AN: Second of two companion stories to an earlier work, "You're Not There." It helps to read that story first. "You're Not There" was a short one shot from Gibb's point of view, about Tony no longer at NCIS. That story was ambiguous about Tony's fate and the reason for him being gone. There was some speculation among readers as to what might have happened, which prompted two versions of the follow on story. This one, and the alternate version posted separately, add other points of view and possibilities.

Takes place in early season 13.

*Warning* - this version depicts a past 'offscreen' main character death. Back button away now if you prefer not to read that kind of story.

~Abby

Her hand hovered over the door handle and she hesitated before going in. Would he be in there? She decided it didn't matter one way or the other. She stepped inside, pausing to her eyes a few seconds to adjust to the dark interior. He was there all right, sitting at the bar cradling a glass of bourbon, neat.

Gibbs has never spoken to any of them about what happened that day, and attempts to get him to open up about it were always met with stony looks and silence. Though his case report was factual, it was distinctly lacking in details that might bring them all some kind of closure. They do know he was to blame, thanks to Internal Affairs.

Gibbs knows it too. He might be a cold, stoic wall of ambivalence at NCIS, but outside of it, he was the picture of guilt and denial. Gibbs drank more, and didn't do it solely in the privacy of his basement any more. More often than not when they didn't have a case, this bar was where Gibbs started his after-hours and weekend drinking. He might refuse to talk about it, but she was here to show Gibbs that his silence didn't absolve him.

Gibbs noticed she'd come in. She saw him tense ever so slightly when he caught sight of her figure moving past him in the mirror above the bar. Gibbs went back to studying the contents of his glass without acknowledging her.

Coward.

That was fine by her. She was here for her own reasons, not to take Gibbs to task over his latest descent into self-destructiveness. She moved through the room, catching a few openly curious, even suspicious glances from some of the other patrons. With her unusual attire and makeup, she stood out in a place heavily frequented by members of the law enforcement community. As she made her way to the far side of the room, they seemed to understand her intent in being there and turned away, no longer on alert.

She reached into a pocket and pulled out the item she'd been carrying like a talisman, hesitant to let it go. Her eyes stung and as she struggled with the sudden surge of emotions, she felt the sensation of being watched again. She glanced back over her shoulder to see Gibbs observing her in the mirror. He knew why she was here now too. Good. She sent him a fierce glare before turning away, and hoped it hurt. It should.

Some time later, she'd completed her self-appointed task through the tears running unchecked down her face and turned to leave. She quickly wound her way back to the front door, passing Gibbs once more without speaking.

~Gibbs

The glimpse of a black-clad figure in the mirror caught his attention and he bristled at first, thinking she was here for an intervention. Some of the tension left his body as she passed behind him without a word. He watched her, along with others in the bar and when she reached her destination, he kept watching after everyone else turned away out of respect.

He supposed he shouldn't have been surprised at Abby's appearance here. He came here to escape for a while but it seemed in her way, Abby was making damn sure he couldn't run from what he'd done. Somehow she sensed him watching, and half turned, shooting him a resentful glare over one shoulder before turning away again. Also not surprising. Much like the rest of the team, Ducky especially, her loyalties had shifted and no longer lay with him.

Abby stood there for a long time as he watched. He could tell when she started crying, and turned his attention back to the amber liquid in his glass to avoid the sight. Guilt rose, in spite of his efforts to suppress it. It wasn't long before movement in the mirror caught his eye again and he glanced up.

She was leaving now, weaving quickly around tables and making no effort to wipe away the tears streaking makeup down her face. She wordlessly passed by him once again. He blinked as the door flew open and sunlight flooded into the dim room briefly, and then she was gone.

He was alone with the ever present bourbon, the images of blood and death that never left him, and the burden of his guilt. Like many who came here, Abby had left something behind. Gibbs tried to convince himself he had no idea what it was; and that he wasn't interested in going to look. It didn't work. He was inexorably drawn to the far wall where Abby had stood moments before.

The tradition began with one picture hung by the bar's owner, and dozens of photos and mementos had been added over the years. This wall had become an almost hallowed spot to everyone who frequented the bar. It was a memorial to the fallen, a tribute to men and women who'd lost their lives in the line of duty.

There was more than one person where he'd played a part in the circumstances that led to them being on this wall. At first, his guilt made him avoid looking at the photos Abby's hands had touched so reverently while she paid her respects. He pulled in a steadying breath and looked for the things he knew he'd find on the wall, the ones he'd put there himself. A flicker of that long-ago pain rose as his eyes found, and swept past Langer's image to pause on Kate's.

It wasn't any easier to look at the photos Tony had left there. There was Paula Cassidy and Chris Pacci, whose gruesome, violent deaths had affected Tony far more than he let on. But it was Gibbs, not Tony, who had brushed Pacci off when the other agent wanted to talk to him about his cold case. For his part, he would always wonder if he could have changed the outcome, altered the chain of events that put Pacci alone when he crossed paths with a depraved killer.

Near Paula Cassidy's picture was one of John Carson, the Metro detective Tony had befriended on a joint investigation, only to see him die after a shootout at the end of that same case. Gibbs remembered hearing the gunfire, and charging into that poorly lit alley to see a man down on the ground. Another figure was huddled over the first, hands applying pressure over a bullet wound to the chest.

At first, he hadn't been sure who was who, until Tony glanced up him at without moving his hands from the man on the ground. His expression was bleak; he'd known his efforts were in vain.

Carson died seconds later and a stricken Tony fell back from where he'd been crouched, sitting and staring vacantly, blood still dripping from his hands. Gibbs remembered thinking how relieved he was that Tony wasn't the one who'd taken that fatal bullet, and knowing it was only chance that he hadn't.

Tony felt guilty after Carson's death, but he'd done absolutely everything right that night. Tony carried guilt over some of the others too, but Gibbs was the one who directly or indirectly, was responsible for those faces on the wall. Just like this time. He'd gone off alone, secure in his ability handle the case on his own, while hiding his personal connection to it from his team. He'd been arrogant and overconfident. And he'd been wrong.

Gibbs closed his eyes. Images of Carson breathing his last breaths were replaced by another doing the same. When he opened his eyes and looked down, for a second he could see the bright red blood on his own hands. Blood on his hands…so much more than an ambiguous idiom now. It was always there; an accusation that no amount of bourbon or time could erase. Ever.

This time it had been Gibbs himself who'd screwed up…again. In spite of the distance that had grown between them, Tony had been as astute as ever at reading him. Ignoring the order to stay at NCIS, Tony had collected McGee and followed Gibbs to provide the backup the lead agent hadn't thought he needed. A high price had been paid for Gibbs' hubris and lapse in judgement, but not by him.

He'd come here to escape the consequences of his actions, if only for a short time. Now Abby had made that impossible, and rightly so. Gibbs gathered his resolve. Pain knifed through him as his eyes sought and found Abby's addition to the wall; its' very presence another accusation. An ID card, punched through with holes so it couldn't be used again. The metaphor wasn't lost on him.

The face was as familiar as his own, someone who'd once been as close as family. He'd recovered from the pneumonic plague, overcome being shot, stabbed, chained to a serial killer, drugged and imprisoned in a sewer to die by another one. He'd been thrown headlong into confrontations with deadly terrorists and assassins, and used his unique brand of skills and smarts to prevail. Tony had always been a survivor. It was a tragic irony that ultimately, it had been Gibbs he couldn't survive.

~Finis~