The Silent Hero

Summary: The team deals with pain in their own ways, ways they can't share with each other.

Disclaimer: Right now I am glad that I don't own anything! I am sick, I don't mean like I have a cold or anything. I am one sick puppy because of this fic!

Pairing: Gibbs/ DiNozzo, the only real relationship on NCIS, lol (Well, at least in my opinion, obviously)

Warning: Well, as pointed out above, this is a SLASH story. But that's not even the worst of it. Oh no, it is also a death fic. That's right, the team is losing a loved one. I swear, tears were threatening to fall the entire time I wrote this. Its sad. Its one of those "if it made you cry, I did my job" fics. So, get a couple tissues, just in case.

Ducky

They didn't move, they didn't speak. They just sat and watched the empty desk. The light didn't seem to penetrate it. It was just bathed in a cloud of darkness.

Nobody thought to approach it. Nobody tried to take its belongings. Nobody except him.

Ducky twirled the Mighty Mouse stapler between his fingers. If Tony were here, he probably wouldn't understand. Hell, Ducky didn't understand. He didn't understand the need to take a stapler, he didn't even like Mighty Mouse. But he would probably kill the person who tried to pry it out of his hands.

He was wrong, he did understand. It wasn't that he needed a stapler. He needed a piece of Tony. Something that was so Tony. He needed a piece of the young man. To know that he was still there with them.

He eyed the rest of the team. Fury consumed him. The only one who actually appreciated Tony was Abby. The rest of them mocked him, called him names. They were the agents they were today because of Tony. After he came back to work after having the damn plague, McGee and Kate couldn't give him a break. Ducky had never been so appalled by their behavior.

Everyone one of the people before him wouldn't be alive if it wasn't for that one man, and he did it all without any respect or gratitude.

Abby

She hadn't stopped crying since she got the news that afternoon. At first she didn't want to believe it. How could she believe that Tony was… She couldn't even say the word.

She sat curled up in front of McGee's desk with her knees into her chest. Her eyeliner left long black streaks down her face. Her pigtails were all askew. She knew that Tony would probably yell at her if he saw her like this. Or he would try and be comforting, but end up failing. Offering comfort wasn't exactly his specialty. But he could make you laugh at your worst moments.

He was her favorite. No matter what anyone thought. Next to Gibbs, he was her best friend. Whenever she hugged him too tight he got that look on his face like she kicked him in the balls. His eyes would bug out and he would suck in his breath and hold it. She was probably the only one who got his movie references.

She'll never forget the day that Kate died. How sad she was, how she tried to act strong. She got angry because he wanted her to prove what kind of gun fired the shots that killed her, and she started yelling at him. He didn't try to stop her. He let her vent. And then he held her as she cried. He always knew what she needed. He let her yell and scream at him all she wanted, and then he let her cry on his shoulder. He didn't need to say anything, didn't need to reassure her. His embrace was reassuring enough. With that simple hug he told her everything she needed to know. He was still here, and he wasn't going anywhere soon.

She didn't know how he reacted to face when the bullet ripped through the window. She had never seen anyone move so fast, not even Ziva. But he pushed them to the ground, his entire body covered hers. He was heavy, she could barely breathe. When he jumped off of her, again he moved to quickly, with such a fluidity. It was hard to believe that he had only just recovered from the plague. Everyone forgot that so quickly after Kate's death. But Abby didn't. He was still sick, and he saved her life. She should be dead. If she had been standing in the room with anyone else, or if she had been alone, she'd be dead. But she wasn't, and it was because of Tony.

Her knight in designer duds.

McGee

It was raining. It was appropriate. It rained the night Kate died too. The world was crying the tears that he couldn't shed.

He never gave Tony enough credit. He should have told him how much he respected him. He should have told him that he liked the nicknames. It was like—oh God help him—it was like Fred in the Scooby Doo movie, how he gave everyone a nickname except for Velma. It was his way of telling them how much they cared. Just like McGoo was just a strange and frat boy pet name for McGee.

He didn't have an older brother growing up, but he always wanted one. He always thought that his big brother would always protect him, would defend him from bullies. If McGee wanted to hang out with him and his friends, his brother would say "yeah, sure, you're cool enough for us!" He only wished he realized sooner that Tony was everything he ever wanted.

He picked on him, made jokes at his expense, hell he told every girl who worked at NCIS that he was gay. But whenever McGee needed someone, Tony was always the one there.

After he shot that cop, everyone tried to help, make him feel better. But he felt like he couldn't talk to any of them. Abby wouldn't understand. Ziva was Mossad, he doubted se even remembered the name of her first kill, same with Gibbs. He didn't think Tony would understand either. But when Tony shared with him something so personal—that he wet his pants the first time he shot at someone—he didn't feel that loneliness anymore. By all accounts, he should have laughed, at the very least grinned, but it was such a personal comment, something Tony obviously didn't share with just anybody. It truly meant something to the younger agent that he trusted him enough to tell him.

