Tony looked over his shoulder, his face blank, the mischievous sparkle gone from his eyes. The hands grasping the railing let go and Tony fell away, silently, even as Gibbs rushed forward, hands clutching at the air where his agent, his friend, had been.
Too late.
Gibbs couldn't bring himself to look down, would not see Tony's body lying broken on the ground below. How could he not have realised Tony was feeling like this? Why didn't he notice the signs?
Tony was gone, fallen into the darkness without so much as a goodbye. Too many times when he could have, should have said something, done something, had passed by, lost in the job, the cases, the exhaustion of the day, his own inability to express himself.
And now it was too late.
