A/N: I saw a very sad, very moving presentation at my school today about the consequences of reckless driving. It hit very close to home, as my school lost a student to drunk driving this past summer. Something that was said made me think about the job of the law enforcement officers who have to inform the families of the victims. And this gave me the idea for an NCIS drabble.
Disclaimer: I do not own NCIS.
Never
Tony looked up at the house in front of him; took a deep breath.
He hated this job. It was one he had performed many times over the past years…but it didn't get any easier.
--
This was a task training could not prepare you for. To look family straight in the eye—mothers and fathers and spouses—and tell them "I'm sorry, but-"
Did sorry make it any better? Of course not. But it was the only thing to say.
"I'm sorry, but your daughter-" (son, husband, wife) "-didn't make it."
Your loved one is never coming home.
Never.
--
He mounted the front steps, hated how perfect this house was, in its quaint suburban neighborhood with its manicured lawn and beautiful flowerbed. He was about to destroy all the solitude. For a long time, at least.
--
Her name was Lisa Sarandon. Lisa had been a young petty officer with a good service record and pretty eyes.
Now she was a statistic.
Just a number on a piece of paper.
Just a blip. Just someone who would never grow older, never fulfill all the potential she had. Never get married, have children.
Never.
--
He was glad he'd left McGee in the car. Tim did not handle this kind of thing well. He was too afraid someone would someday knock on his parents' door with the same kind of news someone had once given Kate's family, Paula's…and now Lisa's.
Tony knew his own possible death would spare some poor soul the heartwrenching job. There was no door that answered to Tony DiNozzo. None but his own.
He rapped on the Sarandons' windowpane and hoped, wished, prayed that no one would be home.
But the door opened. He was never lucky.
Never.