As soon as he closed the front door, Tony wasn't able to hold it in any longer. At the hospital and in the car he had to keep some level of strength for his teammates. But here, now that he was alone, all the fear and overwhelming despair was able to pour out as intensely as it needed to.
He slid down the length of the door until he was seated on the floor, too exhausted to even hold his head up. His body fell slowly to the side until he was lying curled up on the floor, and his hands cradled his aching head as he wept tears he'd been holding inside for hours.
It hurt. Everything hurt...so much. Losing his father was like letting go of a dream. But losing Gibbs was something he wasn't prepared for at all. Not like this... Not right now. It was too much.
In their line of work, losing a partner was something you had to be prepared for, but Gibbs was too good to be taken out. Tony had been pretty well convinced that his boss was indestructible. The possibility was there, as it was with all of his teammates. But he would never ever be prepared to lose him. It was one of the reasons he'd never taken that offer to Rota; he needed to stay with his team. He needed to have Gibbs' six, no matter what.
Ducky's voice rang in his head. "Have you even slept, at all?" "Get a bit of sleep and then come back, if you must. I'll be sure to call you if he wakes up..."
If he wakes up...
Tony pushed himself up off of the floor with a great amount of effort, then made his way to the living room. He plopped down onto the couch and eyed a recently opened bottle of bourbon on the coffee table, and two glasses beside it. One had lipstick on the rim that he knew right away was Abby's. She must have stayed for a drink with Jackson...this must have been a gift meant for Gibbs for Christmas, but they'd needed it the night before, perhaps to sleep.
Sleep...
Tony was so tired, but he couldn't fathom the ability to even close his eyes. Maybe bourbon would help. Passing out is a form of sleep, right?
"Hope ya don't mind, boss," he said aloud as he pulled the bottle and one of the glasses closer to him. "Doctor's orders and all." He twisted the top off of the bottle and poured a significant amount into the glass. He took a deep breath as he gazed at the glass. This would be painful... It was a sipping type of drink, but right now it was purely for medicinal purposes. Maybe the pain would distract him from the pain he wanted so desperately not to feel right now.
He closed his eyes once the glass reached his lips, and tossed the glass back as he chugged the painfully strong liquid. It burned. Not an unfamiliarity, but for this quantity, it was more intense than past attempts to drink it in one shot.
He muttered a curse as he slammed the glass down on the table, and coughed against the burn. But damn did it feel good to feel pain in his chest that wasn't coming from his heart.
He poured another glass, but decided to drink this one a bit slower. He was already beginning to feel its effects. Tony's foot connected with something beside the coffee table and he looked down to inspect it. Three bags from where Tony knew were stores in the mall. Someone must have retrieved Gibbs' bags from the car...
Unable to resist, Tony picked up one of the bags and set it in his lap. He took a long sip of his drink before setting it down on the table and turning his attention to Gibbs' purchases. The first thing he pulled out was a long rectangular box. There were two like this. The first was clearly something he'd picked up for Abby. He smiled at the little charm. She'd love it.
He set it down on the coffee table, and decidedly got up from the couch to fetch the newspaper and a roll of tape. He'd wrap and label these things for Gibbs, as long as he could figure out who they were going to. With his investigative skills, he was pretty certain he could do the job.
Armed with a red Sharpie, he wrapped and labeled Abby's, and then what he realized was Ziva's chain. "Way to steal my idea, boss," he said with a smirk, and took another sip of his drink. The wooden yorkie dog-shaped glasses stand wasn't too difficult to realize its intended recipient. Who could forget Mrs. Mallards yapping mutts?
Tony placed the three gifts beneath the tree and stood, swaying a bit before making his way back to the couch and refilling his glass. The first bag was empty. He balled it up and reached for the next one. The sound of broken glass took him a bit by surprise. "Oh shit.." He carefully placed it on the table in front of him after moving the bottle out of the way.
A photo album was the first item he pulled from the bag, careful not to touch the glass that seemed to be everywhere. The album was empty, but the binding was beautiful. Leather and etched with designs he couldn't quite place at the moment. But something was spilled all over it. Black ink, perhaps, dried now.
Tony wasn't sure who this was for, but he assumed that it might be for Jackson, and that Gibbs had planned to fill it before handing it over. He set it on the couch beside himself for the time being, just in case he was wrong.
He reached back into the bag again and pulled out another rectangular box. This one was covered in the same black mystery substance. He opened it and immediately had his suspicions verified. There sat the culprit for the blackened disaster that wreaked havoc on this bag of gifts. A nice looking pen, and now that he looked more closely, he saw an engraving. He smiled. It was for McGee.
The pen looked intact. No doubt it would need a new ink cartridge. He wrapped and labeled it anyway and placed it under the tree. As he came back to the table, he refilled his glass. How many is that now? He'd lost count.
After taking another long drink, he reached back into the bag, again avoiding any of the glass as it fell unceremoniously to the pile already accumulated at the bottom. This was the last item. He placed the bag on the floor and put the metal box in his lap. The glass came from this box; a window that once made up most of the lid. It, too, was covered with black ink.
There was a small plate beneath that window, and he could see that it was engraved. He picked the box up closer to his face as he tried to read it.
To my son, with love. -L.J.G.
His son? Tony looked around at the things he'd already wrapped and allowed these facts to roam around his head for a moment. His mind flashed to the humidor he'd given Gibbs; its engraving. Then his eyes shot back down to the box. Tears filled his eyes. This gift was meant for him. Gibbs got this for Tony...
His chin quivered as he ran his thumb over the plate. It touched his heart somewhere he didn't even realize existed, and broke it all at the same time.
Horrid thoughts raced through his mind, then. This was all his fault... If Tony hadn't been such an emotional wreck, Gibbs wouldn't have felt the need to bring him into his home. He wouldn't have felt the need to go Christmas shopping and spend the day getting this engraved for him. He wouldn't have been sitting in that traffic in the very spot that truck happened to ram into.
He wouldn't be lying on his death bed...
Sucking in a breath once he realized he hadn't in a while, he pulled his phone from his pocket and hit one of his several programmed speed-dial numbers; this one, being a cab. He needed to get out of there. Needed to sleep. Clearly the alcohol wasn't working fast enough, and at least at his own place there was a bottle of rarely used prescription sleeping meds in his bathroom cabinet. Rarely used because he rarely had the opportunity for eight hours of sleep, anyway.
Tony didn't want to feel this pain anymore. He needed to sleep, as Ducky had suggested. At least it wouldn't seem so horribly unending. If Gibbs was going to wake up...well, Tony would rather be asleep until he did...
Tbc...