This is my first ever fan fiction so please be nice! However any improvement suggestions will be completely accepted in fact I welcome them! Please review.
Disclaimer: I do not own NCIS though I wish I did. All characters belong to the creators.
Looking back, I wish the first bullet had taken my life, that I had died at the hands of a terrorist whose name I did not know and whose face I had never seen before, as he shot through the door at my boss. At least then I would have been remembered as the brave woman who died saving another and not the unfortunate girl whose life was snatched from her too early on by a rogue mossad agent she'd met twice before. At least if the first bullet had taken my life, I would have been remembered as a hero.
In all fairness, my death meant very little. But that is death isn't it? A few tears are shed and the loss of an agent is most definitely felt by my team, but very soon, to the majority of society my death becomes little more than a bad memory and life moves on.
Even to my killer, I was nothing more than a pawn in his game. My death had no significance to him except that it caused another man pain, the more important man whose death would actually mean something to him, though even he wasn't the main target.
I knew that being a federal agent would mean me risking my life every day I stepped into the office, my family knew this (though they didn't like it) and so did my team mates. But despite this, I can't help but wonder if this was my fate all along or if I was meant to do something more, how many lives could I have saved? How many families could I have brought closure to if I had survived? If in some strange twist of fate my assassin had decided not to take the shot that would result in my death but spare me instead; like he had done before.
Though this small fact is not what bothers me; what bothers me and what I find most ironic is that, to Ari Haswari I meant nothing, yet he meant everything to me.