Inspired by episode 11x2, spoilers, don't read if you haven't seen it!
Tony dragged himself off the plane, Star of David wrapped firmly around his fist.
He was home...but, then again, was it really home? Home is where the heart is, after all. And the one who held his heart tighter than his current grip on her necklace was still in Israel.
Ziva wasn't with him.
In every sense of the term, really.
Tony walked past baggage claim (he only had a backpack) and out into the warm and breezy air. He hailed a cab, and climbed in wearily.
"Where to?" the driver asked.
His apartment was still an uncomfortable place. The windows weren't fixed yet, every sound made him jump, even the sound of little bubbles coming from Kate's bowl.
So, the office it is.
Despite the fact that it was ridiculously late, Tony felt better the closer he got to the Navy Yard. He wanted to sit at his desk and answer calls, go on cases, distract himself before he shot something.
The security guards all gave him questioning looks. He ignored them, somewhat amused that night guards would be confused by the idea of someone working late at night.
DiNozzo called for the elevator, then changed his mind. He had sat on a plane for 12 hours; taking the stairs sounded much more appealing.
He was wide awake, but emotionally drained, something he would never admit. Nevertheless, it took him a little longer than it should have to climb the stairs.
Expecting to be totally alone, Tony was shocked to see that a light was still on in their bullpen. He walked slowly towards the area, wondering if he would find Gibbs staring into space; he didn't notice his younger team member in the corner instead.
DiNozzo passed Ziva's desk first, and winced. Maybe the Navy Yard wasn't such a good idea after all.
But Tim had, by this time, looked up from his computer. It was his light on, he heard Tony come in, but didn't want to say anything until he knew DiNozzo was ready to talk. He knew the whole story (or as much as he felt he should know) just by the look on his partner's face. The way Tony was regarding Ziva's desk was almost heartbreaking.
"Tony," McGee said, hoarse. He watched Tony snap out of his reverie and just stand there for a moment.
"Hey there, McTim," Tony said with pathetically false cheer, turning to his friend. "Why're you here so late" -a look at his watch- "or, early? Tough case?"
"Uh..." Tim didn't answer, but glanced at his computer. "Something like that."
"Let me help," Tony started eagerly. Riddles, problems, just what he needed. He moved towards Tim's chair, intending to stand behind it, as per the usual.
"Wait!" Tim said suddenly, but it was too late. Tony saw the black monitor.
"Why is your computer off?" Tim was not known to work on a case sans technology.
"I...well..."
"There's no case," Tony said flatly.
"No."
"Then why are you here, Tim?" The question wasn't marked with anger or annoyance, just a dash of curiosity mingled with a whole lot of exhaustion. Tim noted that Tony sounded a lot like Gibbs.
McGee hesitated, then sighed.
"I couldn't get to sleep, and it seemed ridiculous to lay there in my apartment doing nothing. And I knew you were going to come here instead of going home. It didn't seem right to let you sleep here. You can crash at my place if you want. You could even go through my DVD collection if you want..." the junior agent trailed off when he saw that Tony wasn't aware that he was even speaking.
Tony had plopped in his own desk chair and stared at the space across from his.
"Wanna talk about it?" Tim asked.
"Not really."
"Okay."
He let the silence alone, knowing that his friend would talk when he was ready. He didn't have to wait too long.
"I just...can't believe she's gone, ya know?"
The younger agent blinked. That sounded too familiar.
Tony noticed the similarity as well. Yes, Ziva was gone like Kate. Well, not really. Ziva was alive and well. But she was still away. Gone from NCIS; gone from their lives, for whatever stretch of time.
Suddenly, a bunch of faces flew through his mind. Pictures of all of the people he had lost, starting with his mother. And after that, his father began walking in and out. His various lost partners from his cop days. All the NCIS agents and friends who came and went. Kate, Agent Lee, Cassidy, Jenny...even the ones who weren't dead, but were gone...Jeanne, EJ, Ziva.
Ziva.
A feeling of betrayal washed over him. Every single person in his life left at some point.
Gibbs went to Mexico, Tim went-
No, wait.
Tim never went anywhere.
Tony stared at his partner; his best friend that had been in that desk almost every damn day for close to a whole decade. McGee never really left. He grew up, sure, but he never left.
How did that stuttering, baby faced kid manage to become an actual investigator?
McGee still held some of his old traits, though. Tony saw a flash of fear in Tim's eyes at some of the bloodbaths they analyzed. He still drank wine, still liked jazz, and -though he had gotten better- still had a lot of trouble with women.
But this kid was the one who had Tony's six, he had saved his life; this was the same man who loyally followed the senior agent to Somalia in a suicide mission, basically to hell and back.
Tim was a constant. The one who actually held the team together just by being there. He would never leave. Tony owed him for that: stability.
Finally realizing that Tim was saying something, DiNozzo shook his head. "Sorry, what?"
"I said, did you want to crash at my place or not? You look like you need to sleep..."
Tony nodded after a pause, then gathered his stuff up again.
Finally giving his lamp a break, Tim hit the off switch to the light, leaving them in darkness. Tony walked next to his partner, dragging slightly, the tiredness finally overcoming him.
He realized all at once that the younger agent's face was drawn and pale. He looked very drained as well. Suddenly, DiNozzo realized with some remorse that, in his own way, Tim had lost Ziva too.
McGee hit the down button and the elevator arrived. Neither agent said a word; no words were really needed, but Tony wanted to say something, nevertheless.
There were a lot of things he could say. But he settled with...
"Thanks, Tim."
"Hey, that's what friends do." McGee shrugged.
"I can't think of a single friend who would wait until all hours of the night just to drag my ass home. Who does that?"
McGee thought for a moment. "That's what brothers do, I guess."
Tony chuckled lightly. He could think about the future tomorrow, but somewhere in that future, he had to properly thank McGee. That's what brothers do, apparently.