A/N: Hey! Okay, so I completely forgot to add the break lines in on the first chapter. It should be fixed and much easier to read now. Thanks for stickin' through it anyway!

So thanks for the lovely reviews for the first chapter—it was a nice way to start it off.

I know today's chapter is pretty short (sorry!) but it's because the next chapter really needs to be on its own, so it's all for the best, ok?

Happy Independence Day! I love this holiday—it's my favorite after Christmas and my birthday (Which is August 11 if anyone cares, and yes, it is nice not to have school on my birthday, so yes, it is a holiday for me, lol.) I got kind of emotional at the parade my town holds every year when various servicemen walked by, representing each branch of the military. We had a lot of Marines this year—my sister and I both thought of when Gibbs left in Season 3 and said, "Semper fi." One of the trucks had that phrase on it and I had this terrible urge to say, "Oorah!" I come from a line of police men, military men, and patriotic hearts so it tends to get to me.

Thanks for sticking through my ramble.

I love you for it. Really, I do.

Okay, here we go.

Tony arrived at work the next morning an hour before even Gibbs got in. Six o'clock, on the dot. He sat at his desk, finishing paperwork from the previous day's events. No one had expected to see him that day. Not even the security guards he met every day in the lobby. As he walked away he could feel their eyes on his back, all whispering the same thing: That poor boy. He didn't want their pity. He knew what they were thinking. And they were right.

He failed her.

He looked up from his desk to the one across from him. He half-expected to find her sitting there, working away diligently as she did. He half-expected to turn his head and find her behind him, looking over his shoulder at his screen. He half-expected to throw a ball of paper at her head or launch a spitball into her hair. He half-expected her to tell him about her latest driving accident—there had been three in the first year she worked with him, and countless more since. He half-expected her to stroll in at any moment, backpack casually slung over her shoulder.

She didn't.

The ache in his heart had grown with the burden of the guilt he knew he deserved.

"DiNozzo," Gibbs said as he walked up to Tony's desk.

Tony slowly looked up at Gibbs, removing his gaze from the empty desk before him. "Boss,"

"I do not need to see you here today," He said quietly.

"I need to be here," He said. "Mossad might call with some questions,"

Gibbs shook his head as he sat down at his desk, coffee cup at ready. "I don't think they will, DiNozzo,"

"Well if they don't I will. We were the last ones to see her," He said, not finishing his sentence with the word "alive."

"McGee's taking the week off. You should too," He suggested, ignoring the previous comment.

"I'm fine," He lied. He knew Gibbs could see right through it, but he didn't care. "And shouldn't you be working on your boat and a bottle of bourbon?" He added snidely.

Gibbs put a finger on a stack of files. "Paperwork,"

"I'm sure Vance would understand,"

Gibbs sighed. He hadn't wanted this for Tony. He didn't want Tony to become like him, coming to work so early to avoid facing himself. He wasn't supposed to have the same burdens buried deep inside. It wasn't supposed to turn out this way. Gibbs looked at Tony, their eyes saying the things that words cannot express. "Okay," He agreed.

And so there they sat, two men both wounded by their pasts and by the present lives in which they suffered.

Tony stormed into the elevator, angering bubbling with volcanic ash inside of him. I'm tired of pretending. He flipped the emergency off switch. Vance had just tried talking him into taking a week or two of bereavement time. Why did everyone think he was so fragile? So vulnerable? He was fine. He was strong, strong as he'd always been. He was a DiNozzo man. He was tough. DiNozzo men don't cry. And with that a tear fell.

He slid down the silvery wall of the elevator, his head falling down into his hands, elbows propped up on his knees. He began to cry. He cried tears of anger and hurt and regret and guilt, but mostly because he missed her. Oh, how he missed her. He missed how she messed up her idioms and he missed how she would so often threaten to hurt him, even kill him. I will kill you eighteen different ways with this paperclip! He missed her eyes and her smile and her heart. He missed her touch. He missed her laughter.

He felt as if his world was crashing down on him. A physical pain had developed inside the pit of his stomach. It was the same pain that he had felt last summer, when Jenny died, and when he was separated from the team. You could have called.

He failed her. He failed her so many times.

How could he have done this to her?

He wiped his eyes with the back of his sleeve and looked around. I'm tired of pretending. He shut his eyes as he tried to shut out the memory that haunted his mind.