A/N: Thanks for the reviews! :)

Real Breakdowns

The next couple of days and weeks brought few new cases and a lot of bourbon in the basement. Neither Abby nor Kate had mentioned Gibbs' weird behavior in the lab the other day and Gibbs wasn't quite sure why that was. Kate seemed to study him from time to time when she thought he wasn't looking but she still seemed to be clueing the facts together. Or at least she was trying to because if she had already found out about what was plaguing Gibbs, he was sure she would have confronted him.
Abby on the other hand was an even greater mystery than usual. Gibbs was sure that she somehow knew and that she was mad at him for some reason. But she hadn't told Kate apparently and that fact unnerved Gibbs more than it should have. Was it so important to the forensic scientist that she didn't even gossip about it? She would fix him with intense glares whenever they saw each other but Gibbs had always managed to get away from her in time so that she couldn't ask. He knew that he couldn't hide from her forever but he just couldn't see himself talking to her about Tony.

Tony – only thinking about him hurt him. He hadn't seen him since that talk show on TV, hadn't heard from him and had avoided watching anything but the news. He couldn't bring himself to look at him, couldn't bring himself to even think about him for more than a few minutes. Gibbs didn't know what was up with him. It hadn't been his first breakup. Hell, they hadn't even started a relationship when he had put an end to it. So why was this so different to his ex-wives? He had always been relieved when the divorces had been final, knowing that he could breathe freely now. But this time it seemed like the mere thought of Tony had him gasp for air, had him feeling weak.

He was doing fine at work, but whenever he went home, he felt like someone had just flicked off the lights. It was always dark, always cold in there and the winter that had finally come had nothing to do with it. Gibbs mostly hid away in his basement, making good progress on the boat and going through a bottle of bourbon nearly every day. He knew he was screwing himself up royally, but he couldn't see a better way to make himself forget.

He missed Tony more than he cared to admit, missed his texts every day and missed the way he had just made him feel good. He knew that he had done the right thing in the long run, but at the same time he couldn't help but wish that the long run was already there. He wasn't quite sure just how long he could go on like that.

#

"Jethro?"

Gibbs looked up from his boat to find Ducky slowly walking down the stairs into his basement. As far as Gibbs could remember, the ME had never been down there and it made him cringe internally. Had he realized that something wasn't quite alright with him, too? He chanced a glance at the almost empty bottle of bourbon that stood on the workbench and internally cursed himself that he had left it out. He was sure that Ducky wouldn't be fooled if he told him that he hadn't been drinking it tonight.

"What are you doing here?" he finally said, stopping the sanding as he turned around to Ducky who was by now standing behind him.

"I worry, Jethro."

"About what?" Gibbs asked as he watched Ducky pick up the bottle and hold it up against the light as if to check how much there was still in it.

"You," the doctor replied as if it had been obvious.

"Nothing to worry about, Duck."

"I beg to differ," the older man said and then seated himself on one of the sawhorses. "I haven't seen you so quiet since you started working for NIS all these years ago. And frankly, I do believe you drink too much."

"I do not," Gibbs replied vehemently. "Everything's fine. No need to worry."

"Don't be so stubborn, my dear Jethro," Ducky said, his voice sounding disapproving now. "I know when you're hurting. So what's up?"

"Nothing," Gibbs answered and started to sand again, just to have something to do with his hands that had started to shake ever so slightly.

He would have said something more meaningful, something that would make Ducky go away again, but the alcohol had already clouded his mind and he wasn't able to think straight at the moment. As it were, he did his best to ignore the older man in the basement as he focused on the movements of gliding the sander up and down the wood. It felt oddly soothing. It didn't take long, however, until Ducky loudly cleared his throat, forcing Gibbs to turn around to look at him again. The doctor looked at him sternly and Gibbs could tell that he was fuming internally. When he started to speak, however, he seemed calm and it made Gibbs even queasier inside.

"You don't have to tell me anything, Jethro. I will do the talking and you'll listen to me closely. I've watched you these last couple of weeks and while you repeatedly claim that you're fine, you clearly aren't. Even Mr. Palmer isn't afraid of you anymore because you don't pay attention to him or to anyone else for that matter."

"Am I supposed to scare your assistant to get you off my back?" Gibbs retorted without thinking and then winced ever so slightly when Ducky fixed him with an even angrier look.

"No, you're not. What you are supposed to do is being the boss again. I've heard Caitlyn complain to Abby that she has to do all your work because you refuse to teach them. Don't get me wrong, you're still doing your work, but you transferred all your responsibility of teaching young Timothy to Kate and I'm afraid she's not ready for that yet. She's an excellent agent but she's not seasoned enough yet to give her knowledge to others."

"Ducky," Gibbs interrupted to defend himself but he fell silent when Ducky just shook his head.

"No, let me finish. I don't even want to talk about work that much. But with each passing day you look more exhausted and I don't think the agency has anything to do with it. I didn't know what was up exactly until I came here tonight. Just how much have you been drinking lately, Jethro?"

"Not more than usual," Gibbs replied quickly – a little too quickly, judging from the disdain that was visible on Ducky's face.

"You keep telling yourself that," the doctor said as he stood up and started to walk up the stairs. "But I won't be the one that picks you up from the curb because you decided to drive drunk into work."

"Ducky, I never would…"

"I know you believe that. But you're on your way to lose yourself in that brown liquor of yours. The only advice I can give you is this: sort out whatever troubles you're having because sooner or later you're going to lie on that curb - if you want it or not."

"What if I can't sort it out?" Gibbs checked back and he hated himself for sounding weak all of a sudden, for admitting that he was having a problem, for realizing that he couldn't solve it.

