The love and the guilt
A short glance at the old clock in the basement was enough to tell Gibbs that the rest of the city was sound asleep or getting up for work. He wasn't. the past five hours he had been sanding his boat, his back hurt, his arm felt like it was about to fall off and the skin on his hand was raw and red. None of this bothered Gibbs, none of this could be compared to his sorrow heart and troubled mind.
She'd died protecting him, covering for him.
He had not verified her kill.
He had not been there to protect her.
His agents had not succeeded in protecting her.
The guilt was too much to sleep with so he didn't. Not for more than 2 hours a night. Not after Jen's death.
Everything reminded him of her, a red hair strand on his chair at NCIS, a picture in the newspaper, the condolences send to him and NCIS, a piece of music he knew she would have liked, even things like an elegant curve of the boat reminded him. Of her death, his guilt.
His heart felt as if it was on fire and he grabbed the bottle with clear liquid. The liquid pored down his oesophagus as he put the bottle to his mouth until something in his snapped.
"WHY?!" He cried out as the bottle fell down on the floor and broke. It wasn't as much a question as a statement. " Why not me?! Am I more or less than Kate, Jen, Paula, Shannon or Kelly." He picked up the sander again and continued working on the boat's wooden hull. Tears filled his eyes as he caressed the wood before he wiped of the dust and continued sanding.
The Scotsman stood silently at the top of the staircase, he had saw Gibbs break down and yell at nothing or rather everything. He had seen how Gibbs had to fight his tears while he continued sanding and he felt like he should make his presence known. Quietly he moved down the stairs and took the tool from the slightly tipsy agent.
"Jethro"
"Stay
out of this Duck."
"They are worried."
"Don't care."
Ducky knew that wasn't true, Gibbs gave a great deal about his team but now he wasn't ready to face them. He wasn't ready to accept any help, he would handle this himself.
"You couldn't have prevented this."
"I …. I should have been there for her. I should have know something was… wrong. I should have…" His wobble legs could no longer support him and he collapsed onto the wet basement floor.
Ducky knew it would take time, he knew it would take a lot of time but he understood that Gibbs would continue. The agent lay on the floor and fell asleep. He slowly moved the agent in a more comfortable position and took out his cell phone.
"Yes Antony. I found him."
Ducky listened for a moment and continued talking.
"He is ok, I found him in his basement. Go to bed Anthony, there is no need to worry. Yes I will stay with him."
The two men quickly said goodbye on the phone and Ducky dialled the next number.
"Hello Ziva." She'd picked up the phone when it first rang and it was obvious to the elderly ME that she'd been waiting for this call.
"Yes Jethro is ok. He was in his basement but unplugged all the phones and most of the electricity in the house. Sleeping." They finished the conversation and Ducky moved along to the next team member who was probably waiting for this phone call.
"Hello
Timothy, I'm sorry to call you this late but I found Jethro. He is
ok. Yes. Goodnight."
The scot sat down on the floor next to
Gibbs and checked his watch. 7.00 A.M. He realised he should call the
new director and inform him that he and Gibbs weren't going to be
at work today, but he also knew Gibbs refused to take days off. For
any reason. Not even the death of the love of his life.