Title: Displaced Anger
Series: Hiatus Series
Prompt: # 3 Angry
Word Count: 475
Warnings/Spoilers: spoilers for Hiatus (parts 1 & 2)
Summary: Gibbs just didn't know who he was really angry at in the first place.
Author's Notes: A Gibbs pov follow up to Hail Mary. This is #2 in what's going to be an on-going post-Season 3 series. Gibbs, DiNozzo and NCIS are not mine. No Profit has been made. Thanks to Shaz for the beta read. :-)
"Get out! Get out now!"
Gibbs barely recognized his own voice barking out the command; such was the fierceness of the words. The anger which had bubbled up inside him when he realized that DiNozzo was kissing him -- KISSING HIM -- burned through his body.
Who the hell did DiNozzo think he was, kissing him like that?
How the hell did he expect Gibbs to react? He was straight, married. Or had been married, anyway. And straight, let's not forget that. Being kissed by a subordinate was an insult to any decent, self-respecting Marine.
Angrily, Gibbs punched the wall, but didn't necessarily make him feel any better. If anything, it made him feel worse. He just didn't know who he was really angry at in the first place. That was the real problem.
There was DiNozzo, sure. But he didn't know what to make of that. Had they been... ? No, they couldn't have been for all the obvious reasons. Wife, daughter, Gibbs being strictly a ladies man, Marine. What DiNozzo had done didn't make sense. It just... didn't.
There was the fact that his wife and daughter were dead and that felt like it was only yesterday. Logically, he knew that it wasn't, but the pain felt fresh and real and... oh so tangible. He missed them all over again now and hated the man who'd killed them all over again too.
But that was the past... a past he couldn't remember because of this damned amnesia.
The amnesia had robbed him of the better part of ten years of his life. Three wives, a relationship -- or whatever it had been -- with Jenny, and the memory of the people he worked with on a daily basis. They looked to him for the answers and he didn't have those answers. The trouble was, neither did anyone else.
The amnesia -- or rather, the terrorist who'd set off the explosion that had caused it -- had robbed him of that capability. Because of that, the terrorist had won. Maybe it was just one ship, one battle in an ongoing war in which Gibbs' memory was just one casualty among thousands, but he'd still won. And Gibbs had been helpless to stop it.
Helpless... it was this feeling more than anything which angered him the most. Helpless was something Gibbs never wanted to be. And yet, here he was-- helpless to stop the slaughter of innocent sailors, helpless to explain the gaping holes in his life, and helpless to understand the uncontrollable rage he was feeling from just thinking about it at all.
He felt... violated, as if someone had broken into his house and removed all of his possessions. Except that it wasn't his possessions which had been stolen. Technically speaking, it had been his entire life. Anger was all he had left.