- Rough Draft
- Work in Progress
- Abuse - Domestic
- Dark Themes
- Death - Minor Character
- Discussion - Domestic Violence
- Discussion - Murder
- Discussion - Other Trigger Topics
- Disturbing Imagery
- No Beta
- Violence - Canon-Level
- Violence - Domestic
- Action Adventure
- Crime Drama
- Rule 63
Author’s Notes: When I was rewatching the first season of NCIS I had a thought about how Tony and Gibbs dynamic seemed to change when Gibbs brought in Kate and how that affected Tony. Then I went, what if Tony was always a girl Toni and then I thought, what if Toni and Gibbs were unverified Sentinel/Guide pairing and voila, here we go.
There was something, something, something somewhere and somewhere that was around and around was a place that no one had been or would be at today, tomorrow, yesterday or the day before that. It was a confusing place to be at if there was someone there or would be there but wasn’t there, not yet but would be, might be, if there was something there to be at there for. The place, the person, the thing together and not at the same time.
It was hard to wrap his brain around that. But maybe he wasn’t really wrapping his brain around it because there was nothing to wrap his brain around. There was, he knew that, or did, once, before now, before, before before.
The world tilted, street lights shiny, shiny and oh so pretty. He needed to sit down to see them clearer, clearly, better. People hit him and he sat down, went down, sat down really hard. His teeth rattled, shook, smashed together and his brain did a funny little dance inside his head, outside his head, above his head. Somewhere.
It was pretty. Maybe. Maybe pretty but dark too. Dark, dark, dark. Legs, lots of legs. Loads of legs. Moving. Swish, swish, swish. Rubbing against pants, against nothing, legs, two, long, nice shape.
The man looked at the legs, they stopped doing the swishy thing. Stopped, stopped, stopped. In front of his face, in front of him. There, there, there. Then legs bent, a face was there. In his face. Face to face. Pretty. Then noise. More noise.
Pretty eyes. Blue, grey, green. Sky, sea, ocean. Air, water, both. Pretty, pretty. Like jewels. Sparkly. Shiny, shiny, shiny.
“Pretty,” He said, he spoke, words. Words flew. Like birds in the sky. Out. Of mouth, lips, throat. Out, out, out.
The woman had nice eyebrows. They went. Up, up, up. Nice. Shape, nice. They were nice. Nice, nice, nice. Pretty lips. She said, “Yeah, buddy. I think you had one too many.”
Pretty lady with pretty hands took things off of him. He leaned on pretty lady. Soft, soft, soft. She was soft, like clouds. He felt nice. Nice on the inside. Like Mary. Pretty Mary of gold hair. Eyes like a storm. Mary that said he was nice too. He could be nice, nice, nice. Like her. Nice on the inside.
“Feel nice,” He said. Through lips. Mouth. Mouth moving.
Pretty lady smiled. Warm. Safe. Warm. Safe. Warm. Safe. “Okay buddy. How about we call you a cab so you can go home and sleep it off.”
He shook head. Head, head, head that wanted to float. Like a ballon. Away from him. Didn’t want that. Wanted it to stay. Wanted to stay.
Pretty lady took stuff from him. Wallet. His wallet. Old, pop’s. Gift. He really wanted to stay. He really wanted to sleep. Pretty Mary of gold hair said no. He wanted to.
“Home?” Home, home, home. Bed. He liked bed. Bed soft and nice. Feel soft. Nice, like lady with eyes of sky, ocean, sea.
“Yeah, buddy. Just going to get you a cab and you can go home.” Pretty lady said things but he was tired. Tired, tired, tired. Mary of gold hair said it would help. He wanted to feel and he felt. Felt bad and bad and nice and not so nice.
“Hey buddy, you okay there?” He was okay, not okay. Felt floaty. Fly, fly okay. Tired. Mary of gold hair promised. Promised, promised, promised. Feel good, feel okay, feel nice. Felt not so good no more.
“Whoa, hey, hey, open your eyes for me? C’mon pal.” Pretty lady was going away. He was going away. Not felt too nice no more. He wanted nice. He wanted better. Mary of gold hair promised. Better, better, better. “Dammit, c’mon, buddy, don’t conk out on me.”
But he didn’t want to. He didn’t but he wanted to sleep now. Sleep, sleep, sleep. Make better. Make everything better.
“Son of a . . . this is Agent DiNozzo . . . I need an ambulance . . . unresponsive . . . guide,” Words. Words far away. More noise. People. More people. More, more, more. Voices. Many. Dark. Dark was nice. Dark was good. Dark was safe and away from Mary of gold hair and not real promises.