McGee unlocked his door and grumpily stalked through his house. He through his coat in the corner and made a beeline to his fridge, where he yanked it open and brought out a bottle of Vodka. Normally he wouldn't turn to alcohol when he was in trouble but at the moment he could care less about his beliefs and principles.
He uncorked the bottle and took a long swig before knocking back another. He loosened his tie before falling backwards onto his beaten up couch.
"Gibbs was right, it was my fault," he spat at himself before taking another swig.
"Don't blame yourself McGee, it's too easy to blame it yourself," came a voice from behind him. McGee turned around and his jaw dropped opened, the bottle fell to the ground, emptying onto his carpet.
"Kate?" he said unbelievingly, blinking his eyes over and over again trying to clear the vision of the departed female agent.
"Alive in the flesh…well, sort of," she smiled from where she sat on the kitchen table, linking her ankles.
"What? How?" he stumbled over his words, trying to clear the buzz the Vodka gave him.
"On the scientific point of view, I'm not, I'm still but a mere thought to you," she said shrugging as she hopped off the table and making her way to the living room where he sat there looking at her, his eyes never leaving her. He wiped his face with his hand and looked at her again.
" That's not true Kate, I think about you a lot. We all do," he said absently picking up the tilted bottle and placed it shaking on the table.
Kate shrugged again and ran her finger on the shelving of his massive library. Stopping every now and then to look at a title or a picture.
"That doesn't matter whether you think about me, it was a long time ago. But what does matter is what happened tonight," she said turning around, with a picture in her hand, she stared at him while leaning against the bookcase; her weight not even haltering it.
McGee looked away from her embarrassingly not meeting her eyes. The next thing he knew was that she appeared on the little table in front of him, her slender knees in between both his spaced out ones. "Timothy, look at me," she whispered lightly putting a hand on his shoulder making him meet her mocha brown eyes. "You cannot kick yourself in the head over this, no matter what anyone says, this wasn't your fault," she said seriously, while she squeezed his shoulder for support. McGee lifted his eyes up and really looked at her. Her hair was the exact same way he remembered it; shoulder length and a dark brown, her eyes were the same caring mocha, and her smile still addictive and soothing, and what really relaxed him was the fact that there wasn't a bullet hole through her forehead.
"But Gibbs said…" he complained but Kate made a scoffing sound that made him stop talking. Kate shook her head and looked at her friend.
"What do you think Gibbs went through when I died, or what I went through when Ducky was taken under my watch?" she smiled at the memories of her dear friend. "Gibbs beat himself over the head for months I've heard, and me? Well let's just say I didn't see myself as top profiler anymore," she said sighing as the details of that memory came rushing through her head.
"Gibbs felt that way because that son of a- sorry, Ari, was aiming for him, not you, he felt bad because Ari killed you. And what happened to you was the near same thing, for me it the opposite, for what I did it lead to two deaths and almost Abby too," he said holding his head in his hands and leaning forward depressed. Kate shook her head sadly, her hair moving with the motion of her gesture.
"It's the exact same thing McGee. Only you feel more at blame because you could have controlled it. You can't blame it on book, or the writer or even your friend," She said as she took his hand in hers and ran her fingers over his knuckles. Her touch was cool to the touch. "What you did was open up a world you created through words, what you have McGee is a gift, not everyone can pull that sort of thing off, it would be a sin if you wasted such a gift," she said sweetly barely above a whisper. McGee met her eyes once more and was about to say something when Kate placed a finger to his lips. "'The only thing you are guilty of McGee is broadening peoples minds, Gibbs won't admit it but I can tell you that he was the first person to purchase and read your book, and Tony, no matter what he says or how much he makes fun of you, he looks up to you for it, he doesn't do anything after worked except go home to Jeanne, and Ziva still prays and sometimes cries for the man that had captivated her heart a while ago. And don't you even mention Gibbs, because that man is going through more battles than World War 2; he still kicks himself for my death, you cannot imagine how many visits I've had to pay to him to get him to acknowledge what happened, and open up again," She let that weigh on his shoulders for a bit before she stood up from the table and began to walk towards the front door.
"Where are you going?" he asked as he got up and followed her to the door.
She smiled sweetly at him for a second.
"My part in this story is done here, it's your turn to write the rest of your story…Special Agent McGreggor," she winked at him as she opened the door and stopped as she looked out across the night. "Whatever you do Timothy, don't hide behind work, what you have right now is more than anyone could ever want, just view this as another challenge for the characters in your book," she took a step onto the porch and turned around. "And McGee?" she asked before he stepped up to her. She smiled and gave him a hug; he returned it finding her touch airy and cool.
"Yah Kate?" he answered as he whispered into her ear.
"Hurry up with the ending will you, I can't wait forever," she said with a smile before she withdrew from his grasp and smiled one more time before making the journey down his walkway. The further away she walked the more and more it grew harder to see her, until finally all she was was a breeze of autumn air.
McGee smiled in the night and closed his door behind him. He stared to where he sat on the couch and walked over to the table, picked up the bottle, carried over to the garbage and threw it in. He walked over to the sink and picked up a wet cloth. Walking back to the couch he went down to one knee and scrubbed at the forming stain at the foot of the sofa when an idea hit him.
He set the cloth on the table and made his way in the other room where he sat down at his desk and filled his typewriter with a new paper. He sat down and stared at it for a second before his fingers nimbly found the keys. He spent the rest of the night typing and refilling.
Finally at the break of dawn he stared down at his book, he had burned through the night to finish it. For the final touch he inserted a final piece of paper in his machine before he centered the writing and began to type:
Dedicated to former Special Agent Caitlyn Ann Todd.
May she forever rest in piece and know,
That she is constantly in our thoughts.
We miss you Kate.
He took out the finished paper and placed it on the top of the big pile of papers and leaned back on his chair and smiled as he looked out the window towards the sky, where he knew Kate was watching him.
FIN
