Whispers of a Ghost
Do you know what it's like to die? I do. A brief sense of pain and then darkness. I was never afraid of death, as a Catholic I knew that there is a life after the end. But I thought I would get Heaven, Hell, or Purgatory. I didn't realise that there was another possibility. I'm sure you want to hear about God and his angels, singing choirs, silk dresses, flowers, lakes, sunshine, the whole nine yards. But you're not going to get it. Not this time anyway.
I'm here to watch over six very special people. During my life I only met five of them, but I have come to know the sixth very well over the past few years. I can't follow them everywhere, I am chained to this particular building. But it's not all bad, I have company, Jenny joined me recently and we have a pretty good time. Mostly she's up watching Leon Vance, but she does come and join me down here too from time to time. To comment on my progress, make suggestions, or just watch. We do a lot of watching here.
Right now I am watching two very special people, and merely sensing the other four. That's one trick they don't tell you about ghosts, we may not be watching you but we know what you're doing. Right now I can tell you that Gibbs is on the phone to his father, it's something he does once a month. McGee is currently in bed, with a woman who likes to be called "Princess Peach", while Abby and Ducky are in a cafe three blocks away, drinking tea and eating cakes. And the two that are left are here, in front of me, one at his desk, the other at what used to be my desk.
Anthony DiNozzo is currently sulking, because his date last night stood him up. She was all wrong for him anyway, if he had met her they would have had a good three years together, he finally would have proposed, they would marry, and then five years after that she would leave with their two children and most of his heart. Not that Tony actually knows or cares about any of that, he just remembers that she had nice legs and a decent chest and that he could have had sex last night if he had had five minutes with his charm on maximum. Right now he is working out his frustration by hammering the keyboard, barely looking at the report he's typing up.
Ziva David on the other hand is relatively calm, if a little sad. One of her aunts phoned last night to say that a cousin of hers is getting married. This cousin is twenty years old and has been dating her fiancé for two years, and the knowledge that yet another younger relative is getting married while she is still single is making Ziva reconsider some of her life choices. Perhaps if she had not joined Mossad she would be married by now, with three children (two boys and a girl) running around, a husband to cuddle up next to every night. Her father often talks about grandchildren now, seemingly oblivious that she joined Mossad in order to please him and now feels that that is all cast aside since he decided he wanted to play happy families.
Maybe if she had not joined Mossad then Ari would still be alive, with nephews and a niece to look after he would not have changed sides, he would have stayed loyal to their father and their country, and she wouldn't have had to be the one to put a bullet in his head. In truth her husband would have been killed by a suicide bomber shortly before the birth of their third child. Both her sons would have joined Mossad, believing it would give them a chance at revenge and end up being killed in action, and her daughter would become one of Israel's top actresses before moving to America, refusing to raise her own children in a country that held so many graves for her.
The pair of them are so wrapped up in their misery that they cannot see what is in front of them. But that is what I am here for. I stand in front of my desk and lean over to Ziva, whispering to her.
"You're starting to feel hungry Ziva."
She pauses for a second and looks up, licking her lips and remembering that she didn't have breakfast that morning. Her hand reaches down to the drawer in her desk where she keeps a box of cereal bars, in case of such emergencies.
"No, you ate the last one yesterday and forgot to pick up some more on your way here."
Her hand stops and she frowns as my words sink in, triggering the memory, her lower lip pouting slightly as she mentally berates herself for letting herself forget, she knew she wrote a note to herself so she would remember. I walk over to Tony, who is still hammering at the keyboard and sulking like a five year old.
"Look at Ziva."
He glances up from his screen and spots Ziva pouting.
"You want to kiss her Tony."
I can see his eyes lingering on her lips, imagining what it would be like to kiss her. He imagines, with a sort of poetic imagination that all romantic men have, that it would be like eating chocolate with chilis in, sweet but warm, with a hint of spice. He swallows nervously, last night's date instantly forgotten about in the face of the dark haired beauty in front of him.
I know what you're thinking. That me and Tony would have been perfect together, that it should be me he wants to kiss. But I never really thought of him like that. He wanted me because he could never have me, and I liked reminding him of that fact. We would never have lasted, neither of us can back down in a fight, and our bickering would have worn us both down in the end. But him and Ziva, they could be happy together. Those three children will actually be five (they decided to have a fourth, and got twins instead), safe in the USA because Ziva is determined that what happened to her sister will never happen to any of her babies. There will be arguments, because there always are. There will be a brush with cancer, a car crash, and a bedside vigil when one of the children contracts meningitis. But Tony's eye will never rove again because everything he ever wanted will be in front of him, Ziva will never have to cry alone in her bed again because the person to comfort her will be next to her. Five children, sixteen grandchildren and two great-grandchildren before Tony passes away of a heart attack and Ziva follows a few months later after having a stroke.
They are both frozen like that, as if they can see that future in front of them, and are too scared to grasp it. But that is what I am here for. When my life here ended, I saw it, and I saw that they could miss it. A date that shows up, an unseen shooter, a car that goes round the corner a little too fast as she steps off the pavement just a little too soon...
So I asked. I asked to come here, to watch them, to guide them. I want them to have their happy ending. And it was granted. They just need a little push in the right direction. I look back at Tony, who is currently imaging what Ziva's hair smells like.
"Ask her out to lunch, your date didn't show, you can spend the money showing Ziva a nice afternoon instead."
The idea floods in to his head like soft mist. He can see it clearly, they're not meant to be in work today anyway, they're just catching up on paperwork. He can take her to that new Greek place he saw last week, and she mentioned that she would like to see that new Tarantino movie with Brad Pitt as a Nazi hunter, they could go and see that together afterwards. The afternoon suddenly looks a lot more appealing.
"You hungry Ziva?"
"A bit."
"Let's go get something to eat, there's this great Greek place down the road, my treat."
And then I turn to her.
"Go with him Ziva."
She's hungry, and Tony was looking miserable earlier so he could probably do with some company. The work will hold until later, and she's always had a soft spot for Greek food. The pair of them get their coats and walk to the lift, talking quietly. I can see the clear path in front of them, nothing is going to interrupt this afternoon. Tony will be a perfect gentleman, he'll even buy her a rose and walk her to her door, both of them believing it to be a silly joke, a fake date between two friends. But in a week they'll decide to repeat it, because it was so much fun last time. And then again, and by the forth date the feelings will have grown and cemented, and this time when Tony walks her to the door he'll leave her with a soft kiss on the cheek...
I asked for their happy ending, because I never got mine. It means that I am going to have to wait before I can finally have peace. But it will be worth it.
