Disclaimer: I don't own NCIS. Reality is a bitch.
(and i apologize for the grammer. it's really bad in spots i know but i felt like i had to get this posted. i'll try to edit it again soon.)
Tony is the King of all procrastinators. He vaguely considered getting a crown as he rolled up another piece of paper, arked back his arm to throw it as McGee's head, and froze. She's was in the corner of his eye, head cocked, arms crossed, with a don't-you-dare expression on her face. The paper fell from numb fingers and he turned, slowly, the rest of the world fading to a dull roar.
She's stood behind Ziva offering a small smile, and he could see Ziva motioning towards him with a curious expression but that doesn't matter because she's walking towards him; leaning on his desk. "Tony."
He nods slowly, tongue leaden. "Hey Kate."
She patted his hand awkwardly, fingers lingering as if she was not sure what was taboo or not, or even if she knew what she wanted to do. "I've missed you" she murmured, and kissed his cheek, eyelashes brushing the skin and then she was gone.
"Tony? Tony, are you all right?"
He looked up, blinked blurry eyes, smiled at an almost-worried-Ziva, and rolled back his shoulders in a lazy arrogant action. He wasn't feeling arrogant but the motion was practiced enough that he could do it easily. "Yeah. Just hungry. Takeout anyone?"
He didn't wait for Ziva's answer, or for McGee to point out the scattered pizza boxes littering the desks. He just bolted, car keys spinning on his fingers.
He sobbed in the front seat of his car for ten minutes and 47 seconds before he even put the keys in the ignition.
Ducky sees dead people every day. They're on his tables, splayed and silent and he cuts them up with a flash of silver. He sees their minds, their hearts, their stomachs, their blood. There are no secrets here.
He's used to seeing dead people waiting, just not waiting with a sad sort of smile, perched cross-legged on the smooth metal tables.
He stopped in the doorway, because the dead do not rise and walk but this girl walked towards him and took his hands, her voice so soft he barely heard her. "You never…got to tell me its okay. But…" She squeezed him gently. "But that's because I know it is, and you don't need to say it." She kissed his fingers, gently. "It's all okay."
She walked away, her form filmy behind the glass windows in the door and she's gone like she was never there. Ducky collapsed on the chair, chest rising and falling rapidly, losing track of the passing seconds with each ragged breath.
one, two, three, four, five
"Dr. Mallard? Dr Mallard!" A cold, gloved hand presses to his forehead and Ducky shifted, waving a hand impatiently at his assistant. "I am fine, Mr. Palmer," he scolded, an odd sort of smile curlinging the corners of his mouth. "Everything is okay now."
She's a shadow in the computer screen and Abby turned her head to the keyboard, defiant in her denial. She is not here, nor there. She's in the ground under a slab of granite and her weekly dose of flowers (black roses from Abby, daisies from McGee, and translucently pale lilies from Tony, though he refused to admit he leaves them there.) But there's nothing to deny when there's an arm snaking around her waist, a head buried her shoulder. A hug, a long forgotten ritual that was common for Abby, just not in this form. This was even more unlikely that getting a kiss on the cheek from the Director.
Slowly, Abby turned, fingers reaching out hopefully. "Kate? I've missed you..." Theres nothing there, just a void and a little sigh, like a draft, but this room is sealed, so Abby smiles softly, rubbing eyes that threaten to tear. "You should visit more often" she whisperd, intent on ignoring the fact that her voice sounds small and pathetic.
It takes three and a half songs plus a seemingly-endless guitar solo before Abby is satisfied that her makeup is once again perfect; no more runny mascara and no more tear stains.
McGee returned from coffee retrieval to find Kate sitting at her old desk, sorting through paper work. As soon as the elevator doors open she looks up, and waved. "Morning McGee."
He gapes and droped the coffee, wincing as the burning liquid stung his hand, and mumbled something about how it's technically afternoon. He is high off of coffee fumes. This isn't real because…
She walks towards him, absentmindedly brushing her hair behind her ears as she looks him over with an arched eyebrow that's all too familiar. "You look…nice" she said after a moment, tugging on the sleeve of his shirt critically.
"You're dead" McGee murmured, eyes flicking from her, to his burned fingers, to the pool of coffee on the elevator floor
She absently clicked her tongue as she gently shooed him out of the elevator, acting as if he'd never spoken, as if this is normal. "Watch out for your keyboard," she warned, offering a final smile. "Tony put superglue on it again."
