Disclaimer : Sadly i don't own NCIS .. but some of them are borrowed .. =]

Title : But He's Still Gone

Author : Stabler 'n' Gibbs' Gurl

Pairing : Tibbs in later chapters (It is a Slash : you've been warned)

Rating : M for language and contact

genre : angst/romance/hurt-comfort

Spoilers : n/a

Summary : A personal vendetta finally showes what's underneath .. but is it too late?

Feedback : be great if you could

Author Note : This is my first NCIS fanfic so tell me what you think

The Last Day

Tony strolled into work the day after being released from the hospital with a smile the size of the sun. He'd been cleared by the doctors for minimal field duty, thou they stressed, that with his track history and a mild concussion, it would be best to take a week or two off. But there he sat, typing away at his computer, no doubt playing a game of some sort. It was heading towards late in the day when he showed up in the first place and in one brief fluke, they hadn't had a case all day. Gibbs watched Tony carefully, making note of every move, every expression that crossed the Italian's smooth face and tucked it away for anon use. He had sent McGee and Ziva home a few hours later, telling them to get some well needed sleep, and the two of them sat in comfortable silence like the old days of just the two of them. That is, until Tony got a phone call. Gibbs watched his appearance morph in front of his very own eyes as Tony jammed the phone back onto its receiver. Confusion and curiosity covered his face as he made his way up the steps towards Director Vance's door, sparing a glance towards Gibbs before continuing up the stairs. He waited a good 40 minutes before the sound of a door smashing closed in the quietness of the late building caused him to looked up, surprised, to see Cynthia's shocked eyes following a stone-faced Tony down the stairs. When he reached his desk, he picked up his bag, coat, and clipped his gun to his belt before switching off his light. Watching him wrenching his coat on, Gibbs sat stunned, as Tony picked everything up and walked to the elevator, which somehow opened without the button being pressed. His face never reveling anything. Stepping into the confined space, Tony glanced up, and for a moment, just a brief moment, Gibbs saw what the façade didn't show; and he was taken aback at what he saw.

Disgust, hatred, distrust, loathing, and pain. So much pain.

The First Day

Tony walked back in the next day good as new. His smile back into place and if he hadn't thought anything of it, last night would have been a dream, if it wasn't for the small lines and shadows under his Senior Agents' eyes. His normal banter with Ziva and McGee might have seemed just as playful to them, but Gibbs saw the glazed over eyes and slight faded expression. Watching silently as Tony popped three of the pain-killers his doctor had given him, he sighed when his phone rang violently, making McGee jump from the awkward quietness. Not bothering to look up, he knew what was happening. All three of his Agents were gearing up and headed to the car, Tony following just a millisecond behind his normal time. Not wanting him out of his sight yet, Gibbs didn't object but instead jumped in just as the doors were closing and stared at the dark metal. Tony and McGee were in the back seat as he drive, thankful that he could see him perfectly threw the mirror, yet as the day passed on, Tony DiNozzo was acting like, well, Tony DiNozzo. Back at the building, he sent him down to Abby, knowing that she would pick up on his hinky disposition, as she would put it. But as the two of them stepped off the elevator laughing, his memory was reimbursed with the remembrance as to why Tony was the best damn undercover agent this world had to offer. Catching his eye only once, he saw the tiniest hint of distrust and pain, but it was gone in a flash and replaced with a smile.

A cold, hallow, smile.

