Saying Goodbye
A/N: This is my very first fanfic. Not sure why I decided to write a death fic where I kill off my favorite character in the very beginning. Guess I'm weird that way. No real plot, just an angst fest as I explore the team's reaction to McGee's death, focusing mostly on Tony. Minor spoilers for the movie Man On Fire. Minor spoilers throughout the series. No beta so any errors are mine. Constructive criticism welcome!
Disclaimer: I don't own NCIS or its characters.
Someone else will keep you warm from now on
Someone else will keep you safe from the storm
But I'll be with you wherever you go
So you will never be alone
I'm going where the wind blows
Going where the lost ones go
…
Leave and let me go
Don't look back, just let me know
Carry on, carry on
You must stay strong
Lyrics from "I will be with you" by Sarah Brightman
"Ransom? Really? How old school is that. Who holds hostages for ransom these days? You don't even see it in the movies anymore." Tony said as he paced around the windowless bunker they'd been locked in. He still couldn't believe that he and McGee had been jumped and were now being used as leverage so the two inbred idiots who'd jumped them could get a lousy ten million dollars. He'd overheard the idiots talking. They were the paranoid, "the government is out to get us" type. It had been bad luck that the two men had taken the agents. Just a wrong time, wrong place situation that had allowed Tony and Tim to be captured. Their captors had been ecstatic when they'd figured out the badges on the men they'd taken meant they had federal agents.
McGee leaned against the wall opposite the only entrance in the building. The two men had spent the first couple of hours since they'd been tossed in the building trying to find a means of escape. However, four concrete walls, a concrete roof, and a heavy steel door did not make for an easy escape. There were a few narrow slits near the ceiling providing weak light and air, but they were too small to attempt to climb through. The only possibility was the dirt floor. The top few inches had been easy to dig through, the soil underneath, however, turned into hard packed clay that was too hard to dig with just their hands.
"What about that movie, Ransom. You know Mel Gibson's son is kidnapped? When did that come out?"
"That was 1996 McWrong. Try again."
"Okay. Taken. Wasn't really ransom but the girls were kidnapped and going to be sold into slavery."
"You can't name a movie that has nothing to do with ransom when you're trying to prove ransom is still used today!"
"Why am I the one describing movies anyway? Isn't that your job?" McGee asked.
"Think of it as a pop quiz on your movie education since you joined the team."
Tim thought for a moment. "Oh, I know. The one with Denzel Washington. Where he's a bodyguard in Mexico. I think. What was that one?"
"Now you're talking. Man on Fire. 2004. Great movie."
"Of course the drop was blown and the parents thought their daughter was killed. Hope that's doesn't happen to us," Tim said.
"Yeah, but they didn't have Gibbs, Ziva and Abby trying to rescue their daughter." Tony paused a moment. "We should watch that again when we get out of here. We can have Gibbs over and compare his rescue of us to Denzel's."
"I don't think that's going to happen Tony. I'll be up for a movie night though. Something without kidnapping and ransom."
"You're no fun."
Just then the door to their prison opened. One of their captors entered holding a gun and a cell phone. With no warning he shot McGee in the torso twice.
"MCGEE!" Tony screamed as he ran to his partner. Tim fell to the grown, moaning in agony.
"You had better believe my threats are real. Give us the money soon or you won't have any agents left to save," the man said into the cell phone. He hung the phone up, turned and left, locking the door behind him.
It was Carl Harper's very first day working for the Fairfax County Police stationed in Reston, Virginia. He was working the main desk when the phone call had come in. A deep voice had simply stated that he had two federal agents being held captive and they would die if 10 million dollars wasn't transferred to an account by 6 pm.
Harper had followed proper procedure, taking down as much information as he could, trying to get any clue to who the man might be or where he was calling from before the man had disconnected.
The rookie police officer quickly notified his superior and local federal offices were called, trying to determine who the missing federal agents might be.
By the time the second phone call had been made to the station, the police had identified the agents as most likely being from Naval Criminal Investigative Services out of Washington D.C. That was the only local agency that couldn't account for two agents.
