Title: The Steadiest Minds Waver
Author: Tearsofamiko
Rating: K
Disclaimer: Nope. I can't do the whole action/angst/tragedy thing as well as DPB can.
Spoilers: Judgment Day, part II
Summary: "A single death is a tragedy..." Joseph Stalin
A/N: I watched Judgment Day yesterday and had the urge. ^^ This happens the night Jenny's house burns, so before her funeral and before Vance splits up the team. Thus, Tony and Gibbs don't know what lies in store for the team. And I guess, if you wanted to, you could call this a companion to 'Experience Teaches Slowly' and 'A Right to Anger,' even though this is entirely from Gibbs' POV. The title comes from a quote by Sophocles ("Grief teaches the steadiest minds to waver"); I thought it fit. ^^ BTW, this kinda hints at thoughts of suicide.
NOTICE: No one's said anything, but I don't want to leave anything to doubt. I will never write slash. My stories are only ever het romances and platonic/familial relationships. Just so ya know. To that end, this is vague JIBBS and Tony/Gibbs father/son.
Mike Franks: [referring to his gun] You were gonna go for that, weren't you, Probie?
He'd just stared that gun, stared at the death looking him in the face. He'd only glanced at his service weapon, hadn't even tried to make a grab for it, even as he baited the woman who wanted his blood. He'd just stood there and waited.
He wasn't sure if he was relieved when Mike showed up.
The split second after he'd heard the gunshot, he'd been sure it'd been her weapon and had steeled himself for bolt of fire that would accompany a bullet-wound. It never came. He still found himself waiting for it, though, hours later as he sat on his basement steps, staring into his mug of bourbon.
To be frank, he was surprised by his willingness to die; he hadn't felt despair like this since Shannon. He'd almost forgotten, had let the time that had passed dull the edges of the pain he'd felt. It didn't help to remember that he'd been prying into the Grenouille case. She'd been making sacrifices to save his life and he'd been sitting there digging into information that could ruin hers. He was partially disgusted with himself because of that, because he hadn't realized that anything was wrong.
He thought maybe she had some idea, though, about what would happen during that trip. It'd been in her eyes, a tiredness and wariness he hadn't noticed at the time but that seemed all too clear now. Even if he hadn't seen those shadows in her green gaze, he should have gotten a clue from her good-bye to him. She'd stared straight into his eyes for one heart-stopping moment in her office, sending a familiar heat burning along his veins, before stepping close to him and pressing her lips to his in a chaste, lingering kiss. His heart ached now as he realized that that had been her good-bye, her acknowledgement that, no matter what happened in L.A., there wasn't much time left.
It hurt to think about it, but he'd learned long ago that, with enough bourbon, the pain would gradually dull.
He was so tired now, so tired of it all – the lies and deceit, the power plays, furtive glances and painful denials. His mind flashed back to that gun barrel aimed at his head and he wondered if maybe that wasn't the answer to his problems. He'd considered it before, back after losing his family, but he hadn't been able to do it then. Just like he wouldn't be able to now.
Didn't stop him from wondering.
He sighed, scrubbed a hand over his face, poured himself more bourbon, and savored the burn of the alcohol in his throat, his last connection to her.
He jumped slightly as the silence of the room was broken by the over-loud trill of his cell-phone ringer. He hauled himself to his feet and trudged over to the workbench, feeling every single one of his years as he dug out the phone and flipped it open to look at the caller-id. DiNozzo. Possibly the only person in the agency taking Jenny's death as hard as he was.
"Yeah. Gibbs," he answered, hearing the exhaustion in his voice and not caring. Silence greeted him and he pulled the phone away from his ear, frowning at it. Sure that the call was still connected, he listened once more for some sound from the caller.
"Boss." Tony's voice cracked, the single word filled with so much anguish that Gibbs shuddered, a slightly nauseous feeling that had nothing to do with the bottle of bourbon on the stairs starting to build in his gut. "I'm...I'm so sorry, Gibbs. I, uh, it's..." Silence filled the phone line, doing nothing to dispel Gibbs' sense of unease with the situation. As he strode to the stairs and up into the kitchen, he vaguely noticed the slight ache in his hand and the creak from his phone as he gripped the device in his hand.