The First Week

Tony's bitter, sadistic laugh filled the floor once again. The banter was normal, the teasing the same, but his laugh was dark, causing Gibbs to glance up. The first thing he noticed was that McGee and Ziva didn't even seem to be fazed by the laughter's change in direction, nor the lost of happiness. The second thing he noticed was that no one around them seemed to notice as well, the laugh or emotion. Then he noticed Tony. Ziva was still baiting him, but he saw the scowl, the quick flash of anger that surged threw his eyes for just the lightest of moments, and the pain. Then just like that day, the day after and the past days, it was gone, the soul eyes, the hallow grin and now the bitter laugh. After a while Gibbs snapped at them to get back to work, smirking to himself as McGee and Ziva jumped to it, fingers typing away. His gaze fell back to Tony, whose attention was now diverted to his own computer, but his jade eyes turning dark as the night sea when they lifted and caught his linger. He watched as his face showed nothing but the slightest turn of a frown, thou his eyes burned as if they were the direct passage way to his soul, and again he saw the torture and chaos that laid just below the surface. Then his phone rang. Before it ended its first ring, Tony scoped it up and brought it to his ear, all the while holding his stare. Then before he could even bark out his name, it happened again. His knuckles turned white from the grip on the phone, his lips formed a tight line as his eyes narrowed and abstracted themselves away from the gaze. By this point, he got the attention of Ziva and McGee also, but somehow they misplaced the signs of rage and wrath for feelings of the case. But the slamming of the phone back on the receiver made them both jump and they watched as he stood abruptly. He watched as Tony shook his head, turned towards the stairs and laughed. Just a small, quiet laugh but it was all wrong.

It was disdainful, wicked, and bitter. Oh so bitter.

The First Month

It was the perfect time to inquire. Gibbs had been waiting for a time to ask, ask what was going on, why he kept disappearing on a free pass with the director, but each time, Vance intercepted the conversation and the door slammed shut again. But everyone had been sent home and it was just Gibbs, in the dimly lit office typing up the final report, waiting for Tony. A flash of light crashed threw the windows as the rain continued its steady downpour and whirlwinds ripping into the late night air when the sound of the elevator ding forced him to look up. Tony. He was about to call to him when his voice cut short. And Vance. Tony glanced in his direction, but before he could utter a syllable, Vance casted a look back at him causing the younger Agent to shake his head and continue up the stairs. That was it. Gibbs stood and walked after them. Stopping dead in front of them, he let it out like the tempest outside. What's going on, where does DiNozzo keep going, what happened to the old Tony, what did you do to him? Gibbs kept asking Vance, straight in the eye but he never wavered, not one inch. He turned his glare upon Tony, only to see his Senior Field Agent staring out the dark windows and at the sky, watching the black, maroon, navy, jade, and violet clouds mesh together. Vance's voice pulled him back as he assured Gibbs that everything was fine, that it was nothing to worry about. He was about to argue but one look into Tony's eyes and he was lost for words. He saw the pain from that day oh-so long ago and the anger that was behind it simmering, but the deep lines, the dark shadows that haunted his eyes made it like the final lifeline was finally being cut. Unnaturally and unwillingly, he pulled out of Tony's gaze and registered Vance's final word before moving Tony up the stairs to his office, his haunted eyes still imprinted on him.

"Don't worry, Gibbs. He'll be normal by tomorrow."

The Months

True to his word, the next day Tony came in as if the past month and a half never happened. His smile was honest, eyes sparkling with mischief and glee, gold fleck dancing within, and his personality doing a ten-fold. Ziva and McGee never seemed to notice the odd behavior, which caused Gibbs to think he over thought the whole ordeal, second-guessing his better judgment. As the days passed by, Tony was more like himself then he had been in a while, the darkness and shadows departed and his laugh was filled with joy and trouble. After the past two months that had gone by, Gibbs found himself losing and forgetting those days and weeks and placing himself back into ease with his team, missing the feeling. More days would pass by as would weeks and before he knew it, the past was just another forgotten memory that sat at the bottom of his mind, no need for the trouble they may bring back up with their resurface. Tony went on pulling his frat-boy character along with all of his movies and impressions and immature little tricks while Gibbs just smirked and with mocked anger, yell to get back to work. It felt as thou the team was finally back to where they were before Vance shipped Tony away, moved Ziva back and pushed McGee down.

It finally felt like a family again.

