Gibbs refused to talk to anyone for the first 24 hours since he'd been admitted for psychiatric evaluation. They'd moved him into the psych wing as quickly as possible, so he could be monitored more closely by Dr. Connor.
He spent most of his time sitting in a chair by the window, staring out at the city. Vance had been by a couple of times already that day, and Gibbs refused to see him. If he knew Leon, he was sure his friend would be back the next day.
As night fell over DC, Gibbs found himself back in his chair, just staring. The nurse had come and left, leaving a small cup with his meds in it on his tray, next to his untouched dinner plate. Gibbs didn't seem to notice people moving in and out of his room, and he frankly didn't care. He wanted to ride this out and get the hell home.
The door to his room opened behind him, but Gibbs did not move.
"Jethro?"
He ignored the footsteps approaching behind him.
"Jethro, it's Dr. Connor."
He could not ignore Dr. Connor's hand on his shoulder.
"Don't want to talk."
"I think we should try," Dr. Connor said gently. "I can't help you unless you talk to me."
Gibbs suddenly turned in his chair, to face Dr. Connor.
"I don't need any fucking help, and I don't want to talk! Why can't you leave me the hell alone!"
There was anger in his eyes... and behind it, Dr. Connor could sense the emptiness that Gibbs was trying to hide from him.
"If you didn't need help, then why did you try to shoot yourself?" Dr. Connor asked.
Gibbs didn't respond. Dr. Connor contemplated his options... and decided to pull out a different card.
"I had a long conversation with your Boss, Director Vance."
"Yeah? He tell you I'm a lunatic? Or that I'm a drunk?"
"Of course not, Jethro. We talked about the recent losses in your life. From what he told me, you witnessed the murder of your ex-wife not too long ago, and recently, your Agency lost an Agent in the line of duty."
Gibbs nodded.
"Do you want to talk about it?"
"Nope."
"All right. Have you experienced the loss of other loved ones?"
Gibbs tried to hide his reaction to that question, but Dr. Connor saw through him. He nodded.
"Tell me about the people you've lost."
"Lost my Mom when I was 14," Gibbs said softly. "She died of cancer. Lost my wife and daughter while I was deployed with the Marines. My Dad just passed away recently. Heart attack."
"I'm very sorry for your losses... I can't begin to imagine what you must have gone through."
Gibbs nodded. A tear escaped his eye, and rolled down his cheek. Dr. Connor noticed, and took a step back.
"Why don't we talk again tomorrow, okay?"
Gibbs didn't respond to him.
"I want you to get some sleep tonight. Take the pills that the Nurse left for you... there's a sedative in there, to help you sleep. And don't even think about trying to get rid of them... I will know whether or not you took them."
Gibbs nodded, and crossed the room to his bed. He sat down and picked up the paper cup and shook the pills into his mouth. He drank them down with water.
"Get some rest."
With that, Dr. Connor left him for the evening. Gibbs climbed under the covers and lay down. Why did Dr. Connor want to talk about his past, anyway? As the question circled around in his mind, he suddenly felt tired, and drifted off to sleep.
-Next morning, 0900 hours-
Gibbs awoke to find his dinner plate replaced with breakfast... and Vance seated in a chair across the room.
"Good Morning."
He sat up and swung his legs over the side of the bed.
"You bring coffee?"
Leon crossed the room and set a cup down on the table tray. Gibbs drank it gratefully.
"So why are you here?" Gibbs said abrasively.
"Cut the crap, Gibbs. You already knew I'd be back."
Gibbs nodded.
"How's things?"
"Fine."
They lapsed into silence as they drank their coffee. Gibbs picked at his breakfast... scrambled eggs of some sort, with toast. He picked up a piece of toast and took a bite.
"Your Team has been asking me how you're doing," Vance finally said.
A thought suddenly occurred to him.
"Abby... how is she-"
"Ms. Sciuto took it quite hard. McGee had to drive her home, and from what DiNozzo told me, stayed with her overnight."
Gibbs scrubbed a hand across his unshaven face.
"Damn it."
"You're scaring the hell out of a lot of people, Jethro."
Gibbs lowered his eyes.
"I've really screwed everything up, haven't I?"
"No one is going to hold a grudge against you. They know that you're hurting, and they just want you to get better."
"I don't know what I'm doing, Leon. How do I fix this? How do I fix me?"
"Let your friends in. Let Dr. Connor in. Hell, let me in. We all want to help you. Don't shut us out."
Gibbs didn't say anything for a few long moments. He took a sip of coffee, and nodded.
Vance smiled and looked at his watch.
"I have to get to NCIS... I have a morning meeting. I'll come by later."
Gibbs nodded again, and Vance left. He picked up the piece of toast he abandoned earlier and nibbled on it. He'd spent years hiding in his basement, confiding only in a bottle of bourbon, or whatever the hell he had around the house. Maybe it was time to come out of the basement.
Maybe it was time to let someone else in.
TBC...