Harper answered the main line again.
"It's been four hours. Time's running out. Do you have our money ready yet?"
Harper frantically looked around for a supervisor or one of the NCIS agents that had arrived at the office but no one was available or looking in his direction. Sweat broke out across Harper's brow as he realized he would have to talk to the kidnapper.
"We're…We're working on it. You'll have your money. Just don't do anything you'll regret."
"Don't do anything I'll regret? Ha. Two less government stooges in the world should be rejoiced." The man went off on a rant about how the government was destroying America. Harper kept the man on the line, giving an "oh" or "uh huh" whenever the man paused, hoping to keep him going as his eyes continued to look for someone, anyone to come over an assist him. He half stopped paying attention to what the man was saying, he was so anxious to get someone else to take over the phone call. Where the hell had everyone gone?
The next thing he knew he heard two gunshots over the line, and then the man had growled, "You had better believe my threats are real. Give us the money soon or you won't have any agents left to save," before disconnecting.
Just then the lead NCIS agent returned and saw Harper hanging up the phone. He raised an eyebrow at the police officer.
"The kidnapper called back. He…he said we should hurry."
"Did you get a trace on the call?"
"N-No sir." The man's steely gaze bore into him, making him quake with fear. Without another word the agent turned and left again, pulling his cellphone out and barking orders into it.
The agent exited before Harper realized he hadn't told the man about the gunshots he'd heard.
This isn't happening! No. It can't happen! "Hang on Tim, hang on. Calvary's coming. You know Gibbs will find us just in the nick of time." Tony tried to sound confident, suppressing his fear as he held his shirt over the gaping wounds in McGee's body.
"I'm cold Tony."
"You'll be fine McGoo. I promise. We'll get you home and patched up in no time." Where was Gibbs? He should have found them by now. Tony tried to recall how long it had been since they'd been taken. He guessed it was 5 or 6 hours.
"Don't think I'm going home this time Tony."
"No. You can't talk like that. Or think like that. Don't give up. I'll get you home, I promise!" God he hoped he wasn't lying. But if he was being realistic, McGee's wounds were bad. One was in his chest on the right side, the other was in his lower left gut. Not immediately fatal shots but bad shots none the less. The reality was Tim needed help soon or he was going to die, regardless of what Tony wanted or said.
"You know…I love you…like a brother." Tim's breath was starting to become labored.
"NO! No goodbyes. You're getting out of here. Alive."
"Not goodbye…Just stating a fact. Abby…and Ziva…love them too. Like sisters…Sarah..."
Tony gave a strangled laugh. "I know what you're doing. Stop. Even if it is fact. Stay with me Tim. Come on, stay with me." McGee's eyes had drifted close. Tony tapped his cheek, trying to keep him awake, afraid if McGee closed his eyes he would never open them again.
"Tell Gibbs…thank you…for everything."
"No Tim, no."
"Tony…" Tony knew. He knew his friend was dying. He could feel Tim's life slipping away through is fingers. His breathing became more labored and each breath took a little longer to come than the last, a wet sound accompanying each exhalation.
Tony bowed his head over his friend. He couldn't do this. He couldn't hold Tim and watch him die. But he couldn't stop trying to save him either. He would never stop trying.
Finally with a hitched sob, Tony said, "I love you like a brother too. So you have to hold on. Keep fighting. For me. For your family."
McGee just smiled. "It'll be okay, Tony. Don't worry about me." With those words Tim's eyes closed, he took one more breath, then his chest stilled and his body went limp.
"NO! COME ON TIM! YOU CAN'T DO THIS TO ME!" Tony shook McGee trying to get him to wake up again. "No. No." This time his voice dropped to a whisper as he pleaded with McGee to open his eyes, to wake up, to live again. Tony's hands fisted in Tim's shirt as he bent his head down low, tears streamed down his face, his body shaking with silent sobs.
