Part 1: I Don’t Want To Need You (or The Taste of Dried-Up Hope)
Tony sat sideways on the couch, looking out the bay window on to the street. The old couch was scratchy and lumpy, but he didn’t seem to take notice. There were boxes all over the floor and by the fireplace. Packing or unpacking, no one really knew.
It was late, or early since it was already way past midnight. He should be in bed but he just couldn’t sleep. The dim streetlamp outside was attracting moths, tracing a chaotic dance of shadows.
He felt cold. It was only late August, summer not quite fading into fall, and yet, he felt cold. There was a chill coming from deep within his bones; a cold dread that had been getting steadily colder over the past few months.
Insomnia, brought on by stress. That was their diagnosis. Warm milk and exercise were all that was prescribed. Not that he wanted the pills. He’d seen enough as a child of what they could do.
He knew the real reason behind his insomnia; he was just powerless to stop it.
It’s been almost four months.
He could still remember the day that ship blew up. He could remember the panic he felt as he directed the evidence collection and worked the case. He spent every ounce of energy he had on the case�"he had to, or else he knew he’d begin to break if he let himself think about Gibbs, lying in the hospital in a coma. He remembered his heart sinking when the Director informed the team of Gibbs’ amnesia.
He could remember Gibbs bursting out of the elevator with Ducky hot on his heels. He could tell that Gibbs still didn’t remember them as the older man passed right by him without the slightest hint of recognition. Fortunately, Gibbs had been able to recall just enough details about the explosion that put him in a coma to tell them about Cape Fear, but Welsh had refused to listen. He remembered Gibbs yelling and screaming at the man in MTAC, then finally storming out as the rest of them stood there, watching silently in horror as the explosion consumed the vessel.
Ducky drove Gibbs back to the hospital that night. The doctors had wanted to keep him in observation for a few more days, but by the time Tony had gone to the hospital to visit late next day, Gibbs’ had checked himself out of the hospital against medical advice.
He remembered driving over to Gibbs’ house, hoping that the man had simply wanted to continue his recovery at home. His hopes were dashed when an empty house greeted him. He didn’t know how, but he knew that Gibbs was gone as soon as he set foot in the house.
He found Gibbs’ gun and badge on the coffee table, and a small square of paper that said only two words: “Semper Fi”. There was nothing to indicate where he went.
He couldn’t remember how he’d managed to drive himself over to Abby’s. He sat there, feeling the gaping hole in his chest where his heart was as Abby sobbed into his shirt in his arms. How could he, Abby had asked, and Tony couldn’t answer her. He wished he had the answers.
After the first month, he thought Gibbs just needed more time to work on getting his memories back. He refused to believe that the older man had really abandoned them. He refused to give up hope.
He figured out where Gibbs went. A place that held no memories, no past, no pain. A place that promised freedom and clarity. A place he could not follow.
He kept unconsciously checking his phone, as if Gibbs would just call out of the blue one day and tell him to pick him up at the airport, that he was coming home.
He started going to Gibbs’ place, staying, a couple of hours at first, which quickly turned into days, weeks, and by the end of the third month he’d practically moved in. Gibbs had left everything as it was; the only things taken were some of his more casual clothes and a few photo albums and frames Tony knew he kept on the bookshelf in the den. He didn’t dare to go into Gibbs’ bedroom�"the one that the older man had shared with Shannon�"or the basement. Those were Gibbs’ spaces; he had no right to intrude. He would wander around the house at night, lights completely out, trying desperately to feel the presence of the older man through the things he owned. It wasn’t like he’d be able to sleep anyway.
The house felt like a mausoleum, full of things left and forgotten, of things with no memories attached to them. Not anymore. He was the phantom�"a ghost of someone’s past, an apparition stuck between life and death, forever wandering, haunting, never resting.
And so, when Ducky informed him of Gibbs’ brief phone call and instructions to put the house up for sale, he finally broke down.
“He’s not coming back, is he,” he said by way of a statement, not a question. He’d wrapped himself up in an old blanket Gibbs had left on the couch, pretending that the barely-there scent of the older man would shield him from the world of hurt and sorrow bearing down on him right then and there.
“I’m afraid not, my boy,” Ducky replied regrettably, moisture in his eyes. “Jethro’s made it very clear that I’m to sell his house.”
Ducky knew. He had always known.
How could he not? The way that boy looked at Jethro…
“What am I going to do, Ducky?” Tony’s voice was thick with emotion, and he sounded broken, like the fractured memories Gibbs would never get back. He bit his lips until small beads of blood formed, refusing to give into the displays of emotions derived from the sense of rejection he was feeling in his heart.
He was all alone. Again.
Like he’d always been.
He didn’t know why he ever expected this time to be any different.
They’d always leave. He’d always get left behind.
And he hadn’t even had the chance to tell him how he felt.
Ducky winced at the sound of the young man before him. Tony looked like a lost little boy, huddling in the cold winds of some distant land, without a way home.
Tony had acted like nothing was wrong at the office. The team�"his team now, however temporarily�"needed him. Needed him to be strong for them, to lead them through it, until Gibbs came back. But when he was alone, all he could feel was the helplessness and loneliness that was gnawing away at his soul, slowly choking him until he couldn’t breathe anymore.
He had never even entertained the possibility that Gibbs wouldn’t come back. He had never thought that Gibbs would just abandon them.
He breezed through the next two stages of grief in one night.
