March 29th

It's been over three years, almost four. Actually, it's been three years, eight months, and five days, and I still miss her.

Tony used to think about her a lot, usually in an inappropriate way, but I don't think he does anymore. Not often, at least. He did mention her once, when he needed to warn Gibbs. All he said was her name though. It was quite clever really, especially for Tony. He thought about her after that, I saw it on his face, but it wasn't long until he went back to normal, and she was forgotten. Again.

Ziva never met her, but I think that they would have gotten along. I can picture the two of them really putting Tony in his place. That would be a sight to see.

And Gibbs, I never really know what he is thinking. Her death was hard on him, but I suppose he has enough to think about without having to remember her, what with Director Shepard's death and all. Still, they had a dynamic relationship. She wasn't overly intimidated by him, and he had a lot of respect for her, even if he wouldn't admit it. I'll bet that he wishes he had told her that, before…

She was Abby's friend. The two of them were a lot like sisters. Sure, they got in occasional arguments, but they always made up before much time had passed. Abby was almost unbearable when she died. There were times when she was almost normal, but those were not enough to balance out the numerous times when she would burst into tears without provocation. It took hours of soothing words to calm her down after those little episodes. But now it feels like Abby replaced her with Ziva. It shouldn't feel like that, but it does. I can't help it.

Me, well, I like to think that we were more than just friends. She really got me. She knew that I wasn't like Tony or Abby or Gibbs, and she knew how to treat me like a human instead of just a geek that did her bidding. She knew the little things about me. She took notice. Sure, she'd joke around sometimes, but it was rarely to the same extent as Tony, and she knew when to stop. She knew how much I could take.

Now, I don't know what bothers me more, the fact that she's gone, or that we've all moved on. I mean, we can't mourn forever, but it doesn't hurt to remember her every once in a while. We should, at least, remind ourselves what our job entails.

It always comes down to that. The job. I thought that would help make losing her less painful, but it doesn't. She didn't have to die. If we had caught Ari sooner, she wouldn't have had to pay the ultimate price. She wouldn't have died.

I wonder if any of them have noticed that every year, I take that day off. Do they know that I go to Indiana every year on that day to put flowers on her grave? Would it matter if they did? Maybe I'll invite them to come with me this year. I think Abby would come. If she comes, Gibbs will come. And where Gibbs goes, Tony goes, and Ziva's not far behind.

On second thought, I think that's a trip better taken alone.

…

The words stopped there. Tony closed the small leather-bound book and placed it in an evidence bag before passing it to Ziva. He felt a strange rush of emotions- a mixture of sadness, regret, and longing. Things were changing, again, and that terrified him.

Ziva added the bag to the growing pile of things to take with them and grabbed the camera. She sniffled as she snapped picture after picture. It was abnormal for her to show this much emotion at work. True, she had softened a bit over the years, but she still bottled up most of her feelings and did not release them.

They stood by the desk in the main room of the apartment. The cup of coffee next to the typewriter was still lukewarm. Gibbs was in the bedroom with Ducky and Palmer, and…

Tony froze when he heard the squeaky wheels of the gurney behind him. He screwed his eyes shut and waited for the sound to fade away.

"Work fast," Gibbs said, "I'm going back with Ducky. Come back as soon as you're done."

Ziva nodded in understanding as Gibbs exited after their fallen colleague. Tony went back to bagging evidence as soon as he could no longer hear Gibbs' fading footsteps. Neither Ziva nor Tony spoke another word until they were back at NCIS.

…

He stood next to the drawer, gazing at its contents. It was hard to be down there, harder than it had been with every other coworker that had been in one of the cold metal compartments. It hadn't been that difficult in over three years, almost four.

"Hey, Probie. You look better than I had imagined you would; I couldn't look at your apartment," he took a deep breath before continuing, "The news is already saying that this was gang related. How stupid is that?" Tony chuckled.

Tim did look better than Tony had imagined. He was only a few shades paler than he had been. As Tony had learned over his years in law enforcement, the majority of people truly look dead once they've passed on, but Tim looked peaceful, like he was sleeping.

"Just so you know, I still think about her. A lot. And not in an inappropriate way. She was a good person, a good investigator; she was our friend. And you're right; it always comes down to the job. She knew that, and you knew that," Tony sighed, "We're going to get whoever did this to you. We're going to get them, and they're going to pay for it. I promise."

He pushed the drawer back in. "Tell her I say hi," he said softly, and he closed the door.

…

The car pulled up, and he got out. A light drizzle of rain fell down around him, but he did not grab an umbrella or attempt to cover himself in any way.

He had the position memorized, even though he had only been there once; six rows over and four up from where the car had parked. The damp grass squeaked quietly under his feet as he approached his destination.

There it was, exactly as it had been the last time he was there. The cold granite stone still stood out from the countless others that surrounded it; it was shinier, fresher, and more painful to see. He stopped directly in front of it and sank to his knees, not caring that his pants were going to be uncomfortably wet when he got up.

He set the flowers he had brought in front of him, silently saying everything that he felt needed to be said. He stayed that way for several minutes. He thought about the good times, and the bad.

He stood, remembering the final entry in Tim's journal, and decided to assure her of the one thing that he had most worried about.

"We miss you, Kate."