"DiNozzo. What are you –"
"It's my fault, Boss. I should have gone with her. I should have stopped her. Maybe –"
Gibbs felt himself go cold as he listened to the voice on the phone. The amount self-reproach and self-loathing he heard there was terrifying, especially from a man he knew to have self-confidence issues. Unconsciously he pressed his foot harder on the accelerator, willing the car to move faster even as it topped out. The streets were deserted – a Godsend considering his state of mind and mission – making the trip that much shorter and that much easier on his nerves.
He still clutched the phone to his ear, though the only sounds crossing the line were the soft sounds of breathing. He didn't care, so long as he had that connection, so long as there wasn't a sharp sound on the other side or a cessation in those small, simple, reassuring noises. He ran into the building, not even noticing the twinge in his knees as he vaulted up the stairs to Tony's floor two at a time. He pulled the spare key the junior agent had given him out of his pocket, juggling it slightly as his fingers trembled with his haste and emotions. He didn't know what he'd find on the other side of the door, didn't want to see what long hours alone had done to his agent. He opened the door anyway.
"Tony?" he called out softly and heard the cell phone connection break as the other man hung up. Stepping into the darkened apartment and letting his eyes adjust to the light, he scanned the room, finally picking out the younger man's figure in the gloom.
One small light in the corner illuminated the apartment's living room, revealing some of the mess Jenny's death had left. Half a bottle of Jack stood on the coffee table next to an empty glass. An open pizza box rested on the end-table nearest the door, half a pizza still within. Feeling a slight lightening within his chest, Gibbs saw Tony, simply sitting on the couch, his feet sprawled before him and his arms limp at his sides, the cell-phone resting within one hand where it had dropped. The ex-Marine tensed once again, though, at the sight of Tony's service pistol lying on the couch cushion next to him, within easy reach and no doubt fully loaded. Unsure what exactly he was feeling, feeling too much to give any one name to it, Gibbs stepped forward, turning on the light nearest the door as he moved.
He sat gingerly on the couch next to his agent, unobtrusively nudging the loaded Sig closer to himself and away from the distraught younger man. Casually, he curled a hand around the grip and picked up the weapon, setting it on the table next to his elbow before leaning back into the sofa. Silently, he watched the younger man, taking in the physical signs he recognized all too well and using them to gauge the situation. As he had many times before, he waited, expecting Tony to be the one to break the silence and set the ball rolling. He was surprised when no attempt to speak was made.
"DiNozzo," he sighed finally, "what are you doing?"
"I should have been there," the younger man mumbled, letting his eyes fall shut and his head drop back against the back of the couch. Gibbs saw his eyes move under his eyelids restlessly, like someone dreaming, though he was far from sleep. "She was alone. So alone out there, in the desert. Such a lonely place to die."
Gibbs' own eyes closed at the pain in his agent's voice. He knew the younger man hadn't had the best of childhoods, leaving him with deep-seated relationship issues and a need for companionship. Sitting there in the gloom, he realized how much Jenny's death had affected Tony on a deeper personal level, on top of the guilt he felt at letting her go off alone.
"Tony, she..." he trailed off, words coming with difficulty. "She was sick. She...wanted to die this way. It's not your fault."
"Just following orders, right?" Tony scoffed. "Really worked at Nuremburg, Boss." He sighed. "I know there was nothing I could have done; her mind was set on doing things her way and I couldn't have changed that. But...she didn't have to die alone. I should have been there for her."
"You would've died with her!" Gibbs all but shouted. "What good would that have done anyone?"
He thought for a moment he'd finally managed to rouse DiNozzo out of the funk he was in. Color rose in his cheeks and his eyes flashed with angry emotion as he opened his mouth to say something. In the next second, though, the color drained out of his face, leaving him as pale as before, no emotion at all shining in his eyes. Gibbs' heart sank as he realized that whatever was bugging his agent wasn't something easily set to rest.
