A/N- This one is kinda sad. It is based on a poem. I hope you like. The bold is the poem. The italics is the memories of the listener. The regular print is from the listener's POV.
I walked into the room with her. She dragged me here. I didn't want to come. A coffee house isn't really my type of place. I like nice places, high-end food, not a run down club in the middle of downtown where you had to wear black. I did. My turtleneck was itchy, my pants chafed, I wanted to go home. I began to ask her if this was all that important to her. That I 'expand my horizons.' But she shushed me. The first reader came onto the stage. She wore a long black dress that suited her frame. There was an intricate bead pattern, I traced it with my eyes. She began to speak. Her words flew from her mouth and they poured onto us. I found myself thinking, relating each sentence, each stanza to myself, like the poem was written for me and for me alone.
There are times to fight,
The fist connected with my nose. I knew I should be fighting back, defending myself, but what do you do when the man your fighting has at least thirty years and a hundred-eighty pounds of you? I wanted to hit him, really I did. I knew it would get worse if I didn't do anything. I was, after all, smaller, nimbler, I could just run away. But that would make me a baby. A name I tried so hard to expel from my vocabulary. It sucked being the youngest child. I got everything last and nothing first. My brother could stay up later. My brother could stay out later. My brother could have a phone and I couldn't. That was what this fight was about, anyway. I complained again and he had had enough. Another slap burned across my face. I strengthened my resolve and tightened the nerves in my arm. I pulled back and my fist connected solidly with his middle. He doubled over. I took the opertunity to kick out and run away. I had fought back and I had won.
And times to hold your tongue,
I had never been good at not speaking my mind. Today was no different. She was talking bad about my brother. I didn't like it. So I told her so. Actually I called her a 'lying bitch' who 'wouldn't know the truth if it bit you in the ass.' which it probably would. That upset her. I dodged the first punch she threw at me, but her leg came painfully into contact with my nose. It began to bleed, which totally freaked her out. So I called her 'a baby who can't stand the sight of blood.' She tried to hit me again. I was smarter this time. I jumped back and grabbed her leg as it came around. I yanked hard and she lost her balance. Her skirt flew up to her waist, the boys watching enjoyed the view, as she fell to the pavement. I stood over her, 'don't talk about me or my family, ever' my foot was on her chest. I don't think she ever talked bad about anyone in front of me again. But I continued to taunt her. That day and the day after and the day after that. She hated me. I realized that we would have been best friends had I not run my mouth.
Times to cry,
He lay on the floor, his head twisted and arms and legs splayed around him. He was dead. I couldn't believe it. My brother lay on the floor. The fall from the latter he was standing on had snapped his neck. I didn't want to think about how long it took him to die. I didn't want to think about the pain he was in, but when the facts are being read to you by a police officer, telling you that he was killed. Telling you that someone shook the latter. That someone took my brother, my protector, away from me, it is hard not to remember these facts. I vowed to become part of the enforcement service so that I could put the bastards who killed people behind bars. I felt the tears burning in my eyes. But I couldn't cry. Not there. It didn't fit into the image of self-sufficent person I had built up. So my tears burned and I regret not shedding them.
And a time to laugh,
He fell on his face. Tripped over his own feet. Took her down with him too. That's what she gets for dating a klutz like him though. It was the funniest thing I had seen in while. My friends had noticed that since my brother died I was always sad. They did their best to cheer me up whenever they could. It was this fall though, one fall of the millions that he had taken in my company, that broke the dam. The tears came flooding out of my eyes. I had been holding them in for months. My buddies were amazed. The last time they had made me laugh was at his wake. They never thought that making me cry would help me heal. I didn't laugh then, and I wouldn't for a while, but I started the process for recovering. It hurt when I saw a brother with his younger sibiling, playing on the swings or going down the slide, or just talking. I couldn't do that anymore. But I could do what they couldn't. 'I'm proud of my brother'
Through it all you smile.
They were the person of my dreams. Neither of us asked the other. We both knew when it was time. We counted to three together. 'One' I took a deep breath in. 'Two' I let the breath out. 'Three' We both paused. 'Will you marry me?' It was the happiest day of my life. And I smiled. I had dogged punches, I had won fights, I had insulted people, I had laughed, I had cried, all at the wrong times, but now I smiled, and it was perfect.
I had tears in my eyes when she was done reciting. The last line had me thinking of the most recent event in my life. We had gotten married. But I was here with a friend. The perfect spouse was also out with a friend. The night before we left to spend a life together and never look back. I thought of the poem again.
There are times to fight,
That was the first time I stood up for myself against him.
And times to hold your tongue,
I still to this day curse myself for not taking advantage of the friendship I could have had.
Times to cry,
The family around me at my brother's funeral all had tears running down their face. Why couldn't I?
And a time to laugh,
My buddies teased my for years after that. Crying when he fell. I welcome their taunts. They care.
And through it all you smile.
I did. I tried to put my best foot forward. I married the person I love, and still spend time with my friends. I modified the poem. Now it was just for me.
There are times to fight,
And times to hold to hold your tongue,
Times to cry,
And a time you laugh,
And through it all I smiled.
A/N- I told you it was sad. Now tell me who it was about. Did Tony have a brother we don't know about? Did Ziva have another brother? Did Abby have family who wasn't Gibbs and the team? Did Gibbs have more family than Jack? Can you think of another character it can be about? Let me know!