Chapter Ten: Confrontations

Gibbs leaned against his boat, rubbing his eyes wearily before pinching the bridge of his nose. He hadn't been able to rid himself of Abby's words or the feeling of self-disappointment that had washed across him when he heard them.

She was right. He hadn't tried.

He was snapped abruptly from his thoughts as his well-trained ears picked up on the slight creak of his basement door opening. Looking up sharply, he let out a breath as FBI Agent Fornell's form made its way down the steps and stopped directly in front of him.

"Jethro," the man greeted simply.

"Tobias."

After searching his friend's face for a few moments, Fornell nodded and leaned up against the ribbing of the boat beside Gibbs.

"Rough month," he commented, crossing his arms across his chest.

"Yep," was all Gibbs said before he began to sand the soft honey-colored wood of his precious boat again.

"Jethro," Fornell sighed, "You can't keep doing this."

Gibbs kept his gaze firmly on his hands in front of him, steadfastly refusing to acknowledge Fornell's words.

"Your people need you. Stop being immature."

Fornell paused for a moment before plowing on.

"You've got to let her go."

There was silence for a moment before Gibbs looked up.

"Dunno what you're talking about Tobias."

"Like hell you don't," his friend said mildly, "You know just as well as I do that the only reason your team's still all over the globe is because of your own damn stubbornness."

"She's not here anymore Jethro," the agent continued painfully.

Gibbs remained silent, but Fornell could tell that he was contemplating his words. After a sufficient amount of time had passed without Gibbs making any move to reply, Fornell let out a long breath and continued with his one-sided conversation.

"So she screwed up ten years ago. Big deal. The point is it's all over and done with now."

By the time Fornell realized his mistake, the words had already left his mouth. Gibbs' eyes immediately found his as he rounded on him angrily.

"Over and done with what Tobias? Her life? Huh. You wanna explain to me exactly how that works? 'Cause the last time I checked, agency directors don't go around getting gunned down by hit men because they screwed up ten years ago!"

"She was dying anyway," Fornell said quietly.

Gibbs couldn't stop the pain that sliced through him as he heard those words. He'd known she was dying, he'd known that she would die, and he'd been prepared for it to happen…just not this soon.

"Damnit," Gibbs growled. Slowly he slid his back down the boat frame until he was sitting on the floor. Fornell grimaced slightly and looked from the sawdust the coated the room to his freshly dry-cleaned pants, but obligingly sat down beside Gibbs.

"What the hell am I going to do?"

Fornell shrugged. "Look, I don't even know the half of what's going on. I can't tell you what you're going to do, I'm just telling you you have to do it. That kid of yours down in the lab is running circles trying to figure this out but she doesn't know a damn thing either. The only one who can close this nightmare is you. You have everything—all the info, all the contacts…"

"No," Gibbs cut him off, "Not me."

"Hey, like I said, I don't even know the half of what's going on." Standing up, Fornell brushed as much sawdust as he could from his pants and moved toward the stairs. Just as he reached the top step, Gibbs' voice stopped him.

"Tobias."

"Yeah," Fornell threw over his shoulder.

Gibbs' mouth quirked up in a small smile,

"Thanks."

Fornell said nothing in reply. He simply shut the door and left Gibbs once again alone in the darkness of his basement with his boat, his bourbon, and his thoughts.