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Reconstructing Tony

by: taylorgibbs (Send Feedback)

Series: - No Series - #1
Chapters: 023 Word Count: 40517
Rating: MATURE
Warning(s): Disturbing Imagery or Content, Violence
Character(s): Jethro Gibbs, Tony DiNozzo
Category(ies): Angst/Drama, Hurt/Comfort
Pairing(s): Gibbs/DiNozzo
Summary: When Tony is attacked and his life hangs in the balance, the team must give him strength. Can Tony overcome the odds?

Author Notes: This is my first posted solo NCIS fanfic. It is pretty intense, so fair warning here! If youlike this, check out my co-written works. My pen name for those is SilverFoxFiles.

Thanks for reading!


Chapters: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15 | 16 | 17 | 18 | 19 | 20 | 21 | 22 | 23

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Chapter One

Chapter One

Thud! Another dull sound as a steel-toed boot impacted with his battered body. Tony squeezed his eyes shut and prayed for unconsciousness. Or death. He wasn’t fussy right now. He just wanted it to end.

Tony hadn’t expected this. He’d driven two hours out of his way for an anonymous sexual encounter. He wanted to get fucked, he wanted a blow job, but not…this. He couldn’t go to DC, or Baltimore, or Philly. He still had too many friends there who might see him outside a gay club and wonder. He couldn’t relax with that hanging over his head.

And now he was stuck somewhere outside Richmond with three homophobes kicking his ass. Literally.

As he left the club, a couple of guys followed him, but that was part of the game. He was alert, he was in top physical shape, he could go a threesome or a moresome. And they were young and fit. He could have a fun night of fucking and sucking.

But they hadn’t wanted sex. They wanted to give him an old fashioned beating. An ass kicking. They wanted to kill him, but only after they’d tortured him. They’d grabbed him and driven him to someplace quiet, a field. Even though he’d struggled, they had overpowered him after bashing his head so hard he’d seen double. His gun and ID were in his car, and he couldn’t defend himself against…this.

Tony figured shock had dulled his pain receptors. They’d fucked him with a stick and then something harder, wider, something that had burned and twisted him inside and out. They’d yanked on his cock, scored it with a knife, for all he knew, they’d cut it clean off. He just felt like a mass of raw meat down there.

After they’d maimed him, they’d put out cigarettes on his stomach and thighs, getting more and more furious when he held his tongue and avoided screaming by sheer will, by thinking of how disappointed Gibbs would be in his weakness.

His head had been slammed into the dirt. They’d pissed on him. Jacked off and forced him to swallow. And they’d all used him, fucking him without mercy or humanity.

Now, they were kicking his ribs and kidneys, one rib had already popped, he couldn’t breathe deeply. Trying to get his boss out of his system was gonna kill him. He was gonna die. He just hoped it’d happen before the pain came back.

“What do you want? My car. I have a nice car. Here, take it. My credit cards? Just please stop.”

A boot came into view, streaked with red and brown. His blood and something else? Mud, he hoped. “You little faggot. Rot. In. Hell.” The boot impacted his face with a sickening crunch and Tony’s world went black.

Some time later, Tony’s world swam back into view. “God…” He tried to curl his body into the fetal position but his limbs wouldn’t respond. His back seemed locked, the muscles completely tense against the ground and his hand was stuck above his head

Tony flexed his fingers and screamed. His hand was stuck to the ground. Something was in it, pinning him to the ground. He tried to scoot away instinctively, but his feet were stuck too. Only one hand was free, The pain came over him in flares, rising waves that threatened to send him to the darkness again. Forever. The human mind couldn’t take this. Tony knew he only had a few minutes of rational though left.

Using every reserve of strength, he reached his left hand down and pulled out his cell phone. They hadn’t searched him, hadn’t even taken his wallet. They wanted him to be found, to be made an example of.

He looked at the names as they scrolled by, his vision brightening and dimming. Abby, or Ziva. Or McGee. Or Ducky? He was a doctor. But he was also a man and Tony couldn’t face that humiliation.

He tried Abby and got her machine, leaving a message anyway. “Abby. Tony. Got fucked up real bad. Think they’re gonna kill me. Come back and…kill me. Just gotta say…bye.”

