Warning:

I'm sure I make a lot of mistakes in this one, sorry about that. English is a difficult language ^_^;

Throw the ball

He felt a lonely tear running down his cheek. He has been doing that a lot lately, crying.

He knew he was all over the place and the only thing he wanted was to get all the pieces together, some magic tape and do the trick again. Because he was good at that, pretending until he didn't need to pretend. But his heart had scattered with so much force, that he wasn't sure where all the parts were. Jeanne must have took some of them with her, even if she didn't want to, and now she was carrying the ghost of a sick heart that has nothing to beat for.

What he should do? He had burn all the bridges a long time ago, when he didn't care if he ever saw her again, when he knew he was one person and not two souls sharing the same space. Man, that wasn't like him. What had changed? He didn't do broken-lonely-heart. He was the one doing that to other people and most of the time nobody cares if he stays or if he leaves. Yeah, life has a funny way of retrieving the blows.

"I'm not coming back, you have to choose"

Choose between what? You can choose when you have options, but he was no lame, DiNardo had disappeared like the lie it was. He can't choose between something that has never been there and the reality in which he woke up every morning. And yet, he carried the damn letter with him. Stupid, stupid, stupid. You've got a desire? Go look for a magic lamp, maybe you get lucky and get lost in the desert of wannabes.

He should have known better, in fact, he knew better. From the beginning he was keenly aware where the road was leading and like a crash test dummy he had happily plastered a fake smile on his face and hit the gas pedal. It's had been a surprised when love hadn't taken the brick wall out of the way... Go figures. And now he had one beautiful bruise over his chest, at the level of the heart, and he wasn't sure if the safe belt had something to do with it. To make matters worse, it seemed that anyone could see the damn mark, like a neon signal hanging from his neck. He wants people to notice him, but not worry about him. He didn't want pity, he didn't do pity... well, not "that" kind of pity.

He's just having a difficult time figuring out which was the man left behind, so he made a prank; superglue McGee to his keyboard. Nice. That had been funny, yeah. He had found Funny-DiNozzo. One down, two to go.

Loyal-DiNozzo wasn't too far, just a fireplace and a decision of no return to make. One letter thrown to the flames; one hope burning; one delusion ending. You can walk over dust, maybe you get dirty, but who says life is clean? Two down, one to go.

Just give him time and he would find Carefree-DiNozzo somewhere in his chaotic life, or so he hoped. And then, he would decide if he was pitcher or batter, or maybe he was filling all the roles in this match. He couldn't win, he couldn't lose, he couldn't even quit the game.

So...

...Throw the ball.