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Pairing: Jimmy Palmer/Tim McGee
Prompt: Story 07
Disclaimer: This is entirely a product of my own imagination, and I make no profit from it. I do not own the lovely Jimmy Palmer or Tim McGee, unfortunately, just borrowing them for a while. Please do not sue.
***Jimmy came to slowly, feeling as though he was swimming up out of a dark sea that kept trying to suck him back into that blackness again. He blinked, wanting to close his eyes and sink back into that darkness, but knowing that it wasn't a good idea.
Where was he? He couldn't sense Tim anywhere near him; as consciousness slowly returned, he remembered what had happened in bits and pieces, the realization that he and Tim had been taken prisoner sweeping over him like a cold wave.
Finally, he forced himself to open his eyes, taking a deep breath and turning his head to look around him. The motion sent a knifing pain through his head; he'd apparently been knocked out by a blow. He could only hope that he didn't have a concussion to show for it.
He wanted to raise a hand to his head to probe the injury and find out if he was bleeding, but he couldn't move his arms; it took him a few moments to realize that his wrists were bound above his head, and that his ankles were chained to the floor several feet apart.
Why was he bound like this? And .... Jimmy swallowed, another realization sweeping over him and filling him with dread. He was naked. Why was he naked? Why would somebody tie him up and take his clothes away? What the hell was going on?
Oh, this couldn't be good.
The only reason that the people holding him captive would have removed his clothes was because they were going to do something to him that he definitely didn't want. Or maybe they'd just done this to scare him more, in which case, their plan was working brilliantly.
He was more terrified than he'd ever been in his life. Even when Jonas Cobb had kidnapped him and the two other members of Barrett's team, and he'd been sure that he was going to die, he hadn't been this scared. He had known that the NCIS team would come for him.
He had to keep having that kind of faith in the team, Jimmy told himself, taking a deep breath and trying to calm his racing heart. He had to have faith in Tim, and in Gibbs, and in the rest of them. They would be trying to find him. They would rescue him.
He had to cling to that hope, to that knowledge that the people who cared about him wouldn't let him down. Tim wasn't going to let anything happen to him; Tim was going to come bursting through the door to this place and save him, like the conquering hero that Jimmy knew he was.
Jimmy didn't want to know why his captor -- or captors; he didn't know how many people had orchestrated this -- had stripped him naked, but whatever their reason, it couldn't be something that boded well for him. All of the thoughts going through his head made his blood run cold.
His mind was jerked away from those thoughts by the opening of a door behind him; Jimmy wanted to turn his head and look around, but at the same time, he was terrified to do so. He had the feeling that he might find himself staring down the barrel of a gun.
"Ah, Mr. Palmer. So good of you to wake up and join the party," the man who had entered the room said, his voice coming from just behind Jimmy. "I thought you'd never come to. I guess you might be wondering just why you're here, and who I am, yes?"
Hesitantly, Jimmy nodded, hoping that his movement wouldn't earn him a bullet in the head -- or in some other area of his body. He didn't feel any kind of searing, red-hot pain, which was what he'd been told a bullet was like, so he counted himself lucky.
"I don't believe you were in Timothy McGee's life so intimately until recently," the man told him, his breath warm on Jimmy's skin as he leaned forward to speak into the young man's ear. Jimmy wanted to move away, but the man was standing right behind him. He didn't dare even flinch.
"Seven years ago, there was a confrontation between NCIS and the man who was my lover." The voice was becoming rougher, angrier, the words obviously spoken through clenched teeth. "He was shot and killed. By Timothy McGee. In cold blood."
A shudder went through Jimmy's body at those words; he couldn't believe that they were true. If Tim had killed somebody, then it was in the line of duty, in self-defense, or for some other reason that made sense. He would never kill somebody in cold blood. Never. That wasn't Tim.
"Timothy McGee took the person I loved from me," the voice continued, the words going on even though Jimmy wanted them to stop. "So now, I'm going to take the person he loves from him. Only I'm going to take you in more ways than one."
