March 17
So closely interwoven have been our lives, our purposes, and experiences that, separated, we have a feeling of incompleteness. – Elizabeth Cady Stanton
He sat in MTAC, in the darkness, allowing it to consume him. He felt comfortable here, as though he deserved to be here. And he did. The light was too good for him right now.
He was alone in the world. It was strange; she was only in New York City at a conference. But it felt as though she was a world away, as though she had left him again. As much as he hated the term, he was incomplete. She was his other half, his better half, the only one who had ever rescued him from the darkness even though she had refused to attempt to change him.
She understood why he was drawn to the darkness, probably because she was lost in it herself. While he was content there, she occasionally struggled against it. And he helped her. If she could find the light, he would help her in any way. She deserved to be happy, to escape the suffocating darkness that surrounded her most of the time.
Yet she continued to turn to him, regardless of the darkness that swirled around them. And he could not refuse her. She was his soulmate, his second soulmate. Not many people were lucky enough to meet their first, and even fewer found a second. If she asked him to shoot DiNozzo, he would do it. If she asked him to cut off a limb, he would immediately reach for his knife. He would take a bullet for her, no questions asked.
But if leaving him allowed her to be happy, he would let her break his heart. He would probably never recover, but he did not care.
The sole technician at the side turned around to face him. "Director Shepard is online," he announced.
Gibbs allowed himself a smile. He hoped she felt the same way.