Disclaimer: NCIS doesn't belong to me.
A/N: Here's my contribution to the undoubtedly large number of fics dealing with the events that occurred at the end of Season 6/Beginning of Season 7.
Part I: Drowning
The first time he loses a partner, it's to a sudden gunshot. The second time he loses one, it's to the sea. But the words – "no survivors" – come hard and sharp, like a bullet lodged between his ribs, like a foot in the belly, so that he gasps and sputters for air like a drowning man.
The water of despair fills his lungs. Guilt and anger press down on his shoulders, his proverbial albatross.
If this were a movie, those fateful words ("There were no survivors") would reverberate around the dimly lit room. Theme music would make an appearance.
This isn't a fucking movie, though. This is real, and this is permanent.
After that initial burst of pain, however, he lapses into apathy. Ziva is gone, and she's taken him with her. Only, due to some strange twist of fate, his shade still lingers on this planet.
It sounds melodramatic, but it isn't.
The world is strangely blurred, colorless. He can hear people's voices, but can't make out their words… when they speak, it is as though they are talking underwater, the volume muted and the sounds distorted.
He forces himself out of bed each morning, forces himself and the others to eat. There's no point to any of it, though; not really.
He's like one of those cheap chocolate Easter bunnies: goofy on the outside, hollow on the inside, and broken before he's even out of the packaging.
The world keeps on turning, idiots keep committing crimes, paperwork keeps building up. But it's as though the entire world is merely a painted stage set, because the real world?
It ended when Ziva did.