Chapter One

It started like every other evening that had passed since he'd got home from the hospital following a gun shot wound to the shoulder, from a crime scene that went wrong. Gibbs had been stopping by, along with the rest of the team to make sure he had everything he needed – he couldn't drive anywhere with his shoulder still in a sling and still on the Vicodin the doctor had prescribed to help with the pain, so Gibbs was picking him up first thing in the morning for his return to work.

He was going back earlier than planned and would be stuck on desk duty for a few more weeks but despite him hating it with a passion, it still had to be better than staying at home going stir-crazy. He'd watched so many DVD's that he was actually beginning to feel sick at the thought of another movie – which he'd thought would never be possible.

It was 9pm and although he had work in the morning, Tony decided that he'd go for a quick run before showering and heading to bed – the last thing he wanted was to oversleep and have an angry Gibbs to contend with at 6am in the morning.

He quickly changed into some sweats and headed out, not bothering to take anything with him, but the clothes on his back. Later, he would curse that mistake, but for the moment blissful ignorance was his friend.

He started out on his normal route, setting a slower pace than normal so as not to jar his shoulder – he'd have to take some painkillers before bed since he'd found that without them he couldn't find a comfortable position in which to sleep.

The hands that grabbed him came from nowhere and before he could react he was thrown to the floor. He tried to hit out at the figure holding him down, but they'd found his weakness – his shoulder – and were pressing on it to keep him still.

When they pulled at his pants, he froze, realizing that he couldn't get away and that they were able to do whatever they wanted to him and he was helpless…why the hell had he left his gun at home?

Later, he would look back and wonder why he, as a trained NCIS special agent, didn't bite the hand in his mouth and scream for help anyway, why he didn't use his legs to kick out at his attacker, why nobody was on the street when it wasn't even that late and why that man had chosen him to rape.

It was over with in a matter of minutes and once his attacker had fled the scene, Tony got himself up and continued his run as if nothing had happened – he couldn't quite process what he'd just been put through, despite the pain and bruises he was sure would be there once the morning came.

Once he got home he stripped and limped to the shower, he stayed there for a full forty minutes, scrubbing until the skin broke. As he stood under the hot spray, the nights events played over in his head. He didn't break down, he didn't call for help and he didn't care about preserving any evidence on his body, he just wanted that man's scent off him – whatever it took.

It wasn't until he was out of the shower and dry that he realised what he had to do, no clear thoughts went through his head as he took the almost full bottle of Vicodin and chased each tablet down with a glass of bourbon. As the witching hour approached, he was ready to sleep – the pain dulled, both mentally and physically. Sleep claimed him in a matter of minutes.

"God dammit, Tony. If I have to use my key and I find you in bed, I'm gonna be so pissed," Gibbs muttered to himself, as he banged on Tony's door waiting for an answer. He waited another few minutes to give the man time to get out of the shower or whatever the hell he was doing before giving up and using his key.

The apartment was silent, no water running, nothing to signal that Tony was even out of bed. Gibbs stormed his way into Tony's bedroom and cursed under his breath when he saw the man still in bed, sleeping like a baby.

He crossed the room in three easy strides and leant down to shake Tony awake. "DiNozzo! Come on, DiNozzo, I don't have all day," Gibbs shouted, as he shook him. Having been in this situation once before, he knew that Tony was a pretty light sleeper and should have woken once he heard Gibbs' key in the door, but he hadn't and that put an uneasy feeling in Gibbs' stomach.

Looking around the room, he noticed that empty Vicodin bottle. "Great, he's drugged. Come on, DiNozzo, you have five seconds to get up before I leave without you!" Gibbs shook him harder this time, adding a head slap to see if that would rouse his senior agent from his slumber.

When Tony didn't react to the headslap, Gibbs got worried. He took a closer look and noticed how pale Tony was, then how shallow his breathing was. Something was wrong here – very wrong and he couldn't quite place his finger on it, but his gut told him that the next step was to call Ducky and have him check Tony over. Just to make sure that nothing was wrong.

Ducky said he would make his way over quickly, sensing from the tone of Gibbs' voice that he didn't want to be kept waiting.

Gibbs kept shaking Tony until he heard Ducky knock and with a backward glance to make sure Tony would be fine while he went to the door, he let Ducky in.

"What seems to be the problem, Jethro?" Ducky asked, as he followed Gibbs into Tony's bedroom.

"I can't wake him, he's obviously taken some painkillers for his shoulder, but still I'm been shaking him since I arrived and nothing. He looks paler than usual and he seems to be breathing slower."

"I'll have a look at him, but the painkillers probably just knocked him out."

"Yeah, probably." Gibbs tried to feel reassured by Ducky's words, but that niggling feeling in his gut told him that this was more than a deep sleep.

"Hello, my dear boy," Ducky said, grabbing his stethoscope from his bag and listening to Tony's breathing. He frowned as he moved it over Tony's chest.

"What's wrong, Duck?" Gibbs asked.

"You're right about his breathing. Too shallow for sleep. Let me check his pupils." Ducky grabbed a penlight from his pocket and leaned over Tony's unconscious form. Lifting first one and then the other eyelid, he shone the light into Tony's eyes. When he saw the pinpoint pupils, he stopped and reached for the empty Vicodin bottle on the bedside table. "Jethro, these were only filled yesterday, his pupils are pinpoint," Ducky said, unsure how to tell Gibbs what was wrong with Tony.

"Your point, Duck?"

"I'm afraid young Anthony has taken an overdose. We need to get him to Bethesda immediately. Keep trying to rouse him while I call for an ambulance," Ducky told Gibbs, stepping back and reaching for Tony's house phone.

Gibbs' mind raced, he couldn't believe that Tony would ever be so stupid as to swallow a whole bottle of pills. What would be that bad? He could think of nothing that had happened recently that would explain this, Tony hadn't even been depressed when he'd seen him the morning before. He'd seemed pleased to be going back to work. Something else was going on here and Gibbs intended to find out what it was.

He could hear Ducky's voice in the background explaining to a dispatcher how urgent it was that they have an ambulance immediately, though it didn't seem to be happening in the same room. All Gibbs could see and hear was Tony's labored breathing as he fought against the drugs battling through his system.

'Tony, what have you done to yourself? And why the hell did you do it? Why didn't you call me? Come on, DiNozzo, wake up and come back to us' he thought to himself as he continued to try and wake Tony.

"They can't get here for at least fifteen minutes – accident on the freeway," Ducky said, hanging up the phone and breaking Gibbs' train of thought.

"Screw that, I can get him there in five," Gibbs said. "Ducky, I'll carry him, you sit in the back with him and I'll drive." Gibbs threw back the blanket over Tony and went to lift him. Tony was no lightweight, but Gibbs had been a marine and carried men heavier than him out of harm's way in combat, he could sure as hell get Tony to the hospital and start to make sense of it all.

It was when he lifted Tony out of the bed that he noticed the blood stains on the sheet below him. He set him down again and started checking him for any open wounds – maybe that would explain why Tony had taken so many Vicodin. Ducky helped him turn Tony and that was when they noticed the dark stain of dried blood on the back of Tony's pants.

Gibbs' face set as he put together the pieces and realised why his senior field agent had done what he'd done. He'd been raped.