Four hours later
Gibbs and Ziva readied themselves to enter the bunker, guns drawn. After Gibbs had been informed of the phone call by the rookie police officer, he'd had Abby perform a trace. The call had come from a location about an hour north of Reston in a secluded wooded area. The two NCIS agents and local LEOs had quickly found the kidnappers and taken them into custody. But they wouldn't identify where the two federal agents were being held so a physical search of the miles of woods had to be conducted. Gibbs had found the bunker but needed bolt cutters to be brought to open the beefy lock on the door.
Now the two agents were ready to enter and hopefully find their fellow agents safe and unharmed inside.
The door opened to reveal a dark room, weak light filtering down from a few slights near the ceiling. It took Gibbs eyes a second to adjust to the darkness before they were drawn to the figures sitting on the floor directly across from the door. Gibbs gut clenched when he saw the still figures.
DiNozzo was leaning against the wall, his legs splayed out in front of him, wearing just his undershirt. McGee was laying on the floor perpendicular to DiNozzo, his head resting on one of Tony's legs, his back to the door. Tony's hand was resting on McGee's head.
As he stepped into the room, sweeping left while Ziva swept right, Tony's eyes opened. Gibbs gut released when he saw the agents eyes open. They were alive. Gibbs holstered his gun as he approached his agents. Ziva remained on guard near the door.
Tony didn't speak, just followed Gibbs movement with his eyes. Gibbs knelt down next to DiNozzo on the opposite side of where McGee lay and cupped the back of his head. "You okay DiNozzo?." he asked. His eyes flicked to Tim, presumably asleep on Tony's lap.
Tony still hadn't spoken or moved. Gibbs gut clenched again. Something was wrong. He removed his hand from Tony's head, intent on touching McGee, to wake the man up. Before his hand touched McGee's shoulder, a voice startled him.
"He's gone." Gibb's barely recognized Tony's voice, it was so raw. As his hand made contact with McGee's head, Gibbs understood everything. McGee was slightly cool to the touch.
Gibbs quickly moved next to McGee, rolling him onto his back. As he did so, McGee's torso was exposed, the bright red blood that had stained his shirt bracketing the two gunshot wounds. DiNozzo's shirt was wadded up next to him, soaked with blood. McGee's eyes were closed. He looked peaceful.
Already knowing what he would find, Gibbs reached for McGee's neck. Nothing.
Gibbs didn't say anything as he clasped his hand around Tim's neck, bending his head low. While his exterior expression only showed a clenching of the jaw, inside he was struggling to clamp down the grief that threatened to overcome him. He felt as if he's lost another child.
While his agent deserved to be mourned, Gibbs had too much work to do to avenge his death. And considering the state of his Senior Field Agent, Gibbs felt the need to ensure he didn't lose a second agent due to grief and guilt.
Ziva had moved from her position by the door and knelt on the other side of Tim, opposite Gibbs. She laid a hand over his heart and began whispering in Hebrew. With her other hand, she wiped at her cheek.
"Come on Tony, we need to get you out of here."
"I'm not leaving him." Tony responded. "Promised I'd get him home."
"We will Tony. We will."
Gibbs stepped off the elevator heading for the bullpen, Ziva and Tony in tow behind him. He could see Abby pacing the floor near their desks. Gibbs braced himself for what he knew was coming.
"TONY!" Abby cried and ran towards him, giving him a crushing hug. "I'm so glad you're okay!" Abby didn't seem to notice that Tony didn't return the hug. Ziva and Gibbs stayed close, knowing the inevitable was coming.
Abby pulled back from Tony. "Where's McGee?" Gibbs watched as the smile on her face slipped as she really looked at Tony. His face hadn't been washed, the dirt broken by the tear tracks still evident. Abby looked at Gibbs. "Where's Timmy?" she asked again.
Gibbs stepped forward and pulled her into a hug. "He's down with Ducky."
"He's going to be okay right? He has to be okay. Tell me he's going to be okay Gibbs!"
"Abby…Tim's gone."
"What do you mean he's gone? You said he's downstairs." Gibbs could see the denial in her eyes.
"You know what I mean Abby."
