A/N: So, I don't know what happened here. I thought this would be an one-chapter-thing, but blame it on AmyH who wanted to read the aftermath of this. So this is it. And it's really completed now. Promise. Thanks for the reviews.

He didn't speak at the funeral.

In fact, he hadn't spoken much at all since the phone call that had brought his life to a standstill. He could still hear the police officer's voice on the other end, could still feel himself choke up and he could still feel his cell phone gliding out of his hand as he lost grip on it. He couldn't remember what he had done next. At some point he must have called Senior and McGee, but he couldn't remember any of it.

The next clear memory was Fornell showing up at his house again, helping him up from where he had been sitting on the cold floor of his kitchen, his arms around his knees, his eyes looking into nothingness. He had had no idea how much time had passed since he had gotten the phone call and he really didn't care either. He had heard Fornell talk to him but he hadn't listened. He couldn't listen to him because the words simply didn't have a meaning. There was no meaning to anything anymore.

One moment Tony had been there, looking at him so full of affection and telling him he loved him and the next he was just gone. How could he have let it happen? How could he have let him go that day? Why hadn't he stopped him when his heart had been screaming at him to go after him? Why had he listened to his mind instead of doing what it heart had wanted for once? Why? Just… why?

Actually, Gibbs didn't know why he, himself, was still there. It didn't make sense. He didn't have a purpose anymore. Everybody he had ever loved was gone. Shannon, Kelly, even Diane… and now, Tony. What was he still doing here, then?

In some of those moments when his mind was clear enough and he could escape the fog, he wondered what he had done wrong, so terribly wrong, in this life that he deserved any of it. He hadn't been there when Shannon and Kelly were killed and that was his fault. He had been there when Diane had died and that was his fault, too. And he couldn't help but feel the same way about Tony. If he had only told him stay, he wouldn't be in this situation now.

Tony would have lived. And Gibbs would have been happy.

Because when Tony had left his house that day, there was no other word for how Gibbs had been feeling. He had been happy. He hadn't been able to say it just yet, hadn't been able to stop Tony and tell him that he, too, loved him. He simply hadn't been ready yet. But deep down, he had known that Tony was just it. Just like the younger man himself hadn't realized it before that day, so had Gibbs. But the moment Tony had said it, Gibbs had known that he felt the same way. But what did it matter now? It was just another reminder of his incapability to keep the people he loved safe.

Fornell had kept him company since that day, had talked to him relentlessly, regardless the fact that Gibbs never answered. In fact the only thing he had said to him in those long four days since it had happened was as he had shouted at him to shut up because his ramblings had reminded him too much of Tony. Tobias hadn't even blinked at his rampage. He had just sat there, looking grimly satisfied. Gibbs didn't try to analyze that look because it didn't make sense doing so anyway. He just didn't care.

The morning of the funeral, Gibbs who hadn't been sleeping – not even for one second - since it had happened, had firmly told the FBI agent that he wouldn't go to the funeral. Fornell had just nodded and had then sat down next to him, looking at him so intently that Gibbs finally decided to listen to what he had to say. It had seemed important – at least to Tobias.

"Listen, Jethro," he had said. "I know this is hard, I know you don't want to go. I get it. I don't know why he was here and what he told you that day, but whatever it was, it was important because otherwise you wouldn't be sitting here like this. I'm not saying that it wouldn't be the same if he hadn't been here, but something has changed you. I can see it and it hurts, it freaking hurts to see you like this. But you can't just not go. You owe it to him. The guy was your partner for fourteen years, he was your friend for almost as long. You can't stay here. You need to go. You need to do this for him."

Gibbs hadn't answered and it had seemed like Fornell hadn't expected him to. He had left shortly afterwards to get himself changed for the funeral, leaving Gibbs sitting there, staring at his empty and cold fireplace. He really hadn't wanted to go, but Fornell had been right. He needed to.

#

So there he was now, standing right next to Tony's grave, staring at the casket that had long been lowered into the freshly dug out hole. The funeral had long ended, the guests had long left, but Gibbs couldn't. He felt his clothes getting soaked as it had started to rain a long time ago, but he didn't care. He just couldn't avert his eyes from the small and almost unremarkable cross that had Tony's name engraved. It was just a name, but Gibbs just couldn't stop staring. It was as if that now he could read it upon a cross at a cemetery, it suddenly had become final. Tony was gone, he wasn't coming back. Ever. He'd never see him again, he'd never head slap him again, he'd never hear him laugh again, he'd never see him in his basement again. Never again. He was just gone and Gibbs was sure that he had taken his everything with him.

And still, he couldn't cry. He hadn't shed a single tear since that phone call. His life had come to a screeching halt and yet, he hadn't allowed himself to cry because it would have been the one last step towards accepting it and he wasn't ready for that. He was sure, he never would be.

#

He almost let out a shout when he felt a hand on his shoulder and for a wonderful moment he harbored the irrational thought that it was Tony who was standing there, laughing at him because he had fallen for his stupid prank. And as Gibbs turned around, it actually was Tony, who was standing there – Tony Senior. Gibbs hadn't really paid attention to him during the funeral – he had been busy with staring at the grave – but as he looked at him now he could see the toll all of this had taken on him. He looked years older, the lines on his face somehow having gotten deeper and the green eyes that had always held that special DiNozzo spark within them looked dead – just as dead as Gibbs was feeling inside.

They stood there for a moment, just looking at each other and it took Gibbs all he had not to start crying right there and then. He didn't know what it was, maybe it was just because they did look so alike, but it nearly tore his heart apart, seeing Senior there. He held himself together, though, knowing that it wouldn't help breaking down now.

"Junior…," Senior finally started to talk haltingly, apparently barely holding on himself, "he loved you. At times I wished that he would look at me like he looked at you for only once. You were his hero, his guidepost for everything."

"I'm sorry," Gibbs replied, his voice rough.

"No, don't be," Senior interrupted him. "I'm glad he had you. I'm glad he had someone who looked out for him and someone who made him smile the way you did. Junior had a lot of fake smiles, he learned it from me, I suppose, but he never smiled any of these when he talked about you. I don't know what it was between you, but you made the difference, Gibbs. You were the one who made him a better man than I ever was. So… thank you."

Gibbs just nodded, but still didn't say anything. He couldn't. It took all his strength not to break down and then keep on lying there on the wet grass next to Tony for the rest of his life. So, he just nodded, hoping that Senior somehow understood him, understood him like his son always had. And it seemed that way because with a nod of his own, Senior turned around and walked away, his shoulder slumped and the rain falling on his gray hair.

Gibbs watched him leave, remembering the last time he had watched Tony do the same through the window of his living room as he had walked to his car.

Tony's last words resounded in his head.

I want to be the one who makes you smile.

A real smile, Tony had said. He had wanted to make him smile a real smile. And as Gibbs watched the older DiNozzo, he couldn't help but feel the smile that slowly spread on his lips. It wasn't right and Gibbs felt so bad for it but he just couldn't stop it - didn't want to stop it because this would be the last thing he could do for Tony. He could smile.

And while Gibbs felt the first tears rolling down his cheeks, he knew that it was the right thing to do. He would smile. He would simply smile because that was what Tony had always done best.

Smile. Just smile.