of giving him pleasure - that was something entirely new.
Now, Gibbs was beginning to show him more of that secretive inner self that he kept hidden from all the world. The part of him that had been so scarred and damaged by the loss of his first wife and his disastrous subsequent marriages. Tony still didn't know the details of those disasters.
Could a man's character change? Tony didn't know. But it seemed Gibbs was changing. In the past few weeks, for example, Tony and Gibbs had found their own very private ways of relieving stress. Sex every day was having its effect on Gibbs. Not only was he far more relaxed, but he was fitter than he used to be. All that extra exercise...
He was a demanding and passionate lover. But today he had shown a tenderness in his lovemaking that was both unexpected and welcome. For Tony, insecure and desperate for approval, those moments were something to treasure.
*****
The sound of Gibbs' cellphone at 5 a.m. pulled Tony out of a deep, dreamless sleep. He was beginning to resent the sound, since it often meant an end to their intimacy and a call to work. He muttered something uncomplimentary and heard Jethro laugh quietly, close behind him. The older man's hand reached across Tony and snagged the phone from the side of the bed.
"Gibbs," the older man snapped into the phone. He listened for a few moments then swore softly. "What? Another one? Call Ducky. We'll meet you there, McGee." With a sigh, he rolled away from his so-comfortable position pressed up against Tony's back and sat up.
"Trouble, boss?" Tony asked sleepily. It must be bad for them to be called in, but then, the search for the terrorists had drawn a blank whichever way they turned and the whole team were feeling frustrated. Maybe a straightforward murder was what they needed, to gain perspective. There were plenty such cases these days, at least two a day, almost always due to partner jealousy or defensive reactions gone wrong, and the NCIS was swamped..
"Multiple killing. Georgetown. A sailor from the Eisenhower and his wife." Tony groaned. "Time to get up, lazybones." Gibbs was wide awake already, and Tony could only envy the way that Gibbs could go from sleep to full alertness in seconds - must be a marine thing. Then he yelped as Gibbs slapped his naked rump firmly. "Up, Tony!"
"You'll be sorry for that!" The young agent muttered under his breath, pretending to ignore the amused look his partner gave him. He scowled; some days he was nostalgic for the head-slaps. He did however scramble out of bed and into his clothes as quickly as he could. "Have we at least got time for breakfast?" Gibbs just looked at him, not needing to say a word, and Tony gave a theatrical, long-suffering sigh.
Then Gibbs hesitated. "Before we go, there's something I wanted to ask you, Tony. You don't have to answer now. Just think about it." At Tony's quizzical expression, he smiled. "Move in with me! You seem to be spending most of your time here anyway, so why not move in permanently?" He saw the surprise in Tony's green eyes. "I'd really like you to..." He sounded hesitant and unusually for Gibbs, nervous.
"We'll talk later," Tony said softly. He couldn't quite suppress his grin though and he saw the answering spark of amusement in his lover's eyes as he read Tony's mood. But business came first.
"All right," Gibbs said. "We have to go..."
"I know." Tony purred. "Later..."
*****
In all of his years as an investigator, Gibbs knew he had never seen such a mess at a crime scene. The killer must have been in a frenzy - Ducky had estimated that each of the two corpses had been struck over two hundred times, by something like a poker or iron rod. With each blow, after the first half dozen or so, cast off blood droplets from the bloody weapon had arced through the air. The walls and ceiling were horrifically spattered with blood. The directionality of the blood spatters told the whole story - someone who hated these two with an intensity bordering on madness.
Tony and McGee were busy photographing and sketching the crime scene, whilst Ducky pushed a liver probe into the remains of the sailor to estimate the time of death. McGee looked like he was going to upchuck. Even after a year working with Gibbs' team, there were still sights that could turn his stomach. The heads had been pounded to mush - it would take days of work for Ducky to reconstruct the victims' skulls.
It did look like a typical partner-rage killing though. Probably the old, old story - the eternal triangle - with a modern twist. The Eisenhower had docked yesterday morning, back in Washington for the first time since the release of the virus. NCIS had expected trouble and Gibbs had been placed on call. What was likely was that a sailor returned home to find his wife with a lover - pair bonded to another man - and the guy had lost it and killed them both. Gibbs shivered. If the pattern of previous cases ran true, the bereaved partner would sooner or later suicide - messily - taking as many others with him as he could.