The Last Month

Gibbs smiled lightly to himself as he strolled into the elevator and closed the doors, the smell of strong coffee filling the metal container as he drifted up to the bullpen at 2 a.m. Taking a steady sip he stepped out and began to saunter towards his desk, nearly spitting it out all over the floor when Tony's writing form came to his view. Walking silently to stand in front of his desk Gibbs waited for his Agent to acknowledge him, the powerful aroma of coffee no doubt caressing the air around him. Finally when Tony looked up, there was no hint of surprise that he would have gotten any other night from McGee, nor was there a hint of annoyance that he would have gotten on a daily bases from Ziva. No, what he got was knowing, and shadows. A small, tired, dismissive smile ran along his lips before he ducked back down and began to write in the file of the case they were working on at the moment. He asked what he was doing here, walking around to his own desk and placing his coffee there. Tony told him that the case was too high of a case to leave until morning, thick dark lines running around the edges of his green eyes. Gibbs grunted his reply, a small approving smile gracing his own lips, yet a familiar tug at his gut told him there was more to the story then just another high pro. case. Turning around to face him again, he was met with the top of Tony's head as he wrote constantly, occasionally typing rapidly on his keyboard. When Gibbs thought he was completely absorbed he watched the younger man, noticing that something was off, something that was tugging at the back of his mind. That's when he realized the lines and ghosts were back in his eyes and smile. Rubbing his eyes to make sure it wasn't the sleep; he looked back and saw nothing. It was gone and he jumped to the conclusion that it was just his tired eyes. Then a smell, a disguised, second-noted, under-lingering smell was brought to him and confusion and curiosity was pushed into him once more.

Where did the smell of burnt wood and smoke come from?

The Last Week

The brick had made a sickening sound when it hit him, Gibbs swore he heard a crack, yet here he was, in the flash, playing yet again another computer game he imagined. The hospital said he wouldn't be admitted only if he promised both them and Ducky that he would have the ME check him out thoroughly. But despite the injury, that wasn't the top thing that worried him. Tony was going back in time, and then bringing it forward full blast. His mood swings were getting nasty, anger flaring, remarks jutting out to cause pain but no damage. But nothing prepared him for the 'Knock down – Drag out' that he gave Ziva. At first he thought it was the case but it started before then, he believed, making his theory go to hell. Even Jimmy Palmer is starting to worry that something is wrong when he caught the tale end of the Wrath de la DiNozzo. Gibbs has wanted to say something all week, but Vance is around every corner, ready to cut between him and Tony like a knife. Then just the other day, it happened again. Vance forgot that Tony normally comes in at nights and Gibbs was sitting at his desk when he came strutting inside in black sweats and a white tee. Night run. For the first half an hour, they sat there, like the past, listening to each others way of work and the fragile tapping on the window from the light rain. Then there was only one set of sound of a single worker. Gibbs looked up from his paperwork to see if he had missed his chance and that Tony was gone, only to find him standing next to the window, looking out over the skyline, the lights casting a dark glow over his face. Turning back, his eyes set on Gibbs and they froze. It was as if his body jumped back months before then and he was staring back into the eyes of a man that was killed for his last living time. The pain and loathing was almost too hard to bear before Tony broke the gaze and went for his things. Only to have Gibbs stop him. He asked him to talk to him, tell him the big thing, but Tony just shook his head and told him everything was alright. Bull. He walked back out into the rain and left for the night.

Gibb never brought that night up again. Never.

The Last Day

Gibbs had seen his people work interrogations before; different techniques, different styles, normally they stick with a style or technique they're use to, but today changed that. He's never seen Tony that calm yet ragging, seething to the point of murder, yet so tranquil that when he stepped out, it was just a walked in the park. It made him think about the job, about his skill and uniqueness; the problem and conflict. But as all of that was running threw his head he couldn't help but think of Tony's uncanny ability to change at the drop of a pin, highly to his masterly undercover skill and, for some unknown reason, his answer to Kate when she asked how he got into NCIS.

I smiled.