Disclaimer: Sadly, I do not own NCIS, nor any of it's characters.
Authors note: Well here's my seconded fan fic. Another torture timmy I'm afraid. Please R+R!
Broken But Not Alone
He didn't want to go home but he had to. It would only get worse if he stayed at work. He couldn't tell anyone because no one would believe him, they would only laugh. And he couldn't stand that. Nobody had noticed that he had changed, nobody asked, nobody cared. And he didn't want to tell them. He could deal with it on his own.
He walked towards the lift with dread and fear pulling at his gut. Maybe today he would be left alone. Unlikely, he thought as he remembered this morning's departure. She hated it when he went to work, especially when he was called in without warning. He hated her. He hated himself. He hated the fact that he was too weak to leave her, too scared of what she may do.
Bruises. That's all he could expect. He had lost count of the numbers, they were always hidden, no one ever saw them. That was her plan. She had met the team and they had liked her. Well DiNozzo had liked her, the others hadn't said. But in meeting the team she had cut him off, isolated him from their help. They wouldn't believe him.
As expected the blows rained down on him as soon as he got 'home'. He didn't fight, didn't resist he knew that that would only make it worse. Bruises upon bruises. Hopelessness etched into his mind. The punches no longer hurt. Now it was only the kicks that caused him to gasp in pain. He was on the ground, the kicks hitting every covered bit of skin. And then it stopped, and she walked to the kitchen. She was finished for now. He was disgusted with himself. He, a federal agent, couldn't stop himself from return home every night to the abuse, couldn't stand up for himself.
He tried to stand up, and hid the wince of pain the action caused against his swollen and tender skin. She was making dinner as if the previous event had not just occurred. He went along with the game. He knew what would happen otherwise. His body felt cold and clammy. He needed a shower.
In the shower he realised what he had done to upset her. He hadn't kissed her goodbye this morning; he hadn't even been able to look her in the eyes after last night. Yes, he though, yes, this beating he had deserved. He tenderly felt his torso and winced as he felt his ribs. Two fractures. Not too bad. He had had worse. He would be able to hide this punishment.
After the shower, he went and sat in the living room, watching the TV. He didn't write anymore and she didn't like computers. She called him and he walked into the kitchen. He saw her cutting up some vegetables.
"Darling, could you pass me the vinegar?" she asked.
He reached up to the top shelf and gasped at the pain it caused. He brought it down and turned around too quickly. Sharp pain coursed through his torso and he dropped the bottle. It shattered on the floor. She looked at him and anger once more flashed in her eyes. He tried to step backwards but he was frozen with fear. He saw her approach him, the knife still in her hand. Terror now caused through his brain and he couldn't hear what she was saying. His eyes fixated on the knife as it moved towards him and forced itself into his body twice, before falling to the floor. He followed it down. She stood over him with a look on pure disgust on her face before she turned around and left the apartment.
His surroundings started to fade around him. He had to do something now, otherwise he would be here until the team discovered he was missing and as it was his weekend off, by the time they worked it out it would be too late.
He dragged himself back into the living room, ignoring the pain it caused and the stinging from the vinegar. He fought off the darkness as he forced himself upright beside the side table and grabbed the phone. The pain was starting to fade. He was getting cold. He was tired. He pressed 1 on his speed dial, and waited, his eyes dropping shut. He didn't have the energy to keep them open.
The phone rang and he wondered if it would be answered before he passed out.
"What, McGee?" came the harsh voice he knew and trusted.
"B'ss...indsmehlp..." he mumbled.
"What McGee? Say it again." He thinks that he can hear worry in his voice, but he knows that he's imagining it.
"...hlpb'ss..." He tries to fight the darkness once more.
"McGee! Where are you?" He imagines him rushing around his boat, panicking, running to the car, but he knows that he isn't. He don't matter that much. He's probably just fed up with him after his performance over the last week. He hadn't tried to help Tony as he fought their latest arrest. He knew that he would only be a hindrance with the injuries he had kept hidden from the team. Tony had got a concussion, but he had come out worse. He got the contempt from Gibbs, the scorn from Ziva, the disdain from Abby, the guilt from himself and the abuse from home. The only reason he called Gibbs was because he was the only one he had left. Sarah wasn't talking to him after he had thrown her out of his apartment the previous week when he realised that she was coming home. He suddenly realises that Gibbs had asked a question.
"Ok McGee. I'm on my way. I want you to stay awake, ok McGee! Stay awake! McGee! McGee!" He doesn't hear him as he allows oblivion to take over.