"nonononoNONONO!" The last no was shouted. "He can't be gone! Not Timmy! Why Gibbs? Why?!" Abby burst into tears and buried her head on Gibb's shoulder. Gibbs made shushing noises, holding her tight. He held back his own grief so he could comfort the girl he loved like a daughter.
Out of the corner of his eye he watched as Ziva stepped close to Tony, laying a hand on his arm. Tony had hardly spoken on the ride back, only answering questions when asked. He worried about his other son.
The remains of Gibb's team stood in the bullpen comforting each other. Work continued in the office around them, though silence had descended on the floor. Somehow word had gotten out about their fellow agent's death. The other agents in the building remained quiet around the grieving team, trying not to disturb them.
After a while Director Vance came down into the bullpen.
"Carter's team will be taking over the case. I'll contact Agent McGee's family. Send your team home Gibbs." Gibbs nodded his understanding. He gently pulled Abby away from him and passed her to Ziva.
Ziva seemed to be the only functioning member of the team besides himself, though he knew their probationary agent was feeling Tim's death just as much as the rest of the team.
"Take them into the conference room. I'll be back in a minute." Ziva nodded her understanding.
Gibbs headed down to Autopsy. When he entered he found Ducky and Palmer quietly standing near the table Tim had been laid on. Palmer had tears on his face.
"Oh Jethro. Not Timothy. He was such a good boy. So much potential, so much life before him."
"I know Ducky, I know." The three men stood in silence looking at their lost friend.
"Give me a minute, would ya Duck?"
"Of course Jethro. Has Abigail been told? Maybe I should go lend her a shoulder?"
"Yeah, they're in the conference room. I'll be up in a bit."
Before he left, Ducky placed a hand on Tim's shoulder and leaned in close to his ear. " 'The loss of a friend is like that of a limb; time may heal the anguish of the wound, but the loss cannot be repaired.' You have left a large hole Timothy, my boy. I don't know how we will recover." With those words, Ducky squeezed Tim's shoulder and departed with Palmer in tow.
Gibbs reached out and brushed Tim's hair back from his face.
"Aw hell Tim. You deserved better than this. I'm sorry. I failed you. I hope you knew how much you meant to this team. To me." Gibbs didn't know what else to say. He was a man of few words and he hated goodbyes. Especially this kind of goodbye. He stood by his agent's side, hand resting on the young man's head a few moments longer before going back up to the rest of the team.
When Gibbs entered the conference room he found Abby crying on Ducky's shoulder. Ziva and Palmer sat on either side of Tony, palmer with a hand on his shoulder, Ziva's hand on his back. Tony was leaning on the table in the center of the room, his head in his hands.
Gibbs nodded to Ducky who transferred Abby back to Gibb's side. Ducky placed a hand on Jethro's arm and squeezed.
"Everyone will be with me tonight." Ducky nodded, gathered Palmer and departed.
"Ziva, bring Tony. We're going."
Gibbs knew his team needed to be together tonight, for comfort and in Tony's case, to make sure he was okay.
Late that evening found the team in Gibb's home. Ducky and Palmer had stopped by, stayed for dinner and had left just a bit ago. Abby and Ziva were asleep on Gibb's bed. Gibbs sat next to Tony on the couch, the young man still very quiet.
"Talk to me Tony."
Tony remained quiet for a while longer.
"I didn't protect him. It was my job to watch out for him. I got him killed. My partner." Survivor's guilt. Gibbs knew he needed to make sure Tony was watched and got the help he needed. He didn't want to lose a second agent.
Gibbs put his arm around the younger man's shoulder and gently pushed Tony's head onto his shoulder. "It's not your fault Tony. You didn't shoot Tim. Those bastards did. Don't blame yourself."
"I should have seen the gun. Should have charged the man when he entered the room. I could have stopped it."
"Where were you when he entered?" Gibbs asked.
"Near the northern corner," he answered quietly.
"Did you see the gun?"
"Not until he raised it to fire."
"Did he say anything before he fired?"
"No."
"So he just walked into the room and shot Tim?"
"Yes."
