It was quiet. Too quiet.
Tony wanted to head slap himself for that one.
He stood tall, his usually amiable face impassive, as they lowered the coffin. The simple, yet elegent wooden design was strong. Just like the doctor it held.
It wasn't raining. It should have been, he knows. With low rumbles of thunder calling mournfully across the sky, and the wind just strong enough to numb the pain. It was a cliché he could have lived with at the moment. But instead, the sun shone down brightly. Even a bird was singing in the background. A damn bird, mocking them and their reverence.
Ziva stood by his side, the tear marks still visible, still running on her face. The death of Mike Franks had hit her hard; this had nearly broken her. The hard Mossod assassin was slowly crumbling inside. The corner of his mouth twitched, and he reached an arm around her shoulder, pulling her in close. As she accepted, she buried her head into his shoulder and began to cry quietly.
Abby and McGee stood just off to the side, her arms wrapped around his neck as he hugged her back. Both faces were stained by tears, Abby's makeup smeared and running down her cheeks. Beyond them, Vance stood tall and strong, arms held behind his back, and guilt flooding his eyes.
Palmer stood behind with his new wife at his side. His face was ashen, almost gray, as he squeezed her hand. Tony offered a sad smile to the new medical examiner, who looked away ashamedly. His clenched fist held broken glasses as he bit back a sob, holding his wife's hand even tighter.
The coffin finally sat within the ground. Leroy Jethro Gibbs slowly approached his masterpiece, the sole occupant of his basement of late. On the top was a carved swan, head raised in an endless song. He knelt, resting his hand on the smooth wood. Everyone surrounding them stayed silent, respecting his final farewell for an old friend.
And then they buried him.
The crowd began to disperse, leaving the eight members of the team eventually alone. Vance took a deep breath, letting it out evenly. He turned towards the rest of the team.
"You... you guys have the rest of the day off," he breathed, eyes downcast. He made a move to look at his watch, and then walked away, followed by Palmer and his wife. Tony turned towards McGee, who nodded in response. He whispered to Abby, wiping the tears from her cheeks, and then started walking with her towards the car.
Tony gave Ziva a final squeeze, relaxing his grip on her as she looked up at him. He smiled down as sincerely as he could without cracking.
"My place tonight, with Tim and Abby."
She nodded, sniffing, wiping her eyes, and managed a sad smile back. Tony gave her shoulder a squeeze, letting go as she turned to follow the others.
Gibbs had not yet moved from where he was standing. Tony walked slowly over, worry for his boss outweighing his apprehension of disturbing him.
"Hey, boss," he said softly, "The rest of us are going to my place. You gonna be okay?"
Gibbs didn't turn, didn't move at all as he answered. "Go home, DiNozzo," he breathed. It hadn't been an order, just a suggestion. Tony hesitated.
"Gibbs?"
Gibbs finally turned, looking at Tony with dead eyes. All emotion, all life seemed to have drained from him. He nodded towards the retreating cars. "They need you, Tony. I'll be fine."
Tony nodded, turned, and walked away. Gibbs watched him go, following his car until it went out of sight. The tombstone before him was simple and elegant. He read the epitaph, but none of the words reached his eyes.
"Is that all you've got for me, Duck?" he asked solemnly, looking upward. The sky had finally begun to gray as the wind picked up. It blew, sending soft, gentle rain to his face, taking the place of his tears. Thunder rolled in a low lament, circling the Navy graveyard. In his mind, Gibbs remembered Mike Frank's parting words.
"So long, Duck."
