Disclaimer: NCIS and all related characters belong to CBS, Donald P. Bellisario and Belisaurius Productions. No profit is being made here.

Category: Gen/Friendship, Hurt/Comfort, Angst

Feedback: Welcomed with open arms! :) Thanks for reading.

A/N: My very first NCIS fic, which kinda kept growing past the original number of chapters that I'd originally planned. Anyway, apologies in advance for any glaring mistakes in canon, location, etc, since exposure to the show has regrettably been minimal. Set after Missing, with mild spoilers for Bête Noire, Dead Man Talking and Missing. Have only seen till Dead Man Talking when I wrote this so any similarity in plot, characters, etc, is purely coincidental and entirely by chance. Last but not least, hugs and thanks to sHoT for the beta! :D

Note: Italics denote either flashbacks or thoughts.

Chapter One

"Hey! Buddy!"

That was all NCIS Special Agent Anthony DiNozzo heard before something hard slammed into his lower back, eliciting a cry of pain and surprise from him. The pain shot up straight to his head, and his knees buckled. Automatically, his hands shot out to cushion his fall but the second blow, right on the heels of the first, scrambled his reactions completely and he fell hard to the ground, his breath whooshing out from him at the force of the impact.

What the…? Dimly, he heard laughter as he rolled to his side, one hand pressed hard against the small of his back. Looking up, he could barely make out the three dark figures surrounding him. It was late and the he realised with a jolt of apprehension that he was totally alone, in a deserted parking lot, with no immediate help in sight.

"My wallet's … in my pocket…" One badly scraped hand held in front of him in a placating manner, Tony tried to sit up, wincing from the stinging pain. Before he could manage the feat, a leg shot out, catching him hard in the stomach and he collapsed once more with a soft moan, curling into a tight ball.

"Well, that's mighty generous of you, DiNozzo," one of the men drawled out in a low, lazy voice that made every hair at the back of Tony's neck stand up. "The wallet would be a nice bonus, doncha think, boys?"

DiNozzo. They knew his name.

While the others guffawed in response, Tony felt the cold hand of fear upon his heart as he lay there on the damp, hard ground, suddenly aware that this was no simple mugging. And not for the first time, he cursed the fact that he was currently unarmed. Today had been his day off, and he was just on his way to his car after popping into Callaghan's, his usual bar, for a drink. He hadn't planned on staying past the witching hour but Jack Callaghan, the owner, was a good friend, and time had flown by as they'd talked while Jack tended the bar.

Of all days to not have any company… If Tony had enough breath to do so, he would've laughed aloud at the irony of the entire situation. Earlier in the night, he'd been hit on a couple of times while hanging out at the bar but he hadn't been interested, turning both women down politely, much to Jack's frank amusement and disbelief.

The fact of the matter was, he hadn't been much in the socialising mood ever since the whole incident with Lieutenant Commander Voss, not to mention the one with the waitress cum serial killer from a local Country bar on one of his last cases, but Tony saw no need to share that particular bit of information with Jack. Instead, he'd cheerfully endured all the good-natured ribbing from his friend as a result for acting so completely out of character.

"You sure you're all right, Kid?" Jack asked incredulously, eyeing his young friend with a frown. If he hadn't seen it for himself, he wouldn't have believed it – Anthony DiNozzo, certified skirt chaser extraordinaire, saying no to a woman's offer to buy him a drink, not once, but twice, all in the same night.

"Hmmm?" Tearing his gaze from the provocative movement of the woman's hips as she sashayed away from the bar, her invitation still ringing in his ears, Tony met the other man's speculative stare with his patented grin, charming to the end. "Never better, Jack. Now, where were we…?"

Then again, Tony reflected grimly as he watched the three men loom over him with pure malice in their eyes, it was probably for the best that he was alone. Something told him that these men wouldn't have allowed a simple hitch such as the presence of another to stop them from doing what they were planning to do. In a way, he was glad that he was presently on his own – if someone else had been hurt just for being there with him, he knew he wouldn't have been able to forgive himself, especially if it had been one of his friends.