"'m sure a lot of people would disagree with you, Boss."
"So, what, you were gonna drink yourself into a coma or eat your gun?" He was blunt, wanting DiNozzo realize instantly that he'd seen the reality of this situation.
"Boss, I –"
"There're a lot of people still counting on you, DiNozzo. A lot of people who'll need you around."
"And if I get fired for what happened?"
"Won't happen."
"You don't know that, Gibbs."
"I'm your boss. Anyone wanting to fire you'll have to go through me first."
Tony looked at him incredulously for a second, then shook his head and looked at the bottles on the table in front of him. Gibbs was willing to let the silence last for a little while but this time, Tony broke it first.
"I'm gonna have a hell of a headache in the morning," he said with a groan as he dragged a hand down his face.
Gibbs chuckled at the errant observation. "Yep."
"Boss..." Tony heaved a sigh. "I am sorry she's dead. I know you two were close."
"Yeah...I am, too."
This time, the silence was undisturbed, thickening in the room but not smothering as time passed. Gibbs let his thoughts wander, let them take him back to Paris and the way things had been. For a half-second he considered what might have been if Jenny hadn't left him in that hotel room, if she'd stayed. He didn't stay on that track for long, pulled away from the thoughts as though they burned. The possibilities had been so bright for them, for the relationship they could have had; the way things actually turned out made either path too painful to think of for long.
Tony pulled himself up from the couch and reached to grab the bottle and glass on the table. He strode into the kitchen and Gibbs heard him put away the things he carried. Without a word, he came back into the living room and flopped back down on the couch, closer to Gibbs than he had been before. Gibbs watched as he completely relaxed into the couch's embrace, let it pillow his head and enfold his body as he gave into the emotion churning within him. From under his closed eyelids, one silent tear traced its way down his cheek.
"I've lost them all, Gibbs," Tony murmured quietly into the silence and the older man could hear it in his voice as sleep began to gradually steal over him. "Kate, Paula, Jeanne, Jenny, my mother...every woman who ever meant anything to me...they're all gone. God, I wonder if Ziva and Abby'll leave me, too. I wonder..." One more silent tear tracked down his cheek as his voice trailed off and he gave in completely to his exhaustion.
Gibbs watched him for a little while, contemplating his words, guarding his six while he was vulnerable. He watched him and when the dreams began to torment the younger man, he reached out a hand and carded his fingers through the thick brown hair, soothing away the demons.
"You'll be alright, DiNozzo. Everything will be alright eventually. Just give it time," he told the sleeping agent, knowing he couldn't hear him but giving him the reassurance anyway. He shifted some on the couch, careful not to disturb DiNozzo. With a sigh, he leaned his head back on the couch.
He really was tired. Maybe he'd sleep here for a little while.
He led his team into the director's office, feeling the unease permeating the air in the once familiar room. He ran a quick survey of the space, noting each of the changes already implemented, before pinning his gaze on the new director. The smugness within Vance's eyes set him on edge, warned him that whatever was going on here wasn't something he'd like.
Bracing himself, he took a careful look at each of his agents. Ziva's eyes were unusually shadowed, each of her losses more keenly felt today and showing in her face. A sad sort of solemn air hovered around McGee, making him seem both younger and older than his years; Gibbs knew this was hitting him hard but the junior agent was handling it well. And then there was Tony.
There wasn't as much despair in his body language as there had been that evening in his apartment, but he was still unusually subdued. His movements seemed to lack some of their usual grace, as though his grief were weighing him down. He met Gibbs' eyes briefly, long enough to allow him to see the aching pain he was feeling but not enough to let him read how deep it ran. Gibbs understood how he felt, had hoped what they'd talked about in his apartment had sunken in, but it didn't appear to have done very much for him.
"Bad few days," Vance spoke, breaking through Gibbs thoughts and bringing him back to the present. 'Bad few days.' It was an understatement if he'd ever heard one. He stood silent, though, letting the director speak his piece. He froze, unable to speak, to do more than listen, as Vance continued speaking, shredding his team.
A bad few days, indeed.