WARNING: Mention of suicide.

I confess, even I teared up a bit writing this. If you got a lump in your throat in any of the previous chapters, go get some Kleenex before you start.

This is not the chapter I intended to post; it was inspired by a really helpful review from Denouement Intrusion. Hope you like it, DI.

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Chapter 14: Ghosts

Gibbs had always needed something to do with his hands while he was thinking; that was why he'd spent so much time building boats all these years. But instead of thinking on how to catch a murderer or avoid his latest wife's drunken phone calls; now, he was thinking about his life.

He was breaking his own rules by vanishing; and he knew that Abby would be inconsolable, but he needed the solitude. Needed to do something for himself for once, instead of other people.

The former Marine had fled to the place he felt safest, where nothing could reach him. It was a small, dilapidated wooden cabin in the Blue Ridge Mountains, so far from civilization that it wasn't even marked on the map. He'd left his car by the closest thing that could be called a road and then hiked up through the forest; the familiar trail so overgrown it might have been an animal track. The place had belonged to his father and grandfather before him; his great grandfather had built it with his own hands. To Gibbs, it was his link to his now non-existent family; one he needed more than ever. He hadn't been there in years; but in his youth he'd learned to hunt and fish here with his father; how to make fire, eat smores and survive in the peace and quiet of nature. Years later, he'd taken Kelly for a weekend, only a few months before she died. He smiled a little as he remembered her shining eyes the first time she managed to catch a fish in the river.

Gibbs had always intended to bring DiNozzo here, one day, when they both had some leave. Tony had been better at outdoors type things than people might have imagined from his sharp dress sense and reliance on takeout; because his father had sent him to camp every summer. Gibbs was damn sure he'd never even considered teaching his son to fish himself. Tony had missed out on so much in his short life; Gibbs should have made time to bring him here, to prove how much he cared about him. He'd intended to leave the cabin to Tony; in fact, there was a note in his will specifically mentioning it. He'd never considered that he might outlive the younger man.

Gibbs paused in his task of splitting wood for the fire to wipe a combination of sweat and tears from his face before carrying an armful of fuel into the cabin. He deposited it on the pile beside the stone fireplace in the centre of the single room.

Even here, Tony was continually in his thoughts. Gibbs found himself imagining his expression on his first catch; or his inevitable comment when he'd first arrived and found a family of raccoons had taken up residence under the rough wooden table that was the only furniture in the place.

Gibbs was alone, now; more than he'd ever been before, surrounded by the ghosts of his family. He looked around, and saw the spot where his father had sat and told him stories of his own childhood escapades. The place where Kelly had proudly set up her sleeping bag, close to the fire, to listen to him repeat them. And the place Tony should have been, that rare unguarded look in his eyes, as he realised what Gibbs was trying to say by bringing him here.

Leroy Jethro Gibbs Senior had never been the kind of man to talk easily about his feelings; or at all, in fact. His son supposed that was where his own taciturn nature had come from. Trips to this cabin had been his way of spending time with his only child, expressing how much he cared for him without actually having to say it out loud. Gibbs had always considered them the most precious childhood memories he had. Pain and regret stabbed through him like steel as he thought of how much it would have meant to Tony to do the same with him, before… before it was too late.

Gibbs slumped to the ground, sitting cross-legged on the bare wooden floor as he allowed himself to cry, in the certainty that there was no one around to hear him.

He was alone, again. He was always alone; he lost everything he loved. His father wasted away from cancer while he was away on deployment in Panama. Shannon and Kelly, murdered for seeing something they shouldn'tve when he was in Kuwait. Three wives who had abandoned him because he was too broken inside from his loss to give them the love they deserved. And now Tony, the son he'd never had, dead and gone because of a tack in the road.

How could he go on without him? All those empty years and suddenly he'd had a reason to live beyond revenge; beyond trying to make up for his mistakes by protecting the families Marines left behind while they were at war.

Before he'd met Tony, Gibbs had forgotten what it was to be understood; to look into another face and see himself reflected back at him. Tony had been so like him; both obsessed with their work, both almost incapable of forming normal relationships with other people. Both unable to express what they felt; Tony covered it with jokes and teasing, Gibbs with feigned anger and stony silence. And yet Tony had been one of the very few people he knew who wasn't afraid of him. Respectful, yes; intimidated, occasionally; but never afraid. Maybe Ducky was right, and he'd sensed that Gibbs cared deeply about his welfare; or maybe it was just because he trusted Gibbs absolutely not to harm him beyond the frequent head slaps and the odd bruise in the gym.

After Shannon and Kelly had died, at least there had been something he could do; someone he could blame; some reason for their deaths, twisted as it was. But Tony… Where was the reason? Why did fate (because he hadn't believed in God since he'd lost his family) choose to take his reason for living away again?

His hand strayed to the holster at his hip. He'd brought his backup weapon with him without really thinking about it. Carrying a gun was second nature to him by now, and there was always the chance that there might be bears or wolves in the area.

Gibbs was tired of grieving; of watching the people he loved die. Sometimes his exhaustion was so complete that he had to drown it in alcohol; numb himself to the world that had hurt him so deeply. And oh, how much he wanted it to be over. He wanted so much to be whole again, to not feel this gaping ache in his chest; to not be alone any more. He removed the weapon from its holster and contemplated it through tear-blurred eyes.

No one would know what had happened to him. He'd told no one where he was going and if he left the door open it was likely that scavengers would take the body before anyone found it.

Gibbs considered what would happen if he simply never returned to the city. Ducky would most likely guess the truth; he would be deeply saddened, but the older man knew how he felt about DiNozzo. Kate… well, she would wait, and eventually she would grieve, and then she would move on. McGee would try hard to find a way of tracking him down and then when he failed, the kid would probably attach himself to another leader; maybe even one who could look out for his people.

Abby would be devastated. More than devastated. Tony had been one of her closest friends and for him, her surrogate father, to leave too so soon after his death might well break her irreparably. There was also the fact that she was as stubborn and determined as he was and she would never give up looking.

Gibbs knew all too well the agony of having his world crumble around him; being driven to drink and loneliness and eventually despair. And then he thought of his cheery, pigtailed Gothic forensic genius.

"No," he said aloud; it came out as barely a whisper. Gibbs cleared his throat and repeated it more firmly.

"No. I won't do that to her. I have to go back."

Decisively, he holstered his weapon and rose from the floor, dusting off his hands. If he were going to return, the cabin would need some fixing up before the winter.

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Tell me if you think it was too much.