a/n: i literally did two 'share a coke' fics in one day, because at first i was like 'hey, i need to do a fic on these coke bottles!' and i came up wit the other one, but then i realized this angsty one is MUCH better (cackles) - so, two stories, one night.
He didn't have any intention of doing it; in fact, he didn't even know what the hell it was all about, he just saw one of them one day at the Supermarket checkout line – he was just there buying a T-bone and tea. The name caught his eye – that name had a knack for catching his eye – and when he picked it up and looked closer, he was a little taken aback to see they all had names on them.
He chalked it up to some kind of fad, but he bought it anyway, and he couldn't explain why. He didn't drink carbonated drinks – hadn't for years – and he couldn't give this to her; it just seemed like it had caught his attention for a reason, so when he got home that night, he placed it on a shelf with some tools, and an coffee can full of nails, and forgot about it –
That is, until he saw the next one. It was a different name, but it caught his eye for the same reason – because he was sensitive to reminders. He didn't think much the second time, just bought it, along with the carton of milk he'd come in for, and the bag of candy he'd decided he needed in case Emily Fornell came running for refuge again next week.
He started looking, after that, because it became sort of – cathartic, to search, and to find; to see them waiting for someone to pick them up and take them home, and when he found the third one he was looking for, he was on a desperate search for the fourth, because while he had stumbled upon the first two – the third he had sought, and he couldn't have the third without the forth, just like he couldn't have the two of them at all.
He was in the basement, his back turned to the shelf he'd placed them on, his focus concentrated on his latest woodworking project, when he heard heavy footsteps on the stairs, and DiNozzo jogged into the basement, a paper bag in his hands.
"Case?" Gibbs grunted.
"Nah," DiNozzo answered.
He cut right to the point.
"I saw 'em up there," he said, pointing to Gibbs' shelf – in plain view, there were three bottles, ominously missing one. DiNozzo shrugged. "I saw 'em, when I was down here tryin' to work through losin' Ziva," he grunted.
Gibbs stepped back, saying nothing.
"They don't have her name," DiNozzo said, shrugging. "They got a 'Tony,' though. I guess she's got to pick it up, somewhere."
"What do you want, Tony?" Gibbs asked.
DiNozzo pulled a bottle out of the bag he'd brought, stepping forward and placing it on the shelf next to Gibbs' tools.
"Here," he said gruffly. "I found it at a toy store check-out counter. I was buying a toy for my stepsister's baby."
He shrugged, and Gibbs picked up the coke bottle, holding it out so he could read it, and staring. He looked up after a long, quiet moment, and nodded at his senior agent. DiNozzo nodded back, and then he disappeared, clearly a little uncomfortable at the moment, and not willing to sit and wallow.
Gibbs cleared his throat, turned around, and set the silly, nostalgic plastic coke bottle on the shelf next to the others – and then he got back to work, while they sat there, unopened, untouched, and waiting – all in a solemn row of tribute –
Jennifer, Kate, Shannon, Kelly.
-alexandra
story #217