His eyes fluttered shut again and he gave in to the darkness.

He awoke when they came back for a second round. They’d brought their friends this time. He lost count of how many cocks had been rammed up his ass. All he wanted to do was cry, but his voice had gone a while ago.

Darkness again.

He opened his now swollen eyes. The moon was higher in the sky, it had to be past midnight. The crystal on his phone was cracked but the touch screen worked. In desperation he called Abby again, then Ziva.

“Abby. Tony. Need you. Ziva, need help. Hurt…”

His hysteria growing, Tony started to struggle against whatever had impaled his hand and feet. He didn’t want to die here. Alone! Just for being bisexual. Just for having a crush on the boss and trying to get him out of his system. Gibbs! Gibbs would be so fucking disappointed in him.

He picked up phone again. At least they’d find his body, they could triangulate the signal. And he had an ass full of trace. He started laughing, then tried Ducky’s number. Between chuckles that were turning to sobs, he left yet another message. “Ducky. Tony. Need hurt, Get help.”

His eyes closed, his body overloaded with pain. Time must have passed but he was only remotely aware. He dimly heard his phone ring and fumbled for it. “Help…”

“DiNozzo? Tony!” Gibbs! He’d never heard Gibbs like that before, so upset and emotional.

“Bossman…” Tony blinked. There was Kate, complete with the hole in her forehead, reaching for his hand. Tony tried to smile at her. Something was wrong with her standing there but he wasn’t sure what.

“Thank God! Son, where are you? We’re going to get the locals involved but you have to tell us where you are. We’re triangulating the signal and we know where your car is. Where are you, Tony. Tell us so we can help you, son. We’re coming, Tony. You just hang on.”

“No locals. You guys. Don’t want ‘em to see this. Boss, saw Kate. She’s right here. So pretty… And I’m a mess. She wants to hold hands but mine is stuck…”

He heard a choked sound coming from the other end of the phone. “Don’t cry for me, Gibbs. Doesn’t hurt anymore, except my hands, and feet. Blood and dirt make mud. Hi, Katie. So pretty. Can I go with?”

“Tony, listen to me. You hang on, son. Just keep talking to me. We’re gonna find you, son. Tell Kate she can’t have you. We need you. I need you.”

“Kay, Gibbs. Katie, he wants me. He really wants me. Gibbs…”

He tried to wave Kate away but she turned into one of the rednecks and soon his last hand was pinned to the ground, held in place by a rusty pitchfork. He started screaming and didn’t stop until the darkness came again.

“Go faster! Please drive faster, Ziva. He’s in bad shape.” They had all heard his inhuman howl and Jethro frantic to get to Tony.

When Abby had called Jethro in hysterics saying Tony was in trouble, he’d mobilized the team, who had all been racing to his house anyway. He, Ziva, Abby, and Ducky were in one car and McGee was meeting them in Richmond from his vacation in Williamsburg. Tony’s car was broadcasting a signal from a ditch, nobody was inside. A BOLO had been placed, but their best bet was the cell phone signal.

“Got anything, Abbs?” Her face was tear streaked, her hands shaking on the laptop.

“Not yet, Gibbs. What if we’re too late.”

“Don’t do that, Abby!” But he was worried as well. Tony’s screams were agonizing, the sounds of a dying animal, before his voice had petered out, leaving silence behind. If Jethro strained, he thought he could hear the rattle of Tony’s breath stuttering in his lungs.

And Ducky looked grimmer than Jethro had seen him in a very long time. Even Ziva looked resolute, as serious as he’d ever seen her, her lips pressed together, her knuckles white on the steering wheel.

“Got something. Oh my God, its nearby. I can narrow it to a quarter mile square.”

She started giving directions while Ducky relayed them to McGee. They pulled off the road right near a field. Reacting on instinct alone, Jethro turned to the women. “You two stay here and wait for McGee. In case there’s trouble.”

He would protect them from seeing the body, if they were too late. Shining a flashlight, over the field and the forms of restless cows, Gibbs quickly became frustrated. There were miles of fields and the GPS signal wasn’t accurate to more than a quarter mile.

