Hiatus

[madimpossibledreamer]

Main Points:
Buffy the Vampire Slayer/NCIS crossover
(Rambly) Summary: Okay, so the end of Season 2, when Gibbs leaves, I just...my Xander muse had some very complicated feelings on that act.  Because he's been through literal hell and never walked away, even when it would've made sense to get out of town, to abandon his people, to leave them to deal with things on their own.  Even when it's just pig-headed stubbornness on his part.  But on the other hand, here's his Dad, a dad that he could actually be proud of, and he's hurting, and Xander can't deal with anyone he cares about or loves hurting even if he can't fix it or messes up trying to fix it.
This has been mostly written for forever, but it got lost in the very very long document I have of drabbles, so it's been long enough I don't remember the exact specifics of the season finale.
Thing is, I don't need to, because it's more about the feelings than actually talking about the specific details.  All I had to do was finish it off, and the bittersweet (?) air just feels right, so...it's getting posted.
Word Count: 410
Rating: Gen

        “You wanted to see me?”
        Gibbs starts and turns.  There’s the kid with an eyepatch, standing in the doorway to the bathroom.  Blending in.  “Were you covert ops?” he asks incredulously, and the brunet snorts.
        “Just…having trouble dealing.  But I’m not the only one.”  The look is pointed, and Gibbs feels guilty.
        He has a grown-up son.  The loss of his wife and daughter still feels fresh, even though it’s been fifteen years, but he has a grown-up son.  “I’m sorry.”
        The stare is…searching.  Disappointed, maybe.  And then the kid—Alex, he thinks—speaks again.  “I think someone would have something to say about saying sorry, but then, pride is an issue, too.  I’d appreciate it if you don’t let it happen again.”  A short pause, then a laugh.  “And, believe it or not, you’re still better than that bastard Mom married.”
        Gibbs nearly dives on that question, thirsty for answers, despite the pang that feels like a knife, and then notices…Of course.  His son’s hurting.  “Enjoying this, aren’t you?”
        The look instantly turns into confusion, and he elaborates though he wishes he didn’t have to, “Hurting me.”
        It instantly clears up, and that pained chuckle returns.  “That obvious, am I?”  A sigh.  “I try to be the good guy, but sometimes when I’m hurting I just lash out and hurt the people I care about.  And I am.  Hurting.  That doesn’t mean it’s any easier to see you in pain, Dad.”  It’s the first time since he’s woken up and looked at the kid with such confusion in his eyes that Alex has said that word.  “Yeah, I’m getting used to this.  And you will too, because I’m pretty sure I got my stubbornness from somewhere, just like my tendency to verbally attack.  I’m not going anywhere, and you aren’t either, no matter what you think.”
        Gibbs snorts and they both ignore the wetness in each others’ eyes as a matter of common courtesy, and Gibbs realizes as he goes to the refrigerator that the kid was a lot sneakier than he thought because all the alcohol was missing (not something he really enjoys, but as a man who would go to the depths of hell for his family, sacrificing booze to save his son from bad memories is almost no sacrifice at all) and there’s a pot of coffee brewing instead, judging by the smell.  Sitting in comfortable silence, cups in hand, feels almost like a new beginning.