Disclaimer: I don't own NCIS.
It was a damn good thing he brought that bottle of bourbon with him to Stillwater.
He didn't know what else to do. Leon practically forced him out the door for a few days, knowing full well he would want to be at work with his team. But there was work to do in Stillwater too; funeral arrangements and the like, but mostly, selling the store. That would be the most difficult part.
Being Gibbs, he didn't want to confide in anybody. Work through it, and yeah, probably drink through it, and build something, keep his hands busy forever, so he'd never have to feel again.
Ahh, dammit, who was he kidding, he needed to talk. To a woman. Back in the day, it would've been Jen, but she was gone. Whatever, maybe he'd just talk to himself and imagine her responses. It wouldn't have been the first time.
His phone rings, blocked number. Blocked numbers meant bad news but the way he thought about it, why reject it and wait for it to catch up with him?
"Hello," he said gruffly.
"Gibbs," answered a cool voice that sounded just a little too familiar.
"Ziver?" he replied, glancing over at the bourbon. Just how much of that stuff did he drink? Static-filled silence met his ear, and just as he was about to hang up, he heard her voice again.
"Gibbs, I- I missed you so much. So, so much." Her voice was thick with emotion.
Now it's his turn to be silent. What do you say to someone who left for year to take care of their problems alone? He figured she had a reason for calling, so he remained silent and took another long swig of bourbon.
"You were the closest thing I ever had to a father," Ziva's voice continued, "and I walked away. Again. I know that I meant this to be for you, to honor you, but I didn't consider, even in the phone call, that maybe you would not like what I was doing."
Damn, this bourbon was making him emotional too. He made a mental note to get rid of it after this conversation.
"Don't apologize, David," he brought himself to say, sounding a little like her boss again in his efforts to stay calm. "You did what you had to do. What I would have done."
He could almost picture her smiling into the phone at his response; God he missed her. He missed his old team back together, working cohesively and dysfunctionally and giving him so much to smile about. Bishop was great and all, but she had a life, a family outside of her work family. Gibbs couldn't pretend to be her father like he could with Kate, with Ziva.
"I didn't know what to do at first, how best to get rid of the old me" Ziva's voice brought him out of his thoughts. "I wandered for a while, but then I realized that that is what I had done before, when-" She broke off and took a quick breath. "So, I settled down. I found a nice village and I have been working with children in schools in the area."
"I built up a group of friends and acquaintances, and I have enjoyed my time here. But I am lonely, despite all the people I met and everything I did. I just wanted- I - I want to come home, Gibbs. I need to come home."
So many thoughts ran through his head. Home. Here? On the team? No, she gave up the badge. Doing what? Teaching? Does it matter? She's coming home. With the rest of us. My family'll be whole.
When his voice started working again, he said weakly, "You can stay at my place for a couple days while you find a place."
"Gibbs... Thank you. Thank you so much," Ziva breathed into the phone.
"I, uh, gotta favor to ask you, Ziver. Before you hang up."
"What is it?"
He took a shaky breath before talking. "How early are you planning on getting here? And, uh, could you, uh, stop by Stillwater when you get in?"
He had never sounded so unsure of himself, and Ziva picked up on it right away. "Gibbs, what's wrong? What has happened?"
"Jack- Dad- he had a stroke. He didn't make it. Happened yesterday, funeral's day after tomorrow."
"Oh, Gibbs. I'm so sorry. And, I'll be there Gibbs. I'll make it to the funeral. I will." There was a pause, and then- "Do you want to talk about it?"
He took a deep breath. "Yeah, I do. I just wish I could've been there. To comfort him, tell him I loved him, just make sure he knew that. He was a good guy, ya know? He really took care of Cal, and he loved that store. He poured his whole soul into that store. He loved everyone in this town, even if they didn't love him back." He couldn't speak for a moment; his throat had closed up and there were tears in his eyes.
Ziva took the moment to offer her memories of Jack. "I remember the first time I met him..." but Gibbs wasn't paying any attention. He was thinking of the pilot who saved his dad's life, and how much that had meant to his dad to pay a visit to this dying man. All the times his dad had stepped out for someone else. How he called his mom Chickadee, and they'd built a boat together, and how much he'd loved Shannon and Kelly.
He had the vague sensation that he had cut her off when his voice came back and he started thinking out loud again. "I've lost too many people. Mom, Shannon, Kelly, Jen, Dad. I don't want to lose anyone else. I don't want to. I don't want to. I need my family to be nearby now; I can't afford to lose you guys too. I need you to be close."
"O-Okay, Gibbs. I'll stay close."
"And the others- DiNozzo, McGee, Abby, Ducky."
Ziva probably thought he was going crazy, but he just needed reassurance. When Jenny died, Leon had scattered the team, and he couldn't have that again.
He could hear movement in the background, dishes clinking and paper being crumpled and folded. It took him back...
"You haven't packed a single thing," the realtor commented, moving into the kitchen and picking up a plate. "You know you have to get out of this house by Tuesday, right?" She must have seen the look on his face because she sighed, and offered to help him.
He slouched down into a kitchen chair, head in his hands as the realtor (Charlotte, was it? She was Joann's friend or something like that) started wrapping the dishes in brown paper and placing them in a box with a slight clink. Next it was the cups, the wine glasses, the mugs...
"Gibbs? Are you there?" Ziva's voice pulled him back out of the past, and he shook his head to clear it.
"David, what's going on over there?"
"Oh, I am just packing. Is it distracting to you?"
"No, no, it's fine. Reminds me of a time I was moving out of my first house, when... But I should let you go."
They said their goodbyes, and Gibbs finished his glass of bourbon quickly, a celebratory drink he told himself all fathers partake when their daughters come home.