The elevator doors close and McGee stood there gaping before it clicks. There's a dead girl in an elevator, approximately halfway down the shaft, headed for the lobby. Frantically, he slammed the upward arrow button, over and over.
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The doors opened reluctantly with a bitter ping, revealing only spilled coffee and Styrofoam cups. He stepped inside, and swayed, turning off the power so the elevator would stall, before robotically retrieving a mop.
"A ghost?" Ziva asked, lounging in her chair, turning the metal blade this way and that to see her reflection, fingers dancing up and down the blade absently.
"Not a ghost" Tony whispered softly, an odd expression on his face. "Kate."
"A ghost." Ziva replied primly, and barely reacted as Tony slamed his fists on her desk, only looking up with a curious quirk to her eyebrows. "What did I say?"
"Kate…is not a ghost. She is not…a. ghost."
"She is dead" Ziva whispered, sympathy brimming in her voice. "If you saw her, she is a ghost. Unless you didn't see her." She glanced at each of them: Tony's barely contained fury, Abby's blank expression, McGee's solemn face, Ducky's thoughtful saddened eyes. "I thought not." She stuck the blade in the table, flicking the hilt complacently. "Has Gibbs…?"
Silence.
"I'm certain it's nothing to worry about" Ziva offered blandly, frowning at her reflection. "Her…anniversary is coming up, yes?" Their collective silence was the only affirmation she needs.
Long after everyone at NCIS has left, Ziva waits, lounging and stabbing her desk repeatedly. Again and again. Each time the blade rises, the world's blocked out in a reflective slash of silver. Each time it falls, she sees Tony's desk. Up and down. Up and down. Up and…
There's a women standing in front of her and Ziva stood slowly, resisting the urge to grab her gun and shoot. This is what she wanted, this was what she was waiting for. Fingers shaking slighly she offered her hand. "I assume you are Kate."
"And you are Ziva." They shake, and she smiles, surprised at how warm Kate's hand is, for a dead women. They're eyes met, and the handshake ended, the awkwardness apparent on both of their faces.
They stood in silence for a moment, each appraising the other before Ziva breathes out loudly, all the tenseness in her dissipating. "I would have liked to have met you…before…"
Kate smiled and Ziva understands her friend's pain now, because this is what Ari stole, a diamond in the ruff. "I would have liked that to. We would have been friends." She nods, settling this in her mind. "I'm sure of it."
Ziva chokes on words, on prayers, caught up in a whirl of beginnings. This is why they hated her in the beginning, because she could never ever replace the girl before her. Envy turns her green and she wants to walk away but Kate's hand's wrap around her arms.
"I'm glad they replaced me…with someone as…with someone like you." Kate's eyes blur with tears that will not fall, making brown eyes glitter even more. Maybe this is death; it brings out the best in you and makes you luminescent. "You'll take care of them…for me. Right?"
Ziva nodded slowly. "Of course."
Kate rubs her eyes, brushing away the blinding tears, before stepping forward to hug Ziva. "Thank you. Thank you, thank you, thank you." And suddenly she's gone, but Ziva can still feel the warmth on her skin.
"We could…be…friends anyway" she offers to the empty room, feeling small and foolish. "If you'd like..."
She shuffled her feet awkwardly for a moment, and then mechanically began to gather her things. Her knife glinted in the lamplight, still dashed into the table, and she frowned. Her desk…she glanced over at it, forehead creasing. It's no longer hers; it belongs to both of them. This thought echoes in her head as she stared till finally she moved forward. She can't sit here, as if she was the only occupant of this desk. Carefully, as if treading on sacred ground, she shifted everything over to the right by a good inch and a half. Somehow, distantly, she could feel Kate's smile, like a sunbeam on her skin.
Gibbs is the first one there, sipping his coffee as he waited for the team to arrive. The elevator doors chime as they open and he doesn't even twitch. "Morning."
"Morning Gibbs."
Immediately he stiffened, hair rising on the back of his neck as his hands instinctively snuck to the gun at his waist.
"I'd rather not be shot again, thanks Gibbs." She snatched his coffee and swished it absently, sniffing the contents. "I see you're still addicted." She smiles disarmingly, and leans forward, kissing his forehead. "I miss you. And them." She gestured about the room. "This." She stands, slowly, and Gibbs feels his arm move, catching her wrist before he even considered the idea. She turns, the familiar face etched into his mind. "Yes Gibbs?"
"Kate," The words die and he just hangs on, intent on keeping her there for as long as possible. "Kate…"
She smiled softly, detangling herself from his grip. "You know Gibbs, you didn't have to apologize. There was never anything to forgive."