Title : Funeral for a Friend
Summary : Ziva contemplates the death of a friend and how she going to break it to her family. One-shot, death fic. Maybe a tiny hint of slash if you stand on your head an squint (don't try though, It'll just give you a head ache). You have been warned.
Author's Note : I got bored. And apparently a little depressed. Took me a while to decided how this was going to go, but in the end, I think it worked. Happy reading.
She wouldn't cry. No. She had to stay strong. For them. She couldn't be the one to break. Not this time. Not ever. She was going to keep her cool. For her family.
Abby would be devastated. He was one of her favorite people. How was she supposed to break it to her? Abby would fall apart. She probably wouldn't be able to function properly for a few weeks. If she ever recovered.
And McGee. McGee looked up to him. How was she going to tell him that his idol was… god, she couldn't even say it. Couldn't even think it.
And the Director. How does one exactly go about telling her boss that one of her best agents is dead? "Good morning Madam Director…" then proceed to tell her exactly why it wasn't (a good morning that it).
Ducky would probably find and drink some finely aged scotch then start telling her stories in such a heavy, slurred accent that it would be completely incomprehensible to anyone not from 'the mother-country'.
The last person she had to tell she wouldn't have to tell. She wasn't sure if this was a good thing or bad. He had been there to watch it happen. He was riding in the ambulance with him. Maybe it was better this way. That he had been there to witness it. She wasn't sure he'd believe it otherwise.
But she had to stay strong while she informed them. She couldn't breakdown. If she showed weakness, if she cried, then she knew they would too. And if they all broke, she wasn't sure they'd all make it.
"Morning Zee-va," Abby greeted happily, jumping over to her Mossad friend. "What's wrong?" she asked, cheerful attitude deflating like a balloon when she caught wind of Ziva's sorrow.
Ziva looked like crap. Probably felt like it, by the looks of things. She was covered in dirt and half a pant leg was singed off. Her hair was matted with knots and mud. The laces of her boots were coming untied. She had tears welling up in her eyes and she refused to look Abby directly in the eyes.
"What happened?"
"Um…" Ziva scrunched up her face and looked at the ground, contemplating the beast way to break the news to her. "He's… uh… He is dead."
"What?" Abby asked, not sure what she was hearing. "Who's dead?"
Ziva tried to fight the tears threatening to fall.
"Ziva? What happened out there? You're scaring me." Abby had a truly terrified look on her face.
"There was an accident. It was a trap. We um… we knew it the second we entered the building. We tried to get out, but there wasn't … time. We made it to the car before the bomb went off. We should have all been fine. We were all fine… then…"
"Ziva! What happened?"
Ziva closet her eyes, willing the tears to leave. "Ketterman came up behind us with a gun. We all managed to get two bullets in him apiece… but not fast enough… He shot him… right in the forehead…"
"SHOT WHO ZIVA!? Who's dead?!"
"Gibbs. Gibbs is dead." Then Ziva clapped her hands over her mouth not quite believing what she'd said.
"What?" Abby whimpered.
"He's dead," she whispered, tears falling freely.
"No," Abby said, eyes wide in disbelief as he knees gave way and she fell to the ground.
"I'm sorry," Ziva said, lowering herself to the ground as well and wrapping her arms around the Goth.
"No," Abby said again, shaking her head in disbelief. "He can't be dead. He just can't be."
"I know it's hard to believe…" Ziva said. Hell, she couldn't even believe it herself and she had been there to witness it.
I'm thinking about maybe doing a companion piece from Tony's POV. If I do it will be slash-ish.
Let me know what you all think and whether or not I should do that companion piece.
Ella
