Hymn For The Missing by Checkerz
Summary: You know bad things happened when a man couldn't look you in the eye anymore
Categories: Gen Characters: Anthony DiNozzo, Jenny Shephard, Ziva David
Genre: Angst, Character study, Drabble/Ficlet/Vignette, Drama, Episode Related, Hurt/Comfort
Pairing: None
Warnings: Dark story, Death story
Series: None
Chapters: 1 Completed: Yes Word count: 921 Read: 3076 Published: 01/25/2015 Updated: 01/25/2015
Story Notes:
So I'm still relatively new to NCIS and finally got to the Season 5 finale tonight. Needless to say I'm at my writing board :)

1. Hymn For The Missing by Checkerz

Hymn For The Missing by Checkerz
Author's Notes:
You know something bad happened when a man couldn't look you in the eyes anymore

One-Shot (Spoilers for Judgement Day)
They say that guilt can kill a man.

They have that saying for a reason.

Ever since he hadn't found her pulse...well, lets just say he wasn't the same Tony DiNozzo.

He could always blame himself for what happened to Kate and Paula but they were never his fault.

This time it was.

No matter how many times people told him the exact opposite they all knew the truth.

He could see it in their eyes.

This time he practically pulled the trigger.

Tony took another gulp of whiskey.

Gibbs had been gone well over 12 hours, McGee was running (or NOT running as it may be) Frank's BOLO for the Assistant Director.

And Ziva...well...who knew where Ziva was.

Tony had made his way down to the morgue after leaving Abby's lab.

He now sat in the dark.



And crying.

G#D was he pathetic.

Tony nursed his scotch and whiskey as his eyelids drooped.

Drinking at work was the farthest thing from allowed, but who cared at this point?

He couldn't speak to Ziva.

He snapped at Abby.

He literally tried to pick a fight with Tim.

And he hasn't been able to look Gibbs in the eye once since he left for L.A.

Tony couldn't look anybody in the eye anymore.

If he did it was with glaring intensity.

Tony reached the end of a bottle.

He scowled and rubbed his eyebrow with a thumb.

Why couldn't he have saved her?


He chose not too.

With a continued effort he might add.

It was times like these Tony hated his job.

With a burning passion.

He gave up so much for it and so many people.

Tony was ordered to protect Jenny.

And he got her killed.

Like he got everybody else killed.

The senior field agent bumbled around in the dark looking for a bottle opener he knew Ducky had hidden somewhere.

He wished there was some way he could be punished for what he did.

But Tony's self-preservation instincts kicked in and he tried burying that guilt.

But the guilt couldn't be buried.

Not this time.

This time Tony had let a co-worker down.

He let them die.

He signed their final sentencing.

He had hundreds of chances and opportunities and he tossed it all away!

And for what, exactly?

A lousy day at the pool.

Ziva said something was wrong.

Tony slammed his glass down hard enough it completely shattered.

Sending deep jagged pieces right into his palm.

Blood was everywhere.

The pain cleared his head a bit which, in turn, made Tony even more miserable.

His anger had been brimming to the surface the entire case.

But he wasn't pissed at Tim, Ziva or Abby...

He was pissed at himself.

And that, alone, was terrifying.

This time the agent might actually do something he'd really really regret.

That internal battle was already physically and mentally draining.

Tony stared at his hands.

Blood and glass still there.

At least this made it more real.

He could still see The Director's body.

Blood pooling beneath her...

No pulse.

Gibbs accusing eyes.

Tim's loaded "casual" comment.

Leon Vance telling him they would talk later...

It was too much.

Tony squeezed his fists tightly making his palms scream in pure agony.

Tears fell down his cheeks like rain.

A stifled sob escaped his throat.

Why wasn't he on that table?

Honestly Tony and the NCIS team asked themselves that question every day.

A lot of the time it should have been them.

But it wasn't.

Just the way this job worked.

7 years working for Gibbs had been great.

The most fun, rewarding job he ever had...

But after 7 years and so many partners killed Tony just felt...exhausted.

All of his pent up youthful energy finally wore off.

By grief.

Plus the walls were getting a little tight.

And there weren't that many original team members left to begin with.

Maybe Gibbs wouldn't mind if he took a leave of absence.

Not permanently, the man wasn't quite there yet but...

He had to get out of here.

Too many memories.

Maybe he could request a reassignment.

Tony had heard from a couple of buddies of his that they were accepting Agents Afloat.

This could definitely be what he needed.

Tony sighed, closing his eyes.

Then a voice at the back of his mind said if he didn't get immediate medical attention, he would never be able to carry a gun again.

But try as he might, Tony just couldn't bring himself to get up from that chair.

So he stared at the pitch blackness around him, the smell of cheap booze, chemicals and death comforting.

No one could see him.

He couldn't see them.

It was all a way to hide his guilt.

Tony had played the cowards way out.

Running away to spill his sorrow rather than facing judgment.

There was no f##king way around it this time.

No, hasty faux-self blame.

Just pure, unadulterated truth.

Jenny was dead.

She died ALONE, because of HIM.

He should have had her six the whole time.

There was no excusing that.

What was wrong with him?

Tony took a quick swallow of alcohol as it burned the back of his throat and sent tears to his eyes.

He should have died with her.

Tony raised the bottle of whiskey as a toast, "Semper Fi Jenny."

Even if this time it wasn't true.

He hadn't been faithful. Not to the very end.

Tony heard what sounded like Ziva walk softly into the room.

He didn't say anything until he turned on the light.

The Mossad Agent whipped around.

She relaxed and sighed, "You haven't listened to anything I have said."

Then she frowned, noticing Tony's mutilated hands.

Ziva swore in Hebrew.

"Did you do this to yourself?" She pulled a rag out from somewhere to stifle the bleeding.

He just smiled lazily, "No."

"You are lying. I shall call Ducky. These wounds look serious."

"She died alone Ziva."


"Director Shepherd. She died alone."

Ziva paused, on her knees, and said, "We are all alone."

"Well that's very reassuring," he slurred. Then, "It's all inevitable."

Ziva looked him in the eyes, "Nothing is inevitable."

He stared back.
End Notes:
Major Trigger Warning: death, depression, alcoholism, and suicidal thoughts
This story archived at http://www.ncisfiction.com/viewstory.php?sid=4605