"What's … this … about?" he managed to croak out from his precarious position on the ground. He pushed the enveloping panic away, trying his best to ignore the throbbing in his head, while the laughter above him gradually tapered to a stop.

Tony eyed the leader with some trepidation, trying to take in the man's appearance at the same time. But it was almost pitch dark in the parking lot and the best the young agent could make out was that the man who had accosted him had short, light hair. But there was no mistaking the fact that he was huge and physically powerful, if all the bulging muscles were any indication.

His eyes flickered to the two men flanking their ringleader and he swallowed hard. Though not as big, they appeared to be in equally good shape, both of them dwarfing his leaner build. Even if the two extra goons weren't there, Tony knew that the chances of him getting the upper hand in this situation were slim to none. This is not good…

"Oh, you know what all this is 'bout, DiNozzo," the leader spat out with open contempt, his face hard and cold. "And we're here to give you a lesson, boy – one that you won't forget in a hurry…"

Lesson?

He saw it coming a split second before it happened, but before Tony could scramble out of the way, the man's leg shot out and caught him in the chin. Everything turned dark for a moment. Then consciousness came roaring back as the man bent down and grabbed him by the front of his shirt, hauling him off the ground and slamming him hard against the side of the car.

"Hold 'im up!" At the terse command, the two men came to stand on each side of the dazed agent. Grasping the young man by the arms, the men easily hauled him upright while their leader watched with disdainful eyes, his large hands flexing periodically.

With some effort, Tony lifted his head, his green eyes taking in the fury on the other's face while his mind raced frantically, looking for the answers that he needed but drawing a huge blank. As far as he could tell, he'd never seen this man, or any of his companions, before. The question was: what did they want with him? Guess I'm gonna find out the hard way…

"Word has it that you're a real ladykiller, boy," the large man sneered, and Tony could smell the alcohol in his breath. Despite the evidence, however, the man didn't appear to be drunk and for some inexplicable reason, that terrified Tony even more. "Wonder what that brunette beauty of yours thinks about that? You know, the one you were so chummy with a couple of nights ago…"

A couple of nights ago? The only person that fitted the description of 'brunette beauty' was… Kate. He remembered that they'd been trading jokes and insults as he'd walked her to her car, after which he'd got into his and driven straight home. His protective instinct kicking in, Tony's eyes narrowed and his whole body tensed. Despite the pain, he struggled feebly against the men holding him up and snarled, low and angry, "You … go near her, any of you … and I swear I'll…"

"Ooh…hit a nerve there, didn't I?" the man grinned mirthlessly. By now, his face was only mere inches away and Tony tried not to gag in reaction when another blast of the hot, fetid breath hit him. "It just doesn't pay to be friends with you, does it, DiNozzo? Though, if I were you, I'd quit thinkin' 'bout them and start worryin' 'bout what's gonna happen to me first."

It just doesn't pay… Unconsciously flinching at the taunt, Tony tried another desperate plea, "You … don't have to … do this…"

A cruel laugh permeated the cool night air. "Oh, but we do, boy. How else are ya gonna learn to keep your stinkin', filthy hands to yaself…?"

Tony was still trying to sort through that final statement when the first blows landed.

O o O o O o O

A low moan escaped his dry lips as he agonisingly clawed his way to consciousness. His head hurt the most and he was slowly becoming aware of the many aches and twinges emitting from the different parts of his body. What happened? Was there an accident?

Eyes flickering open, Tony realised that he was lying on his side, with one thoroughly numbed arm pinned under his aching body. Feeling the cold, damp ground beneath his cheek, the young agent fought off the sudden nausea as the memory of what had happened assailed him.

"Wait… listen…"

The severe cuff to the head dimmed out the world for a moment. "Shut up, pretty boy…"

"You've … got … the wrong guy…" Tony tried again, ignoring the pounding ache in his head.