He shouldn't have been so harsh with him. Sure, Tony was obnoxious at times, and sure, McGee was smarter, but he didn't have to rub it in his face. He would never dream of doing that to Kate or Ziva. And not just because Ziva could kill him with a paperclip. Tony earned his cockiness the same way Gibbs earned his hardness. They were good. Tony's methods were different than the boss, but they were just as effective. He hadn't lost his smile. No matter what, that grin, the one that always seemed to brighten the most miserable days never faded.

McGee remembered clearly when he was still new and green. The crime scene that ended up being Kate's last. McGee was unlocking the trunk when Tony told him to freeze, there was a bomb connected to it. Tony took the key and told McGee and Kate to run. And they did. They never would have left if it had been Gibbs. Hell, Gibbs had told them on numerous occasions to amscray when there was a bomb, but they wouldn't go. They wouldn't leave him behind. But they left Tony. He could have died that day, and he would have died saving him. Protecting him.

He rubbed the palm of his hand. It wasn't fair. None of it was. He prayed to a God he wasn't even sure he believed in that it was all a dream. That he would wake up tomorrow and find Tony sitting at his desk, pouring an over excessive amount of sugar into his espresso, or making the DiNozzo family hangover cure. That his brother wasn't really gone.

Ziva

Her breaths were slow and even. To an outside observer, she looked like she always did. Like the hard core Mossad trained assassin that she was. Inside, she felt herself slowly dying. She was being blown up, only it was all in slow motion. Pieces of her were being torn apart into human shrapnel, and no one could hear her screams. No one could stop the explosion.

The desk looked the same as it did every other day. The only thing missing was the Mighty Mouse stapler. Ducky claimed that as soon as they told him the bad news. He didn't say anything, he just walked into the squad room over to Tony's desk and claimed it. And now he sat on the edge of Gibbs' desk twirling the stapler between his fingers.

Every once in a while Ziva could feel his gaze land on her. It was always a look of contempt. Whether it was because she wasn't crying, or because he felt it was her fault, she wasn't sure. She wasn't sure she even wanted to know.

The truth was, she owed Tony her life. Despite everything that she did to him. She attacked him, she pointed a gun into his chest. She had every intention of killing him that day in Tel Aviv. She had been so angry with him after he killed Michael. She forced Gibbs to choose between them. She knew he wouldn't, but she secretly wanted him to pick her. She wanted him to want her on his team more than Tony. She wanted a reason to turn down her father.

She was so angry when Gibbs picked Tony. She got on that ship, killed all those men with hate in her already cold heart. And the longer she spent in Somalia, the longer she was beaten, starved, deprived of everything, that hate grew until it swallowed her whole and her only possible escape was death. And that was when Tony showed up. And he looked worse than she did. By all accounts, he should have been furious with her. But the smile that covered his lips was one of relief. He was glad that she was alive. Even after everything she said and did, he was glad to see her again. He brought her home. He was the reason that she was sitting at this desk, the reason she was studying to become a U.S. citizen.

She dropped her head in her hands. Her lip quivered as tears threatened to spill down her face. Tony really was funny. His movie references weren't annoying, they were amusing. It always amazed her how quickly he could think of a movie off the top of his head and have it relate to any situation. That was a skill, one that nobody ever gave him enough credit for.

He also wasn't actually afraid of her. Despite her threats and her past as a killer, he was never afraid that she would actually hurt him. He may have acted like he was on occasion, but there were too many times when he stood up to her for that to be true. Like the time he threatened to lock her in a room and force her to listen to "It's a Small World" for twenty-four hours straight. Or when he told her he would slap her if she ever "Gibbs slapped" him again. McGee would never talk to her like that, he was afraid of Abby. But Tony… he fought Michael and lived. If he was anything, he was a fighter. Maybe not the way that she was, but still a fighter. It took her a while to figure out why Gibbs would want Tony on his team instead of her. After Somalia she figured it out.

Tony may not be as skilled as her, but his talents were more wide ranged. He knew a little bit of everything. He wasn't like McGee or Ziva or Abby or Ducky. They were all good at what they did, but they only had that one thing. Tony's talents stretched across the board.

Ziva sighed heavily. Today, NCIS lost a great agent, their team lost their Senior Field Agent. But more importantly, the world lost an amazing person.

Gibbs

He didn't look up. He kept his eyes glued to the paperwork in front of him. He still made McGee and Ziva finish their reports. He chose to ignore the rippled paper where tears clearly dripped during the final read through.

He only half read what was in front of him. After a while, the words just blurred together. For all he knew, he was reading McGee's grocery list and Ziva's plan for world domination. He must have been staring at the same page for the last twenty minutes but he couldn't look up. If he didn't look up at Tony's empty desk, then none of this was real. He could pretend it was just some horrible nightmare.

Some of the words on the page finally started to register. But only a few. Words like "shot," "excessive blood loss," "DOA."

No matter how hard he tried, he couldn't get the image out of his head. The car, the dumpster. Tony jumping in front of Ziva before the bullet ripped through her. Watching as his agent fell to the ground, a puddle of blood steadily growing under him. The terrorist who shot him was dead only seconds later. Gibbs emptied his entire clip into that bastard's head, and even then he kept pulling the trigger, hoping that a bullet would appear out of nowhere so he could shoot him again.

