Disclaimer: I don't own NCIS or any of it's characters.
Tony felt his knees buckle and he closed his eyes while his body slid to the floor. The heat from the blast could still be felt in the floor beneath him. Smoke still danced out through the secret passage, mocking him. He wanted to believe that Paula stood on the other side, puffing smoke from a cigar against the wall, trying to find a way back, but now, there was no way back. There wasn't anything. It was like time froze and he was still moving in slow motion, like when Kate was shot and the blood splattered on his face. He wanted to scream, cry, vomit... anything, but all he could do was blink and shake his head in a futile attempt to reverse time and change the outcome. Then the world around him unfroze like a movie taken off pause. A firm hand grasped his shoulder, but he couldn't find the strength to turn his head.
"Get up, Tony," Gibbs ordered in a low voice, trying to pull his senior agent out of his shock. It wasn't working. Inhaling sharply, he slid his hand from Tony's shoulder to under his arm and pulled him forcefully to his feet. "Ziva, take DiNozzo outside." His tone was business, but if Tony could have managed to look at Gibbs, he would have seen the concern in his eyes.
Ziva guided her partner outside. It was like leading a blind man into an unfamiliar environment. "Tony, look at me." Ziva moved in front of him, grasping his shoulders. Tony blinked and shook his head slowly before looking down into her dark eyes. "I need to sit down." Ziva nodded and led Tony to the edge of the sidewalk, slowly sitting down beside him on the curb. She wanted to ask if he was alright, but was distracted by Gibbs barking orders. "I need to go help them, you stay put." She pointed a commanding finger at Tony before standing.
Tony dropped his head into his hands, images swirling around in his head. "You wanna worry about something, worry about tomorrow!" Gibbs was right. He could count on one hand all the people he lost without telling them how much he cared. Paula was now one of them. He remembered dancing with her in Gitmo, then trading barbs with her a year later just like he did with Kate. Now here he was trying to push through the fog like that afternoon on the roof top. Then everything was clear and he was standing up and walking back towards the building. "Where do you want me, boss?" Gibb's turned sharply, quickly assessing DiNozzo. "There's a crime scene next door. You know what to do." Tony straightened, nodded sharply and walked through the secret passage, cautious not to step on any body parts. After what seemed like hours of sorting body parts for Ducky and bagging pieces of the bomb, they were back in the bullpen, turning in reports. Gibbs only quickly skimmed each one before filing them to be sent to the director. Then he stood up, grabbed his jacket. "That's enough. Go home." Tony stood slowly, fishing his car keys out of his desk. He looked around and exhaled softly before following the boss' lead.
The drive to Jeanne's was a blur. Once he locked his car, he couldn't recall traffic lights and street signs. Then elevator to her floor mimicked his drive and before he could even think about what how he was going to say those words he was knocking on her door. For a moment, he was afraid she wouldn't answer and then she did. For a second he just stared at her, his mouth dry. She looked sad, like she was expecting him to try to make up for what he hadn't done, knowing it wouldn't be right. "I love you, Jeanne." There, it was said and she was in his arms. He was shaking, tears streaming down his face, all he could think about was Paula, and how he would never be able to thank her for the advice. How it took her throwing herself on a bomb to wake him up. Life was indeed to short to let Jeanne go without knowing that he loved her. It could have been him. Everyday, it could have been him.
Fin
Note: This story was inspired by the episode "Grace Period" and the depressing sounds of this song:
Speed Of Pain - Marilyn Manson