Work Text:
Jethro was a strong man.
He didnt winge or moan when times got tough. He got on with the work he had to do and he did it without complaint. He couldnt change an outcome of a situation that had already passed so he didn't tend to dwell on the matter any longer than he had too.
Instead he would go down to his basements and channel any residual feelings he had into something productive such as whatever wooden thing he was building this time. Sure, the NCIS mandated therapist correctly accused him of running away from his feelings, but if he ignored them long enough then eventually disappear.
Or at least they usually did.
When he had gotten home, and the thoughts of (Y/N) started to swirl through his mind once again he stood trudged down the worn stairs to the basement. The bones of the boat he was building sat there expectantly. Instead of starting work, he moved over to the bench pushed against the fair wall where he kept a half empty bottle of something.
He didn't bother getting a glass. I just grabbed the bottle and sank down against the wall. It was cool against his back, he couldn't feel it grounding him to reality, but that was the last place he wanted to be so he took a swig from the bottle. And then another. And another.
He could have finished the bottle but he pulled it away from his lips when he felt wetness pool in his eyes. He dropped the bottle letting the glass clatter against the ground and the liquid seep out. He couldn't care less though, it was only a bottle, he could buy another. Well he could if he ever pulled himself out of this basement.
if it was up to him he would rot down here. He had lost so much, most of the time he could ignore it, but it was moments like this did he wish that he could let the world consume him. But it couldn't, and it wouldn't. So he would sit here and let the silent tears stream.
He could always ignore his feelings in the morning.