He needed coffee.
"DiNozzo!" Gibbs bellowed.
"Yes, boss!" Green eyes regarded Gibbs with humour. The older man had determined, early in their imposed partnership, that he would do his young lover no favours while they were at work. If DiNozzo had other ideas, well that was just too bad! Still, he could really do with a coffee right now, and the younger man hadn't had breakfast...
"When you're finished there, go question the locals. And get me a coffee from that diner across the street." Gibbs saw Tony's eyes gleam; his train of thought entirely predictable. Food! "Oh, and take McGee with you before he pukes!" Gibbs rationalised to himself that he was going to be at least another couple of hours at the crime scene so he may as well get a coffee boost. Nothing to do with pleasing Tony. Nothing to do with letting down the icy cold façade he presented to the world and letting a little affection show for the young man who shared his bed and his life...
"Anything for you, boss." Gibbs' mouth went dry when he saw Tony's smirk. When Tony spoke to him in that tone, images of the younger man sprawled wantonly across his bed rose irresistibly into his mind. Reluctantly, he dragged his mind out of the gutter where it was delightfully wallowing.
"DiNozzo…" he said sternly. A quick pout and then the younger man was gone. Ducky chuckled from across the room, where he had just helped Palmer bag the first body.
"You and young Tony seem to be comfortable in your relationship these days," Ducky observed.
"We try to keep the personal stuff at home, Ducky."
"Not easy when you both work together, Jethro."
"So I should assign him to another team? I don't think so. I feel more comfortable if I can keep an eye on what he's up to."
Ducky seemed to debate with himself for a moment.
"They're working on a cure you know. A vaccine against the Partner Virus. A lot of people in Washington's scientific circles are pushing for it to be given to the whole of the population, once it's perfected."
"Isn't that like closing the stable door after the horse has bolted?" Gibbs shook his head. "It isn't like the past month can be forgotten easily. A lot of people have picked themselves up and moved on with their lives." He glanced towards the door where Tony had disappeared. "Maybe they should just leave well alone."
"There are things about the virus that haven't been made public, Jethro. I can't talk about it, not even to you. But you should take the vaccine. Trust me on this." With that enigmatic comment, he followed Palmer out to the autopsy van.
*****
"So would you like a bacon roll or an Egg McMuffin? All of that lovely greasy cholesterol. It smells really good, doesn't it?" Tony indulged in his favourite sport; McGee baiting. Some days it was just too easy. Like now, when the younger agent was turning an interesting pale green colour. Still, sometimes McGee could surprise him.
"Aren't you going to get the boss his coffee?" McGee snapped back. "He'll kick your ass if you don't." He paused and his eyes narrowed. "Then again, maybe you want him to. Didn't you tell me the other day that you were nostalgic for the head slaps now that he had your butt to aim at? Who knows what goes on behind closed doors, these days?" It was Tony's turn to glare back at McGee.
"Jethro would never let his personal life get in the way of work, probie. I'm surprised at you."
"Jethro?" McGee raised an inquiring eyebrow. Tony took refuge in dirty tactics.
"This bacon sandwich is really greasy, probie. Swimming in fat. Smell that!" He wafted the roll under McGee's nose and saw the younger man blanch satisfyingly. With a visible effort, McGee straightened up and gathered the shreds of his dignity together. Tony chuckled. McGee was learning, and becoming a better agent with every passing month. Soon, he might even merit "Tim" instead of "Probie," although Tony would toss in the occasional reminder to keep him on his toes. Oh yes, and McGee would have to call him sir a lot.
His humour restored, Tony bit into the bacon roll with considerable enthusiasm; though he was starving, he had no wish to keep Gibbs waiting too long. Though his lover's tolerance was greater these days, there was a fine line that Tony preferred not to cross between Gibbs irritated and Gibbs pissed. At least in the old days, he could walk out the door at the end of his shift and escape. Now, if he pissed off Gibbs, he would have to face the growled monosyllabic conversations and slammed doors at home too.
