A couple of people wrote to me saying they liked the first story, but wished I had put Mike Franks in it. I also like the way he talked to Gibbs while hunting the P2P killer so I wrote another version of the same story, one with Mike.

Spoiler for NCIS episodes "Swan Song" and "Pyramid."

Rated - K

Friendship story.

Leyla had taken Amira out for the afternoon and Gibbs had been walking slowly around his basement picking up the odd piece of wood and tool out of place. It had been a while since he'd left it so cluttered.

"It's messy in here, Probie."

With a side glance in the direction of Mike Frank's voice, he continued to gather items until his hands and arms were full.

"Why are you moping around? You got the bad guy. Your team is safe."

The hand sander landed on the bench top with a soft thud and Gibbs turned to face the apparition muttering, "Yeah, we got him."

Mike bellowed, "Then what's wrong with you?"

He studied his friend's face. It was ghostly gray and in need of a shave, but the eyes were bright. "It was too easy."

Mike laughed. "Be grateful for that." Then more seriously he asked, "What else?"

Perching his backside on a sawhorse Gibbs admitted, "Team's safe, but they're not alright."

With a scoff Mike asked, "Your gut telling you that?"

Gibbs nodded with a small smile. Ziva had missed the funeral and her boyfriend Ray had quickly left the country, supposedly on urgent CIA business. After a hug and a kiss on his cheek, she'd rushed away from the Navy Yard. DiNozzo had been distant, kind of aloof and Gibbs knew it was mostly because of EJ but also other things. He hadn't hesitated to tell Tony what he thought of that relationship, but of course he hadn't told him EJ's connection to the former SecNav. He hadn't told anybody. And the new SecNav, Clayton Jarvis, well, that was a whole different can of worms. Vance had been Vance. No mystery there. Ducky knew all about death and loss and respected boundaries, most of the time. This time though he couldn't seem to get out of psychological profile mode. Mike had been terminally ill and somehow that was supposed to make a person feel better. It did in a way. but Gibbs hadn't gotten the chance to tell him things, personal things, things that go unsaid in a friendship like theirs. Ducky thought it should make it easier to accept. Jethro knew differently. McGee and especially Abby had been too quiet and Gibbs knew they were dwelling on Mike and Levin and remembering the deaths of Jenny, Kate, Cassidy, Jim, Pacci and Rick. He hung his head for a few seconds and then sighed.

Even Jenny hadn't visited him like Mike had been doing. "Why are you here, Mike?" He lifted his head to look at Franks but he wasn't where he had been.

"I'm waiting for someone."

He turned toward the voice and saw Mike sitting on the stairs about halfway up. His mind swirled. Waiting for someone? No no no, if anyone came over now he'd physically toss them out on their butt or their head. Every one of them knew not to bother him on his day off, though except for DiNozzo each one had bothered him with a phone call, a note left for him to read, a personal visit. Now one of them was coming back. Leyla knew to give him space. Even his Goddaughter hadn't been clinging. She missed Mike and Jethro and Leyla comforted her as much as she would let them, but for a young child she was doing pretty well. Leyla had seen and experienced lots of death, but Jethro knew Mike's death had hit her hard. Like it had him.

Retreating to the far side of the room he slid down the wall to sit on the bare concrete. "I don't want anyone here," he announced defiantly.

"I know," Mike replied passively.

Pulling up his legs, Gibbs wrapped his arms around his calves. Why couldn't they leave him alone? He knew it was only a matter of time before his emotions got away from him. Did they want to bear witness?

Suddenly Mike was standing in front of him. "I'll be seeing you, Probie." The light from the window made Mike look even more ghostly and then he was gone. He tipped his head back against the wall and hugged his legs a little tighter. His stomach growled reminding him that he'd consumed coffee and a piece of toast a long time ago. Before they left Leyla had offered to make him a sandwich but he'd assured her he would eat something and that evening they would have a nice meal together. Mike had been right. he was moping, but he couldn't help it. His chest felt heavy, his head throbbed, his eyes burned and his heart ached. If he wasn't already so familiar with the symptoms of grief, he'd swear he'd need an ambulance for a trip to the ER. Remembering what Mike had said about someone coming over, Jethro went back to wondering who it would be. Then he heard the front door.

Gibbs watched Jack O'Neill glance around the basement as he made his way slowly down the steps. He'd been sitting motionless in the shadow of the far corner and knew the moment he'd been spotted. His friend walked over and dropped a bottle and a bag on the workbench before turning to look at him and he glared back, hoping his eyes conveyed how much he didn't want him there. He wasn't welcome. He knew he wouldn't be and had come anyway. Gibbs scowled. He'd put up with all the others. Sure they were sad and they knew he was sad, but none of them understood how he needed to grieve. He stared at Jack leaning so casually against the wood surface. He scowled some more. He didn't need consoling. He didn't need companionship. He didn't feel like sharing and he clenched his jaw in anger. This person more than anyone else knew why he was alone in his basement, knew why he needed to be left alone in his basement.

Seconds passed and then a full minute until Gibbs lowered his gaze to his hands resting on his knees. If he ignored Jack maybe he'd go away so he spent a minute examining his thumbnails and the fine lines in the skin of his knuckles. After another minute he mentally dismissed Jack's presence and let his mind circle back to the events of the last few years. In another minute all he could think about was Mike laying in the street or on the autopsy table. Weren't memorial services and funerals supposed to help you get beyond those memories? It was still too fresh. Suddenly feeling vulnerable he closed his eyes and pulled his hands into tight fists. Mike was dead; dead and buried; another friend gone. It was his fault for asking Mike to come. He felt the lump in his throat and swallowed hard, but before he could force down his emotions, Jack was on the floor beside him.

He heard "C'mere Jethro," and was pulled over with two strong arms that wrapped around him. He didn't resist. He welcomed his friend's comfort and snuggled into the warm embrace because he knew this was one person who truly understood. With Jack's gentle hands resting on his shoulder and head, Gibbs buried his face in his friend's chest and wept.

From his position on the stairs Mike smiled and whispered, "You'll be alright now, Probie."

Thanks for reading. Please review or send me a message. :)