Gibbs woke fighting the remnants of a nightmare, his hands were tightly clenched at his sides and the faint hints of light coming through the window were far more painful than he would have liked. He moved to step from the bed and his entire body screamed at him. Shaking his head like a wet dog he tried to fight the fog of pain and sleep.
Confusion bit at him as he rose and looked about. Something felt off but he couldn't place it until he looked toward his dresser. A simple glance at her hairbrush and he was reminded of the night before. He'd only gone to bed hours before and yet for a moment he'd forgotten. He cursed loudly as he felt the now familiar onslaught of pain wash over him. He had to grip the edge of that very dresser just to keep from hitting his knees as the knowledge of her absence became reality yet again.
Running a hand across his face he physically tried to keep the grief from seeping from every pore. In the end he was forced to sit back down on the bed hand pressed to his chest. The physical pain was nothing compared to the battered nature of his soul. He felt out of sorts and off kilter, the light was unbearable piercing far too deep. Stumbling toward the bathroom he savored the darkness in there. He'd woken mornings before without her, but knowing she wasn't there to answer her phone, waiting for him at work or even expecting him at her place was far too much for him.
In the near darkness he took deep gasping breaths trying to understand how anything would ever be right again without her. He refused to look in the mirror afraid of what he would see in his own eyes. Instead he stepped into the shower barely noticing the icy water as it pounded down on him. He went through the routine of washing without thinking about it, actively trying not to remember the last time Ziva had shared one with him. When he stared at his razor a moment too long he decided it was time to get out. Toweling off and slipping into clothes he stared at his bedroom door. He knew out there Tony and Mike waited, at the least. Somewhere out there Ziva waited and that was almost more than he could bear. She'd suffered enough in her life and now she was most likely suffering again.
Without realizing it he found himself at the bottom of his stairs. In the kitchen he heard Tony and Mike's voices low and subdued, but that wasn't what caught his attention the most. Sitting on the couch he saw his father. Reading the paper and drinking a cup of coffee he was there. The part of him that was fighting the darkness taking hold of him wanted to run to him as he would have as a child, instead he cleared his throat making him aware of his presence.
Jackson looked up to see his son watching him. Gone was the smiling man that had so recently visited. In his place was the face of a man he'd hoped never to see again. "Hello Jethro."
"Dad… thanks for coming" Gibbs didn't know what to say. Each word was painful, forced from his throat because his dad deserved something. The words scraped across the rough edges of his throat ragged from tears held back long into the night.
Jackson wanted to reach out and hold his son offer him some sort of comfort but the wall surrounding him was easy to see. "Anything I can do?"
Gibbs almost gave a knee jerk answer of no but then had a thought. "It went on the news last night but it won't play again for an hour or so. She has some friends that probably don't know yet. Maybe you could call them." Gibbs walked to the entryway and picked up her backpack and pulled out her address book. He ran his hand across the leather remembering how he'd teased her about being just a bit like him, using old fashioned paper. Sure she had a duplicate copy in her phone but every number went in her book as well. He caught a whiff of her scent from the backpack and fisted his hands around the strap. He could see his pulse in the vein of his wrist beating in time with his anger and the darkness whispered once again. The rapid fire throb spoke of his anger, the insidious whisper to nick the skin deep enough to end the overwhelming ache was almost too loud to silence.
"Son…?" Jackson stood up and approached Gibbs grateful he'd moved slowly. At the sound of his voice Gibbs whirled around rage gripping him, gun in hand. He'd expected it, known it was a likely reaction given the state Gibbs was in but it still startled him.
Gibbs stepped back trying to take in a breath and still his mind. As quickly as he'd pulled his weapon he holstered it. "Sorry…"
"It's okay, no harm done." He took the leather book Gibbs offered and went to sit beside the phone. "I'll take care of this the guys are waiting for you in the kitchen."
Gibbs nodded and took in another deep breath. He winced as he walked into the kitchen the light far brighter than even in the living room. Stepping in he wasn't surprised when Mike and Tony stopped talking. Ignoring them he moved to the coffee pot and poured himself a to-go cup. Still staring at the pot he managed to speak. "Any word?"
Tony shook his head. "We would have woken you, no word." Glancing at his watch Tony saw that Gibbs had slept barely three hours. He and Mike had managed a nap until Jackson had arrived a half hour earlier.
Gibbs finally managed to turn and look at them. "Don't need a babysitter you could have gone home."
Tony didn't comment only shrugged. The heavy weight of grief settled around Gibbs was as obvious as the characteristic grin he normally wore. Tony doubted he'd be seeing that smile any time soon. He felt it too. Long into the night he'd worked beside Gibbs, trying desperately to find something, anything that would lead them to her. The fact that nothing new had turned up hadn't been surprising but still had made his entire body ache with the knowledge that at least for now she was lost to them.
Mike pulled bread out of the toaster, buttered it and slid it across the counter at Gibbs. "Eat."
