A/N: Thanks for all your reviews, alerts and favorites! You guys are awesome. I'm in a hurry right now, so I didn't have time to reply to your comments individually, but I really appreciated every single one of them. Thanks!


Chapter Two: Companions

Gibbs sat down at the bar, vaguely aware of the wary look the bartender was giving him. He should have gone home, he knew that, to take a shower, get himself back on track and then drink some bourbon, but as he had been about to unlock his car, he realized that his hands were shaking so violently that he couldn't even do that, let alone drive safely. So there he was now, in a shabby bar a block away from the hospital. There were only a few people there, which wasn't really surprising as it was a Tuesday night. He scrubbed a hand over his face, not quite able to hide the obvious tremor that ran through his body as if he was freezing.

"What can I get you?" the bartender asked him, still eyeing him warily, and for a short moment, Gibbs wondered why that was.

"Bourbon straight," he replied, his voice thankfully its usual gruff self for once.

"Coming right up," the guy said and yet made no move to actually pour the drink as his eyes were fixed on Gibbs' shirt now.

Furrowing a brow, Gibbs followed his glance and then winced ever so slightly as he realized that his shirt was drenched in blood. His heart sank even further now as his thoughts strayed towards the lifeless body on the ground again and his fruitless attempts to stop him from bleeding out. He sighed and then looked up at the bartender, who seemed rather reluctant all of a sudden.

"Relax," Gibbs tried to soothe him or whatever. "That's not my blood."

"Do I need to call the police?"

"I am the police," he just replied and searched his pockets until he found his badge. "Satisfied now?"

The guy nodded, but still made no move to actually give him the drink and Gibbs felt the well-known impatience well up in him.

"Mind giving me that drink now? Not really in the mood for waiting."

"Yes, of course, sorry, sir," the bartender stumbled over his own words, apparently slightly taken aback by Gibbs' sharp tone of voice.

He knew he should feel bad about it, but what did it matter anyway? He just wanted a goddamn drink and his quiet in order to get his peace of mind. Not that that was likely to happen, but he could at least try. Bourbon had helped him through rough nights and sometimes even days after all. With a start, he suddenly realized that he hadn't needed it as often as he used to ever since DiNozzo had joined his one man team. The kid had something about him that always seemed to calm him down no matter what. It was kind of odd, Gibbs realized, given the fact that the guy himself was never able to shut up, was never really calm. He knew, of course, that DiNozzo was most likely hiding behind his mindless chatter because Gibbs had gotten a few glimpses behind that mask of the ever joking frat boy, but that didn't mean that he fully understood the guy. He could be obnoxious at times, annoying as hell when he was firing movie reference after movie reference at him, just to be completely serious the next second, deep in thought, whenever he was about to crack a case.

Gibbs sighed and gulped down his bourbon before setting the glass back onto the counter, motioning the bartender for another one. He forcefully tried to redirect his thoughts and looked around the bar, but there wasn't anything that held his interest for too long. He briefly wondered what Ducky thought of him for just bolting like that, but once again, he didn't really care. If there was any news, the ME would call him. That was for sure. So, there hadn't really been a reason for him to stay in that goddamn waiting room any longer, right?

"Rough day?" Gibbs was risen from his thoughts by a guy who had just taken a seat right next to him.

He was older than him, but still in shape and Gibbs immediately knew that the guy had to be in law enforcement, too. He had the calm aura of a man who had seen it all and it somehow made Gibbs a bit less anxious. His eyes were resting on Gibbs' bloody shirt for a moment before he looked up into his face as if daring him to finally start talking.

"Yeah," he finally answered, turning around again to nurse his drink.

"One of yours?" the guy asked and Gibbs sighed as he turned to look at him again.

They man's eyes were once again fixed on his shirt and Gibbs felt himself nod despite himself. He wasn't exactly keen on talking about it. Not that he ever was keen on talking, but definitely not in that particular moment. There was something about this guy, however, that seemed to draw him in. He had no idea what exactly it was - maybe his eyes that spoke volumes of pain and understanding.

"Ah, damn," the guy kept on talking. "Dead?"

