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Chapter 16: Depression

Gibbs had sent Kate and McGee home at a reasonable hour every day since his return; clearly, they hated it. Each dawdled at their desks, packing up and stacking files. Kate had even worked up the courage to ask if he wanted to come get dinner with them once or twice.

He'd refused, of course. Gibbs knew they were worried about him; Ducky, Abby and even Fornell kept telling him he looked like hell and trying to make him eat or sleep. Gibbs' eating habits had been irregular before Tony's death; now, he barely remembered to force something down every day. And as for sleeping...

Every time he closed his eyes, Gibbs saw Tony. Sometimes it was as if he'd never been gone; others he'd turn up with some improbable explanation for his faked death. But every dream ended the same way. Tony would be there, and then he'd be killed, right in front of Gibbs' eyes. He'd watched him shot, stabbed, drowned, strangled, get blown up, fall from a high building, cough his life away like Ben the mail boy after the letter incident that had occurred while he was away. He could just imagine Tony opening a letter with lipstick on it, even if it wasn't addressed to him.

And every time, he would just watch. There was never any way he could save Tony; and he was aware enough to know it was driving him slowly insane.

Still... there was a part of him that almost looked forward to the dreams. For those few, brief, precious moments, Tony would be there, warm and vibrant and so completely alive. Despite the agony of losing him again so soon, it was almost worth it.

Gibbs sighed, and opened one of Kate's reports from the week before. And froze.

Slipped inside, in front of the neatly typed text, was a sheet from Kate's sketch pad. It was a portrait of Tony, capturing his most brilliant smile in painstaking detail, down to the sparkle in his eyes. The graphite pinned the essence of DiNozzo to the paper; a ghostly image of something lost forever.

When he could tear his eyes from Tony's face, Gibbs read the line scribbled underneath.

You're not the only one, Gibbs. Get some sleep.

He grunted, and pulled the sheet out of the file. Maybe it would do him some good. He looked up, hiding the picture, as a figure approached.

"Agent Gibbs," said Morrow, stopping in front of his desk. "You're here late."

Gibbs knew what was coming. The director had been dropping hints since he'd first got back; he'd simply chosen to ignore them.

"I was just about to head out, sir."

"Good. You look exhausted. There is something I want to discuss with you; you know your team can't stay on desk duty indefinitely. If I'd known how to contact you, I'dve called you back in to investigate the biological attack."

"Your answer is no," stated Gibbs flatly.

"It's been six weeks, Gibbs. I know you were fond of DiNozzo; we all were, but…"

"You want me to look for a replacement. No."

"It's going to have to happen sooner or later, Jethro. Neither of your people have enough experience to be promoted to Senior Field Agent. You're shorthanded, and that's dangerous; too dangerous to let you work as a three man team."

"Anthony DiNozzo was unique, Director. If you'd known him like I did, we wouldn't be having this conversation."

"Your team needs to move on, Gibbs; and so do you. Keeping DiNozzo's desk untouched as some kind of shrine isn't healthy." Morrow paused.

"Either you start looking, Special Agent Gibbs, or I'll assign you someone and order the whole team into bereavement counselling; you included," he threatened.

"Sir, yes, sir," said Gibbs, rising fluidly to his feet and marching to the elevator, picture in hand. He hit the button as if he had a personal grudge against it.

"Jethro…" Morrow had followed; he laid a hand on the former Marine's shoulder. "I truly am sorry; but my hands are tied. Just think about it?"

The doors slid open and Gibbs stepped inside before answering.

"Family can't be replaced, Tom," he said simply.

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Director Morrow watched the doors close on Gibbs, deep sadness in his eyes. He knew the man well; and he knew how much DiNozzo had meant to him.

Replacing DiNozzo would be damn difficult. Filling a dead agent's shoes was always hard, but Tony hadn't just been another agent to his teammates. He'd been a friend, a brother, and to Gibbs, the son he'd never had. Throwing a new agent straight into the void left by his sudden death wouldn't benefit anyone.

Unless… he used an agent the team had worked with before. Someone Gibbs trusted, and wouldn't regard as trying to take Tony's place. On a temporary basis, perhaps, until the group had regained some equilibrium.

And he knew just the guy. Morrow turned to head back up to his office. He needed to make a phone call.

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Gibbs hit the emergency stop in the elevator and sighed deeply, slumping against the wall and then sliding down it in a rare show of weakness. Intellectually, he knew Morrow was right. McGee wasn't ready for a full field agent position yet. Kate didn't have the confidence or the experience to be his second the way Tony had been. And both of them regarded Gibbs carefully, as if he were about to explode; which he frequently was, these days. Tony had had a way of relieving tension; he'd do or say something dumb, Gibbs would smack him, or yell at him, and the pressure would be broken. Few people would recognise that he did this deliberately; Tony had always been smarter than he let on. Gibbs had always wondered where he'd picked up the habit.

He didn't want a replacement. He just wanted his cheerful, irritating Tony back, with that 1000 watt grin and irrefutable boyish charm.

Gibbs looked at the picture once more, remembering the many times he'd seen that smile; and the fact that he'd never see it again.

To himself, he could admit that he was going through the motions, pretending that Tony was just on vacation or something. He never mentioned his name, never let himself so much as look at his desk; at least, while he was being observed. He did his best to mask his pain and act as normally as possible, for the sake of his team. When he was alone, it was a different matter. Sometimes all he could do was sit in his basement and let himself teeter on the brink of the abyss, so warm and alluring. All he had to do was step over the edge and he could be with his family again; Mom and Dad, Shannon and Kelly… And Tony. Sometimes he thought he could hear their voices, calling him to give in, to let go. It was only thinking of Abby's tears that kept him holding on. He'd made her a promise, and he wasn't about to break it, no matter how cold and empty he felt inside.

It was fortunate that there was virtually no one left in the building. No one noticed how long the elevator was out of commission while Gibbs wept silently, the cold of the metal seeping through his clothes to mingle with the chill in his heart.

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Too cheesy? I thought so; but that was just the way it wrote itself.