Jimmy swallowed hard, squeezing his eyes tightly closed. He didn't want to contemplate what this man was going to do to him. He knew that begging, pleading, wouldn't do any good; this man was obviously deranged, and nothing he said would change the outcome.
"Was your lover a criminal?" The words slipped out before he could stop them; he hadn't meant to ask that question, even though it was uppermost in his mind. Jimmy tried to cringe away from the man standing behind him, sure that those words would only anger his captor.
He could almost feel the man's shrug, and he could hear the barely concealed anger in that voice. "In the eyes of the law, he was -- but that didn't matter to me. He was the man I loved, and whatever he did was good and right in my eyes. McGee had no right to take him away from me."
Jimmy didn't dare answer; he knew that this man wouldn't want to listen to any rational argument he could make. This was a madman bent on revenge, and he was going to be the instrument of that revenge. He could only hope that he would survive whatever was going to happen.
"It doesn't matter what he was to the rest of the world," the man informed Jimmy, his voice now a snarl of anger. "It only matters what he was to me. We had a future planned. Timothy McGee took that away from us. And now he's going to pay for that."
Jimmy couldn't hold back a shudder as a cold hand moved down his side to rest on his hip. He was sure that he knew what was coming next, and he had to keep quiet, no matter how repulsed he was by the idea of this madman touching him. He had to survive this.
He, too, had a future with someone he loved -- and he wouldn't let this psycho take that away from him. No matter what this man did to him, he would live through it; he would see Tim again. They might have to rebuild their future together, but they would still have one.
He had to hold on, in spite of what he knew was going to happen to him. He couldn't break down; that would only spur this man on to further cruelty. He had to detach himself, to remember that Tim and rest of the team were looking for him at this very moment.
His fists clenched in their bonds; he wanted more than anything to be able to break free and get away from this man, to run as fast and as far as he could. But that wasn't an option. He had no choice but to stand here and let himself be touched, as much as it repulsed him.
That touch was toxic; he wanted to pull away from it, wanted to run out of here screaming, even if he was naked. Somehow, that didn't seem to matter. At the moment, in the here and now, the only thing that mattered was getting away from here.
No chance of that, Jimmy thought, twisting his wrists in their bonds and wincing as the rough rope abraded his skin. There was no way he was going to get out this; he had to grit his teeth and bear it, hope that it would pass quickly and that it wouldn't leave too many scars.
The thing to concentrate on was staying alive, Jimmy told himself. It didn't matter what this man did to him, as long as he survived. That was what he needed to focus on; if he could stay alive, then he would be with Tim again, and this could all be locked away into the back of his mind.
He didn't want to think about it, not even while it was happening. He had to think about something else, had to direct his mind away from what was taking place. But that wasn't going to be easy to do, and he knew it. He'd have to focus all of his energy on the redirection.
Jimmy couldn't hold back a cry when the man's hand moved down, cold fingers curling around his cock. No man had touched him like this before other than Tim; this touch was a toxic travesty of what he and Tim shared; a mockery of what a loving touch should be.
"Before this is over, you'll be begging me for more," the voice snarled into his ear. "You'll want this. And your boyfriend is going to know that you wanted it." With those words, he released his hold on Jimmy, striding to a table only a few feet away.
Jimmy's eyes widened when he realized what was there -- a video camera. Surely this psycho wasn't going to .... but of course he was, Jimmy thought, swallowing hard again, struggling to hold back a gasp of horror. He was going to videotape everything that took place.
Tim would see it. He'd see it all. But Tim would know that he hadn't wanted this, Jimmy told himself frantically. Tim would never think that he wanted any other man to touch him, no matter what this madman said. Tim would know better.
Closing his eyes again, Jimmy found himself praying to whatever deity might exist, no matter what or where they were. He prayed for Tim and the team to find him before the inevitable happened -- though he knew in his heart that they wouldn't get there in time.