Home. He grinned. He was going to move in with Leroy Jethro Gibbs on a permanent basis, and any day now, one of them was going to mention that word they had both been oh-so-carefully avoiding.
Love.
Well a guy could dream...
Unexpectedly, the mouthful of bacon he had just swallowed hit Tony's stomach and instantly curdled. Or that's what it felt like, anyway. Before he could even think about what he was doing, Tony was running for the restroom, his stomach churning. The next thing he knew, he was on his knees in the men's room, leaning over the john, vomiting up everything he'd eaten in the past millennium. He was distantly aware of McGee somewhere behind him, making worried noises, but Tony didn't care.
All he could think about was the great and overwhelming urge to throw up everything. Other impressions crowded into his brain; the cold porcelain under his fingers, the smell of disinfectant, the small squares of tile on the walls. Strange how his mind clutched at these impressions as a distraction from unpleasantness, so that they assumed a crystal clarity in his head. He swiped a hand across his forehead; it felt clammy with cold sweat.
"Tony..?" McGee sounded gratifyingly worried.
"S'okay..." Tony managed. "Bad roll maybe?" A fresh wave of nausea swept over him and he moaned miserably.
"You want me to... to... get Gibbs?" Now, McGee sounded really worried. Tony smiled weakly. Like Gibbs was going to come running to hold his hand!
"Sure probie. Go ahead." He'd love to be a fly on the wall for that conversation. McGee scurried off, leaving Tony alone in his misery. A third bout of vomiting took his attention for long minutes.
What the hell was wrong with him? He hadn't been this sick since the spring break he'd been persuaded to drink half a pint of chilli flavoured vodka. He hadn't eaten anything unusual and he knew Gibbs' kitchen was spotlessly clean. He supposed it could be a bug of some sort. Three or four weeks ago, he had felt under the weather - for days he had felt tired and had stomach cramps - but that was ages ago.
Perhaps he should splash some water on his face. He started to stand, then froze. He wouldn't have noticed the slight reddish stains in the mortar between the brown limestone tiles if his face hadn't been close to it, but he realised the implications immediately. The men's room was immaculately clean, yet here was fresh blood - it hadn't even browned with age yet, so it was only a few hours old. The killer had been here, and he had probably been sick too. The mark was just about the size of a hand-print, and it was right next to the place Tony had steadied himself when he too was puking.
Customer or staff?
No, wait a minute. Whoever had killed the two people across the street had to be covered in blood. Tony couldn't see a blood soaked killer walking through the diner. Unless it was closed for the night. Which meant...
The only warning he had was the slight scuff of a shoe on the floor behind him, but it was warning enough for him to turn towards the sound, so the iron pipe smashed down onto his shoulder instead of his head.
*****
The crime scene analysis was proving to be a real bitch. Gibbs had found at least twenty sets of fingerprints in the room - apparently the victims weren't big on cleaning their house. Not that there were many surfaces free from blood in this part of the house.
"McGee!" he bellowed, when he saw the young agent coming through the doorway. "Where the hell is my coffee?"
"Uh boss..." McGee had something on his mind, but he was too nervous to say it.
"What?" Gibbs' glare had been know to make grown men cry.
"It's Tony. He's sick. He's throwing up in the bathroom in the diner." McGee looked apologetic.
"And you left him there? You're supposed to back up your colleagues!" Gibbs glowered at McGee. "Oh never mind. I'll check on him myself. You can start a blood pattern analysis."
Gibbs found his annoyance growing as he strode across the street and into the diner. Give DiNozzo an inch and he took a mile. He had probably eaten too much of that greasy crap he seemed to love. Next time, McGee could get the coffee! He spotted the sign for the john, and headed for the back of the diner.
"Tony?" he growled. "You in there?" He shoved at the door but it refused to move. There was no answer, and he started to turn away, then swung back in alarm as the sound of a gunshot echoed through the diner.
He hit the door as hard as he could with his shoulder, once, twice and staggered inwards as it gave way beneath his determined assault. A horrifying sight met his eyes. Tony was sprawled on the floor, his face deathly-pale, his gun on the floor beside his right hand, and his forearm twisted at an unnatural angle, obviously broken. A man Gibbs had never seen before, wearing a cook's apron, was about to bring an iron bar down on Tony's defenceless head.