He cupped his hands around his mouth and let out a long whistle. “Tony! We’re here. It’s Gibbs and Ducky and we’re going to help you. Move, make a sound so that we can get you some help.”

“Please, Tony.” Ducky’s voice and hands were shaking as hard as Jethro’s were, their beams of light wavering wildly.

A shadow a hundred yards away twitched and Jethro ran for it at top speed. When he came closer, he skidded to a stop in horror.

“Oh, Tony. What the hell did they do to you? Who did this?”

The agent was badly beaten, his limbs stretched out in a grotesque parody of the crucifixion but his legs impossibly widely apart. He was drenched in blood and heavily bruised. And he was naked, a coat thrown over him, jeans hardly more than blood soaked strips of fabric . Jethro turned to Ducky, at a temporary loss for words. The horror of what had happened had frozen them both.

“Jethro, get his hands free and wrap them. Use whatever you have. We’ve got to move fast. Tony doesn’t have much time.”

Jethro knew that but it was a grisly task to undertake, especially for a colleague and friend. Sure, DiNozzo drove him crazy but he genuinely liked the kid. He couldn’t imagine what had driven someone to hurt DiNozzo like this. Tortured him.

“Tony, we’re here. We’re right here. The girls are waiting for McGee and Ducky and I are going to help you. My God, Tony. Oh…” He felt tears pricking his eyes and he never cried, hadn’t even cried when Kate was killed in front of him, but Tony’s pain was heartbreaking.

Tony’s eyes fluttered open, hazy, glassy. “Gibbs. You came. The cavalry’s here. Not dying alone. Can go now.”

Jethro nodded, running a finger down the younger man’s face gently, trying like hell not to hurt him. “We’re right here. Stay with me, Tony. I have to get your hands and feet free, Tony. It’s going to hurt and we might lose contact. Can you tell me anything? Who did this to you?”

“Jethro!” Ducky snapped, but he knew that Ducky knew they might not have Tony around later, if he was as bad as he looked.

“Group of guys. Gay bashers. Taught me a lesson.” Tony’s eyes became sharp, focused. “All I wanted was to get you out of my blood, Gibbs. I’m sorry.”

What did that mean, Jethro wondered, his stomach sinking. He’d been responsible for…this? “Okay, Tony. Can you tell us anything else?” His fingers ran over the younger man’s face, hairline, being careful not to touch the bruised areas, but needing to comfort him.

“Black Cat. Downtown Richmond. Wanted a blow job but I got fucked. Royally. No descriptions. Can’t remember. Hurt me too bad. Tired, Gibbs. Need to go with Kate.”

Was the kid saying he was gay?

Not much shocked Jethro anymore but this did. He’d never expected it and now it made sense. He was responsible.

“Shhh. I’m here, Tony. Right beside you. Close your eyes, Tony. I’m not going to lie to you, this is going to get worse before it gets better.”

“Trace, everywhere. Up my ass, in my mouth. Preserve…”

“Shut up and let us save your life, Tony.” Ducky’s voice was soft but still authoritative. “Jethro, go back to the car, get any fabric you can, the cleaner the better. Get a chopper in the air. The only way he’s got a chance is if we get him to DC fast.” As Jethro ran headlong toward the car, Ducky leaned over.

“Tony, this will be a lot easier if I knock you out. Do I have your permission to do so?”

The other man could barely nod. “Thanks, Ducky. Owe you one.”

“And I intend to collect on that so you just rest and feel better, Tony. Help us get these bastards who hurt you.”

Few things in his life had horrified Jethro. Seeing one of his agents so broken had done it. He was freely crying and not embarrassed as he dialed in for a state trooper chopper or a Medivac and ran back to the car. “I need fabric and lots of it. He’s in bad shape. Really bad.”

Abby and Ziva seemed shaken by his emotion. “What happened, Gibbs? Who would do this to him?”

“Gay bashers, he thinks. He’s in and out of consciousness. Poor kid…”

Abby and Ziva were tearing fabric into strips. “How bad is it, Gibbs?” Ziva asked but she had to know from his expression.

