Wow. I definitely don't deserve you guys – You're all awesome! 3 3 3 Thanks for reading!
Anyway... This is a shortish chapter but I hope you enjoy! :)

Chapter 7:

"Seems like Agent DiNozzo is very good at his job."

"I only accept the best."

The therapist and lead agent were seated opposite each other in one of the free conference rooms. After they had first entered, there had been a tense silence before Christine had spoken, idle as though commenting on the weather.

"Yes, well," she shuffled forward in her seat, straightening her papers, at hearing Gibbs' defensive tone. "According to other agents and the director, while your agents argue you have been – how was it put…'watching freaking daisies grow like Agent Kennedy Barton's old granny used to'. Surely their disputes are not allowing them to operate at their best? The disparaging remarks are hardly orthodox methods of encouragement."

"I do what I think is fit. The team works, we get the job done."

"Yes. Longest running track record at 97%, I do believe, in NCIS history. Pretty impressive. But of course, that's taking into account that one year you were…retired–"

"–on temporary leave."

"–and Agent DiNozzo was left in charge instead." Christine smiled. "I was watching you all in the bullpen and I must say, he was quite inventive with his ideas. No wonder other agencies would like their hands on his expertise knowledge and skill. Were you aware that the FBI offered him a lead position just two months ago?"

Gibbs grunted. "I'm not interested in discussing DiNozzo's career opportunities."

"Fine then. How about Agents David and McGee. They did not offer much in put to the case earlier – in fact they seemed reluctant to follow their senior field agent's lead." Narrowing his eyes, the silver-haired man didn't comment on the fast change of conversation.

"You can imagine my surprise when you told David to 'can it'. That, Agent Gibbs, was nothing like the response I had been expecting. I was going off reports from the last few months and the most probable course of action for you was to simply ignore their ribbing of Agent DiNozzo."

"I am perfectly capable of keeping my agents in line when need be."

She smiled. "Yes, yes. An ex-marine – sorry, marine – should know how. Right, Gunny?"

Gibbs made to stand. "If you'll excuse me, while all this chit-chat is fascinating, I have a murderer to catch who won't be sitting on his ass as we discuss these pointless-"

"-5 more minutes. I'm sure there will be no major breakthroughs in the next 5 minutes."

Their eyes met and held steady in a silent battle of wills. Gibbs relaxed slightly where his hands had been pushing against the table.

"You now have 4 minutes 48 seconds."

Christine let a small grin curl her lips. "Aren't you generous? Well, then. I'll be brief since that seems to be what you so want." She gazed intently at him, leaning forward slightly. In a conspiratorial voice she asked, "What is the exact cause for your depression?"

"Ex-excuse me?" The table shook as Gibbs abruptly stood. "I'm won't be answering any of your questions. Time's u–"

"Sit. I believe I still have 4 minutes 20 left." Her voice brooked no argument as she leaned back and met the lead Agent's eye calmly. "If you don't want to talk, listen then. I hear you're a functional mute anyways."

Christine signed and stood. She started pacing back and forth before the raging lion trapped in its caged.

"So, this is how I think it is. You go home every night tired and lonely. The first place you go to is the fridge to grab a beer. It's not like you bother keeping anything else in the house, and it's not like you're ever particularly hungry. You sit on the couch and nurse that six-pack for the rest of the evening with a gun only ever 5 feet away. What used to entertain you is no longer amusing. That boat in your basement? Probably hasn't been worked on for half a year."

Gibbs narrowed his eyes and grit his teeth. His eyes promised murder.

"Every morning you come into work slightly hung-over so you hide behind a coffee cup and a grumpy mood. The headache is only worsened by the bickering around you, so you ignore it in favour a bitter drink and another bitter case." With a sigh, the therapist stopped pacing. "This has been your routine for a long time now and it feels like you've dug yourself a rut that cannot be escaped. The loathing you once felt for those around you is being reflected inwards. When did this all start? With Director Shepherds death?"

She probed at the lead agent who was no longer meeting her gaze.

"Or was it earlier? Maybe when you came back from that sabbatical to Mexico, something had changed. Maybe it seemed like the entire world was off kilter when really everyone else had naturally moved forward." Her tone was soft. "Tony is not the cause of Jenny's death. Tony is not the reason for the team being broken when you came back–"

"I know…" It was gruff and quietly spoken.

"But neither are you. And that's what you should realize if you want anything to improve."

Silence reigned, broken only by the squeak of a chair as Gibbs made to leave.

"Time's up."

Storming towards the door, the lead agent was stopped short by a delicate hand reaching out to snag his arm.

"Let go," Gibbs growled, voice low and brooking no disagreement.

Christine let her arm drop. "I'm sorry, but you had to hear it. The frustration you feel at not being able to change the past, not having been there at those times to intervene, will always follow you as long as you shoulder this anger and self-hatred alone. Talk to him. Have faith. He's desperate to understand – and for your forgiveness."

His knuckles whitened on the door handle and he harshly shoved it open. "Lady, mind your own business and stay the Hell out of my head."

The door was thrown closed behind him, but didn't slam. It was slowed in its violent arch and ended up shutting with a soft snick, leaving the therapist tiredly slouching against the table; hoping she had made the right decision.