Summary:- He can't face going home because he won't be there.

Note:- I have no idea where this came from. Seriously... none!

I'm reading the reports. All of them. But no matter how many times my eyes see the words, they won't register in my brain.

I'm surprised Gibbs isn't in my office. One of my agents has been murdered and I didn't even leave the confines of this space. Surely he's wondering why.

Some of the words start to register the third time I read them. Words like exsanguination. Evisceration. Blood trail.

What do I do with that? That's not how I remember him but now that's all I can see.

I close my eyes tightly. A small smile crosses my face even as the silent tears rain down.

I see the first years we worked together. Late night's in the break room working cases and swapping ideas over the terrible coffee. My promotion to director and the shy awkwardness of developing this new working relationship.

I see the subtle flirtation and the way it became more without either one of us even realising it.

Our first kiss was right here in this office. Right over there on my sofa. I don't remember which of us was most surprised. Him when I kissed him or me when he didn't push me away.

There's a line in DiNozzo's report -Upon checking the apartment, we noticed it was kept exceptionally neat and organised. I don't know why that line is in there. It seems like Tony was looking for anything to say to make him seem... perfect. What he doesn't know, is that to me... he was.

What no-one knows is that his apartment is only that neat because all his stuff is at our place. Our place. It just sounds so... so wrong now. But still so right.

At home, he was anything but neat. At work, he kept everything in it's place but at home... I've lost track of the arguments we had about him not picking up after himself.

I wouldn't take back one of those fights. Not for the world. Because it was after those that we made up. And making up was the best feeling in the world. Holding him in my arms and telling him I loved him. Hearing him tell me he loved me too.

I'll never have that again and it hurts that no-one knows I had it at all.

Wiping the tears from my face, I mentally brace myself for going home. I haven't been there all week and I'm not sure I want to go now. I don't want to face seeing his things, the ghost of him I know will be in every corner of that now empty house.

A knock at the door interrupts my nervous internal rambling and I look up to see Gibbs leaning on the wall.

"C'mon, Tom. It's time."

I shake my head. Of course he knows. That's why he's my best investigator. I'm kinda proud at how my voice doesn't break.

"I'm not sure I can."

Gibbs nods.

"I understand. More than most people know."

Walking over to my wet bar, he pours us both a drink.

I listen to him telling me a story of a troubled young man from a small Pennsylvania town and a beautiful woman named Shannon and then later an angel named Kelly.

Finally I get it. I may be scared of the ghosts I need to face, but eventually I'll understand that living with the ghost of Chris is better than not ever living with the love we had.