Gibbs shook his head and pointed to his cup "Coffee's good." Moving across the kitchen he rummaged in the junk drawer. He almost laughed when he saw that at some point Ziva had organized it, almost until the laughter turned to a bitter acid that dripped down his throat. Finding the sunglasses he was searching for he slipped them on. "Heading for the office."
Grabbing his coat he had to work hard not to react to her own still hanging there on the coat rack where she'd hung it the night before. He had the insane need to hold that coat in his arms back in his room where he could lock the world out. Instead he made for NCIS hoping there would be more answers there.
His first stop when he arrived at NCIS was Ducky's morgue. He was surprised to find the other man hadn't arrived yet. Walking to the storage vaults he pulled one out. The darkness here too was soothing, even as he stared at the cold lifelessness of the woman lying on the cold metal slab. She was beautiful, in death but it was a macabre beauty, the kind that felt obscene even to his mind. With breathtaking swiftness his mind replaced the woman lying there with Ziva. Long dark hair spilling over the edges of the metal, the slender form replaced with the rounded curves their child had worked on her. The harsh edge of pain felt like a whip, biting harshly again and again. Long ago in a time he'd tried to forget men had tried to break him. Torturous methods that had been meant to tear him apart had only served to make him stronger, to forge his will to survive even stronger. But losing Ziva was threatening to destroy him. He could feel the fractures as they worked their way deeper and deeper with every minute that passed without word of her. The putrid scent of death reached his nose and he gripped the stainless steel desperately.
The lack of food and acrid nature of his coffee combined with his thoughts became too much and he found himself being sick again and again in the metal sink nearby. After rinsing his mouth he leaned his head against the wall trying to breathe, trying to hold himself together all the while feeling the pieces inside of him splintering.
Ducky walked into the morgue and noticed Gibbs just before he would have flipped on the lights. He saw the way Gibbs' hands gripped the edge of the sink, the very careful way he turned his head to acknowledge Ducky's presence and he held perfectly still. "This is no place for you right now Jethro. Your time is better spent elsewhere."
Gibbs had to consciously bite back the angry words that threatened. He needed to rage at someone anyone but that person couldn't be Ducky. Sighing out a rough breath he somehow managed to restrain his darker nature and stepped away from the sink. Nodding at Ducky he managed to make his way to the elevator.
Stepping inside he'd hope for solace, a respite from the crushing weight of her absence but even the steel surrounding him was too much. Her memory was here as well; the stolen moments, casual glances and stolen kisses fought for his sanity even as the doors once again slipped open. It was only the noise of the teams working that broke through the whispers. Noise that became hushed as he stepped out; glancing around he saw that multiple people watched him, a few offered smiles and still a few glanced from him to Tony and it was then he realized they didn't know. Because, of all the secrets he and Ziva had been so good at keeping none of them knew just what he'd really lost. It went far deeper than the loss of a fellow colleague. And, though he knew they would work damn hard for a fellow agent it was important to him they know just what was really going on. It suddenly became paramount. He needed to acknowledge what they were to each other if it was the last thing he did for them.
He approached Tony trying to ignore the brief assessment he was given. "Get everyone together."
"I'm here boss and Abby's on her way up right now." McGee stepped just into view. No matter the searches he'd run, the feelers he'd put out he'd come up with nothing. The feeling of being able to do nothing had reminded him far too much of when they'd lost Kate. The sadness and regret he'd seen in Gibbs had been enough to move him then. Now the harsh veil of grief that seemed to have slipped over his mentor was staggering in its strength.
"No I mean everyone. I want to brief them all." He saw Tony's raised eyebrow the way he started to speak and then shut his mouth and nodded.
Gibbs made his way to his desk trying not to look at hers. Trying not to see the reminders of the reality that she wasn't there, reaching into his pocket he pulled out his wedding ring and slipped it on his finger. As he looked down at it the rage flamed brighter, he would have thought he would be accustomed to this level of loss. Yet despite his friendship with death his mind just couldn't make sense of it. He had to believe she still lived anything else was unacceptable.
He heard his name and looked up. Tony had gathered everyone, squeezed them into the near vicinity. Standing he tried for his voice and failed at first. It took another sip of coffee and a brief closing of his eyes before he could speak. "Most of you were briefed last night, and I know most of you have been here most of the night and are probably tired."
He saw the shrugs the murmurs that brushed off his worry. Damn fine agents all of them and yet he couldn't work up a smile even for Abby who stood next to McGee eyes still red and slightly puffy. "There are some finer details you aren't aware of. Ziva and I have been married for some time now." He had to clear his throat at the end to keep the sob stuck there from breaking free. He accepted the shock he saw on the faces in front of him. Harder to accept was the realization that followed as they looked at his ring finger and what that meant hit them.