Something dark and savage woke inside Jethro Gibbs' mind - pitiless and cruel - with no mercy for Tony's attacker. In one swift motion, he slammed the cook into the wall with no thought for his own safety. Then the iron bar was in his hand and he was bringing it down again and again on the man's head, feeling it turn spongy beneath his blows.
The darkness claimed him for a long time after that.
*****
Tony drifted somewhere grey and pain-filled for a while. There had been horrendous pain and he guessed that he had passed out for a while. The details though were a bit fuzzy. He would have like to stay in this nice place where he didn't have to care about anything and where the pain was much less, but it wasn't to be.
"Boss..? Boss... Please boss..." The voice was McGee's. He sounded terrified. Was Jethro there too?
"Wha? M'Gee..." Tony mumbled. He opened his eyes and tried to make sense of the scene in front of him. He thought for one brief moment that he had been transported across the road to the crime scene - blood was spattered everywhere. McGee was standing by the door, his gun held in trembling fingers. And Jethro. The older man was standing next to a lump of red that might once have been a human being. His face and clothes were splattered with blood and his eyes... His normally blue eyes were all darkness - pupils hugely expanded.
"Tony!" There was such relief in McGee's voice. "You're alive!"
"S'observant, probie! Wha' happen'd?"
"You were attacked! Gibbs took your attacker out before he could finish the job." He faltered. "I've heard lots about partner-defence rage before but I've never seen it! I think Gibbs took that bar off your attacker and beat him to death with it."
"Yeah. That fits. He broke my collar-bone with it, I think. My arm too when I tried to use my gun." He looked up at his partner. "Jethro?" The older man just stood there, swaying slightly, his eyes empty of anything human.
"He's really out of it," McGee said. "He wouldn't let me anywhere near you. I don't think he even recognised me!" He glanced uncertainly at his drawn gun. "I was thinking I might have to wing him in the shoulder or something..."
"You do and I'll put that gun somewhere a proctologist wouldn't find it for a week!" Tony snarled, his own protective instincts flaring. He put his left hand against the edge of the washbasin and tried to pull himself to his feet. He had to bite back a whimper of pain as the movement made something grind together in his shoulder. He managed to get one leg under him, and half-kneeling, he swayed unsteadily
"Jethro!" He gasped his lover's name. No reaction. With a moan, he forced himself to stand. Pain flashed through his arm, ten times worse than before and he couldn't suppress the sob of agony this time.
It was that sound, not speech, that finally penetrated the darkness in Gibbs' mind. Tony saw his lover's head turn towards him and stumbled in Gibbs' direction. The iron bar fell from Gibbs' fingers. Then Tony's foot slipped in some of the blood smeared across the floor and he started to fall forwards.
Strong arms caught him before he had fallen more than a few inches. Tony whimpered as his injuries were jarred. Then he was being gently held and supported, in Gibbs' arms. He pressed his forehead dizzily against Gibbs' shoulder, finding himself unable to stand without his lover's help.
"I've got you Tony." The back of his head was gently stroked. Tony felt a soft kiss on the top of his head. "You're safe now, love." The young agent clung to his partner with his good hand, heedless of the blood on Gibbs' jacket. He grinned, despite the pain. Had he really just heard Jethro admit his feelings?
"Yeah, I know..." Tony mumbled. "Jus' don' let McGee shoot you... Love you too..." he whispered the last.
He fainted again, but this time as he fell into the darkness, he knew Jethro would keep him safe.
******
Report to Senate Investigative Committee making enquiries about the so called "Partner" virus: 2007
Partner rage is a unique and involuntary biochemical reaction experienced by an individual in a partnership when their partner is threatened. Basically, the brain is flooded with a cascade of hormones associated with extreme aggression, and at the same time, adrenaline is released into the body in massive amounts. The affected individual then typically attacks the perceived threat until it is removed. The partner has no control over this reaction, which resembles the reaction of mother animals defending their young or males defending a herd.
After the defence reaction ceases, partners will typically be drawn to touch each other, reassuring each other and exchanging scent and taste information, which we believe acts as a stimuli for returning the body's biochemistry back to normal.
