AN: I know I said I thought this could be the last chapter, but Tony was telling me he needed a little more time. And who am I to argue? Thanks again for the feedback!

There was a picture of Tony hanging on Abby's wall, two postcards framing it: One from Madrid, the other from Prague. He didn't write anything on them. Gibbs had checked. They just served to let Abby know he was alive, and nothing else. That wasn't quite good enough for the lab tech, who was standing in front of Gibbs with her hands on her hips. DiNozzo had another week and a half left of vacation time. After that, he'd have a decision to make. Gibbs had kept an eye on him, with help from Abby and McGee, and they knew he had booked a flight home that landed tomorrow morning.

Not that that meant anything.

Gibbs had kept sending him case files, updating him but never telling him the final result, and then sending a new one. He hadn't heard from Tony since Madrid, and he knew that was why. DiNozzo was pissed. Gibbs figured he would be. But he needed a subtle way to remind Tony who he was, even if he didn't end up returning to NCIS. Because while getting his agent back was important, getting Tony back on his feet was more important. The thing was, Gibbs didn't think there could be one with out the other. Tony wouldn't be okay unless he was an agent. It was too ingrained in him, down into his bones. That's what Gibbs learned about himself after Mexico.

But Gibbs couldn't drag Tony back to the building, he couldn't force him to join his team again. What he could do was help him remember why he loved what he did, and all the people he could still help. And if, after that, DiNozzo still felt like he had too much blood on his hands, then Gibbs would let him walk away. Only after, though. Not before.

"We should be there when his plane lands, Gibbs," Abby said. "I miss him."

"No."

"But Gibbs—"

"Abby," Gibbs sighed. "I said no."

"But you've gotten to talk to him! And, no offense, Gibbs, but you haven't been doing a very good job because he's still not here. It's been almost two months!"

"Abby," Gibbs took a step forward. "He just needs some time. I promise he'll talk to you eventually."

"And he'll come back eventually, too," Abby paused. "Right, Gibbs?"

She looked so vulnerable, all big, sad eyes and pouted lips, that he almost wanted to lie to her. But he couldn't do that. It would just hurt worse if Tony never came back.

He kissed her on the cheek, handing her a Caf-Pow as he did, "I don't know, Abs."

He left her staring at his back as he walked out the lab. He knew she wanted to press him more, but he really didn't have anything to say. When it came to Tony these days, all of them were left guessing. Gibbs liked to believe the team had settled into a new normal over the past two months, but he knew that wasn't true. The mornings were quiet, polite. The silences filled with lingering glances at Tony's empty desk. Tony brought a certain kind of levity that was now missing. And even though Gibbs hated to admit it, they needed that levity. This job was hard and exhausting and emotionally draining. A little bit of humor helped them all get through.

The team was still capable, sure, and Gibbs guessed that was the most important thing. But it wasn't the same. Without DiNozzo, they weren't as good, Gibbs wasn't as good. He wasn't lying when he told Vance all those years ago that the team needed Tony. DiNozzo was a cop, through and through, and he was the only person on the team that could say that. McGee handled the technology, Bishop analyzed, Gibbs charged ahead on straight instinct. But Tony. Tony was a natural investigator, perceptive, street-smart. His skill set wasn't something that could be taught. It came naturally.

It wasn't replaceable.

Gibbs needed him there to bounce ideas off of, McGee needed him there so he could focus on his strengths, instead of trying to mimic Tony's. Bishop needed him there to teach. But instead of DiNozzo, there was just emptiness.

McGee glanced up at Gibbs made his way back into the bullpen. He'd been with Bishop all morning, tracking down a lead on their current case. He raised his eyebrows as Gibbs approached.

"Any word from Tony?"

Gibbs just stared at him, a silent answer.

"Right. Didn't think so."

Gibbs nodded toward the flat screen, "Show me what you got."

Bishop appeared by the side and they launched into a recap of their morning, which, as it turned out, had been mostly filled with dead ends. Gibbs counted at least three movie references that DiNozzo would've made and he found his eyes wandering toward the empty desk against his will.