"Not your fault Tony. You've got to let it go. Grieve for your friend, but don't let it destroy you."
"He was like the little brother I always wanted."
"I know."
The two men sat in silence. After a while, Gibbs could feel that Tony had fallen asleep against him. He slowly shifted the man so he was lying on the couch. Gibbs laid a blanket over him, running a hand over his head before heading down to the basement.
Gibbs went to where his alcohol and mug were stashed. He poured himself a glass and picked it up, but didn't take a drink. His hand on the glass tightened. Suddenly he turned and hurled the glass against the wall. He turned again and gripped the side of his work bench, letting out an anguished cry. Now that he was alone, not having to be strong for his team, he gave in to his grief. Shannon, Kelly, Kate, Tim, marine's he'd served with. He'd lost so much.
The next day
Former police officer Carl Harper didn't press charges against Agent Gibbs. He deserved the punches the man had thrown at him. It had taken two police officers to pull the enraged agent off of him.
"If I EVER see you again…" Agent Gibbs didn't complete the threat as he turned and stormed out of the police station. Harper was glad he'd decided to move out to California to be near his sister.
A few days later
It was a beautiful spring day when Timothy McGee was laid to rest. Tony thought it was wrong. Shouldn't it be cold and raining? Isn't that how it always was in the movies? Why did it have to be so nice? He couldn't explain why, but the nice weather grated on his nerves.
Tony had barely managed to pull himself together for the funeral. Gibbs and Ziva had had to prod him the whole time, to get up, to shave, to dress. He was like a robot; following the orders he was given. But his team had made sure Tony was presentable and made it to the funeral home on time. God he hated this. He'd done the same for Kate and it was just as bad back then. There had been too much death in his life. Why did his friends, his family, have to keep dying?
The funeral home was full. Tim was a well-respected agent. It seemed every agent who wasn't required to be in the office or field had shown up. Gibbs steered Tony over to a seat near the front, then stayed by his side, greeting other agents who came to offer condolences. Tony looked up in surprise when Agent Fornell sat next to him, laying a hand on his shoulder. He didn't say anything. He didn't need to. They all knew how hard it was to lose a partner. To lose your family. Agent Sacks stood nearby, a look of sad contemplation on his face.
Sarah and Tim's grandmother, Penny, came by, thanking Gibbs for everything he had done for Tim. Tony looked up. Something was bothering him as they spoke. He realized what it was. He hadn't seen anyone else other than federal agents and military personnel in the room.
"Is any other family coming?" he couldn't help but ask.
Sarah and Penny looked at each other. Anger clouded Sarah's face briefly before her face went blank. Penny sighed and answered Tony.
"No. His mother died when Tim was 10 and Sarah was 2. They didn't have a big family. I only had my son Sean, Tim's father. His grandfather passed a few years ago. His mother was also an only child."
"Is his father coming?" Tony was confused. Wasn't the man an Admiral? Tony had seen a few uniformed personnel walking around but none that had identified themselves as Tim's father.
Penny sighed again. "We don't know."
Tony looked at her shocked. He was about to open his mouth, to ask how they couldn't know if Tim's own father wasn't coming when Gibbs came up and put his hand on his shoulder and gave one shake of his head, telling him to back off. Tony snapped his mouth shut. The two women looked at him sadly and walked away.
Once they were gone, Gibbs turned to Tony and studied him for a moment, as if deciding to tell him something.
"What?"
After a long moment Gibbs answered, "When Vance called Admiral McGee to tell him of his son's death, the man said 'Thank you' and hung up. Apparently Tim and his dad haven't spoken in almost seven years. His family hasn't been able to get a hold of him since."
Tony stared at Gibbs in shock. How had they not known Tim wasn't speaking to his father? And his mother had died when he was 10? He'd always thought Tim had an ideal childhood, a family that loved him. But as he thought about it he realized Tim never spoke of anyone other than his sister, and then only after they'd found out about her when they had to help prove she didn't murder her boyfriend.
Tony became angry. Angry at Tim's absent father. How could he not show up for his own son's funeral? Tony's own father was a bastard but he knew if anything ever happened to him, he would be there.
