Spoilers: Twilight

A/N: Well it looks like I'm going to be developing Steve's character. If anyone can tell me what his last name was… Also since some people found my last story's format confusing I decided to change it to the more normal conversation view. Just goes to show that your voices are heard people.

Disclaimer: The only thing I own here is the pieces of creativity I spun together with the world of NCIS. Since that isn't good enough for the courts I don't really have a claim. Shrug. Never wanted riches anyway.

The description of a stump hanging was borrowed from MMB's Pretender series and can be found in "Truth and Consequences". I don't know if MMB created it or not because I couldn't make contact. However I didn't make it up and I don't own it. Thanks to MMB for this bit of nasty.

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Last Call

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Walls can't talk. But they do give off impressions of life. The walls of a grandmother's house are cozy and inviting. While the leeching stone supporting a dungeon radiates the pain and terror of previous occupants.

Looking at the gray painted walls of the stairwell under his office Tony DiNozzo couldn't help but feel that they were dead. Lifeless. As if no energy had ever been absorbed into their substance since they had been poured into existence in the bowels of this building. It was as if nothing had touched them since the beginning of their creation. There were no scuffs. No nicks in the paint. No sign that anything could change. The whole corridor seemed to echo that absence of life, of light. Sitting on the cold stainless steel stairs with their traction ridges biting into his thighs Tony felt as if he could cease to exist. As if he could be absorbed by the painful emptiness of possibility there.

The tears that gathered in the agent's eyes obscured his vision briefly blocking out the gray for a short-lived moment. After painfully blinking them away, ignoring their gentle fall along his cheeks, he drew a deep breath into aching lungs and turned away from the wall. His hands, which had been hanging limply across his lap, twitched to life. One rose to reach across his chest into his left jacket lapel the other gripped the expensive fabric of his trousers below the knee hard enough to leave permanent wrinkles.

A look of utter desperation and trepidation gave the normally vibrant and devil-may-care man the look of someone afraid to move for fear that the ground would crumble away beneath him but determined to try and inch forward to safety. Muted beeps over rode the shallow breaths that had been the only sound in the air as Tony punched the buttons on his cellular phone. It started ringing there in his hand. There was a moment of hesitation after it stopped where Tony's shell-shocked eyes stared at the lit screen for several seconds unable to bring himself to move to speak to the man on the other end despite the sense of honor and friendship that had made him stir from the seductive numbness that had enshrouded his spirit staring at the gray walls.

Closing his eyes renewed the itch of tears being born behind his eyelids. Most men would have felt ashamed for crying. Tony had never experienced as most American boys do his father saying to him, "that real men don't cry" however. The cold and distant mogul had long decided that his youngest son was defective and unimportant seeing as he already had one perfectly good heir. In his mind there was no point wasting his time trying to teach little Tony anything. Having encountered this rule later on in life Tony already knew that crying didn't make things better but he concealed so much in his life being truthful about his grief was the one thing he would not give up no matter what society said.

Bringing the phone up to his ear. "Steve." Tony coughed the lump out of his throat. "Hi. I…" He faltered. How to say it? What words were appropriate? Panic and guilt made Tony thank every deity he could recall that he wasn't in Gibbs's shoes.

"Tony? What is it man? I'm in the middle of the Wilkinson case." Steve's voice was distracted and a rustling sound came over the line.

Opening his eyes Tony looked down the dull yellow fluorescent-lighted stairway fresh tears making the artificial light glitter in an ironically cheerful manner. "Steve I wanted to tell you…" Pain took the words away for a moment. "I didn't want you to read it in the papers- Steve Kate's dead." With a short sniffle Tony harshly scrubbed his eyes with his left hand.

There was a pregnant pause. Then a whispered, "what?"

"She was shot in the line of duty." The words seemed so wrong coming out. Duty? She died at the hands of a rabid piece of human excrement. Feeling something other than the overwhelming loss of the last few hours Tony didn't try and restrain his silent snarl of rage. The tear tracks framing it oddly made the flashing of teeth disturbingly ferocious. Wishing he had Ari in arms reach Tony let a part of his self, the part that made his undercover work so convincing, lose.

The bastard who had taken Kate away had a lot coming to him. His butcher's bill had grown too long and Tony was going to be right behind Gibbs prepared to stump hang the double crossing double agent. Gerald and Kate deserved restitution and stump hanging or, for some reason known only to the tattooed Asians, "Parkering" was a punishment he'd heard about while undercover dealing with the Yakuza. You soaked a stump with gasoline, nailed the guy's Willy to it, gave him a rusty or dull knife, and set the stump on fire. The deal was if he survived he was free. Not that in this case Tony would honor that agreement but it would be an interesting few minutes watching Ari's face when he was handed the knife.

Tony focused back on the present shoving the bloodthirsty bit of his personality aside at Steve's shaky indrawn breath, "Somehow I never expected it to really happen. Even with all the close calls you and Nicky have had lately I never expected to get The Call." The friends and family of all law enforcement personnel knew the capital letters heard around those words. "We only went out a few times but still…"

"Yeah." Every time he closed his eyes Tony could see her. Lying still on the roof with a perfect sniper hole through the center of her forehead and a slightly shocked expression on her face. "Despite our differences. She was a human being. She was a good cop, part of my team. She deserved- better." The tears started falling again.

He hadn't cried this much since Mr. Tobias died. The butler who had raised him and whom no one thought to call him about. He'd found out that the old man had died in his sleep when he came home for Thanksgiving break. After that final heartbreak Tony had never set foot in the family mansion or taken anything from the family again.

"Yeah." Steve said it with weary solemnity.

Unable to stop himself Tony choked on another burst of tears. Pressing his hand along his eyes Tony shook as several sobs wrench out of his throat. His right arm wound around his middle trying to hold his insides in. Finally gaining back control feeling more drained the sorrow fill agent wiped the collected liquid off his cheeks.

"Tony?" Worry gripped the voice calling out through the phone. Releasing the grip on his stomach Tony brought the phone back to his ear.

And suddenly it was all pouring out. "She was my first partner to die. Never had a partner who trusted me that much. Never had to take that much responsibility. I was a solo artist I didn't need anybody. God. Now she's dead and there's nothing I can do. Kate was a good person. So she had a character flaw! We've all got one… She was so brave and full of confidence. I've never met anyone who could dish it out the way she could. Hell, she was like the sister I never had. What am I going to do?" The hand not holding the phone punched his thigh leaving wet marks behind.

"I don't know what you're going to do tomorrow. But tonight you're going to call a cab and go home. And I'm going to meet you there with a bottle of bourbon and we're going to toast Kaitlin Todd." Fierce and commanding Steve's tone was protective and Tony could hear his friend and ex-lover holding his breath. Steve knew well how much Tony disliked being told what to do but right then Tony was glad to have someone he trusted to give him direction.

Hoarsely DiNozzo croaked, "Sounds good to me. Get the good stuff. Kate deserves it."

"Of course." Worry was barely hidden in, "I'll be waiting for you." Then there was a click as the connection was cut off. Taking the phone from his ear Tony switched it off.

Tony looked at the walls. They still stood with their gray sterility. Then he looked down the path of the steps disappearing into the garage. He looked back at his phone.

"Can't stay here." He said to himself. The phone was put back in its pocket. Then Tony snagged the railing on the right wall and pulled himself up. Feeling stiff and old he stood and started moving forward.

He didn't call a cab.

FIN