Tony sat in the darkened apartment, his thoughts swirling in his head like the drink in his hand. Faces came and went; ghosts spoke to him from the depths. Jim was there of course, his death still not fully comprehended. A shadowy face, laughing at him from a great distance. And she was there.
The sight of her face brought a lump to his throat. She was as beautiful as he remembered, perhaps even more so. His brain mercifully blocked the memory of the last time he had seen her; naked, maimed, dead. He did not recall any of that now. He only saw her as she had been in the best years. Beautiful, smart, funny, and with a laugh that was music to his ears.
"Tony," she called softly. That was the final straw. Hearing her voice again brought tears to his eyes and they fell, tracking down his face and dripping on his shirt. "Tony, don't cry." She reached out to stroke his cheek, her blue eyes asking him what was wrong.
"Jim...he's dead," he explained.
"I know," she smiled reassuringly. "But you don't have to cry."
"It's the same one," he said darkly. "The one who came after you."
"Find him, Tony. Or your soul will never be at rest." And she was gone.
Tony was left in a darker mood than before, though her apperance had lifted his heart briefly. Now he knew how Gibbs felt about Ari. He would find the bastard, just like he had before. He would find him, and this time he wouldn't hand him over to the legal system. He would personally make sure the man didn't have another victim. Ever.