Title: Daylight
Rating: T
Disclaimers: Not making money off this, don't own em. If I did THINGS WOULD HAVE ENDED DIFFERENTLY.
Summary: I know there's a bajillion post-Twilight fics out there but I had to write one for my own piece of mind. I was way too obsessed with the show…. Obviously there are spoilers for Twilight. The end is not depressing but is hopefuly or what have you... so it's not all depressing. Please review :) I love reviews...they will be greatly appreciated.
Song is "Ghost" – Indigo Girls
Gibbs pov
And I start to feel the fever
From the warm air through the screen
You come ragging through like seasons
Shadowing my dreams
And I guess that's how you started
Like a pinprick to my heart
At this point you rush right through me
And I start to drown
And there's not enough room in this world for my pain
Signals cross and love gets lost
And time past makes it plain
Of all my demon spirits I need you the most
I'm in love with your ghost
Sure, he had been trained for death. He had seen it in the field as a marine. He had seen worse than death as a marine. And he had lost more friends beside him in the field than he wanted to remember. But sometimes, sometimes he felt that each death was a cut in his soul. And that just maybe the gaping hole being sawed away inside of him would one day kill him. He had felt this way for many years. It scared him, the feeling inside. Could one die from pain?
He had drunk so much coffee he could no longer sand his boat. His hands shook too much to even steady the sander. He later reflected on the matter and decided that holding in the pain and tears for three days was the true cause and he was just ignoring it. No. He hadn't cried in three days. But he was falling apart. Everyone knew it. He knew it. The director had ordered him two weeks mandatory leave. And the worst part about it was that he didn't care. The job that he loved, probably too much for his own good, suddenly it held more pain than pleasure. As he sat on the floor beneath his boat, clutching his hair with shaking hands, he realized maybe the job had never brought pleasure at all. Maybe it was just a workaholics dream to avoid the pain. Hell, even his boat didn't help anymore.
He gasped for air. He couldn't breath. His chest shuddered at the same time his soul did. And then a tear escaped. And another. And another.
He hadn't wanted to cry because he knew if he started he would never be able to stop.
The pain was clouding his mind to the point where he couldn't focus on a certain thought. They just skittered around his brain like pennies in an empty tin band aid box. The guilt – he should have known. He should have sensed something was off. He could have protected her somehow. The pain – oh God, he would give anything to take her place. She was so strong. She could handle this pain. He wasn't strong at all. He thought he was, but now he realized he was just as fragile as the rest of them. He felt lost. The team would expect him to be strong, to help them to regroup. Force them to regroup when they could not.
God. How could he move on from this? How was he supposed to shelve the pain that threatened to consume him?
Why hadn't the bullet taken him? Why. Why.
We can't ask why. The whys and the what ifs will only consume us. We have to let go and move on.
He had heard that somewhere. And he knew it was true. He knew it was what Kate would have said.
And then Gibbs did something he hadn't done in a very long time. He prayed. He prayed to God to help him though he knew he didn't deserve it. Help from this overwhelming pain that was shattering his soul piece by gossamer piece. And yes, he prayed for the part of his soul that ached for death each night. But most of all he prayed for an end to the pain that he knew would otherwise haunt him for the rest of his life.
Everyone thought he was the strongest person. He wasn't. He was just a vulnerable as the rest of them. And he was falling apart faster than he knew how to stitch himself back up.