Chapter Text
It took Ozborne just over five minutes to finally stop puking up the sad remnants of his equally sad breakfast. Ten more minutes after that for his limbs to stop shaking quite so violently.
For those fifteen minutes, all Gibbs did was lean against the dark wall of the men's room handicap stall, a silent tether to reality. And a way to make anyone who walked in immediately change their mind about having to take a piss.
That's one of the things Ozborne liked about him. A man who could anticipate.
A man who could keep up with what goes on inside that brain.
The silence was eventually broken, when Gibbs saw the tells that Ozborne was capable of processing anything besides the constant high-pitched hum that droned in his ears when things got too quiet.
“There'll always be choices in your past you'll be forced to make peace with, you know.” The older man's voice echoed off the tile. “Even if you made a different decision that day.”
A beat passes. Behind the sea green eyes, Ozborne processes the words with the same chaotic, inexpressible dissection he did with everything around him. His hands rise.
“[I made peace with my choice. I do not regret the path I walk down.]”
The hesitation that comes next is an obvious discrepancy, especially from a man who was far more in control of his conscious mind than anyone should be. Gibbs caught it.
“[Dead men feel no guilt.]”
Gibbs considers his words with care. He knew the younger man’s head worked in such a way no mortal man can decipher. It's why therapy had failed the man so many times over, he needed someone capable of keeping up with the rabbit trail.
“And you're not talking to Ducky, are you?”
A small shake of his head was the response.
“[I see her and she is rotting. She is rotting and she is at rest.]” The pressure in his jaw was the sole indicator of the tension coiled in every inch of muscle under the pale skin. “[I do not want to disturb the soil she rests in.]”
“But that doesn't mean you can't plant flowers.”
A nod, this time. The subtlest of smiles.
“[Bodies make good fertilizer.]”
The two men sat in silence a little while longer. Nothing else was left to say, but Ozborne wasn't ready to go back just yet. Gibbs wasn't going to rush him.
Again the silence was broken. Yet in a way that felt natural. A transition, not an interruption.
“You're the only one who can make the choice, Oz.” He reminded softly, like he knew that Ozborne knew, only ensuring that the idea was at the forefront. “Nobody's gonna hold anything against you if you sit this one out.”
Ozborne nodded. That was another one of the reasons he stayed with this team. They all were the kind of folks who got on your case about recovery.
“[Either way I will rot. I only get to choose the bugs that eat me.]”
“To scream or to suffocate. I still can't make the choice for you.”
Ozborne finally looked up. A silent question swirled in his eyes. Gibbs only smiled, in that way he did when he meant to say “you ready?”
A warm, calloused hand was held out. And subsequently taken by the younger.
Perhaps it was time to plant those flowers.