Once again, massive thanks to every one of my reviewers; especially Amazon Penny and Richefic.

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Chapter 10: Precious Things

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Gibbs unlocked the plain wooden door with his key and stared at the inside of Tony's apartment.

As he'd known they would, the familiar surroundings made his chest constrict. Tony's home was modern, tasteful and completely impersonal. Gibbs had only been there two or three times, not counting Kate and McGee's search. The neutral pale yellow walls were broken up only by the occasional framed classic film poster and a full wall bookshelf packed with DVDs, most of which he'd never heard of.

It was the unfinished touches that brought a lump to his throat; a half finished crossword puzzle, a note on the fridge reminding him to pick up his dry cleaning. Tony'd never need any of his expensive designer clothes ever again.

The former Marine flopped down onto the plush leather couch and tried to ignore the silence; the emptiness. DiNozzo had used this place as a storage facility; he'd lived in the office, thriving on takeout and naps at his desk after thirty hour days.

The apartment still smelled of Tony, though. The clean, masculine scent of his aftershave, fainter hints of popcorn and coffee; but mostly just Tony, warm and comforting and so very painfully familiar.

They'd never really hung out outside of work. Tony was always chasing after some girl and he preferred to spend his free time with his boat than on the town. But they'd been friends, of a sort. At least, if Tony needed anything he knew he could come to Gibbs for help; and there had been precious few people in his life he could say that about.

It was just so… unfair. Gibbs knew how pathetic that sounded, but it was how he felt.

Tony had worked in law enforcement for twelve years; and after all the cases he'd solved, all the injuries he'd had, all the things he'd achieved with a smile and a movie reference, he was still just as vulnerable to something as simple as a car accident. It hit Gibbs then that a car crash had killed Shannon and Kelly too, although not an accidental one.

He thought unhappily of the practicalities. He was the only one around to deal with funeral arrangements, although he had no idea what Tony would have wanted. He'd once claimed to want to be cryogenically frozen; but he doubted that was serious. Tony had been raised Catholic, right? But that didn't seem right either, a full traditional funeral mass wasn't Tony's style at all.

Did he even have a will? Of course he did; it was a requirement for field agents to file a will with the legal department. Maybe that would include something on Tony's wishes. He wondered who would show up. Tony had a lot of friends, but most could hardly be called close; he'd have to put calls in to Peoria, Philadelphia and Baltimore in case any of his former partners were still in touch…

And then he realised what he was staring at. In the corner stood a vintage record player, which looked distinctly out of place in the modern apartment.

"When I was a kid, I used to hide things in my record player."

Gibbs got to his feet and opened the compartment. Inside were a few items he assumed had been childhood treasures; a toy Ferrari, a battered baseball and a framed photograph. It was a professional job; a stiff, formal family portrait, husband standing proudly behind his seated wife and their child. The boy was unquestionably Tony; he looked to be about ten years old. The woman could only be his mother; she had been a beautiful woman. Tony had inherited her brilliant eyes and slightly cleft nose, but Dominic DiNozzo's features could be picked out in his face too. They looked happy; the embodiment of the American Dream.

At the bottom of the box was another photograph and an envelope. The picture was of the team; Tony must have snapped it himself at a crime scene. Gibbs was smiling in the centre, Kate with her sketch pad joining in the joke. Ducky looked amused and McGee puzzled and out of breath, schlepping a couple of cases of equipment. And Tony considered this important enough to hide with the most precious things he owned. Gibbs turned to the letter, holding it further away so he could read who it was addressed to.

L.J. Gibbs, NCIS

Gibbs simply stared at it, eyes blurring, knowing that Tony would only have hidden one type of letter here. The kind he'd write as a just in case, a last message for those he left behind. And he hadn't written it to his family, or a girlfriend; he'd written it to his damn boss, who hadn't even been able to protect him.

Maybe Ducky was right, Gibbs thought wryly. Maybe he did know I cared, somehow. Or maybe he just knew that no one else would even notice he was gone.

To open this letter would be to acknowledge that Tony wasn't coming home….

Gibbs was so lost in his thoughts he barely heard the rattle until someone opened the front door. The minute it registered, he spun around, shoving the precious letter into his pocket, hand going instinctively to his hip… and was confronted by an elderly lady in a pink floral apron holding a large Tupperware box. She looked like someone's granny.

"Who are you?" She demanded, raising the box like a weapon. "Does Anthony know you're in his home? I warn you, I can crack a skull with my lasagne!"

"I believe you, Ma'am," said Gibbs, intimidated despite himself. "Special Agent Gibbs; I worked with Tony." The old lady relaxed slightly, still pinning Gibbs with a glare the Marine would have been proud of.

"Oh; you're Gibbs, are you? Is Anthony home, then? I haven't seen him in a few days; you work the poor boy far too hard. He hasn't landed himself back in hospital, has he?"

"You haven't heard, Ma'am?"

"Don't you call me ma'am, young man; my name is Ms Dorset, I live across the hall. And what haven't I heard?"

"Tony… was killed in a car accident Monday night."

The woman's mouth dropped open in shock, the box of lasagne falling from her hands. "No…" She breathed. "Anthony…"

Gibbs stepped forwards and took her arm, guiding her to a chair. He fetched a glass of water from the kitchen and knelt beside her, pressing it into her trembling hand.

"Here," he said gently, encouraging her to drink.

She sipped at the water, recovering her ability to speak. "Did… did he suffer?"

…Tony's screams as he writhed in agony… the smell of his charring flesh…

"No; no, they don't think he felt any pain," said Gibbs softly.

"But he was so young… such a sweet boy… he was always telling me to look after myself better…"

"Yeah; me too," said Gibbs softly, pressing a hand against his side so he could feel the letter in his pocket.

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