“They crucified him with pitchforks, beat him to within an inch of his life. Gang rapes, sounds like. And torture. And that is just what we can see. There’s a coat covering his midsection.”

Abby sniffled openly. “I didn’t know he was coming here, but he called me. Why here?”

“Because he could have been recognized in DC,” Ziva said. She was clearly the most in control of all of them, and that included him and Ducky.

Jethro gathered the strips and started to head back, only to find himself flanked. “No, you don’t want to see this. And Tony wouldn’t want you to see him this way.”

But neither of them were listening, running toward their fallen colleague as fast as they could. When Jethro joined them, he saw that Ducky had removed the implements from Tony’s hands and feet. He’d taken off his own coat and had placed it over Tony’s damaged hands.

“I’ve had a chance to do a quick exam, Jethro. They tortured him. He’ll never be the same.”

Jethro’s mouth went suddenly dry. “What do you mean, Duck?”

“If the boy lives, he’ll have a lot of scarring. They paid special attention to his groin area. I’m not sure what sorts of permanent damage he’s looking at. And I’m certain he has at least one skull fracture. He likely has internal injuries. Not to mention what they’ve done to his…dorsal side and his psyche.”

Jethro couldn’t imagine life without the sarcastic arrogant Tony DiNozzo. Needing reassurance, he leaned in close, feeling Tony’s breath. “Can you hear me, Tony? Help is on the way. You’re safe now. You’re with us now.” He stared out into the dark field. “Get away from him, Kate. We need him more than you do. I need him.”

“Kate? What do you mean?” He’d never heard Abby like this before, not even after Katrina. Her voice was horrified, agonized.

“He says he’s seeing Kate, Abby.” Ducky was working feverishly, bandaging the hands and feet, placing the coat firmly over Tony’s midsection and preserving the little bit of privacy the man still had.

“And you can’t have him, Kate. Dammit! I’m not losing another one! Give him strength, Kate. Help him fight this.”

“Boss?” Another figure came running through the field. McGee! How had he gotten here so quickly? Jethro didn’t even know, but he stepped into the path of the youngest agent. “McGee, you don’t want to see this.”

“The hell I don’t! Tony…” Tim stumbled to a stop, clapping a hand over his mouth. “Oh my God.” He turned away and retched.

“You okay?” Jethro asked and Tim nodded jerkily. “Bag all of this stuff. We’re going to get the bastards who did this.”

“But Tony...”

“McGee!” Jethro gripped the other man’s shoulders, shaking him a few times. “He has Duck, Abby, and Ziva. We have to do our jobs…for Tony. There’s a copter in the air, we’re going to get him some help, but right now I need you focused. Focus, Tim!”

“Yes, Gibbs.” Tim moved around Tony and slipped some gloves on. Jethro was vaguely aware that they’d disturbed a lot of the evidence but right now he didn’t care. Tony’s life was on the line.

“McGeek?” Tony’s voice was soft, pained. “Abbs? Ziva? You’re all here?”

“All except Mr. Palmer, whom I certainly hope is sleeping at present,” Ducky said quietly. It just seemed wrong that Ducky wasn’t relegating them all with a story about this or that. He was too subdued and that told its own story.

A rhythmic rustle signaled a helicopter, sirens signaling the approaching black and whites. Jethro jogged toward the clearing, flicking the car lights on and off. Soon, the local cops had arrived and floodlighted the place, allowing room for the bird to touch down. Jethro mechanically took the lead, briefing the cops, leading the paramedics to Tony.

He was afraid of what he would find.

“How is he?” Jethro asked.

Abby and McGee stood close together, his arms around her. Abby’s sobs were heartbreaking. She’d always worn her emotions outwardly and her pain was palpable. Jethro wanted to pull her close, to assure her that Tony would be okay, but he just didn’t know.

“The same… He hasn’t regained consciousness again.”

“And he might not,” Tim put in.

“Stop it!” Ziva’s voice cut through the night, much more steady than the rest of theirs. “Tony will be all right. He will get through this. Did you all count him up when he had the plague?”

“Out,” Jethro replied automatically. “Count him out.”

“Out. Up! It doesn’t matter. Did you give up on him?” She glared at each of them in turn. “I thought not. So don’t start now.”

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