"Then you'll have to learn to deal with it though I still have to see a challenge that the great Leroy Jethro Gibbs doesn't accept."

With that Ducky was gone again, leaving Gibbs standing there in the middle of his basement all alone. And he hadn't ever felt lonelier than in this exact moment. Ducky had no idea what he was talking about. He couldn't just solve this problem like he had done with the others. This wasn't something he could just fix at will. He wasn't even sure he wanted it fixed.

For a moment he wondered why that was. For a few days he had been happy, had been happy with Tony. Even when they had just been friends, he had felt content and balanced. But nothing had changed. He still couldn't do this relationship thing. Not with everything that was going on. Besides, he was sure that Tony would never talk to him again after what he had done to him. And he wasn't even sure he wanted to talk to him in the first place. What was he supposed to say? He couldn't possibly tell Tony anything the younger man didn't already know.

So, he would have to bite the bullet on that one and sit it out until the hurt just went away, until his heart didn't ache every time he just thought of him. It would pass. Just like everything else had. Well, except for the pain of losing Shannon and Kelly. That had never passed and if Gibbs was being honest to himself, he couldn't deny that losing Tony had felt very much like it. It wasn't fair towards his girls but he couldn't help the lonely feeling in his heart whenever he thought about how happy he had been that morning when Tony had woken up in his arms.

He sat down, leaning against the frame of the boat, picked up the glass of bourbon and downed it in one swig. He didn't care what Ducky thought, what Abby thought she knew or what Kate was trying to find out. It was none of their business and he'd be okay eventually. He had managed to function just fine after a while with what had happened to Kelly and Shannon and he would be just fine after having gotten over Tony.

It would work out soon enough.

#

Gibbs yawned as he walked into Abby's lab a couple of days later. He had been up almost all night, trying to get the frame of his boat just right and he now hated himself for it because he could barely keep his eyes open and it was only noon. When Abby noticed him, he quickly replaced the image of what seemed to be phone records with the slug of the weapon that had supposedly been used to kill their latest victim.

"What was that?" Gibbs asked and he was slightly startled when Abby fidgeted ever so slightly.

"I'm sorry, Gibbs, I know that you want me to prioritize your cases, but Balboa asked me for a suspect's phone records and he said it was urgent."

"No worries, Abs," he said and then pressed a quick kiss on her cheek to show her that he really didn't mind.

"I'll get to your case immediately. I promise."

"Call me when you got something."

"Will do," Abby replied with a smile which faded a second later as he looked at him more closely. "Hey Gibbs?"

"Yeah?"

"I know you're fine and all, but can you please go to bed earlier or something? You look like hell."

Gibbs let out a sigh, wondering why everybody was up his case all the time lately. He didn't answer and was about to leave the lab when Abby spoke up again.

"Can't you just call him?"

"Who?" Gibbs asked, feeling a knot form in his stomach as he realized what was most likely to come.

"Tony," Abby replied quietly. "I'm sure he misses you just as much as you miss him."

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"Sure you don't," Abby answered sarcastically. "I haven't said anything as of now, but it's painfully obvious you miss him. I don't know what happened between the two of you but it's clear that you miss him and judging by the way Tony is avoiding the press lately, I'm sure there's something going on with him, too."

"There's nothing going on. We're fine."

"Yeah, I know you're fine. Now go. I don't want to talk to you if you're like that."

"Like what, Abby? I don't appreciate you asking questions that are none of your business. I never have and you should know that. So leave me alone."

"You got it," Abby replied and she looked furious but at the same time her voice had broken at the end of her sentence, so that Gibbs almost moved closer to apologize but then the woman had turned around and he finally walked out the lab, feeling worse than ever.

Great, now he had angered Abby, too.

#

Gibbs wiped the sweat from his face, idly wondering why he was sweating in the first place. The basement wasn't exactly warm and sure, he had been working hard but that didn't exactly justify the sweat that was irritating his eyes to a point that they were burning. With a start, he realized that he wasn't sweating as much as he was crying.

Goddamn it.

He had been lost in his work and it was always times like these when he let his thoughts wander. And these days they always wandered towards Tony without fault. He had long given up not thinking about him. After the fight with Abby, he had just given up pretending. The Goth still refused to talk to him and it had almost been two weeks. He was slowly getting antsy, but he couldn't bring himself to apologize to her. It really had been none of her business and he was tired of living up to other people's expectations.

But Abby was just part of why he was feeling so lousy. Despite Ducky's warning, he hadn't stopped drinking and he was vaguely aware that if he kept going like that, he'd end up being an alcoholic, but he was still sure that he didn't need to drink. He just wanted to. Betimes the alcohol helped to forget and sometimes it helped to remember. Like tonight, he kept hearing Tony walking down the stairs to the basement, kept feeling him standing right behind him, whispering things about Gibbs liking him into his ear. Gibbs knew that he should shut out these memories. It had happened months ago and he knew that they did more harm than good, but he refused to let them go. He had let go of Tony because it was for the best, but he wasn't willing to let go of the memories of him.

Gibbs picked up the glass that was sitting on the floor next to him and then slid down the frame of the boat to sit with his back against it. He was tired beyond belief but he was sure that he wouldn't be able to sleep. It had been like that for weeks, but he had never needed much sleep, so he wasn't entirely irritated by it. He closed his eyes for a moment and then felt his heart miss a beat when he heard footsteps on the stairs. His mind was playing tricks on him again.

He opened his eyes and looked up, knowing that he would be disappointed in a second because like every time nobody would be there.

Except there was.

Tony.