"Let it go Tony. We're his family. The people that cared for him are here. That's what's important." Tony had to work to calm himself. Feeling angry had been so much easier then feeling grief. He wanted to hold onto the anger. But now wasn't the time.
A short time later the service began. A protestant minister opened with a prayer and spoke briefly of life and death, of having faith and carrying on. When he finished, various people rose to speak briefly about what Tim had meant to them. Sarah spoke of a big brother who loved her unconditionally, who would do anything to protect her. Who she looked up to. Penny spoke of a grandson who she was so proud of. Whose work was important and how she was honored that her grandson had meant so much to all these people. Ziva spoke of how he had been the first to make her welcome at NCIS. How he was always a gentleman. Abby spoke of how big his heart was, how he always believed in people. Gibbs told of a green young man who had turned into one hell of an agent who would have gone far. Vance spoke of the sacrifices federal agents make for their country.
Other's stood and spoke, each saying how much they respected Tim, how much they admired him. Even Fornell said a few words. Tony knew he had to get up. He should but he couldn't. Gibbs had to physically pull him up and push him towards the pulpit. He stood quietly, looking out at the packed room before he cleared his throat, then began.
"Tim was my partner. I had his six and he had mine. Many of you here are agents. You know what it's like between partners. You depend on each other. You help each other. You become family." He paused, clearing his throat again as it threatened to close. "We are all family. Brothers and sisters in service to our country. Tim was my brother." Tony saw people in the audience nodding in agreement, a few clapping their partner's shoulders, as if saying, "Yes, we are brothers." He stayed standing at the pulpit a moment longer, then departed. He couldn't say anything else. His throat had finally closed as tears threatened to spill. When he sat down again, Sarah reached behind from the row in front of him and took his hand, squeezing it. Tim's sister comforting his brother. Her brother too.
After the last person spoke, the minister closed with another prayer, then asked the pallbearers to rise and take their positions. Tony rose with Gibbs, Ziva, Ducky, Palmer and Vance. Tim's family positioned themselves around the casket, then lifted together to carry him out to the waiting hearse. Sarah, Abby and Penny lead the rest of the mourners out of the funeral home behind Tim's body.
Admiral Sean McGee sat in his rental car outside the funeral home. Why was he here? Inside that building were strangers. Strangers who knew his son better than he did. Strangers that would share memories that he wouldn't know a thing about. Strangers that had accepted Tim for who he was. Strangers. Like his son had become. A stranger. Sean sighed. He really should go in. He knew Sarah and his mother Penny were in there, but he just couldn't face them. He knew he would see accusation in Sarah's eyes. And possibly disappointment in his mothers. His estrangement from his son had been almost entirely his fault. He just couldn't accept his son's choices. Tim had tried to reach out to him for the first year or so after college, but had eventually stopped. As a result, Sean hadn't spoken to his son in almost six years. And now he was dead. He'd never get the chance to try to make things right with his son. Sean rubbed a hand down his face. He really should go in. His son deserved that at least.
40 minutes later Admiral McGee was still sitting in his car when the door to the funeral home opened. Sean wasn't ready for the sight of five men and one woman carrying a casket to the hearse waiting outside. His breath caught in his throat as he watched the group slowly maneuver the casket into the vehicle. His son was in that box. He studied the group standing behind the hearse, shaking hands with the funeral director. They were an odd assortment; five men of various ages and one woman. The woman was striking and stood out for the mere fact that she was the lone woman amongst the men. At the entrance to the home, Penny stood next to Sarah. Sean wondered who the strange looking girl that was clinging to Sarah might be. Great. He didn't even know his daughter's friends now.
The mourners began moving towards their cars, getting ready for the procession to the cemetery. Sean turned the car on. He may not have been able to face a sea of strangers talking about his son, but he would see his son lain to rest. He pulled in behind the last car in the procession, but didn't activate his hazard lights to indicate he was a part of the procession. He didn't deserve to claim that privilege.
