A/N: I thought the form of this one was interesting. A "Truth or Consequences" tag, from the omniprescent view of someone watching from up above.
Disclaimer: I do not own NCIS.
Witness
She watches the embrace. Watches tears streak down both faces—yes, his, too. She has never seen him cry before, but he is now, clinging desperately to what must seem his only anchor, his only constant, in the world.
She wishes she could be there.
There are two women in that room; the pig-tailed hugger, and another in the background, face pale and haunted, eyes frightened and lost. The first brings a smile to the watching soul's face, and the second…the second, an involuntary twinge of both sympathy and anger.
She knows that if she were still alive, they would have gotten along. They would be friends. She also knows that if she had not died, they would never have met, anyways.
She wants to hate. It would be so easy to despise the woman who took her place, who changed the team…who broke his heart and just keeps stomping on the pieces.
But the guilty party means well, has always meant well, and for that the witness must be forgiving. And this somehow makes the anger stronger.
He steps back first, trying to smile, to pretend everything will be all right. He thinks he's doing a good job, but everyone can see through his façade. He's hurting.
How she wishes she could be there.
A second man peels away from the wall, and the yearning is replaced for a moment by an immense feeling of fondness.
She hardly recognizes the green, nervous agent he was when she first knew him. He has matured, has changed. A single tear slides down his cheek as he takes the hand of his partner and the hand of their best friend, and for a moment the watcher can isolate that trio from the fourth figure in the room. She can imagine they are holding a vigil for her; that they are thinking of her as she was before she left them. Before she was taken.
They never had the chance to save her.
She knows she must pull herself away, but she wants them to know. Especially him—the broken-hearted man.
She is so proud.
After a brief pause, he looks up into the distance; towards her, as if he knows she is there. The ghost of a smile crosses his face. His companions glance up, too, their faces clearing.
She turns her back on them and leaves in contentment.
They know.