Disclaimer: I don't own NCIS, or anything having to do with NCIS. I don't really own anything at all, except the computer I'm writing on, and the car I live in, so if you decide to sue me, you aren't going to get much.

A/N: I'm not really a one-shot kind of writer, and this is quite a few months old, but I sat down one day and this is what popped out of my head. Depressed Tony has been done a million times, but this my take on a snapshot of that. It doesn't really have a time frame- just sometime after season 4.

Invisible

Tony DiNozzo was a mask. He wasn't wearing one, he WAS one. The man that other people saw was not who he was, and the man on the inside was even more of a stranger, especially to himself. While many people, his co-workers and friends and ex-girlfriends included, realized that they weren't getting the whole picture, they didn't know just how far away they were. Nobody knew him, they couldn't possibly when he'd locked himself away so tightly in the vault at the back of his mind that even he was starting to have trouble discerning the actual him from the man he'd created to face the world.

Very rarely did he let that stranger out. Very rarely did he even acknowledge that the façade the whole world saw was not the man he actually was. How could he possibly let people know that he wasn't the man they all thought him to be? How could he let them know that he was a weak, pathetic excuse for a man? It was his deep dark secret, and he hid it from even himself.

Standing on that bridge, staring down at the icy waters of the Potomac, he was letting that man out for the first time in a very long time. He didn't want to do it, but that sorry little man inside of him refused to be locked up any longer, so he'd let the emotions well over him. They'd led him here, to the middle of that deserted bridge, and they whispered things in his ears that only made him feel weaker.

The bridge was not unfamiliar to him. He'd gone there in the past when he needed a reprieve, and he'd spent all of his excess negative emotions staring at the water beneath him and wishing that he was someone else- anybody else. Somebody who wasn't afraid to let the real person inside shine through. Somebody strong, and tough. Somebody who didn't give a shit about what other people made of him. Somebody who knew what they wanted out of life and went after it. Somebody with a purpose. Somebody like Gibbs.

Gibbs didn't care what the world saw when it looked at him. Gibbs had been strong enough to get through the deaths of his wife and daughter and came out the other side as a man to be admired. Gibbs said what he thought, he did what he wanted, and he didn't bother with bullshit. If somebody didn't like him, he didn't care. He viewed the world at face value and told the people who didn't approve to go fuck themselves.

Tony wanted to be like that. He wanted that strength that Gibbs exuded with every movement. He didn't want to doubt himself at every turn, or feel lost and alone when his thoughts began to overwhelm him. Gibbs had been through much harder shit than Tony ever had, and he'd managed to keep himself together.

Comparing himself to his boss only made Tony feel worse. He was falling apart at the seams when he should be holding his head up, looking at the world, and assuring himself that he was going to make it through whatever shit was thrown at him. He was tired though- tired of feeling like every day was an obstacle and life was just a rollercoaster that ended in nothing but misery and heartache. He could only bow his head and stare into that dark water, wishing he had something to distract him from the pain of being himself and living his life.

Throughout his entire life he'd been kicked and pushed to the ground, but he'd put on that mega-watt smile that fooled everybody into thinking he could take it. He'd taken their insults, and their carelessness without a peep, shoving it into his vault and refusing to acknowledge it. Now, however, the vault was full- too full. He was in agony as feelings of abandonment, isolation, ineptness, and weakness leaked from the vault, broke it open, and assaulted every piece of him. The water, with its dark, icy depths, was starting to look inviting. Could submersing himself in the ice make him feel any worse than he was already feeling?

That day had looked promising. He'd woken up happy. What was there to not be happy about? It was a Saturday, and there was no work to be done, and his weekend plans were to be envied. He was going to do some shopping- he'd been eyeing a new Armani suit that would match his favorite Gucci shoes, and a tie was probably in the equation too. He was going to meet up with an old frat brother for a round of tennis and lunch at a ritzy country club just outside of DC, and before dinner with that extremely hot girl who just moved into his apartment building, he was going to spend a few hours down at the Kids Klub he volunteered at. A few games of tag football, and maybe some basketball would leave him feeling refreshed and happy.

His good mood had come crashing down around him not ten minutes after he got home from the Armani store. He'd been feeling elated off of his purchase, and was hanging the new suit up neatly in his closet to avoid wrinkles when his phone had started ringing. He'd hesitated to answer it when he saw his father's name on the caller ID, but had ignored the churning in his gut and flipped it open anyway, curious to what his father wanted to speak to him about- because Senior never called just to say hello.

The conversation had started off light enough. They'd discussed the weather and work and his father's last vacation before they got to the reason why his dad called. He had gotten married again, spur of the moment, to a woman he met while he was in St. Barts. She was a blond, blue eyed beauty, half Tony's age and eager to meet her new 'son.' The news had aggravated him, but the conversation hadn't turned for the worst until his father began chastising him about his newest purchase and his casual attitude towards money.

Standing on that bridge, it almost made Tony laugh that his father had attempted to give him financial advice. Wasn't this the same man who was flat broke and running from debt collectors? The man who owned more suits than he could ever possibly wear in his life?

If that wasn't bad enough, Senior had proceeded to insist that he stop 'messing around' and settle down and get married. As if his father knew anything at all about settling down or not messing around. His advice was unwanted and unsolicited, and when Tony informed him of this, his father laughed and told him he was only looking out for his best interests because his life was nothing but a mess. What did he have to show for himself? Obviously he was doing something wrong, or his life wouldn't be in shambles.

