Gibbs was still staring at the sketchbook Ziva had handed him, long after everyone else had left for the night. If he looked over at her desk, he could almost pretend he had never went to her funeral. He could pretend that she was simply on a date, or had gone home for the night.
He flipped back to the page that had saddened him most. It had taken flipping through most of the sketchbook before he'd reached what he'd wanted. The complete sketch of him with a half-smile and amusement sparkling in his eyes.
"She's gone, Gibbs. I don't think Kate will mind.
The last ever relic of Caitlin Todd, killed in the line of duty.
He clutched the sketchbook, and then leaned forward, touching his face to it, as it lay on his desk. He closed his eyes and if he focused hard, he could smell the scent of her perfume.
He could forget the blood splattered across Tony's face.
He could forget the young Israeli sitting in his favorite agent's desk.
He was startled awake by the clunk of something being slammed on his desk, and the smell of coffee. He jolted awake, looking around. The bullpen was in shadow. He blinked.
Because…. "Kate?" he asked.
She was sitting in her desk, sipping coffee, and smiling at him.
But it made no sense. Kate was in a coffin in Indiana, with a hole in her head.
As Ziva had said, Kate was gone.
"Hi Gibbs," she said, and his throat closed as he watched her.
He choked out, "Katie…?"
"I hate it when you call me that," she stood. She was dressed in the clothes she'd died in, and she was walking over, and leaning against his desk the way she used to.
"What are you doin' here, Kate?" he asked, looking at her hands on his desk instead of meeting in her eyes.
"I came to see you of course," her voice was soft, and he at last looked up, staring into those eyes he could drown in if he tried.
"You're dead, Kate" he hesitated to remind her, but she smiled. He had loved that smile, ever since he'd first seen it.
"You don't have to tell me. And to think, the last thing you ever said to me was nothing like what I would have wanted."
"Is that why you're here?"
"I did come to say goodbye."
"Why?" he asked.
"I think you have some inkling of why I'm really here," she tapped the sketchbook.
"You drew me,"
"I drew everyone. You were hardly special," she teased.
"But…" he went to touch her hand, but paused. He knew he was going crazy, but he still didn't want to try and touch her- he wouldn't be able to stand the pain if he wasn't able to.
"I know you cared a lot about your agents, Gibbs."
"We lose agents all the time, Kate."
She smiled, "And yet you told Ducky this is different. Why is it different?"
He stood up, "You shouldn't have had to die, Katie."
"Why is it different?" she asked again.
He finally grabbed her hand, relieved he could, and clutched it tightly, like a lifeline, "Because usually when we lose agents….. I'm not…" he struggled to get the words out.
"Gibbs-,"
"Let me," he all but begged, "When we usually lose agents, I'm not in love with them."
She'd frozen in place, staring at him, and he swore she was about to cry. He knew when she was close to tears and that same look was on her face, "Gibbs…"
"Katie," he stared across his desk, "I never got the chance to say it."
"Neither did I."
"You pushed me out of the way, didn't you?" he asked.
She flinched at the reminder, "I all but gave up after your romance doesn't work between agents speech. I thought when you hired me… I thought…"
"I did," he confirmed her suspicions, "I do."
"So say it… Gibbs."
"Katie… doesn't matter if I say it… You're still dead."
"Maybe, but then you'll stop hurting a little more."
He stared at her, "M' not sure it'll ever stop."
She walked around the desk, letting go of his hands, "You deserve that closure, Gibbs."
She was standing in front of him now, and smiling a little, "The day we dressed up as Marines?"
"Yeah, Katie," he nodded.
"The emergency blow?"
"Yes," he breathed.
"Say it," she demanded, touching his face in a way she'd never dared to do when she was alive. But she was dead and nothing would change because of this one little visit from beyond the grave. She was dead.
"I love you, Katie. For a long time now."
She smiled, and he saw she was crying. When she spoke her voice shook, "I… I loved you a lot, Jethro."
It was like someone had sucker-punched him. He knew then that he was going to cry too, but instead of crying he did the one thing he'd never dared to do in real life.
He took her face in his hands, and he kissed her, smelling her perfume, tasting her lips, knowing that he'd been in love with her.
He'd loved her the day she threatened to shoot him, all balls and confidence, before crying on him for losing her lover.
He'd loved her so that he'd demanded she be the one to go on the sub with him, and loved her, wanted her, when they'd crashed together during the emergency blow.
He had never said a word, and he regretted it so strongly now. He wanted to show her, in this one kiss from beyond the grave.
When they broke apart, she simply smiled, "I've wanted to do that for such a long time. Pity now that I'm dead is when it happens."
"Katie…" He pulled her into a tight hug, putting a gentle hand on the back of her head, and savoring her beauty.
She reached up and kissed him on the cheek, "Take care of your team, Gibbs. I love you."
And then she picked up the coffee, and went back to her desk-
Leroy Jethro Gibbs woke up in the early morning light spilling through the windows of the bullpen. His face was still against Kate's sketchbook, and his cheeks were damp. He sat up, and there it was: a coffee sitting on his desk. A fresh, hot coffee.
He held it up, to the skylight, in a toast to the woman he'd loved.
"Semper Fi, Katie-girl."