Tony was dead before he hit the ground. He wasn't shot in the head, not like Kate. His bullet pierced his heart. Gibbs always thought that Tony's heart was a fairly large target.

He already put in the paperwork for Tony to receive the civilian service award posthumously, like Kate did. Tony deserved it. Hell, Tony deserved that award every year, but it always seemed to go to Gibbs instead. That was why he let Tony keep his medals. Because Gibbs never thought he deserved them. Tony did. Tony was the one who always kept moral up. One little joke, and Tony could lighten any room. One smile, and all angry thought dissipated.

Tony saved Gibbs life, on more than one occasion. But the one that probably stood out the most was the Maddie Tyler case. He wasn't expecting to see Tony come swimming towards him after he drove the car off the dock. After he mentally scolded himself for being stupid enough to back up to fast on a short dock, he prepared himself to die.

But then his savior—his angel—showed up. His suit was probably expensive, probably designer. The tie alone probably cost more than most of Gibbs' wardrobe, and after that dive they were all ruined. But he doubted that Tony even thought about that for a so much as a moment before he leaped into the water.

He should say the eulogy at his funeral. DiNozzo Sr. couldn't adequately describe his son. The two of them barely spoke, and the old man didn't seem very interested in hearing all of his son's heroisms. He was too busy flirting with Abby and Ziva, and pulling his con.

His pen ran out of ink. What was he even writing? From what it looked like, his hand was just going back and forth in one line at the side of McGee's report. He should have just put the pen down and actual read the damn thing.

But, he ended up opening the top drawer of his desk to grab another pen.

And he stopped.

Sitting on top of everything else was a picture of Tony. He had taken it recently after DiNozzo Sr.'s visit. Tony always had strange tendencies and even stranger quirks. One of his most normal was definitely his habit of toeing his socks off while watching a movie, and then rubbing his feet back and forth on the carpet. He always said that after wearing socks all day, things felt better on his bare feet, especially carpet. Gibbs couldn't take it anymore and took the picture with his Polaroid camera. Tony gave him an elaborate pose.

His lungs stopped working. Air wasn't coming in or going out anymore. His esophagus closed up on him. He needed to get away. Now.

Gibbs jumped to his feet and practically ran to the head. He shoved the door open to the first stall, dropped to his knees in front of the bowl and emptied everything left in his stomach. That was the second time he puked today. The first was right after Tony went down. Right after he… after he died. After Gibbs' world crumbled.

He clenched his eyes tight as everything kept coming. By this point all that was left was stomach acid. It burned his tongue, but it wouldn't stop coming. In front of his eyes, he saw Tony. He watched as he grew into the man that he became. The best young agent Gibbs ever had the pleasure to work with. The love of his life.

He could still taste Tony's lips on his. He could feel the tickle on his chest when Tony would play with the hairs there. The silky strands of Tony's hair in between his fingers.

The whisper of countless "I love you's" in his ear.

He barely survived losing Shannon and Kelly. Years went by before he could wake up in the morning not miserable that he didn't die in his sleep. In fact the first time he actually woke up smiling after them was the first night he woke up in Tony's arms.

His stomach stopped coming. He fell back on his rear and slammed his back into the door of the stall. Why couldn't it have been him? He was the team leader, he should have taken that bullet for Ziva. Tony shouldn't have died today. He should still be here. He was young, he deserved to live a long life.

Tony was the real hero of the group. Not Gibbs. Gibbs brought down bad guys because it was his job. He was sometimes reckless about it because a part of him had a death wish. Tony saved lives because it was the right thing to do. Because it was his nature. Because he truly was brave. He could look death in the face, and despite his fears, he'd still put up his dukes and fight.

He choked up a sob before the tears started falling. His eyes burned, his nose ran. Gibbs rarely ever cried, but he couldn't stop himself. Tony was gone, and he took Gibbs' soul with him.

"Tony," he sobbed. He dropped his head onto his knees, his fingers balled up into a fist. He was wearing Tony's jacket. It still smelled like him. "Oh God." He slammed his hand against the wall. It stung, maybe he broke it, but the pain didn't register in his mind. It was drowned out by the agony in his chest.

"Take me with you, please, Tony. Please God, take me with you." His body shook as more tears poured out.

He clung to the image of Tony last night, his chin resting on Gibbs' chest as he played with his chest hair again. When he looked up, he locked his eyes—his beautiful green eyes—onto Gibbs. At the time, Gibbs couldn't understand why he did it. But his face was full of seriousness as he breathed out for the final time, "I love you."

The tears weren't coming to an end, but his breathing was clearing up. "Semper Fi." He said. Always faithful. Gibbs closed his eyes again and breathed in the fading scent of Tony. His Senior Field Agent. His best friend. His lover.

His hero.

What do you think? Too corny? Ok, I fully admit it might be a little corny, but did it make you sad? Did anyone cry? I kind of cried. Really, if it depressed you too much, I'd recommend reading Dr. Abby Sex Therapist after this. It might give you the pick me up you need. I know I'm tooting my own horn, but I couldn't resist. I'm sorry. I hope you liked it, and I promise I won't kill Tony ever again. Really, I don't think I can handle a second time.

Bob