"I don't think so, DiNozzo. She said you seduced her…" The words were accompanied by another vicious backhand that snapped his head back and split his bottom lip. The world grew dim once more and he went limp, only to come to when the men on each side of him jerked him back to his feet once more. "She may be a slut, but she's my slut, and no one, let alone a punk like you, is gonna touch her… not while I'm still around!"

"What? … No…!" he gasped out desperately, trying to gather his scattered thoughts past the intense pain. It took too much energy to look up and he let his head loll weakly about his shoulders, while he tasted the warmth of his own blood in his mouth. "It … wasn't me…! I–"

The hard punch to his midsection doubled him over. The men holding him up grunted and roughly pulled him straight once more, paying no attention to his hiss of pain.

"I'm telling … you … the truth…" Tony pleaded, winded. He coughed, trying to draw much needed air into his lungs while struggling to keep his dinner from making an impromptu reappearance.

"Liar!"

Another brutal punch, this time at the vicinity of his right kidney elicited another pained moan from him and he crumpled to the ground when the men on either side of him abruptly let him go.

Turning slowly so that he was now lying on his back, Tony flinched involuntarily at the memory of each blow. As soon as he was down, the three men had taken turns kicking him. He didn't remember much after curling up to weather the first few – the very last thing that he saw before everything went dark was a heavy black boot heading towards the vicinity of his head. Judging from how he was feeling, it was apparent that whether he was conscious or not hadn't made much of a difference to the men. He just hoped that they hadn't broken anything that time couldn't heal.

Looking up at the dark night sky, Tony listlessly wondered what time it was. His watch was gone and as he slowly went through his pockets, he found that his wallet and cell phone were missing as well. A soft sigh escaped him when his hands came into contact with his car keys. He closed his eyes in relief. At least he had one less thing to worry about…

Belatedly, he became aware of the shivers that currently wracked his injured body. It hurt to breathe, and from the dull ache enveloping his sides, he knew that his ribs were severely bruised, broken even. Lifting his hand, he tentatively touched his forehead, wincing at the pain as his trembling fingers came into contact with the gash there. Tony looked dully at the blood currently staining the tips of his fingers. It was odd but all he could think of at this point in time was that Gibbs was going to be so pissed with him if he got into work late tomorrow.

That single thought spurred him into action, and he gingerly pushed himself into a sitting position, teeth clenched hard, nearly blacking out when the pain flared up once more at each agonising movement. Gasping, he leaned against the side of the car. With some effort, he again fought off the urge to throw up, taking slow, deep breaths until the excruciating ache in his head and sides tapered off into a dull throb. The soothing night sounds surrounding him began to slowly fade away as his eyes closed on their own accord.

"Tony?"

At the soft call, Tony jerked awake, the abrupt movement causing a choked cry of pain to slip past his split lips. Instinctively cringing back against the car door, he blinked up at the concerned face looking down at him. Recognition came to him after the first few indistinct seconds.

"Jack…?"

"Yeah, Tony, it's me," Jack murmured as he crouched beside the injured man, slowly feeling him over. He was horrified at the sight of his young friend's battered and bloodied face. Where was all that blood coming from? "What happened? Who did this to you?"

"Got … j-jumped… Three m-men…" Tony managed to rasp out between clenched teeth. While Jack's ministrations were featherlike, it was all he could do to stop from groaning out loud at the sharp pain that each contact triggered.

"You got mugged?"

"No… Y-Yes… It w-was … a misunderstanding…"

"You sure that the people who did this were aware of that?" Callaghan asked incredulously as he gently got the groaning man to his feet. "C'mon, Kid, let's get you to the hospital…"

O o O o O o O

"How is he?" Jack asked as soon as the doctor drew near. It had been almost three hours since Tony was wheeled away by the emergency medical staff, leaving him standing rather bemusedly in the waiting room.

