It was always the same, the expectant hope in someone's eyes that he would speak the words that would absolve them. For some time he had known that it was impossible for him to breach that gap, to offer up hope that his muttered consolation would bring them back from the teetering edge of manslaughter. It was for this reason and many others that he maintained the persona of "Gibbs". Gibbs was far past the superior tact of being 'friendly' but not 'familiar'. The distance most commanding officers and leaders create was the tact he now took up in his personal life. All it left him was a protective shell he used to get through every day, it allowed him to do his job, to wake up every morning and keep on going.

Manslaughter. He knew that is what Kate was thinking. It wasn't premeditated, but it happened. Someone had died, and if it weren't for the fact that it was in the line of duty and she was protecting a fellow officer... it would be presented before a judge. Sometimes he wondered if the administrative enquiry that followed such a death was enough. All it took was a report, someone reporting on the report, a determination of fault (if any), a psychological investigation and if it really, really came down to it... it would all be doubled checked in a years time when a deceased's family sued for compensation. There was no punishment. There was no sentence to serve so that one day in the hazy future, the hope that the notion the debt had been paid equalled the death itself. In the civilian world Kate would be wallowing in her punishment and providing that restitution to the deceased's family.

But this wasn't the civilian world, and she was looking to him for her sentence. The guilt was palatable, it bore down on Kate hunching her shoulders with the sheer psychological pressure it wielded. He wouldn't have it any other way though, if she ever showed signs of walking down the pathway he had hurtled down he would pull the plug on her career in NCIS. If everyone in his team was the same as him, if everyone viewed this type of death like he did it would unbalance the team. The suits called it workplace diversity. The Corp called it survival. No, the twinge he felt when she pulled the trigger wasn't guilt. It was a gut gurgling, bile twisting twinge of disgust. Not directed towards Kate, not directed at the young Ensign. No, it was a twinge at disgust at the circumstances that brought about such apparent waste of potential. Such waste.

Gibbs knew that if he managed to choke out lies, any consoling words and Kate would know the truth. He didn't mean it, then she would wonder if he was really as cold as he seemed. No it was better to hold her gaze and impart as much as he could through the contact. He knew she had to do it. She knew she had to do it. The Ensign wanted her to do it. All these facts wont change the fact she'll wake up with reflux burning the soft tissue of her throat as dreams plague her every night. Nothing he could say wouldn't make it any easier.

She wouldn't be punished, and that is what would keep her up at night, forehead against the wall of the shower, tears mingling with tap water before they can even be shed properly. He had been there, and nothing he could say, nothing he could do would make it any better.

Releasing her gaze he bit back the sigh that threatened to encroach on the moment. Such waste of life. He tossed the half emptied coffee cup in the bin, the contents sloshing out of the small opening at the top. It was all Waste.

_fini_