Many many thanks for your reviews once again, guys. This is only a short one; but I hope you like it anyway. More Gibbs angst…
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Chapter 9: Bargaining
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The hangover cure had been revolting; but it had worked nonetheless. Gibbs wasn't entirely sure what was in it, but involved raw eggs, vodka and a weird sausage thing Ducky called "black pudding". He had slept off what was left of the alcohol in his system and convinced Ducky to leave and see to his mother. There was something he needed to do.
For once, Gibbs obeyed every speed limit and rule of the road. He stopped for every amber light, let little old ladies cross the street in safety and stopped for coffee twice on his way to his destination.
Even after he'd parked up, Gibbs finished his coffee in the car; putting off the inevitable.
Suck it up, Marine, he told himself, getting out and heading inside.
It was close to midnight by now; with only a nod to the security guard, Gibbs passed through and scanned himself into the elevator. The morgue was as dark and silent as he'd expected; he flipped on one light and then made his way over to the drawers. He rested the palm of his hand against 107, closing his eyes for a long moment as he tried to prepare himself.
Suck it up, Marine, he told himself eventually; and then opened the drawer.
Ducky had covered the blackened and contorted body of his agent and friend with a sheet. Gibbs pulled it back gently, fixing his eyes on the sunken cheeks and hollow eye sockets.
"Oh, Tony," he said softly. "I'm sorry. You didn't deserve this." Gibbs could almost hear Tony's reply in his head.
"Thought apologies were a sign of weakness," he said cautiously.
"Yeah, well, even I have my moments," he thought back.
"Ah, wasn't your fault, boss. Just me being stupid again. Don't worry about it."
"You're dead, DiNozzo! Don't you dare tell me it doesn't matter!"
"Well, it doesn't, does it? You can get in a new agent no problem."
"I don't want a new agent! I want you back!"
"Hate to break it to ya, Gibbs, but I'm dead. I'm not coming back."
"Well you shouldn't be!"
"Not up to you to decide. Even the mighty Leroy Jethro Gibbs can't order a resurrection."
"No, I can't; but I'm still going to miss you."
"Yeah, for all of two weeks. Don't worry. Boss; I know you never liked me much."
"But I did, Tony; I just never got the chance to tell you…"
"What, in three years and eight months? Not once?"
"Once; but you were out cold at the time. I'm sorry, Tony; I know I never treated you right."
"You did more for me than anyone else ever did, boss. Pathetic, but true. And that's two apologies in as many minutes; I should be recording this."
"My old boss Mike told me something, right before he retired. He said "When you're the best at what you do, you have to keep a lookout for the guy who's going to be better. One day, you'll run into some smartass kid who thinks he knows everything and you'll see that he's got potential. And then when you've spent a few years smacking him on the head and licking him into shape you'll be able to walk away, and know you left a better agent than you ever were to take your place." That's what I was to him; and what you were to me. The best."
"Wow, boss; I don't know what to say."
"I always meant to tell you that, one day, when I handed over the team to you. I never expected this to happen; I thought I could protect you. I would've taken a bullet for you every damn day if it meant I'd kept you safe! No one should have to bury their hope for the future… Their child…"
"Why did it have to happen like this? Why'd I have to lose you? You were so damn special! It shouldn'tve been like this! Not like this… not you, Tony; anything else, but not you…"
Gibbs repeated the last phrase aloud to the silent morgue.
"Not you, Tony…"
Suddenly his legs would no longer support him. Gibbs slid to the ground, leaning on the cold metal wall, eyes dry only because he had no tears left to shed.
"I'm so sorry, my son," he whispered.
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Did the imagined conversation work for you? Let me now what you thought.