Tony had heard that silence could deafen but he had never experienced it until now. With his words Gibbs had managed to pull all sound from the room. Each person in the room managed to keep their shock to an appropriate level but it was there and Gibbs faced it head on. He stood head raised high much like Tony imagined he had as younger Marine. His shoulders squared prepared to face whatever reprimand the others might throw at him, Tony found he was proud of Gibbs. The man had never failed to meet a challenge never failed to accept his due and now would be different. What worried Tony was how far Gibbs would take that. It was easy to guess that Gibbs blamed himself for Ziva's disappearance yet Tony couldn't find it in himself to blame him. Ziva was nothing if not determined when she wanted something and he had no doubt that she had been more than half the reason they had pursued the case despite the danger. Still the guilt was easy to read sitting heavy on Gibbs' shoulders. As was the pain, Gibbs might have thought he was a master at hiding it but it was there in the shaky hand that pushed at a stray lock of hair, and even more in the way he pulled in a deep breath before speaking.
Abby saw one of the younger agents a petite female that many had doubted, and Gibbs had quietly mentored, speak up. "So that means, the baby…" she stopped when she realized she was speaking out loud.
The memory of his child not even having taken a breath and already in jeopardy was almost too much. A hard swallow and his fists clenching at his sides were the only outward sign of the backbreaking pain that coursed through him with her question. Finally he was able to nod. "Mine."
McGee saw the grief hit the agents around him, like a wave it rippled through all of them. Everyone knew of Gibbs' previous loss, the family that had been lost to him. And none of them could miss the carefully held pain Gibbs was trying desperately to hide. All of them would have worked hard to save Ziva without this knowledge but now an iron strong will seemed to be suddenly shared among them all.
"If you'll all excuse me I have a phone call to make. Tony will finish filling you in." It was a lie there was no phone call but he couldn't breathe anymore, couldn't face them with the very real fact he'd failed her. Despite the files he could review again, despite the lab results waiting he found himself making his way to the range. Only a few people milled about, they looked at him in surprise obviously having no knowledge of what had happened yet. He didn't have it in him to explain again. Instead he grabbed a full box of ammo and pinned a target up. Only when it was at its farthest point did he pull his weapon and begin to fire. Again and Again he emptied the clip, reloaded and began again. Each crack of sound became a balm, the assurance that should he ever find the bastard that had taken Ziva he would have the means to take his life with ease. Though he doubted it would be quick, a man could endure much before death finally claimed him.
Only when his arms ached from the effort of holding the gun did he finally place it on the counter and allow himself to rest. He heard movement behind him and didn't have to turn around to know who was there. "What do you want Mike?"
Mike sighed. "Just making sure you weren't going to turn that thing in a different direction." Gibbs turned abruptly glaring at him.
"We don't know she's dead Mike. She could very well still be alive." He had to bite each word out the burn of them nearly too much. The sickening turn of his stomach had him swallowing hard before he could face Mike.
"Exactly probie." He watched Gibbs make sense of his words and some of the stiffness went out of his shoulders.
Gibbs glanced at his watch and tried not to think about how long he'd been shooting at paper. "Dammit." Running a hand through his hair he tried even harder not think about the fact he couldn't seem to keep track of time or anything else either. The world seemed to be moving around him as though he were merely an observer. He knew something wasn't right that somehow something had drastically changed last night and yet no matter how hard he tried he couldn't shake the feeling of being displaced.
"We have about as much as we did last night." Mike watched Gibbs reload his clip shove it in his gun and holster it.
"Which is nothing." Gibbs tossed the empty ammo boxes in the trash and pulled in his targets. Not really seeing them he let them follow the ammo boxes.
Mike didn't know what to say so he followed Gibbs back to his desk in silence.
Gibbs walked past Ziva's desk then paused and stepped back to it. Grabbing a half empty water bottle he watered her plants and then sank into his own chair. The files he had looked at the night before mocked him. They gave him nothing, not a hint as to who had taken her. Another glance at his watch told him most of the day had passed without him even realizing. This time he couldn't stop his eyes from straying to her desk. She always kept it neat as she did everything else but the half empty water bottle and some stray papers were a reminder that when she'd left her desk she'd had every intention of returning. It reminded him of the book of paint samples she'd borrowed from the local hardware store. She'd insisted on going to a mom and pop store saying they needed the business more than a big chain store.
As a result they'd ended up with a book of possible paints and wallpapers. They'd planned for a nursery at his place as if all their secrets would no longer matter by the time the baby came. Now as he looked as those books tagged as evidence in crime scene photos all he could feel was the stabbing pain of loss replacing the joy they'd known bringing them to his home. His head swam as though he'd drunk too much bourbon no matter how hard he tried he couldn't push away the faint push of confusion that warred with the pain. It was a surreal mix of emotions that wouldn't let go of him even as he tried to make sense of what wasn't sensible.
One last glance at her desk and once again he was pouring through the files. Trying to find something, anything he'd missed. He couldn't see it as fruitless it was too early for that. He had to believe had to persevere with the thought that she was still alive and waiting to be found. For now he would fight back the darkness, for now he wouldn't give in. Until there was truly no more hope he would search for her, leave no stone unturned, building unsearched until the unthinkable forced its way into his reality he would believe she was waiting for him to find her.