He steps closer to the table, the doors behind him hissing to a close. He wants time to himself. Time to say goodbye.

The black body bag sitting atop the metal slab is a nightmare in his mind. It had to be. He feels the corners of his eyes sting. It isn't the strain, it isn't tiredness.

He turns the over-head lamp on and places his fingers on the zip. He isn't prepared, no one is. No one wanted this to happen; no one thought it ever would. The soul lying before him was invincible - a Superhero. Was.

Was.

A tear forms at the corner of his eye and threatens to roll down his cheek as he pulls the zip. The noise echoes, the sharp grumble bouncing off the metal walls.

He gasps, the sharp intake of breath offends the bile in the back of his throat. It's real. Too real. He steps back, clenching his hands.

The face is white, save for the blood spattered to one side. The lips have a slight pink colouring to them, a colour that will very soon fade away. The brows are dark, as are the lashes. The sweaty, disheveled hair is the only indication of the free spirit that used to inhabit the body.

Coming closer again, he pulls the zipper down all the way, separating the two plastic sides. The NCIS jacket is riddled with bloody holes and dirt. He leans over and pulls out one hand from beside the body and grasps it. Dry blood covers the fingers and wrist. He pushes the memory out of his mind, willing it to disappear, but all he can do is swallow back a sob when he hears the bullets. The bullets and the screaming.

His own screaming.

"You were something else." he says aloud. "Entirely."

He doesn't expect a reply. He stares at the stationary body, willing the chest to heave up, any sign saying that it isn't real.

Nothing.

"When I watched you go down," he began again, his voice cracking as a tear rolls slowly down his cheek. "I watched my whole life go down. Those bastards just wouldn't let you go."

He bowed his head as the memory filled his head again. His knees felt weak.

"I kick myself for not giving you what you wanted. For not protecting you from the world. Hell," he swiped a sleeve to his face. "I should have worshipped the ground you walked on for giving an old dog like me something to look forward to every day. I'd wake up every morning," his grip tightens on the hand. "And actually want to get out of bed, and want to come to work. You made everything okay."

He sobered up slightly, realising his face had moved closer and closer to the table. Before he can pull back, he leans down and kisses the cold forehead, brushing a hand over the damp hair.

"I wish I could say the words again." he whispers, blue lights flashing in his mind.

He pulls back, easing the hand back beside the body. Zipping the bag slowly, he feels his chest tighten as a breakdown looms over him like storm clouds. He rests his hand on the closed bag for a moment.

"Goodnight, Superhero." He says, a small smile playing on his lips. The hiss of the doors and the small ping of the elevator are the only noises signalling his exit.

The metal room is once again silent, save for the small click of a closing door.

-

From behind the door to his office, Ducky watches Gibbs leave Autopsy. He closes the door and rests his head against the cold metal, whispering to the open air.

"Why did you leave us, Anthony?"