Gibbs gave a start at the last word. Until now, he had refused to even think about it because by doing so, the possibility would become real and he wasn't ready to acknowledge that just yet. DiNozzo couldn't be dead, couldn't be dying and Gibbs couldn't be the reason for it. And as long as he had been in his own little world filled with denial, it hadn't been possible. But now that the guy had said it out loud, Gibbs realized that he would maybe have to deal with it after all. He sighed loudly and took another sip before he finally answered, his voice low.

"No... I mean, I don't know."

"Okay," came back the reluctant answer. "Wanna talk about it?"

"No," Gibbs replied.

"Fine. Then we'll just sit here and wait for your phone, that you keep checking every five seconds, to ring."

Gibbs titled his head ever so slightly and realized that the man was serious about it. At the moment, he was looking right back at him, that understanding expression still on his face and Gibbs felt something tug uncomfortably at his insides. He had no idea what it was exactly and he probably didn't want to know either. Sighing, he finally held out his hand and the other man took it after a moment of obvious surprise on his side.

"Jethro," Gibbs introduced himself, even though he had no idea why.

"Sean. Nice to meet you."

"You say that now," Gibbs joked despite himself, earning himself a soft chuckle from the other man.

"Why don't you let me decide that?" he grinned for a moment before he became serious again. "I know how hard it is. You sure you don't want to talk? Sometimes it helps, you know."

"Not exactly a talker."

"Yeah," Sean snorted. "I got that already. But if I've learned one thing about my time with the cops, it was that things will eat you up alive if you keep bottling stuff up."

Gibbs remained silent as he looked at the guy more closely, noting the grim determination on his face. He let out a sigh again, internally debating whether he should just get up and leave or stay there and talk about it. He really didn't want to talk, but he also knew that he had nowhere to go, either. He couldn't just go home like nothing had ever happened and he sure as hell wouldn't go back to the hospital and the lonely waiting room. He couldn't stand it there, couldn't just sit there and wait for the doctors to tell him that it was all too late.

"There's nothing much to tell," he reluctantly started. "Case gone wrong. You might have heard about it anyway. Colin Roswell."

It had been a high profile case after all. Roswell had killed four women over the last two weeks. The last one had just happened to be a young Petty Officer and that was why NCIS had been assigned to the case. It hadn't taken too long for Gibbs and DiNozzo to figure it out that it was 26-year-old Roswell that had murdered them in cold blood. Security cameras had placed his car near all the crime scenes. The two of them had just been about to pick him up at his apartment, when they had heard him flee through the window and into the streets, resulting in a car chase that had led them through half of DC.

"Heard it in the news. You got the bastard, right?" Sean asked now, taking a sip from the beer that the bartender had just placed in front of him.

"Yeah, he's dead," Gibbs replied, a sudden feeling of satisfaction boiling up inside of him and he couldn't bring himself to feel ashamed of it, the guy was the reason that had put him in this goddamn position after all.

"So, what happened?" the older man prodded again, causing Gibbs to sigh as he realized that he wouldn't let it go.

"Well," he started over, scrubbing a hand over his face, desperately trying to suppress the feeling of utter helplessness.

.

Flashback

.

"Never been in a car chase before, Boss," DiNozzo told him excitedly as they rushed after the blue Volvo that belonged to Roswell. "Well, one could argue that you're always driving like you're actually in one, but you catch my drift. This is so Smokey and the Bandit. It's awesome."

Gibbs let out an exasperated sigh even though he was secretly glad the guy was talking to him again after their disagreement only an hour previously. He let the rest of DiNozzo's monologue wash over him without really listening to the guy. After a while, he finally managed to catch up with the bastard in front of them. He quickly checked that there was no one besides themselves on the road and was satisfied as he found the street deserted as they crossed the Anacostia River. He stepped on the gas, chuckling softly as he saw the knuckles on DiNozzo's hand turn white as he grabbed for the handle, and then swerved ever so slightly, crashing into the rear of the Volvo in front of them. The car came to a screeching stop and Gibbs hastened to step on the brakes. DiNozzo grimaced and cursed quietly before he hurried to get out of the car. Gibbs followed suit, gun pointed at the bastard that was still sitting behind the wheel of his Volvo, his hands already in the air. They carefully inched forwards, not taking any risks.

"Keep your hands where I can see them," Gibbs shouted at Roswell and then nodded at DiNozzo to open the door.