Guilt and shame are frequently met with in partners who have acted defensively. Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder is a possibility.
******
Gibbs lifted Tony bodily in his arms and carried him out of the damn restroom, bellowing to McGee to bring the car round to the front. Then he had made the young agent drive them at breakneck speed to the closest hospital, Bethesda, all the while, cradling his unconscious lover in his arms. He hadn't wanted to let go, and he probably couldn't have released his death-grip on Tony anyway. He needed to feel Tony's chest rising and falling as he breathed, and the strong, slow heartbeat of the younger man. He needed to know, deep down inside him, that Tony was alive.
He had known from the frightened expression on McGee's face that the young agent doubted his sanity, but most of his attention had been on his partner. How inadequate that word was for the relationship they were developing. He felt incomplete these days without Tony by his side; not just in his bed, but as a companion. They had such different perspectives on life, and some of the conversations - and intellectual arguments- they had were fascinating to Gibbs. So passionate. He loved it all. He hadn't known how lonely he had been until now, when he had Tony. But more than that, there was a soul-deep need for his partner that Gibbs couldn't have put into words.
Ducky had met them at the hospital, and it had taken both McGee and the old doctor to restrain Gibbs before he would let the medics work on Tony. He had insisted that Tony stay within his line of sight at all times, and in the end, they treated him in a room with a glass window while Gibbs stood guard outside. Finally, all the x-rays had been completed and they had bandaged Tony up, dosing him with pain medication, and he could finally, finally sit next to his lover and take Tony's hand in his and hold it tight...
Yeah well, he guessed that he had lost it for a while at that point.
Much later, he remembered Ducky's hand on his shoulder.
"You need to clean up, Jethro. McGee has a change of clothes for you, and I'll watch Anthony while you do that." The old doctor's voice was unexpectedly gentle. Gibbs forced himself to focus on his surroundings.
He realised that part of the reason the medical staff were treading so warily around him was that he looked like he had come out of a slaughterhouse, and he fled to the nearest bathroom to clean up. And somehow, it had taken far longer than he had anticipated, for him to scrub his hands and face clean of blood. He felt soiled. Unclean.
Gibbs didn't know what he was going to do now. The virus had given him a sexual appetite which Tony was only too happy to relieve. At first, he had thought himself incredibly lucky, the way things had worked out. Then Tony had been threatened, and he had come to his senses, standing over the ruin of a man's body, with a bloody pipe in his hand, unsure of how he had come to be there... The virus triggered animal instincts; sex and aggression. And today, it had plugged itself into his brain and flicked a different set of switches inside it; not the familiar sexual responses but something far more deadly.
As he stalked back down the corridor to Tony's room, dressed in some borrowed surgical scrubs, he could see that most of the medical staff were trying to hide the fact that they were watching him warily, like there was a predator in their midst. He scowled and was aware that several heads ducked out of sight to try and stay inconspicuous. The grapevine being what it was, they all knew that he had killed a man more or less with his bare hands, to keep Tony safe.
Beaten him to death, actually.
He clenched his fists to stop them trembling. He would do the same thing again without hesitation to save Tony. But still. The legendary partner rage had taken him and swept him along, and he hadn't even tried to fight against it. He had fallen into a killing rage, and had annihilated the bastard. What bothered him most was that he hadn't stopped hitting the guy once he was dead, though he had known in some small corner of his mind that the cook was no longer a threat.
His arm, like a puppet whose strings were being pulled by the virus, had continued to drive the pipe down onto the guy's head long after he was dead. Long after the skull had turned to pulp beneath his onslaught. Long after it had turned soft and spongy under the relentless blows he had rained down on it, splattering brains and blood across him. He remembered every blow with crystal clarity – the way blood and brain matter had splashed across his face and arms; the rich coppery smell of it.
He didn't want to remember that, but it wouldn't go away. Why did he have to remember that? The dark, merciless killer inside his head that had roared in triumph and joy, at the slaughter of the one who had threatened the man he had learned to care for so deeply.
