(A/N: So, the third and final part of the set I've unofficially been calling the "Death Trilogy", other fics being "Always On My Mind" and "Just Like Anyone". This one is possibly even more tragic and angst-ridden than the others…
And to give obsessives fair warning, I know next to nothing about Gibbs' past, marine background, details of starting at NCIS etc, so pretty much everything in this fic is invented. Please do not comment and say "You got this wrong" or whatever, though if anyone who knows something useful about the man (or indeed any character) wants to PM me with some canon back-story please do so.
Well, I would say enjoy, but if anyone actually enjoys this they need professional help. And I almost forgot a disclaimer – not mine, blah blah.)
The Grave
It was a nightmare scenario, one that none of those attending thought they would ever have to experience for real. Yet here they all were for the third time, bearing coloured flowers that felt inappropriate to the occasion. The colour had been drained from their worlds when they had got the call. It didn't seem right that the roses and lilies could still be bright, looking as if nothing at all was wrong.
Tony's death had changed him somehow. He had become more wrapped up in himself, even less talkative than before. Losing one agent was bad luck. Losing two… well, he had seen it as failure. His personal failure.
There had been pressure for him to find a new agent, but though he never said as much, they all knew he could not even begin to think of replacing Tony. He had meant too much.
So the team had struggled on depleted, with Gibbs spending most of his time off chasing leads on his own. Abby, for one, was sure that he was putting himself in danger more than was strictly necessary. Ducky knew that he was slowly losing his grip. Ziva and McGee worried, but what could they do? The mood he was in they could have found themselves unemployed just like that.
And then came that fateful day. It had begun like any other, with only two team members in the squadroom, eyes glued to their computer screens, studiously avoiding each other and the empty desks that seemed to shout their presence.
No-one quite remembered how the news came through. Their brains could not cope with it, and so it was all a haze in each of their memories. The first anyone could clearly picture was the image of Abby and Ducky emerging from the elevator, the old doctor with his arm around the forensic scientist as she sobbed and her face became streaked with black eyeliner and red lipstick.
It seemed like mere hours ago that they had been that unhappy group in the NCIS building; and now the same people were here, trying desperately not to cry as they approached the grave to scatter their share of the earth onto the coffin none of them wanted to see.
The grave that they dug him had flowers
Gathered from the hillside in bright summer colours
And the brown earth bleached white at the edge of his gravestone
He is gone.
McGee was the first to step up to the edge. He tried not to look, not to see the hole in the ground, nor what rested in it. Closing his eyes, he threw in his handful of soil.
Boss… I know I didn't know you that well. I haven't been around for long. I wish I'd told you how grateful I was for letting me join the team, how much I respected you, how I always looked up to you. And now I guess I never will. But…I'm sorry. If you let Tony down, then we certainly let you down, Ziva and Abby and I. We shouldn't have let you go off like that. We knew it was dangerous. Boss, I'm so sorry.
Opening his eyes, he walked past, making way for the next person.
When the wars of our nation did beckon
A man barely twenty did answer the call
Proud of the trust that he placed in our nation
He is gone
But eternity knows him
And it knows what we've done.
Dr Mallard looked deep into the grave, watching the way the sunlight glinted off the metal plaque on the coffin. It was too bright to read, but he had a good idea of what it said. Sprinkling earth onto it, he then took of his hat, standing with his head bowed in respect to his old friend.
Jethro…you shouldn't have gone like this, dear boy. After what you survived in the Marines, to be shot by a sniper on a callout…it doesn't seem right. At least you died for your country in a small way. I don't know if you'd be glad to know we caught the bastard. It wasn't hard. But then again, neither was dying, was it? You knew what you were doing. Oh, but it's not what Tony would have wanted. All I can say is that I hope the three of you are together somewhere, somehow.
After a long silence, he stepped back to take the arm of the young Goth waiting behind him.
And the rain fell like pearls on the leaves of the flowers
Leaving brown, muddy clay where the earth had been dry
And deep in the trench he waited for hours
As he held to his rifle and prayed not to die
Abby felt a gentle pressure on her arm and smiled, briefly, as Ducky helped her to the graveside. Scattering the earth carelessly, not caring where it went, she squeezed her eyes tightly, forcing herself not to cry.
I feel like I'm going through the motions, Gibbs. How could you do this to us? We needed you. We still do. I need you. Who's going to bring me Caf-Pow now? I'm not joking. I relied on you for more than caffeine. You were always there. Always. And now you're always here, buried six feet under. What good is that?
Her rage suddenly subsided as she realised she had been signing the whole time. Shaking her head, she moved to join McGee, who put his arm around her as they tried not to think too much.
But the silence of night was shattered by fire
As guns and grenades blasted sharp through the air
And one after another his comrades were slaughtered
In the morgue of marines alone standing there
There was a pause, then, as the last member of the team steeled herself for that one move forward. They all stood, watching the leaves blow in the wind, the grass wave – anywhere but into the open grave in front of them.
Their one consolation was that he was not alone. Tony and Kate were not all that far away. And if there was any kind of afterlife… perhaps they would be together. But it wasn't much. He had been their Boss, and their friend. Now there he was in a hole in the ground, and there was a great gaping Gibbs-shaped hole in their lives.
He crouched ever lower, ever lower with fear
"They can't let me die, they can't let me die here
I'll cover myself with the mud and the earth
I'll cover myself
I know I'm not brave
The earth
The earth
The earth is my grave…"
Finally she made her move, the Israeli who had been standing alone at the other end of the grave, trying to work up some whatever-it-was to be able to do as the others had done before her. Her freely flung handful of earth did not land anywhere near the coffin; instead it dispersed, carried by the wind, covering all of them in a fine dusting of dirt.
Gibbs… what do I say? I did not know you as a man, only as a leader. But I think we may have had something in common, you and I. We do not – did not – show emotion. But I think maybe you were not as… impervious as you made yourself out to be – not as brave. You could not deal with losing him, Tony, your second-in-command. You went out that day knowing what would happen. I could see it in your eyes. It was the same every day; you knew that sooner or later your deliberate carelessness would get you killed. It was what you wanted, to be with them. I pray for your sake that there is something after death.
I would have liked to get to know you better, Gibbs. Now I will never have the chance.
She walked slowly to the rest of the group, where Ducky was pulling out a silver flask of some kind. He took a sip, then handed it first to Abby, then McGee, who both took their turn. Then he offered it to her. Obligingly she took a sip, and could not help but smile. Bourbon.
Ducky cleared his throat. "Semper fi, Jethro," he said, holding his flask in the air as if toasting an invisible guest. They echoed him, their voices lost on the wind, tossed to the sky.
The grave that they dug him had flowers
Gathered from the hillside in bright summer colours
And the brown earth bleached white at the edge of his gravestone
He is gone.
And somewhere that is not quite here nor there a translucent figure got to its feet and wiped its eyes, no longer quite so impervious. Turning, he walked away from his living friends, towards two others who were as insubstantial as himself. As the funeral party moved off to grieve in the privacy of their own homes, their ex-colleagues stayed by the graveside for a moment, before fading gently back to wherever it was they had come from.
(A/N: I know it only fits the song loosely – which is by Don McLean, by the way. Thoughts? I know it's angsty to the point of morbid and rather self-indulgent in its melancholy, but is that okay? And I acknowledge that it's a little weird.)