That's what had pissed Tony off- partly because his father had said it, and partly because inside he believed it to be true. What did he have to show for himself? A job that had gotten him nowhere, and a lonely apartment. The words had stung on more level than one.

The thoughts on his failings turned to thoughts of his past. Memories of his mother's death and his father's abandonment raced through his mind. How could his father possibly offer him advice when he'd barely spent any time with him over the years? How could his mother have drank herself to death? What did she think would happen to him when she was gone?

These thoughts were followed by thoughts of Wendy, and other girlfriends of his past. He thought about Kate and how he should have been the one with the bullet to the head because her life was worth ten times more than his.

He thought about Jeanne and how he'd hurt her, and how he'd loved her, and how he wished things had gone differently. He briefly wondered where she was and what she was doing with her life. She'd most likely moved on by now- probably was even married. It sent a pang through his heart.

As his mood quickly deteriorated and the vault of emotions he'd buried for so long began to surface, he knew he couldn't stay in his apartment. It was a glaring reminder of how he'd failed. He'd called his frat buddy and canceled their afternoon, got in his car, and drove. It was like his mind was on auto-pilot. He didn't even realize where he was going until he was pulling to a stop in the middle of that bridge.

That bridge.

He hated that bridge. It's where he always ended up when his emotions began to get the best of him. He'd gone there the night he lost Jeanne, and he'd gone there after Kate was killed, and Paula. It was a beautiful bridge, but he never went there when he was feeling anything other than worthless and depressed.

Did his father even realized what his words had done to him? Did DiNozzo Sr. even care that he'd shaken Tony right to the core? Tony doubted it- after all, his father, just like everybody else he knew, didn't know him. How bad was it when his own father didn't know him?

Tony sighed miserably. Nobody knew him. Nobody cared enough to know him. Everybody was happy to offer words of unwanted advice, chastise him for his mistakes, and comment on his character, but they never bothered to actually care about him. His own father hadn't bothered to tell him he was getting married, or invite him to the wedding. When the work day ended, he became non-existent to his coworkers until the next morning, when they all returned to the salt mines for another grueling day. He called his frat brothers to get together. He enticed women to date him. He was positive that if he stopped calling all together, nobody would even notice.

He let out a bitter laugh as he contemplated what everybody would say if he jumped off that bridge right then and there. Would they be sad? What would they say at his funeral? He couldn't imagine they would really have much to say at all, and the mourning processes wouldn't be long. Sure, his father would probably be a bit disappointed, but only because he no longer had an heir, but Tony was sure that wouldn't last long- his step mother of the moment would be celebrating the birth of the newest DiNozzo within the year. His coworkers would mourn until they put a replacement agent at his desk, and then they'd move on. His frat brothers would show up at his funeral out of a feeling of obligation, and then go back to their happy lives with their wives and kids and picket fenced yards.

He knew he'd never commit suicide. No matter how inviting that water beneath him looked, and no matter how much the prospect of an eternity in slumber appealed to him, he knew he could never stoop down to that level. While replacing him would be easy enough, he didn't want to be replaced. He wanted to feel like he was worth something- anything. He wanted to believe that at least one person cared that he was there.

His entire life he'd been the invisible one. He was invisible to his mother, and to his father. He'd turned to being a clown to get a little bit of attention, but that didn't even last very long. He was a good person, and he would lay his life on the line for the people he cared about, but he felt invisible. If it came down to it, would Gibbs or McGee or Ziva sacrifice their own life to save his, as he would do for them? Would they be willing to look past his faults to save his life?

He was distracted from his thoughts by the shrill ring of his cell phone. He groaned as he rubbed his cold hands together and contemplated whether or not he actually wanted to answer it. When the ringing faded, and then picked up again after only a thirty second break, Tony pulled the device from his pocket and squinted his eyes in the darkness to see who was calling him. Gibbs.

Gibbs calling meant only one thing. A case.

Flipping the phone open, he automatically pressed it to his ear and greeted his boss with a false cheer that made his stomach curl in on itself.

"Where are you?" Gibbs wanted to know.

"Getting ready to grab drinks with the little lady in the apartment below me," he lied smoothly.

"I'm at your apartment," Gibbs called him out.

"What are you doing at my apartment?" Tony wondered, confused.

"Brought a pizza, and a six pack," Gibbs replied.

"What kind of pizza?" Tony asked.

"Anchovy and green peppers." The sarcasm told Tony that Gibbs had picked up his favorite. "You gonna come home and eat this with me, or should I toss it down the trash chute?"

It took Tony no thought at all before he said, "I'll be there in twenty. You remember where the spare key is, right?"

"Alright got it," Gibbs confirmed.

As he slipped behind the wheel of his car, Tony easily locked the depressed feelings back into the vault. Life wasn't really as bad as he'd made it out to be while he sat on that bridge. While he may seem invisible at times, he knew of at least one person who he could always count on to be there when he needed it. Tony tended to agree with Abby about Gibbs- the man was psychic. How else could he know that Tony needed somebody to remind him that he wasn't invisible?

The End

A/N: So, just a short one shot. What do you think? Let me know in a review!