A/N: I don't own NCIS, CBS, or any other known entity. This is part of the FCG Revival challenge, and I combined the two. Both prompts required that the story be more than 500 words and have a maximum of a T rating. Challenge two asked that the story revolve around a holiday, and challenge one asked that it be about something that either feels absolutely wrong or absolutely right. This is a tragedy... so bear that in mind as you read. I hope you guys enjoy, and please review. :)

Barely Midnight

His right hand rested on the smooth skin along her jaw, his thumb tracing a line across her cheek. She didn't react, but he didn't expect her to, either. She was so peaceful, eyes closed, relaxed. He hated to disturb her.

Part of him knew he wouldn't, though.

His left hand reached down, taking her hand in his. Her skin was always so soft, which was something that always surprised him. Someone with such skilled hands and a tough shell having such soft skin just felt… strange. And somewhat wrong.

Not as wrong as this, though.

Her lying like this just didn't feel right. He wouldn't say anything about it, though. All he would do was hold her hand and cradle her cheek. He swallowed the lump forming in his throat. This was just… so wrong, on so many levels.

And nothing he could do would make it right.

It was New Year's, the one day of the year that should be filled with hope. Hope for the future, hope that something different would come up. Promises to make changes, better one's self. Hope that this would finally be the year that everything falls together, the first year that nothing falls apart. Hope that life would be great, nothing bad would happen.

Too quickly that hope has been dashed this year.

It was barely midnight.

He heard footsteps approaching behind him, and he stiffened slightly, closing his eyes as snow began to fall. The newcomer announced himself with an audible gasp before a moment of silence.

"Oh, dear," the voice, heavy with a familiar accent, said softly. There was another moment of no one talking as the wind kicked up, blowing the snow down even harder. "You know, I doubt she felt a great deal of anything, Anthony."

"Not much of a solace, Ducky," Tony replied faintly, squeezing her hand.

Ducky sighed heavily. "I'm afraid that there isn't anything I can say that is going to bring you any solace."

Tony shrugged, looking at her body through the flashing lights that belonged to the police cars and the ambulance, all of which he was trying to ignore.

Ducky walked closer, putting his hand on the other man's shoulder. "I'm so s-"

"Ducky," Tony interrupted delicately. "Please. Don't."

Ducky sighed again but nodded, giving Tony's shoulder a gentle rub through the blanket draped around him. "Perhaps you would rather I leave you alone then?"

Tony shook his head slowly. "I should go. Need to make other notifications."

Ducky moved his hand off of Tony's shoulder with a furrowed brow. "No one else knows?"

"I couldn't reach anyone but Gibbs," the younger man practically whispered.

As if on cue, the snow now sticking to the frozen ground crunched as a new car came to a stop outside the perimeter of local law enforcement. A door was violently thrown open and subsequently slammed shut, and after a quick exchange with the uniformed officers, the newest arrival was allowed under the recently erected crime scene tape.

"What happened, DiNozzo?" the familiar gruff voice asked as its occupant approached.

Tony didn't look up, nor did he trust his voice to speak at the moment. Gibbs looked over at Ducky.

"Mr. Palmer is getting the truck," Ducky said softly. "I figured since it wasn't that far from my house, I would just walk down here."

Gibbs said nothing, choosing instead to crouch in front of Tony. With a fatherly touch, he grabbed the younger man's jaw in his hand. "Tony, you're bleeding," he said quietly.

"I know," Tony replied dismally.

"What happened?"

"There was another car… an SUV or something. Something big. Driver might have been drunk, I don't know. He was speeding, tried to stop for the sign but hit the ice over there instead, lost control, and hit us. We hit the curb at a weird angle, rolled over… the other guy, he just… backed up and drove off like it was nothing."

Gibbs wet his lip. "Who was driving?"

Tony looked down at the face of the still form in front of him, swallowing hard. "She was," he said, his voice carrying the weight of a guilty man.

Gibbs rested back on his heels, looking over at Ducky as the older man tilted his face toward the body of their fallen colleague.

"She was…" Tony started, his voice breaking again. "She was gone before… before I pulled her out of the car."

Gibbs put his hand on Tony's shoulder carefully, turning the younger man ever so slightly. Tony had a long gash across his forehead, likely from the shattered windshield. He had a variety of other glass cuts as well. His right arm appeared broken, and Gibbs surmised that was either from the airbag or even Tony's arm flying out the window as the car rolled. Gibbs also guessed that Tony had other internal injuries from the airbag, seat belt, and rollover. Gibbs looked up at Ducky, who nodded and headed toward the ambulance.

"I couldn't reach McGee or Abby," Tony whispered, his voice barely discernable over the wind.

"They're on their way," Gibbs told him.

Tony nodded, still holding her hand and brushing her cheek.

"Why was Ziva driving your car, Tony?"

"We… we were out. I had more to drink than she did, but I had finished for the night. It's just that… she was getting a headache and wanted to leave a little early. I… I let her drive. Figured that… that she…" Tony's voice broke, and he dropped his chin further toward his chest.

Ducky returned carrying a second blanket, which he gently wrapped around Tony's shoulders.

"I tried, Boss. I t-tried."

"I know," Gibbs said softly. "Not your fault."

"We should've stayed longer. Just… just a minute longer…"

"Tony," Gibbs cut off before making Tony look at him. "This. Is not. Your fault."

Before Tony could respond, a new set of flashing lights and sirens arrived on the scene, and Tony flinched. Doors opened and closed, and Palmer ducked under the tape, followed by McGee, Abby, and Vance.

Gibbs sighed, standing up from next to Tony and walking to the newcomers.

"Tony, you need to be taken to the hospital," Ducky said, kneeling in the spot Gibbs just vacated.

"I'm fine, Ducky," Tony disputed lightly.

"I beg to differ, Anthony. You've sustained many visible injuries, and perhaps have more that can't be seen. You need to go to the hospital."

"I don't…"

"Mr. Palmer and I will take good care of her, Anthony. You need to take care of yourself."

Tony still didn't move, though. Not until Gibbs walked back over.

"We need to get you up, Tony," Gibbs said softly, his voice carrying tones normally reserved for Abby.

Tony didn't react, but Gibbs reached out anyway, slowly guiding the younger man to his feet. Tony grimaced in deep pain, but said nothing. Gibbs walked him to the ambulance as McGee, Abby, Vance, and Palmer all joined Ducky.

Tony looked back at the scene as he sat down on the stretcher. He eyed the falling snow as it innocently and unknowingly blanketed this nightmare, covering Tony's wrecked car and Ziva's dead body. And as he watched the people who were the only thing he considered family crowding around one of their fallen members, he felt that pang again.

This was completely wrong.

This was supposed to be a night of hope. Instead, it was a night of tragedy, of failure. And as the EMTs carefully loaded Tony's stretcher into the back of the ambulance, there was only one more thought running through Tony's mind.

Happy friggen New Year.

The End