Of course they were afraid. They all had the same capacity for violence that he did, inserted into their cells by the Partner Virus, and in him they saw that potential realised. If he had killed a perp with his gun, in the line of duty, nobody would have cared. But using his hands? Apparently, he had crossed some invisible line between acceptable and horrifying. Killing in cold blood was fine. But killing in hot blood...
Well, they would have to live with it, just like he did.
*******
Tony decided that there were worse things in life than lying in bed, or should that be floating, feeling all warm and fuzzy and doped to the gills. He had opened his eyes to find himself in the familiar confines of the hospital at Bethesda, his arm and shoulder swathed in bandages. He was a little fuzzy over how he had gotten there though. He vaguely remembered the motion of a car; the intense pain of his shoulder; the strength of Gibbs' arms around him.
He smiled to himself. Jethro had finally used the word love about their relationship. He hadn't forgotten that.
A sound made him look towards the door and his smile turned into a welcoming grin. Gibbs stood there, his long, legs and strong body silhouetted against the light. He saw Tony was awake and a warm smile flashed across his face, filling Tony with contentment. They were partners, and he was just beginning to realise how deep a commitment that was. He reached out his left hand towards Gibbs. The older man moved slowly forward, more hesitant than usual, then leaned over the bed and kissed him. Tony melted into the kiss with a sigh. After a few minutes, Gibbs leaned his forehead against Tony's in an echo of last night's intimacy.
"I thought I'd lost you..."
"I'm not that easy to get rid of, boss." Tony tried to make light of the whole incident, but then he realised that Gibbs was shaking. He was gathered into the older man's arms and held close, Gibbs strength enfolding him. Tony could feel how tense his partner was, like a coiled up spring.
"Jethro?"
"What I did... God! So much blood..." He made a sound suspiciously like a sob. His fingers tightened painfully over Tony's, and the young agent realised that Gibbs was more deeply affected by his actions that anyone realised. But as he held Tony, the young agent heard Gibbs' breathing become less ragged, the shaking diminish. Soft kisses brushed against his forehead.
"I'd do it again Tony. For you..." Tony laid his head on his partner's shoulder, a non-verbal gesture of trust which seemed to reassure the other man. Tony didn't speak. There was no need for words when he was in Gibbs' arms. The older man's fingers stroked gently through his hair and Tony sighed in pleasure. He could feel Jethro relaxing too, his breath steadying, the tension leaving him. Just being close to each other relaxed both of them. Their physical relationship had always been incredibly good. It was just the rest of the time that they seemed to get into difficulties. Well they did say that the best relationships needed some effort between partners. Tony smiled.
"I hope that offer you made this morning is still open boss. Because with my arm out of action, I'm really going to need some help with those fiddly little jobs. There are some things you really need two hands for..."
"Uh-huh." Gibbs' lips brushed against his forehead. "I seem to remember you have a very versatile mouth, DiNozzo. Perhaps you can use it to compensate..."
"You think!" Tony murmured drowsily. "We'll see..."
******
Epilogue
******
Ducky stared at the piece of paper in his hand with a heavy heart. He really wished that he didn't know what it said. As if he could wipe away the knowledge just by wishing it to go away. It wasn't the first such document he had held, but Tony was the first one he knew personally.
Damn Mackenzie and his crazy ideas!
A rare beast indeed, the terrorist leader was a sociopathic transsexual who had chosen to revenge himself on the society that had unjustly rejected him. Not only had he wrecked the institution of marriage and pretty much forced the US government to legitimise same-sex relationships, but the mad bastard had to go one step further...
Ducky thrust the Top Secret paper deep into his desk drawer and locked it away. He had a little while yet. Tony wouldn't be working for a few weeks, until his shoulder healed. Ducky could probably confine him to light duties for a month after that. By then, he might know what to do for his young friend and the hundred or so other young men reportedly in the same situation, because their condition would start to show.
The evidence from Tony's blood test was irrefutable.
Mackenzie had found and activated a gene sequence for male pregnancy.
******
End of Partners 4/4
Author's Chapter Notes:
The climax! Not where I was expecting to go, but the muse of inspiration leads where she will, and she is notorious for her warped sense of humour…
Chapter End Notes:
In my continuing quest to have NCIS enter X Files territory...