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This is kind of inspired by an episode of Doctor Who. It's the one where the doctor gets the chance to see what his life could have been like if he stayed human. Made me really sad. :(
It was just over a week since Kate had died. The grief was still a raw, gaping hole in his being. Sometimes, he was sure that it was beginning to heal, but painful reminders lay like traps everywhere. The mug in the kitchen that no one would throw away, the rich brown eyes that always turned out to belong to the new occupant of her desk, the old emails that bore the name, Caitlin Todd.
It was still recent enough that he would visit her grave every evening after work, no matter how late it was, and feel the knees of his expensive suit soak through with cold dirt, as his hands fought for a comfortable position on the awkwardly shaped gravestone; his palms growing rougher and more calloused each day, as he desperately tried to feel the level of closeness that was impossible now.
Sometimes he would speak to her, sometimes, he was silent. A couple of times, he left a flower, or lit a candle.
But he never cried.
This evening was one of the silent ones. At first, he had bantered with her as though she were still there. He had thought that this showed how ready he was to move on. How he had come to terms with her death, and was ready only to celebrate her life. He now knew that it was far harder to be silent.
In a manner that would seem absentminded to the casual observer, he ran a finger over the lettering on her gravestone. It wasn't absentminded at all. He knew every word, every letter by heart. The first couple of evenings, he had wanted to scream what was not there. What had been missed out. How she had been murdered in cold blood by a psychopath. How she hadn't deserved it, and how unjust it was, but lately he had come to realise that the few simple words of love that adorned the stone were far more fitting.
As his fingertip came to a halt at the last full-stop, his mind was suddenly wiped blank of all but one thought.
How it could have been.
It was a New Year's Eve party, and Kate had been drinking just a little too much. Her words were not slurred, and her legs were steadily supporting her weight, but her cheeks were ever so slightly flushed, and her speech ever so slightly rushed.
"You're not really that bad, DiNozzo."
"The feeling's mutual, Katie." It was almost impossible to tell that he too, had been over indulging on the champagne a little, too.
"Don't call me Katie!" But there was no real edge to her voice. The entire party had a relaxed, cheerful feel to it. Even with it being so close to midnight.
10…9…8…7…6…5…4…3…2…1…Happy New Year!
Of course, they would both later blame the over enthusiastic midnight kiss on the alcohol.
Tony reeled back from the grave. He didn't want to see any of this, but his imagination wasn't done with him.
"You know," said Kate, glancing at him from across the little table, "Gibbs probably invented Rule 12 for a reason."
Tony poured himself more wine. "You weren't saying that on New Year's Eve," he smirked.
"Tony, it's September, you can't still be going on about that!"
"Hey, it worked didn't it. You came on a date with me. Finally."
"Yeah, to shut you up."
"Liar."
She just smiled.
He tried to get up, but he was frozen to the spot.
"You may now kiss the bride."
"I haven't had the chance to tell you yet, but you look amazing," he whispered in her ear.
"Wait 'till you see my 'something blue'," she murmured cheekily back.
They were coming faster now. The…they were nothing but daydreams really, and yet they felt more like memories.
"Fetch me my Chap Stick, would you?"
"Yes, slave-driver."
"Hey, when you're carrying the extra person around, you can moan."
"That's not really fair," he muttered, swinging his legs off the bed, and walking over to the dressing table.
As he searched the cluttered surface for the Chap Stick, his eye was caught by something poking out of the top drawer. Smiling, he pulled the lacy blue knickers out, and dangled them in front of Kate.
"You're such a child, Tony," she sighed, snatching the Chap Stick from his other hand.
"Hey, that 'extra person' was conceived on these babies. We should get them framed or something."
"Eeew, Tony!"
He couldn't help but smile ever so slightly at that one.
He looked in amazement over at an exhausted Kate, as he cradled his daughter in his arms.
"Told you we were having a girl," she said gently.
He had no clever answer for that one. No joke.
"Well, baby Madeline, you're the first girl in the world to make your daddy speechless," said Kate.
Tony simply marvelled silently.
Tony wondered where the name Madeline had come from. Kate must have picked it.
Tony and Kate were stretched out luxuriously on the grass of their backyard. A couple of metres away, a chubby little toddler was amusing herself with a tricycle.
"You know what, Anthony DiNozzo, I love you," said Kate, planting a small kiss on his lips.
And just like that, it stopped. The memories, or the daydreams, or whatever you wanted to call them, they completely ceased.
Tony should have been sad, but instead, he was filled with realisation. Standing up, he whispered to the grave, the words he had been desperately trying to say since Kate's death. The words that had remained unspoken throughout the one-sided banter, and the ranting, and the silence. The words that called him to the cemetery every day.
"I love you too."
And, as he made his way back to the car, he felt warm tears trickle down his cheeks. He knew he wouldn't be visiting again for a while.
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