Everything was just … off. He didn't know how else to describe it. The team was out of balance. And he knew the case load was starting to take its toll, especially with Bishop as inexperienced as she was. But he refused to take a temporary agent to fill DiNozzo's spot. The last thing he wanted was for Tony to walk into the office and see somebody else sitting at his desk.

"McGee—"

"Track down Bruce Reynolds and see what his relationship is to the victim," McGee finished.

Gibbs nodded, "Bishop—"

"Get a BOLO out on the red truck. Got it."

"DiNo—" Gibbs stopped himself, trying to keep his wince off his face. McGee and Bishop both froze for a moment before Gibbs pressed on. "Get to work. Call me with any updates."

"Where are you going?" Tim asked as Gibbs headed toward the elevator.

"Out."

He needed coffee.

DiNozzo showed up in his basement again four days later. Time was running out on his vacation, and Gibbs expected him to make an appearance at some point, even though he wasn't sure exactly how angry Tony was over the case files. DiNozzo arrived the same way he did the first time, walking silently down the stairs and then taking a seat near the bottom.

Gibbs glanced up from his workbench. Tony looked much better than the last time Gibbs saw him. He had shaved, ironed his clothes. He looked put together, but the dark circles that still lingered under his eyes betrayed him.

"How was Europe?" Gibbs asked.

Tony didn't answer. Instead, he stood, walking around the side of Gibbs' now nearly finished boat. He just had a little more staining and waterproofing to take care of before he could take it out of his basement and start something new.

DiNozzo slowly ran his fingers over the wooden boards. Gibbs watched him, trying to figure out where this conversation was going. Tony's face was closed off, his eyes hard and distant. It was the look he got whenever he was interrogating a particularly difficult suspect and he didn't want to tip his hand. Finally, he stopped, leaning against the boat and facing Gibbs, his arms folded across his chest.

"Sending those files was a dirty trick."

"Yep."

Tony opened his mouth once, closed it. Then he gave in, "The marine's wife, the one who was killed. She was cheating on him, right?"

Gibbs put down the piece of wood he was holding, staring hard at his agent, "Right."

"It was the boyfriend, wasn't it?"

"Well, DiNozzo, why don't you tell me."

Tony glared at him, "It was the boyfriend."

Gibbs' lips twitched, "Yeah, it was the boyfriend."

"I knew it!" DiNozzo turned, bouncing his fist off the side of the boat.

Gibbs dusted off his hands as Tony fell quiet again. At least now he knew the files had their desired intent. They pissed Tony off, but they also caught his attention. DiNozzo could't help himself. He'd read them all. He'd gotten invested.

DiNozzo turned back to face him, "How's the team?"

Gibbs narrowed his eyes, getting to his feet. He took a few steps toward his agent, making sure to look him in the eye, "One short."

Tony swallowed, "Yeah."

"You want to do something about that?"

DiNozzo held eye contact with him for a few seconds before dropping his gaze, turning his attention back to running his hand over the boat. The wall was back up, and suddenly Gibbs couldn't read him again.

"I just don't know if I can do it anymore," Tony said finally, his voice so soft that Gibbs had to strain to hear him. "What happens if the next time I step out there, somebody else dies?"

"You move on from it."

DiNozzo laughed, but there was nothing but sadness in it, "I haven't even moved on from this one yet."

Gibbs ran a hand over his face, sorting through what he wanted to say before he spoke. This might be his last chance to talk Tony down. He knew what was happening. Whenever DiNozzo looked at his hands now, all he saw was blood. When he closed his eyes, all he could remember were the mistakes, real or imagined. It's what Gibbs told him the first time the senior agent showed up in his basement. Tony had lost his perspective. Agents needed that perspective or they ended up dead. Or gone.

In Gibbs' world, they were so often one and the same.

"You doubting yourself, DiNozzo?"

Tony stopped, letting his hand linger on the side of the boat, his head dropping, "How could I not?"

"You listen to me," Gibbs took a step closer, moving into Tony's line of sight. "I trust you. Your team trusts you. You want to walk into a line of fire? I'll be there right beside you, no questions asked. But none of that matters if you don't believe it."

Tony slowly raised his head, "I just feel like I can't keep them safe."

Gibbs tilted his head slightly, "Who?"

"Everyone," Tony said softly, turning away from Gibbs and walking to the workbench, taking a seat. "Everyone."