At the cemetery, Sean waited until the mourners had gathered around the plot before he exited his car. He was wearing his dress blues. His may not have realized until too late, but his son's work had been important to the men and women of the Navy. Tim deserved that respect at least. Sean stayed at the rear of the group, opposite where Sarah and his mother stood.
The service at the cemetery was short. The priest said a prayer, Sarah and Penny, the striking woman and the strange girl each laid a rose on his casket. Once that was complete, the casket was lowered into the ground. The priest stayed near the head of the grave, Sarah and Penny at his side, forming a sort of receiving line as the mourners departed. After a while only a small group consisting of Tim's family, the pall bearers, and the strange woman Sean had seen earlier remained by the grave.
Sean was surprised to see the oldest looking man in the group with his arm around his mother. A younger man with glasses stood on Penny's other side, a hand on her shoulder. A steel haired man who looked not much younger than Sean stood with an arm around the strange girl and striking women. They were each crying into his shoulders. The man's face seemed devoid of emotion, but Sean suspected he wasn't the kind to show his feelings easily. Sarah had moved into the arms of a man who looked not much older than Tim. They held each other tightly, sharing their grief. A dignified black man stood next to the group, heads bowed in respect.
As Admiral McGee stood watching the group mourning his son's death, Sarah suddenly looked up, her eyes going right to her father, as if she sensed he was there. She gasped, her hand covering her mouth. The gasp was enough to draw the attention of the man she was embracing. He followed her gaze and met the Admiral's eyes.
Sean's eyes shifted back to his daughter as he heard her whisper from across the grave, "Dad."
For some reason, the man stiffened in Sarah's embrace. Sean watched, surprised, as the man's hands clenched into fists and anger clouded his face. He took a step towards the Admiral, as if he was going to confront him, when Sarah threw both her arms around the man and began talking quietly and quickly too him, too quietly for Sean to hear what she was saying. Suddenly the steel haired man was next to the young man, a hand on his shoulder, also talking quietly to him. The man stopped moving but continued to stare at the Admiral as his daughter and the older gentleman talked him down.
It was that moment, as the eyes of everyone in the group across from him turned to Sean and he could see the grief and pain in every single pair of eyes - it was that moment Sean realized his son had found another family. They were comforting Sarah and Penny. Sarah was in turn comforting them, preventing the angry young man from coming over. They knew his son. Loved his son for who he had been, not for what Sean had wanted him to be.
Despite everything, Sean breathed a sigh of relief. His son had known love. His son was respected. His son was being mourned by people who cared for him. People who Tim had probably cared for just as much. Sean may have screwed up royally when it came to his son, but Tim had not been alone. He had another family. That realization hurt, that Sean had been replaced. But Sean was also proud. Proud that his son had become such a man, to earn a second family. Families born of blood were required to love each other. Well, usually. This family had come together by their own choice.
Admiral Sean McGee stood tall, throwing his shoulders back. He raised his hand in a saluted. He saluted his son, honoring the man he had become, the work he had done. He saluted his son's other family, honoring the love they had for Tim. As he saluted, he saw the angry young man relax his body, though his expression was still clouded. Sean saw the steel haired man nod once, slowly. He saw understanding in his mother's eyes and sorrow in his daughters. Sean held his salute a moment longer then dropped it, executed an about face and left his son's grave.
A week later
Tony sat at his desk, staring at his computer, trying to work but failing miserably. Every now and then his eyes would drift over the empty desk next to him. He still couldn't believe Tim was gone.
The team had been working cold cases ever since the funeral. Officially the break was just so a new agent could be assigned to the team. Unofficially, Director Vance wanted to ensure the team had their heads in the game before they returned to the field. Losing an agent and partner was hard on everyone. Tony knew Gibbs was dragging his feet on selecting another agent. Gibbs hadn't even looked at the stack of applicants on his desk. This time Tony was not going to prod him into selecting anyone. He wasn't ready for that yet.
Tony's phone rang.
"DiNozzo" he answered.
