Hey.. okay this is my first NCIS ahd this story on my mind for a long time. I am not a native English speaker and this story is not betaed! So probably a lot of mistakes! If somebody wnats to beta, just contact me! I hope you enjoy reading.

Better Days

He was not sure what was worse. Plague or this. Seriously. Both threatened to kill him. This one was silent though. Yes, he disliked it more. It was not as obvious.

You had to say, it didn't give him coughing attacks, which made him feel he was choking any second, the chest pain was not there and he didn't have to lie under the disgusting blue light.

But if losing all your hair was better? And now, it was not only that, no, the chemo was not working, so they had to operate. Perfect. Another ugly scar, a big pale mark on his tanned skin, his head precisely. Ah, he loved his life.

It had begun so innocently, a headache here, some dizziness there. Over the time he forgot things, phone numbers, appointments, names, faces. He could remember waking up in Gibbs' house next to the man in his bed. They had something going on for almost two years then, but he just woke next to him and couldn't remember who the handsome man next to him was. Gibbs got angry with him for playing that prank on him. He himself had said nothing more.

Sighing Tony rested his head back on the white hospital pillow. Next to him there were towers of Abby's cards and flowers, some chocolate that Ziva brought him and his favorite Magnum DVD-collection from Tim. They visited him often, he missed work and even though Gibbs usually brought case files along with his visits it did nothing to make him feel better. He wanted to go back. He did not want to lie here, waiting to die. Or, maybe.. just maybe be alive. If the operation was successful. He knew the odds though, Abby had told him, standing at his side, sobbing, grabbing his hand and squeezing it as hard as she could, that realistically with that size a tumor the surviving rate of the operation was about 15%. God he hated that number. It came back to him again and again.

It was June 15th when they finally found out, what was really wrong with him. Why he had headaches, why he couldn't remember things, why sometimes his vision got blurry.

Tony ran a hand down his face, pinched the bridge of his nose and tried to block out the memories.

The sharp pain he suddenly felt in his arm, not knowing what exactly was happening. One moment he was sitting at his desk, searching for the current suspects address, when suddenly everything started to spin, a blur came in front of his eyes, the pain in his arm and shouts from Ziva, Tim and Gibbs.

He woke up in the hospital, the first thing he saw the piercing blue eyes of his lover. "You had a seizure."

After some tests and a loud discussion between the doctor and Gibbs, right in front of his hospital room both had come in and told him what was wrong. Brain tumor. A big one, pressing the brain tissue against the skull, causing multiple problems. They started chemo right away, but it didn't work. So now he was lying here, Gibbs sitting at his side, both lost in memories. From time to time they would look at each other, smiling slightly, realizing they had thought of the same. Better days they had and silently vowing to each other that they would come again. Better days.

Gibbs sighed deeply, starring at the hole in front of him and the coffin that was slowly sinking into it. He didn't even hear what the priest had said, he was lost in his thoughts.

The entire team had come. He felt a hand on his shoulder. When he turned around he was caught between Abby's arms. She hugged him tightly till she got a reaction out of him. He put his arms around her and gave her a light squeeze. "Thanks Abs."

Tim and Ziva came, they changed a couple of words, he couldn't remember what they had said the moment they turned to leave. Then Ducky came over.

He looked up, his gaze gliding over the guests, shortly hanging on the man in a wheelchair on the stone-made way. His white hair reflected the sun brightly, making him blink in response. He looked so old, way older than he remembered. Then again, a lot had happened since the last time they saw each other.

"I was not surprised he came." Ducky smiled, but it had a bitter touch.

"He liked him."

"Yeah, I know Duck." He nodded shortly, making his appreciation clear. There were never a lot of words between them. They were not needed.

They parted and Gibbs walked slowly over to the man in the wheelchair.

"I told you, you shouldn't have come."

"You say a lot."

"Your health..."

"I liked him. Liked that sweater too."

"Hm.." Gibbs snorted shortly, stepped around the man and began to push his wheelchair.

"Let's go home Tony."