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Title: Denied
By: lil-jei
Pairing: gen
Fandom: NCIS
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Tony's POV. Temptation/ addiction and reality juxtaposed.
A/N...Drabble, rant, a regular oddity really. If you see a fandom character within the words feel free to remember they're not mine...just the insanity is. And it's so Un-Beta'd it's not even funny...totally stream of conciousness.

***

Starring down at the shot glass in his hands, he begins to shake a little. Face it he thinks to himself he's becoming more like his old man everyday that he lives to see another day. Squeezing the glass he focuses in on the amber liquid sloshing around. With a shrug of his shoulders he silently wills himself to put the booze down. Can't, won't, stop it, damn it!...none of it works as he slams the drink down his throat only to pitch the glass against the wall soon after swallowing the drink and his tears. Choking slightly his body starts to shake a bit more. The tremors are light enough not  to stop the blubbering sobs welling up within him. But it still hurts his lungs to stop and stutter, to breathe and cry, to choke and moan. His arms and eyes ache at the squeezing move that his emotions are putting him through. It hurts so bad he thinks, so much pain, he can never stop this...



No that's not true he quietly thinks. Never true at all. And as he stands up and grabs at the bottle only to lurch a bit he finds himself swiping at the tears coursing down his cheeks. Stop it he chides his soul, just stop it. He stumbles and sways as he feels the mutliple shots flowing through. Its a good thing he had stopped after only half the bottle. He sways as he aims for his bedroom. What he really needs is in there, something small and innocent, and oh so pretty. It was always that bit of shiny that got to him, it was exactly why he had picked it up originally. So damn shiny. So pretty. So tempting. Not even his gun or the booze had captured him so completely and so fast. But in a second or two that shiny piece of partial silver had enraptured him and for years was his secret temptor.

He finds himself once again leaning against his bedframe staring at the itty bitty gleaming box that held his sanity and salvation within. He didn't really want it tonight, just like everytime before he tried to forget. But as always the temptation was there, the need, the craving, the utter addiction flowing within him. Everyday and everynight he'd look at, think of, and obsess over what that damn gleaming box held within its depth. Everything else in his life was a stop gap, a pause, a trial run. But that small piece of his damnation was everything and anything at all that helped sum up his life. Such a small thing to represent his life but it was in all honesty him and his alone all in one package. So small and dangerous. Just like him or what he used to be, so small, so overlooked, and now oh so dangerous. 

He knew better, he really did. But each time nothing had stopped him. Booze, work,  sex, exhaustion, nothing stopped him. His will was gone in the face of his greatest temptation. He hated and loved it, dreaded and longed for it, needed and damned it, he prayed for the strength necessary but every time he was denied. It was at it's essence the perfect summation of his life. Denied.

***