The younger man gave him an oddly lopsided grin as if this was the kind of thing he had waited for all year long and then reached out his hand to grab the handle. But he never made it all the way because Roswell had decided to take that exact moment to fight back again. He had pushed open the door, hitting DiNozzo's wrist in the course. Gibbs heard him cry out in pain, but he didn't turn to look at him because Roswell, and Gibbs had no idea how he had managed to get a hold of it, was pointing his own gun right at Gibbs' chest.

"Easy now, Roswell," Gibbs snarled, hearing his own pulse rush loudly through his ears. "It's two against one. You've got no chance."

The perp looked at him with a smirk on his lips and Gibbs felt his gut churn all of a sudden and definitely not in the good way. Out of the corners of his eyes, he saw that DiNozzo, too, had his gun drawn, even though he was holding it in his left hand, which was not really comforting regarding the fact that the guy was right-handed. The crash of his hand with the car door must have been worse than Gibbs had expected, but it wasn't really all that important because Roswell didn't have to know that. He redirected his full attention towards the guy, who was still pointing his gun at him, apparently not willing to give up just yet.

Roswell snarled now and then quickly glanced at DiNozzo before he suddenly jumped out of his car with a shout and managed to tackle Gibbs, who really hadn't expected it, the ground. He tried to fight him off as they wrestled, but the guy was surprisingly strong and Gibbs had trouble keeping up with him. He had already started to sweat and was slowly getting restless inside as he realized that his often tested Marine skills weren't working on him. He was pinned down onto the street now and only now did he realize that he wasn't holding his gun in his hand anymore. He quickly glanced around and saw it lying under Roswell's car completely out of reach, while the bastard had his own still in his hand. Desperately trying to gain the upper hand again, Gibbs fought back harder as he saw DiNozzo still standing there, his gun pointed at them. He knew that the kid wouldn't dare to try to take a shot, not when they were fighting and moving like that. Briefly, Gibbs wondered why he wasn't at least trying to get Roswell off of him before he noticed that DiNozzo's right arm was hanging uselessly at his side, as if it had been broken.

"Roswell," he heard DiNozzo shout over his own gasping. "Let go. You got no chance."

For a split of a second, the guy above him stilled and Gibbs was just about to take the moment of momentary distraction to reverse their roles when the suspect suddenly and without warning turned his head towards DiNozzo as if he had just noticed him and then, before Gibbs had taken as much as a breath, pointed the gun at the young man. A split of a second later, a shot was to be heard and Gibbs hadn't even blinked before he saw DiNozzo look at him with horror. The young agent's gun dropped to the ground when his hand grabbed at his chest and Gibbs stared at him for a moment longer before he finally managed to take Roswell by surprise and shake him off. Blindly grabbing for DiNozzo's gun and desperately trying not to look at his partner, Gibbs managed to keep the perp at arm's length. Finally, his fingers came in contact with the cold metal and he grabbed it at the same time that Roswell had freed himself from Gibbs grasp and pointed his own gun at him again. But this time, Gibbs didn't lose any time. Like in a haze, he felt himself pull the trigger and a split of a second later Roswell sagged to the ground, blood streaming from his chest, where Gibbs had shot him.

Gibbs turned around, sure that the perp was dead, but what he saw next made him wish that he hadn't moved at all. He felt his blood run cold as he looked at DiNozzo, who was staring back at him in wonder before he averted his glance and looked down at his chest as if it he had never seen it before. His white shirt was already drenched in blood and Gibbs knew that he had to act fast now. His pulse was rushing loudly through his ears now as he realized that he failed the kid and he was just about to close the short distance between them as DiNozzo looked up at him again.

"Gibbs," he pressed out and to Gibbs' horror, there was blood already coming out of his mouth.

He stopped to stare at the guy for only a moment, trying to get over the shock, but before he had regained his composure, DiNozzo suddenly stumbled over his own feet, even though Gibbs hadn't even noticed that he had tried to move at all. The kid was gripping for the railing of the bridge right behind him with his right hand, but somehow managed to miss it and then, in a moment of pure surprise, he looked at Gibbs with a blank expression on his face before his eyes rolled back into his head. Gibbs had just reached out for him, managing to take hold of the hem of his shirt, as DiNozzo keeled over backwards over the railing – and fell.

"Tony!"


A/N: Reviews would be really awesome.