Not necessarily in chronological order.

It wasn't intentional, but this chapter could be read as Tibbs if you're that way inclined (and want to make it even more depressing).

betrayal

He arrives in the morgue almost frantic, not willing to believe, needing to see with his own eyes. Even though he knows, painfully and certainly, because the looks on Ziva and Tim's faces were all too truthful.

Ducky is standing by an empty morgue table, his arms crossed, his face sad and kind and stubborn.

"Where is he?"

"He's gone. And his remains are mine to deal with."

Ducky isn't usually so blunt. Gibbs stops short. "I need... I need to-"

"You don't need to torture yourself with what cannot be undone."

For a moment, Gibbs just looks at him in confusion and surprise, and then he's striding for the morgue drawers to find Tony for himself. He doesn't expect to meet an immovable object, in the shape of a diminutive but bloody-minded ME.

He tries to push Ducky aside, but Ducky is not easily shoved, and Gibbs doesn't have it in him to risk hurting his friend. "Ducky, I need to do this." He can hear the cracking in his voice, knows Ducky will hear it too.

Ducky just shakes his head. "I shan't change my mind. This is my morgue, and my decision."

"Ducky-"

"Jethro, please. Anthony would not want you to see him like this."

"I shoulda been there, Duck."

Ducky gives him a look. "So you could have what, saved him? Come now, Jethro. It was a terrible, terrible accident. It was not your fault. Even you could not have predicted it or stopped it."

"Shoulda bin there. Shoulda been able to-"

He stops. Been able to what? See a patch of ice that both DiNozzo and McGee missed? Stop Tony from falling? Be there to catch him? Be a fucking superhero?

He sinks into the chair that's conveniently situated by the morgue table, and for a second he's confused, and then he realises. He didn't know he was quite this predictable. He shakes his head.

"Need to say g'bye, Duck. Need to-"

"Oh, Jethro." Ducky reaches out and softly pats his head, as if he were a child. In a different circumstance, it might be patronising. Today, it's just comforting, although Gibbs isn't sure he deserves the comfort.

It shouldn't be like this. His team are supposed to outlast him. Tony is most definitely supposed to outlive him. So full of life and sass, his obnoxious but endearing personality. Tony isn't, can't be dead. It's... absurd.

"You've seen enough dead bodies, Jethro. You don't need to see one more. Not this one. Not him. Don't punish yourself this way."

Gibbs doesn't have the words to explain he deserves, needs to be punished. For letting his team down, letting Tony down. No matter what anyone says, he feels sure this is his fault. He's not sure how or why or what the hell he could have done to predict it and prevent it, but he should've been there. They're a team.

Logically he knows they can fend for themselves, but logic is no match for guilt and pain and shame. Something inside of him is broken. Has seen too much, lost too much, and cannot accept one more loss. It's just not right. Not Tony. No one should die like that, but Tony... if he had to die, he should've gone out in a blaze of glory, like Jen, or at least have fallen prey to an evil man, like Kate. He should've lived to go grey, like Mike.

Tony should never have been killed by a patch of ice.

"But I-"

"No."

Ducky's hand is firm and reassuring on his shoulder, and no more words are spoken. No more are needed.

There's a tacit understanding between them, and Gibbs knows he won't be trying to come back down here again, won't be looking in the morgue drawers while Ducky's back is turned. It feels like a betrayal not to come face to face with this pain, but it would be a betrayal to go behind Ducky's back. Tony would forgive him. Hell, Duck'd forgive him. But he might not be able to forgive himself. And he doesn't like it, but he trusts Ducky's judgement, and if Ducky is this insistent...

Bile rises in his throat and he chokes it back. He'll always feel guilt over this, but maybe there are worse things he could feel.

Besides, he already betrayed Tony. He can't betray Ducky, too.

It seems like they all miss Tony more than they expected. That they all loved him a little more than they realised. They're all broken, all running on empty, and he can't imagine how they will recover - as individuals, as a team - from a loss so senseless and unpredictable and unexpected. So utterly shattering.

Eventually he makes himself get up from the chair, and if he had it in him to laugh, he'd laugh at being helped up by an elderly man. But Ducky is sturdier than them all, and Gibbs can't help feeling slightly awed. Ducky has autopsied so many friends, so many people he loves, and yet he still allows himself to care, still lets his heart be broken each time. It takes a kind of strength Gibbs doesn't possess, can barely comprehend.

Instinctively he leans down to offer a hug, and they embrace for long seconds, and Gibbs does not generally allow himself the solace of tears, but this, this almost finishes him.

He lets go, and they exchange a look, and then he turns on his heel and heads for the door, head lowered.

Behind him, Ducky is getting back to work, and before the doors close, he's a reluctant eavesdropper to a morgue drawer being opened.

"Oh Anthony." Ducky's voice is old and sad. "We do all miss you so very much, dear boy."