— The story and any possible original characters are mine. NCIS, its own characters and canon aren't. —

As requested, now also with different ending, that is chapter 2. To read the story with the happier ending, you can just skip the first chapter.

Leo

As he stood up and said goodbye, he didn't have to be a genius to know that they hardly paid any attention to what he had just said, or rather the way he said it. All of them were too tired to care or too much into their own weekend plans. They had just finished their case. Reports were handed in. Everything was in perfect order and they had a whole weekend off, which was a rare treat for them and he knew each one of them was going to be taking advance of it in their own way.

Probie would be writing another chapter for that ridiculous book of his, then maybe play some games of his or do some other geeky stuff he would usually do.

Ziva... Well, he had heard her talking about how she would love to visit a 'friend' of hers, so that was most likely what she was going to do.

Abby would spend her weekend clubbing, or if the work called, at work.

Same thing with Ducky, only without the clubbing part. Dear old Ducky would spend the time taking care of his mother's grave.

Jimmy, the only one who had noticed something was off with him today, but had been too busy to get the chance to ask about it. He would be busy with his studying. No free time for the poor guy. His friend. Perhaps they could have become the next Gibbs and Ducky, as far as their relationship went. Maybe better than that.

And Gibbs. Gibbs would... Gibbs... Boss would spend it in the basement, drinking bourbon and working on the boat. Maybe think about those he had lost. Would he become one of them, one of those many ghosts the man never wanted to talk about? Would Gibbs remember him like the others?

Would they forget him..?

In sudden agony, Tony muttered 'bye ' for the last time and hurried to the stairs, instead of the elevator; not trusting himself to be in that small space with everyone else. By the time he made it half way downstairs, he had to sit down and try to breathe. He should have taken the elevator after all. His lungs couldn't handle this anymore. Every day was pure agony, just trying to keep himself breathing no matter how impossible it sometimes felt like. Breathe in and breathe out. Constant mantra that he kept going in his head, by now most likely even in his sleep when he could get any sleep.

Thinking his breathing was steady enough, Tony stood up and slowly made it downstairs. He was feeling dizzy and sick, and his throat... It felt like he was suffocating. Like he was slowly drowning on a dry land.

God, please... Someone help me... Don't let me do this... Don't let me go through with it...

Making it to his car, he noticed that everyone else had already left. Part of him felt relieved and the other part was disappointed, maybe even slightly hurt.

He drove slowly, not wanting to cause any accidents and bring anyone with him. No one else should have to pay the price for his weakness.

When he made it home, for a moment he wanted to give up and just call someone when he noticed the 'out of order ' sign on the elevator, again. He couldn't do this anymore. More stairs. Why did he have to end up living in a place like this anyway? Or had he somehow known that it wouldn't matter, in the end? The way up was painfully slow and after already running all over the place all day—no, all week—he was almost ready to pass out by the time he finally made it to his door.

Locking up the door, and after making sure it had been bolted up nice and tight—not like it mattered if someone did break in to steal and murder, but that wasn't why he locked the door—he walked in the kitchen to get something to drink. How ironic. He was going to kill himself and yet he was worried about how much he needed that drink. He wasn't surprised to find nothing in the kitchen so he had to settle for a glass of water, which wasn't even cold enough. Come to think of it, he was feeling rather hot. Or maybe cold? Wiping the sweat from his forehead, Tony staggered in the living room and put on a movie. His hands were shaking now and he realized he was crying.

Don't let me do this... Why can't anyone save me? Why couldn't they see me?

Taking his gun, he put it on the floor right next to his badge, which he had accidentally dropped from his numb fingers.

He had tried saying something to them. He tried to tell Gibbs what Brad had told him about the condition of his lungs, but the man had been too busy with other things. Work. The death of Jackie and Eli. Something else. Sure, he understood the pain, the loss and the anger. The need for revenge. But could they not spare just a little bit of their time for him? He had done his share; even followed Ziva in Berlin of all things, when he shouldn't have. He couldn't help but wonder... Was this the price he had to now pay for a lifetime of mistakes, things he'd been unable to do, not being good enough, not being perfect? Bad lungs, which would ultimately kill him and being the invisible, smiling and joking wallflower in that team of his.

He took the new bottle of pills from his pocket, which he had saved for this moment. "I'm sorry, Ducky... Please don't feel guilty for trusting me with these." Taking the pills with the water, Tony leaned forward to write down a short message, which he figured he should do to not let anyone think a crime had happened. Although the now empty bottle of sleeping pills was a pretty good message already. Lying down against the pillows on the couch, he stared at the movie on TV. After a while everything started to blur and then fade and he felt sleepy.

Why couldn't they save me?

He could have sworn he heard his mother's soft voice, singing a lullaby. One of her sober moments... With the 'It's a wonderful life ' playing in the background, Anthony D. DiNozzo Jr. finally closed his eyes, with a sad smile on his face.

Spacing around the basement, Gibbs felt restless and there was painful twisting in his gut, as bad as it had felt before he knew what had happened to Shannon and Kelly. Throwing his bottle of bourbon against the floor, he took out his phone and pressed the speed dial. After calling each person he cared about and knowing they were doing just fine, he finally called the one person he for some reason had dreaded to call. And perhaps, had he called him first, things could have turned out differently.

"You have reached very special Anthony DiNozzo's phone. Leave a message and I will call you back. Boss? If it's you, I'm sure I have a perfectly good reason to not answer."

Waiting impatiently for the message to end, Gibbs growled, "DiNozzo! Answer your phone! Please. I need to know you're okay. Call me as soon as you get this, okay?" Ending the call, Gibbs felt that twisting feeling in his gut again and he stormed out of the basement, grabbing his car keys on the way, not caring that he'd been drinking. Not like he was even drunk. Although right now he almost wished he was.