Gibbs stared at him until DiNozzo lifted his head to meet his eye, "That's because you can't, DiNozzo. People die. You can't help them all."

"It just seems like every time I try I—"

"Adam wasn't your fault," Gibbs interrupted. "And neither was Jenny or Paula. And that kid in Baltimore? We've been through this. You pulled her brother out of a fire, saved his life. You are out there trying to make a difference and that's a hell of a lot more than other people do."

"You would've saved Adam. You would've stopped him."

"No, DiNozzo, I wouldn't have!" Gibbs said, his voice rising. "I tried when we got there, remember? Kid wouldn't even look at me. You were the only one he would talk to. You were the only one who could give him a chance."

A heavy silence followed. Tony picked up the piece of wood Gibbs had been working on, flipping it over between his hands. Gibbs just watched him, waiting to see where DiNozzo would take the conversation next.

Gibbs couldn't tell if he was getting through, if any of his words were penetrating the despair that had been draped over Tony's shoulders since Adam's death. He could usually read Tony so well. They'd been partners for long enough that it was easy. He knew when DiNozzo had an idea, when he felt like something was off. He knew the fake smiles from the real ones, the humor that was meant for enjoyment and the humor that was meant to deflect. But this Tony was different. This was Tony shut down, everything that made him go was set to neutral. It made Gibbs uneasy, and it wasn't a feeling he was used to.

Tony looked at him, "I don't know who I am without NCIS. I love it, you know that," Gibbs remained silent as Tony spoke, raising his eyebrows slightly. "But I can't come back feeling like this. I can't come back if I can't trust myself. I'll get someone hurt."

"You're right," Gibbs said. "But everyone around you trusts you, Tony. Entirely. With our lives. You think we would trust you if you hadn't earned it?"

DiNozzo turned his attention back to the wood, so Gibbs decided to switch tactics. It was one thing for Tony to walk away from NCIS because he was drowning in misplaced guilt, because he couldn't get the faces of the people he thought he was supposed to save out of his head. It was another to have his senior agent sitting in front of him, telling Gibbs that he didn't trust himself, that he was doubting the instincts Gibbs would follow into a burning building.

It didn't take Gibbs long after Tony joined his team to realize the bloated self confidence was an act, his father had seen to that. DiNozzo knew how to pretend. It's what he did best. He put on a show everyday and Gibbs never called him on it, because he knew Tony needed to. That's how he got through the day. They all had coping mechanisms.

DiNozzo was afraid, too, of letting his guard down, of showing too much of himself. He'd heard all of the sayings from Tony over the years about DiNozzo men. They don't cry. Translation: They don't feel. So much of Tony's personality was a series of deflections, a flashing billboard that said, 'Don't look this way. I'm fine.'

But if there was one thing DiNozzo was truly confident in, one thing that wasn't part of the identity he'd so carefully created for himself, it was his skills as an investigator. Tony was good. And he knew he was good. He didn't second guess himself. He didn't wait for someone else to take the lead. He moved ahead knowing he could do the job better than anyone else. That confidence was such a vital part of Tony's identity that Gibbs didn't know who he would be without it. All smoke and mirrors and nothing else?

Gibbs wasn't about to find out.

He walked over, bending down to grab Tony's chin in his hand, forcing DiNozzo to look at him. His agent was completely taken aback, confusion filling his green eyes. Gibbs didn't flinch. He held him there, making sure he had his attention.

"Listen to me," Gibbs said. "And listen good. There is nobody else that can do what you do. Nobody else. The team needs you, Tony. I depend on you. You read those case files. You're telling me you love it. You are still in there somewhere. Find my senior field agent and get your ass back to NCIS, do you understand me?"

DiNozzo blinked, "I understand, boss."

Gibbs nodded once and released his chin, stepping back. He turned away from DiNozzo, pretending to check over some things on his boat. He let the silence settle over them, let it cement his words. After awhile, he heard the chair push back and he turned back around to find Tony heading for the stairs. He stopped right before heading up.

"I'll be in sometime in the next few days either way," Tony said. "With my decision."

Gibbs held his eye for a long time, trying to read him. But even after DiNozzo left, closing the basement door behind him, Gibbs had no idea what he would do.