Feb 10
I would give more for the private esteem and love of one than for the public praise of ten thousand. – W. R. Alger
Gibbs sat in Tony's chair and stared at the contents of the drawer. His medals.
He didn't care about them. They meant nothing to him. They were a sign of loyalty and devotion to his country, which did not need rewarding. He had only been doing his job, and doing it for others, not himself.
Tony seemed to think that he should be proud of the medals and what they stood for. But things were different. Few things in the world today rewarded courage; most involved people patting themselves on the back.
And yet he did not feel worthy of his rewards. He knew braver men; men who had sacrificed themselves to save others, men who had gone unrewarded. The unsung heroes should receive the praise that meant nothing to him.
Gibbs ran his fingers across the case of a medal, lost in thought. He was not even sure what he had won half of them for; they all blurred together in his mind. Rubbing his eyes, he closed the drawer, leaving everything once again in the capable hands of DiNozzo.