He shouted at the top of his lungs, screaming nonsense that he couldn’t remember afterward, until his voice was raw, until his breath was ragged. He hit and kicked the wall, banging and knocking until he almost punched a hole straight through, his knuckles torn and bloody.
When he was too tired and bloody to continue, he slumped down on the ground, back against the wall, and begged�"to whom he didn’t know�"for someone to take it all back. To make things the way it was. To make it right.
There were no tears. His breath rough and his body ached from tension, but the tears never came. He was cold, his body in a spell of shivering he could not stop.
Ducky had been there, holding him like the grandfather he could’ve been, soothing him with a welcome embrace and calm, gentle words. But he didn’t feel it.
Didn’t feel the desert in his mouth. Didn’t feel the blood dripping down his hand. Didn’t feel the hard floor beneath his retching body.
He felt nothing, except for the ever-present coldness in the pit of his stomach.
He was numb.
---
After that, everything seemed like a blur.
He cashed out a chunk of his trust fund and bought out Gibbs’ house, secretly clutching at the smallest shred of hope that if Gibbs ever came back the house would still be here waiting for him.
He gave up his apartment, and left most of his stuff to charity. Things that no longer held meaning. Things that reminded him of happier times that would never come back.
He got up, showered, dressed, ate, left for work. The day-to-day routine became an automatic response, like he was a wound-up clockwork man, just going through the motions.
He no longer cared enough to spend half an hour picking out an outfit from his closet full of designer suits and expensive ties. He no longer cared if he looked like he hadn’t slept for a week, because to be honest, he probably hadn’t. Most of the time he just lay on the bed in the spare room or on the couch in a light doze, not really asleep but too tired to be awake and alert.
He worked, took the calls, divvied out the assignments and cleared the paperwork, but he did so mechanically. He was still brilliantly sharp at solving cases, he still cared about the victims, he still excelled at interrogations, but when all was said and done, he felt nothing. The emptiness in him just sucked the joy of solving a case right out.
He began drinking too much coffee, developed a rather strong taste for bourbon, and found himself turning his head every time he caught a whiff of freshly cut timber�"all because it reminded him of the man who’d abandoned them. Abandoned him.
He got in early, and stayed late. Anything to avoid being in an empty house alone during the waking hours, only to spend the hours when he should’ve been sleeping wandering aimlessly through the house, alone.
He no longer made the probie jokes or played pranks on McGee and Ziva. He no longer hid behind the frat boy masks because now he didn’t need to. Because really, there wasn’t any need to hide your emotions when you were so numb you couldn’t feel anything anymore.
He was spiraling down into a tailspin and he knew it. He was powerless to stop it, but in his heart he knew he wouldn’t have stopped if he could.
He could see the worry in the small pout of Abby’s red lips, the concern in Ducky’s furrowed brow, the uncertainty in McGee’s eyes, the unease behind Ziva’s cold exterior.
He wanted to tell them not to worry but he wasn’t sure if he’d be able to convince them.
He knew he wasn’t fooling anyone.
---
Ducky and Abby backed him into a corner when he went to Abby’s lab to check up on some results. He could see the worry in both their eyes. Tony sighed.
“Abby?”
“Tony…” Abby began hesitantly, her fingers wringing in tight knots. “You know we love you, right? You’re like a brother to me, my best friend in the whole world.”
Abby looked down at her hands before looking back at Tony, her emerald eyes searching his moss green. “You know we care about you, right?”
Tony brought his arm up to rub his eyes with the heel of his hand. “Yes, Abbs, I know.”
“Do you really though?” Abby grabbed Tony’s wrists, holding them in one hand while placing the other on Tony’s face. Tony could see the unshed tears in her eyes as she choked through the rest of her words. “I know you’re hurting. A lot. But you’re not the only one who’s hurting.”
“Abby…” Ducky put his hands on Abby’s shoulders gently.
Abby shrugged off Ducky’s hands to wrap Tony in a fierce hug, tears rolling down her cheeks. “I’ve already lost him. I don’t want to lose you too.”
“Abby…” Tony tried, but failed. Abby was right. They were all hurting. Every single one of them. He and Abby and Ducky especially but he knew McGee and Ziva were mourning too, in their own ways. He pretended not to see the bags under McGee’s eyes when he came in in the morning after a night of killing orcs with people half a world away. He pretended not to see the bandages around Ziva’s hands and ankle after her no holds barred sparring sessions with guys twice her size. The signs were all there, he just refused to see them so he wouldn’t have to acknowledge them.
“I…” Tony took a deep breath, trying to not sound so… shattered. “I don’t know how. I don’t know how to pull myself out of… this, whatever this is. I’m trying to hold everyone together, to get us through this, but I don’t know how much longer I can do it.”
“Then let us help you,” Ducky finally offered. “You don’t need to do this alone, Tony. We will do this together.”
Abby nodded emphatically, her arms still around Tony. “We’ll get through this together, right guys?”
“Damn right,” McGee’s voice rang out from the doorway, and Tony’s head whipped around to find the younger agent standing at the door, next to Ziva.
“I know I haven’t been here long, but if I’ve learned anything in this past year, it was how much we depend on each other as a team,” Ziva said with conviction, sharing a look with McGee. She knew as well as he did how affected Tony had been with Gibbs leaving. They both knew how much Tony had taken on since. “Let us help you, Tony.”
Tony sighed, a strained smile playing at his lips, and for the first time in four months felt a bit less alone.
Although he wasn’t sure if that would be enough fill the gaping hole where his heart was.
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