It was strange, walking in knowing no one was home. His steps echoed more than he remembered, the creak in the fourth stair breaking through the silence that had settled in the desolate house.

Though the team had taken it upon themselves to clean what was left in Gibbs' house, the basement had been left untouched. Gibbs' sanctuary, though open to them when they needed it, was seemingly off limits when he wasn't around. All kinds of things were still flung onto every flat surface, still where they fell when the DOD ripped through.

The dust had settled in the basement, mingling with the sawdust and hint of alcohol that normally swirled in the air. It smelled different, without the new wood. It felt darker, more lonely without a new project adorning the table.

Tony paced the floor slowly, taking in the destruction that had be wrought upon their family. The tools that were handled so deftly, so lovingly by their fearless leader were strewn about. Papers spread across the workbench. The bourbon they drank so readily, to calm themselves, to talk, to solve their now seemingly insignificant problems, was smashed on the floor, the odor permeating the room.

He took a calming breath, hands on his hips. He chewed his lip for a moment, not quite believing what he was about to do.

"Hey, boss," he started. "I know you're not here…and I know this is weird, because I know you can't hear me. Abby would probably argue that you can, because you're god or something, but I'm not sure even your superpowers range that far. Don't tell her I said that though, I wouldn't want to upset her any more.

"She took it hard, you know. You leaving, and the rest of us resigning. She's always saying that we need to see each other more, even if we do see each other every week. I know it's not the same, since we're not at work all the time anymore, but we try. We did visit her once at the office though, and she's got pictures of us everywhere. Mostly of you. It's creepy, but strangely comforting, like you've still got her six from wherever it is you are."

He paced the basement, kicking up some of the sawdust, hoping to create the comforting presence he was looking for.

"It's bugging the crap out of me that I don't know where you are, Boss. I wish there was something I could do to help you. I know the whole resigning thing was supposed to do that, and I like to believe on some level it did, but I don't know what to do now. I don't know if anything we did was actually worth something, or if all of this was in vain. I hope it wasn't, because I have to tell you, job searching sucks. For some of us more than others.

"McGemcity is working on a new novel, so he's good for a while, I have some idea what I'm doing. I mean, I'll probably end up a cop again, I've never done anything else. Can't see myself doing anything else. I'll probably have to move though, I'm not up for dealing with Sportelli's shit 24/7."

He sighed, rubbing the back of his head in thought.

"And then there's Ziva. I don't know what to do with her anymore, Boss. She doesn't know what to do with herself. She's never done anything but this. She's never tried her hand at anything else. I know she wants to, but she doesn't know where to start, and it's driving her nuts. And you know if it's driving her nuts, it's driving me nuts. She's still reeling from everything that's happened, and I don't think that's helping, either."

His pacing ceased. He stood, alone in the dark basement, shaking his head, his frustration bubbling just under the surface.

"It's stupid how screwed up everything is without you here. It's like everyone is off balance and there's nothing we can do to fix it. Last time you left we all had the job, and that was enough for a while. Enough to keep the world from spinning completely off it's axis, but now we don't have any of that. We're just left behind with no job, no way to contact you, and no idea where the hell you are or if you're even alive.

"I'm going to choose to believe that we did the right thing, and that whatever you're doing, you'll come home safely. I don't know if you will, or if that's your aim, but I hope that you're going into this with at least the intention to try to come home. I don't think we could take it if you...you know."

The frustration seeped out of his tone, resignation taking it's place. "Tim and I...we'd move on eventually, but not the girls. They would be a wreck. I don't think they can stand to lose another Dad, Boss," he paused, "I don't think I can, either. I know I still have one, but you were my dad for so many years, Gibbs. You taught me more than you know. After all these years, you can't just drop off the map on me now."

He paused again, feeling slightly ridiculous to be talking to an empty room.

"You've gotta come home, Boss. It's not the same without you."

He took one last look around the empty basement before heading up the stairs, the creak of the fourth step seeming even louder than when he went down.