"Well, apart from the numerous abrasions and contusions, he has a concussion, two broken ribs and three other badly bruised ones," Dr Shaun Gallagher replied, his hands pulling at the stethoscope hanging from his neck. "Given his injuries, I'd say that Mr DiNozzo's one very lucky young man – things could've been worse if one of those broken ribs had punctured his lungs."

"There was so much blood…"

"Yes, unfortunately, head wounds do tend to bleed a lot. The deep gash on his forehead required ten stitches," Gallagher said, letting go of the stethoscope and sticking his hands into his coat pockets. "He'll be very sore for the next few days so he needs to take things easy for a while, at least until his ribs have healed somewhat…"

Tony? Taking things easy? Jack almost snorted out loud. He'd have to talk to Jethro about that – for as far as he could tell, Tony's superior was the only person that the young agent would listen to without too much argument. A small frown creased his forehead as he recalled Tony's frantic plea in the car.

"Please, Jack…"

"I dunno, Tony, you can't keep this thing from Gibbs forever, you know, even if you wanted to," Jack shook his head, even as he wondered about the slight, but undeniable, panicked undertone in the younger man's ragged voice. "Not with those bruises you're gonna be sporting."

"I-I… know," Tony answered, his teeth chattering slightly and Jack could tell that he was beginning to go into shock. "But n-not tonight, d-don't call tonight. It's already so late. I'll… I'll t-tell … h-him … t-them, t-tomorrow."

Jack glanced over at his injured passenger, taking in the unhealthy pallor of his face and the way his arms were wrapped around his ribs underneath the coat that covered his body. Tony had refused to lie down in the back seat, stating that it hurt more to breathe when he did so.

Inwardly, Jack shook his head. Whatever took place earlier, it must have been really unpleasant for Tony to want to keep it so badly from his team leader. Then again, knowing how much Tony admired and looked up to Gibbs, perhaps what happened was something that the young man felt Gibbs wouldn't have approved of. Jack had tried asking but all Tony would say was that it was all a bad misunderstanding, and had steadfastly refused to elaborate any further after that.

"J-Jack…?"

He puffed out a breath and then nodded his agreement, knowing instinctively that he was going to regret giving in to the demand, especially when Jethro found out about it. "All right, Tony. But if you don't call them by tomorrow, I will."

Tony gave a small sigh and closed his eyes, tilting his head back against the headrest. "Deal… T-Thanks, Jack…"

"Mr Callaghan?" Dr Gallagher's voice brought him to the present and Jack quickly pushed the nagging worries to the back of his mind.

"Sorry … wool gathering…" he apologised with a slight smile. "So, when can I take him home?"

"Not tonight, I'm afraid," Gallagher shook his head. "Because of the concussion, I'd like to keep him here under observation for a day or two. If everything goes well, he should be discharged then."

"Can I see him?"

Gallagher hesitated briefly and then nodded. "But only for a short while. He's heavily sedated at the moment so he'll probably won't know you're there."

Jack heaved a soft sigh. "That's okay. I just need to see him with my own eyes."

"I understand," the doctor flashed him a reassuring smile. "Room 8B, just down the hall on your right."

"Thanks, Doc."

O o O o O o O

Watching the gentle rise and fall of Tony's chest, Jack Callaghan wondered if he'd ever seen his friend looking so fragile or vulnerable. Right now, pale except for the dark circles under his eyes, Tony looked even younger than ever, the fine lines on his face smoothed away by sleep. The bruises on whatever skin not covered by the bandages or the hospital gown were beginning to show, and Jack winced in empathic pain as he quickly catalogued Tony's injuries.

Leaning over to brush aside a lock of hair that had fallen over the young agent's forehead, Jack sucked in a sharp breath at the darkening bruise surrounding Tony's right eye. That's definitely going to be one heck of a shiner, my friend.

"Rest well, Kid. I'll see you tomorrow… " After one last look at the slumbering man, Jack Callaghan turned and left the room, closing the door softly behind him.