While leaving his house, he called Ducky. "Ducky, I need you to go to Tony's place. Something's wrong... No, just a feeling I'm having. Really bad one... Yeah. I'll meet you there."

Breaking any speed limits he possibly could—and who knows what else as he took any insane shortcuts he could think of—Gibbs made it to Tony's place in record time. Scoffing at the 'out of order sign ', he ignored the pain in his bad knee and started taking two—three—steps at a time as he raced upstairs. Taking out his spare key, Gibbs opened the door, only to notice it had been bolted up from the inside. Not even hesitating, he kicked the door open. Closing the door with gentleness that was so different from the angry kick before, Gibbs walked farther in the dimly lit apartment. "DiNozzo?"

Hearing a faint noise coming from the living room, Gibbs walked in there. He smiled when he saw his Agent sleeping on the couch like a baby and smiling in his sleep. "You really scared me there for a moment..." Turning off the TV, Gibbs noticed a piece of paper on the floor. Picking it up he squinted his eyes, trying to read it. The short message that stood on it, made his heart freeze in fear.

'I can't do this anymore. I'm sorry.'

"Tony..." It was only then that Gibbs noticed there was no raising and falling of the chest, no soft breathing and Tony's skin was deathly pale. His hand was trembling when he moved it to check the pulse. No... There was no pulse... Deep down Gibbs knew that there was no hope, that he was too late, but he had to try. He had to do something or he would break down like there was no tomorrow. Taking hold of Tony, Gibbs was shocked to notice how light the younger man was. When had he lost so much weight? "Tony... Come on... Don't do this to me..." Gibbs started giving CPR. Over and over again. He kept repeating the cycle until there was no breath left in him to do it.

"Please... Tony... Please..." he was pleading. Sitting on the floor, he pulled into his arms the unmoving form of the most important person after Shannon and Kelly, pleading and praying, "Please... Don't do this to me... I'm sorry... I'm sorry... Come on... Open your eyes, Tony..."

There were so many things left unsaid. So many things. Important things... He'd been planning to take the man to someplace hot. On a beach, with bunch of those bikini women of his. He might have even been talked into wearing one of those hideous Hawaii shirts. He'd been planning it for weeks, knowing they both needed some rest from the work, among other things. He had waited too long...

When Ducky arrived, he was faced with an image that wouldn't leave him for the rest of his life. He had seen enough dead bodies in his life to know what had happened. One look and the old doctor knew what was going on. He didn't have to see the suicide note. He saw the way Anthony looked and the empty bottle of sleeping pills, which he had given to the man, and the wide-eyed and wild look that Gibbs now wore, trying to wake the man whom he was now cradling in his arms like he would a small child.

Ducky didn't let himself fall apart right now. He would only do it after he had done his work on their dear Anthony. He would not let anyone else touch him. It would only happen over his dead body. Taking out his phone, Ducky started making phone calls, knowing that soon everyone would be here. Some of them perhaps even adopting Gibbs' driving style to get there fast enough.

Gibbs was unaware of anything else. He had finally broken down and his pleading turned into sobbing as he kept holding Tony in his arms. He couldn't do this again. He couldn't do this... Why hadn't they noticed something was wrong? Why hadn't he noticed anything? Could they have stopped this from happening?

They dressed him in his favorite suit. Abby had chosen to fill the coffin with flowers, surprisingly not going with any black roses, but instead finding all kinds of white and yellow flowers. Pure, bright and happy, she had explained. She was now crying uncontrollably while the priest spoke. She didn't hear a thing.

McGee looked pale and very unsure of himself, with his arm over Abby's shoulders. He had big shoes to fill and for the first time he realized he was not going to be able to do that. The shoes were too big for anyone to fill.

Ziva glanced at the surprise guest, DiNozzo Senior, who did not show any emotions. Perhaps he only cried in secret or he truly felt nothing at all. At least he had showed up.

Jimmy was sobbing openly, squeezing his glasses in his hands and Breena held her arms around him, trying to offer the comfort she knew she couldn't offer.

Ducky sat next to Jimmy. He wasn't crying, but his eyes were red and full of grief.

The funeral was big and extravagant and shocking amount of people had showed up. From old friends, frat brothers and even former girlfriends to former work partners, people from the Navy Yard, people Tony had helped and people he didn't even know. Even people like Vance, Tom Morrow and Fornell. They all had come to show their respect. They were all too late...

The one who had paid for it all was not there. He simply couldn't do it. Instead he had locked himself in his basement, drinking his bourbon in the middle of what used to be beginning of a beautiful boat. Maybe he'll give up building boats...

"I'm sorry, Tony... We should've been there... I should've been there..." Gibbs mumbled drunkenly.

Ducky that old bastard had taken his guns away from him and they all had cornered him, making him promise to not do 'anything stupid'. He had laughed and asked them if that's what suicide was called now. Sure, he had promised to not go and kill himself, but it didn't mean he would keep living his life though. He had already left the NCIS and now all he wanted was to drink himself numb. He had failed watching Tony's six. He didn't deserve having anyone watching his. They kept talking to him about getting some help. They didn't understand anything. He didn't want any help! He was a bitter old man with nothing left to save in him. So he would keep on 'living', but no one could make him leave his basement. He had lost too much and the outside world would be too big of a reminder.

"I'm sorry, Tony... Shannon... Kelly... I'm sorry..." Closing his eyes, Gibbs started crying again. "I'm so sorry..."

The End

Human life is a fragile thing. We are but flowers on the field.

We bloom and flourish and when the strong wind blows, we are no more.

Don't take your loved ones for granted. They are here today, but they might be gone tomorrow.

Don't take your own life for granted. We smile, hate, love and cry today, but tomorrow all those things are meaningless.