Title: Dreams
Author: Peach
Disclaimer: Obviously, I won't let Kate die if they were mine.
Author Note: So, my little hiatus is abruptly ended when this finale came along. What on earth were they thinking, killing Kate? sigh. They suck.
I have to say this first – I am a Catholic, and so I am familiar with the use of a setting within a Catholic funeral. I have, also, used some rage against Lord, which I understand from having talked to people who have lost their loved ones. I hope I have not offended anyone with the language used here, but if you are someone who will be upset by people questioning God and his actions, you may not want to read this story. Having said that, please don't flame me later for being inconsiderate of others' (or my own) religion.
Spoiler: Season 2 Finale
In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit. Amen.
He is sitting at the back of the Church while the Priest offered his greetings and introduction for the last earthly meeting with Kate. His fellow teammates are sitting on either side of him, and he can feel the tension radiating from them.
Lord, have mercy…Christ, have mercy…Lord, have mercy…
He is bitter, and he won't deny that. Where was God when that deceitful sorry excuse of a man take the cowardly way out and put a bullet in her head miles away? Where was His mercy when he was standing on that rooftop trying his damnest not to off himself by jumping off the building?
When he needed that forever elusive mercy and grace, it wasn't there for him, and more importantly, it wasn't there for Kate.
It has almost been a week since her light was snatched from her, and he still cannot understand what is happening, still has trouble grasping the idea that from now on, the desk across from his will be empty, or be filled by someone who will never ignite sparks he shares (Yes, shares. He refuses to use the past tense for her, for she is always alive, always with him, though it is physically impossible) with Kate.
He stands when the time is right and sits back down as soon as possible. His brain isn't working, but he is Italian, after all, and he is raised Catholic. He knows the drill. He went through it when his grandfather passed on in his teens and when his father left a few years back. He knows exactly the right words to say, and he murmurs them.
It has become a brainless activity in which he simply does what is required of him. He can feel Gibbs' worry eyes on him several times, but he doesn't want to look at the older man and see the sorrow and the pain reflecting his in his eyes. He can barely hold himself up; there is no spare energy for him to see others and offer any sort of comfort. McGee is sitting to his right and beside him sits the Goth lab tech – who is now dressed in a black conservative outfit with none of her trademark accessories. Both of them are quiet and subdued, with eyes so bloodshot that he is sure they have depleted their tears' supply for the year.
He has used up his for the lifetime.
The Responsorial comes after the First Reading, and he tries to follow, albeit off key, the choir in praising the Lord's plan, His greater scheme of things. What plan? He wants to scream. What scheme of things? What can be accomplished by killing Kate, other than to offer the damn bastard who betrayed their leader's trust the satisfaction of a mission accomplished?
The second lector moves to the altar and starts the Second Reading. He sits stiffly and waits for this to end also.
Up in the front sits the family of his colleague and friend on one side, and the President and his whole detail and other government officials on the other side. It created quite a buzz when the President announced he has decided that he would like to attend his former detail's funeral. He shakes his head at the display. What good will it do when there's a sniper trying to kill you? Kate survived a shot at point blank range, as she has pointed out immediately before the fatal shot from miles away, out of their pistols' range. What will all these people be able to do when someone has decided to be a sneaky bastard and take a coward's way in an assassination attempt?
A Reading from the Holy Gospel According to John. Glory to you, Lord.
Kate's younger brother has walked up after the Reading and, per custom, starts telling Kate's life story.
She was an ice princess, he says. She loved to skate, and it was her dream to make it to the Olympic team representing this country.
She is proud to be an American, and feels she should help bringing honour to those who also lives under the great Constitution, comes his brother's soft whisper.
His voice cracks at the end when he states firmly how proud he is to be a brother to the amazing woman that Kate was. You are my hero and my inspiration, Caitlin, his tears running down his cheeks as he claims softly. I will look up to you always and remember your fine moments.
The rest of the ceremony becomes a blur to Tony. He sings along with the choir, kneels for the Eucharist, and takes his Communion when it is his turn. He is on auto-pilot and he can't stop his tears from blurring his vision. But he holds them back. He won't cry. Kate won't want that.
He walks out when it is time to move the casket carrying his dearest friend out to lay to eternal rest. Kate's family has asked him and Gibbs to be the honourary pallbearer, and he struggles before accepting this opportunity to take Kate for her last journey, to chauffeur her around one last time.
He puts his white gloves on top of her resting place before she is lowered into the ground and covered by dirt and concrete, separating them forever. No sun will ever again shine on her face and makes her skin glow; no wind will ever again blow against her hair and make them fly.
She is now stiff and motionless, lifeless, laying six feet below ground.
The wake is to be held at Kate's apartment, and Tony begs off. He can't go back there. He doesn't think his stomach can stand it, and he doesn't think he'll ever be able to set foot in another apartment with similar furnish without throwing up his lunch. All he wants to do is return to his apartment and to wallow in the sea of pain during the mandatory leave, which may turn permanent (because sitting opposite from an empty desk – HER empty desk – will truly be too much for him). He knows he is not the only one on his team that has entertained that idea, and there is still a big possibility that should he choose to leave all that behind, he won't be the only one.
Her mother stops him before he can make his escape. She is a composed and kind lady, who has long accepted the fact that her daughter may not be alive on a day-in-day-out basis.
"She was with the secret service, after all," she has said when he offered her his condolences and asks repeatedly if she was okay. "It was her job to jump in front of the bullet intended for the President."
The image was all too familiar in his head – that Kate jumped in front of a bullet intended for Gibbs from the terrorist. The relief that swept through him when he realized her vest has stopped the bullet was bittersweet, and it accompanies the shock and utter disbelief only seconds later to find her life bleeding out from a hole in her brain by the archenemy on both his and Gibbs' list.
Who is now also on the FBI's wanted list and on the NCIS wall of fame of wanted terrorists.
NCIS agents do not take the death of one of their own lightly.
"She will want you to have this, Anthony," she hands him a paper bag when they reaches his car. It is a rental, a black one, because the flamboyant red vehicle he purchased after his last one was stolen simply is not appropriate for the parting ceremony for the good friend and the sister he never has. She leans in to hug him, "Don't be a stranger. Caitlin thought of you as family, so to me and Thomas, you are family. As are Jethro and Ducky and Tim and Abby. You are all welcome in our home, and do keep in touch."
He murmurs his agreement, though he knows he will never make them true. Keeping in touch with her family will only remind him of his failure, and that is one memory he wants to bury forever, if possible.
He waits until he is in the safety of his apartment before he opens the package, and gasps when he sees its content.
Kate's sketchpad, the one he has asked repeatedly to see, is now a possession of his, a gift from her mother. She has drawn their daily battles against crimes to life in this sketchpad of hers, and he is flattered to see she has several drawing of him inside, the last one dated during his recent sick leave thanks to his own stupidity.
Tears that he tries to hold back now falls freely. Quickly he decides he will disperse the drawings to his team members when he sees them again. They all deserve something of Kate's, anything, if only to remind them of their failure to protect one of their own.
They all need something to hold onto so their memory of the remarkable woman they have the pleasure to call their friend and colleague will never fade and be lost.
Tony knows sleep won't come easily for him these days, and for the night, he is content to simply sit in his living room with her sketchpad and relive every moment they have shared. Then, he will will himself to sleep and hopefully will dream.
Because, from now on, his dreams will be the only place they can meet.