Summary: Gibbs takes some personal time to say goodbye to his mentor and friend. Inspired by Luke Bryan song, "Drink A Beer."
Warnings: Minor Character Death (Implied); Spoilers for 8:23 (Swan Song).
Additional Note: I will be referring to Gibbs as "Jethro" in this fic. The beach I mention in this fic is an actual beach I found via Google search.
"Better catch me up, Probie… I'm lost."
"So am I."
He left alone after the funeral. No one questioned where he was going, or when he'd be back. They just knew he'd eventually return. When he climbed into his pickup and drove off, no one stopped him, or called his cell. They let him go.
I took a walk to clear my head,
This is where the walking lead
When he arrived at his destination, Gibbs got out of the truck with a shopping bag in hand, and started to walk along the beach, the April breeze whipping around his body. The Chesapeake rippled in the wind, as waves crashed into the sand. He'd frequented Breezy Point Beach years ago. It was a place he always felt at peace.
He walked until he came to an old, rickety wooden pier, held in place by natural stone. He walked out to the end of the old pier, and sat down.
Can't believe you're really gone
Don't feel like going home
From the shopping bag next to him, Jethro produced a bottle of beer. He'd brought a six-pack with him. He popped the cap and took a sip. He remembered another time he'd come out here, shortly after he joined NIS.
~*~*~*~*~
The Chesapeake was calm. Jethro sat at the edge of a rickety pier he'd found along Breezy Point Beach, staring out at the water. He was really trying… he wanted to live again, but every day without his Girls was harder than the last. He wasn't sure how long he'd been sitting there, until he felt the presence of someone next to him. "Figured I'd find you out here, Probie." "How'd you know?" Jethro asked, without looking at Franks. "You always go runnin' out here when you want to be alone." Jethro didn't respond. He continued to gaze at the water as the sun started to dip below the horizon. He could feel his gun burning a hole in his jacket pocket. He'd been thinking of using it. The thought had occurred to him before… he just never had the nerve to act on it, until now. "You weren't plannin' on comin' back this time, were you?" Jethro slowly shook his head. "You think that gun is really the answer?" "Give me a better one! I want them back, Mike… how am I supposed to survive without them?" He felt the pier shift, and Mike sat next to him. "I'll help you get him." Jethro looked up at his Boss. "You said it was against regulations-" "Screw regulations, Probie. You and me… we'll find the bastard and put him down." Gibbs nodded, the gun in his pocket forgotten for the moment.
~*~*~*~*~*~
Sometimes the greater plan
Is kinda hard to understand
Right now it don't make sense
I can't make it all make sense
Jethro took another beer from his bag and popped the cap. He took a sip and let his eyes fall on the waves. To his left, a wave crashed into the pier, spraying him with water. The sun was making its descent into the horizon. He'd been fighting his own common sense from the moment he dropped to his knees in the rain and held Mike's body in his arms. Grief overpowered common sense, and he found himself here, on this pier, with the same gun in his pocket.
Another wave crashed into the pier, soaking him, and depositing lake water into his open beer. Frowning, he put the ruined beer back into his bag, and reached for a fresh one. As he lay his hand on the cap to twist it off, something stopped him.
"Get off your ass, Probie!"
He could feel Mike there with him. It wasn't as if he'd never felt his presence before. It felt different this time.
"You gonna sit here all day?"
"Just for a little while." Jethro popped the top from the beer in his hand. "It seems right, coming back here."
"This ain't like you, Probie. You're usually all head up to find bastards like Jonas Cobb. Sittin' round ain't your style."
Jethro took a swig of his beer.
"It's gotten to be too much. People who get close to me keep dying."
"Not everybody who loves you died, Probie… you got those boys on your team, and that doll Abby just idolizes you. Stop thinkin' bout who you lost, and remember who you still got. And don't you sit here bein' depressed over me… I'll slap you upside the head."
Jethro smiled.
"Understood…. Boss."
Mike would've head slapped him for that, he was sure. He could almost feel him doing it in spirit. He took another sip of beer, and reached into his jacket pocket. He produced a set of dog tags on a chain. They'd belonged to Mike, years before Jethro had met him. He took a sip of beer, and squeezed the dog tags into his palm.
He closed his eyes for a moment, in silent prayer. When he was finished, he threw Mike's dog tags as hard as he could, and watched as they disappeared into the depths of the Chesapeake Bay.
As the sun continued to dip below the horizon, Jethro sat back, beer in hand, and enjoyed a last moment of solitude.
So long my friend ...sit right here on the edge of this pier
Until we meet again
I'll remember you
And all the times that we used to...
And watch the sunset disappear
And drink a beer
END