"Agent DiNozzo, you have a visitor. Mr. Cyrus Leevey, esquire"
"Thanks. Send him up." Tony wasn't sure who the man was. Didn't "esquire" mean lawyer? He wondered why a lawyer was visiting him.
Tony got up from his desk to meet the man at the elevator. He was aware of Gibbs and Ziva watching him. They had been very attentive of him lately, always watching him and ensuring he wasn't going to do anything stupid. Tony knew he wasn't dealing well with Tim's death. It was harder this time, harder then when Kate had died. Tim had been his partner for much longer. Tim had become his brother in his heart.
The elevator opened and an older black gentleman emerged, balancing a briefcase on top of a bulky box.
"Mr. Anthony DiNozzo?" the man asked Tony.
"Yes. What can I do for you?" Tony asked as he escorted the man to his desk.
"Is there somewhere private we can go?"
"Yeah, sure. There's a conference room right over here." Tony led the man to the conference room, aware that Gibbs and Ziva had risen and followed.
The gentleman set the box on the table and opened his briefcase, pulling out some papers. He looked up when the door closed, surprised to find three people now across from him instead of just Tony. Gibbs was glaring at the lawyer, challenging him, daring the man to tell him and Ziva to leave.
Mr. Leevey smiled at Tony. "This isn't confidential. It's just been my experience to do this somewhere privately. It's all right if your co-workers stay."
"Please, sit," the lawyer said. He continued once they had all taken a seat, Ziva and Gibbs on either side of Tony. "My name is Cyrus Leevey. I am…was…Mr. McGee's lawyer. I am here to execute Mr. McGee's last will and testament."
Tony's jaw clenched. He hadn't been expecting this. Tony tried to stamp down the grief that tried to overwhelm him again. He thought he'd been doing better at dealing with his emotions and this threatened to undo the little progress he'd made. Gibbs placed a hand on Tony's shoulder and Ziva scooted her chair closer to him.
"I was Mr. McGee's lawyer for the past five years. Earlier this week I oversaw the transfer of the majority of Mr. McGee's estate to his sister, Sarah. Before we get started, she wanted me to give this to you." Mr. Leevey pushed the box towards Tony.
Tony was confused. "What is it?"
Mr. Leevey removed the cover, revealing a stack of type paper with a title page resting on top.
"It is Mr. McGee's last novel. He had just completed it and was negotiating with the publisher when he died. Since the negotiations were never completed, Miss McGee now owns the rights to the book. My understanding is she is going to have it published, but she wanted you to have a copy of the original manuscript."
With that, the lawyer removed the top page and drew their attention to the second page. It was the dedication page for the book. It read "For my father, my brother, my sisters, my uncle and my cousin. Not all families are formed by blood." Beneath the official dedication was a hand written dedication in a delicate, feminine scrawl. "For Tim, whose family loved him."
Tony's hand shook as he traced the words, immediately understanding the dedication. Gibbs hand squeezed Tony's shoulder gently. Ziva had turned her head and was looking out the window, wiping at her eyes. Tony took a few deep, ragged breaths, trying not to break down in front of the lawyer and his team.
Mr. Leevey sat quietly, waiting until it appeared the small group had pulled themselves together. "Are you ready to continue?" he asked after a few minutes.
"There's more?" Tony asked.
The lawyer nodded and removed a set of keys and a piece of paper from his briefcase and placed them in front of Tony. "Mr. McGee left almost his entire estate to his sister. To Mr. Anthony DiNozzo he left his Porshe Boxer."
Tony slowly picked up the keys, his hand tightening around them. He had always envied Tim his car. Now he didn't want it. He would give it back in a heartbeat if it meant he could have his friend and brother back. Tony wondered if he'd ever be able to drive the car, knowing the only reason he had it was because Tim was dead. The paper was the title for the car. The lawyer had already filled out the information, effectively transferring ownership to Tony. As he pocketed the keys, Tony swallowed back the grief that threatened to overcome him again.
Mr. Leevey reached into his briefcase and pulled out a stack of envelopes. "Mr. McGee knew his job was a dangerous one. Every year he ensured his will was updated. Every year he also left letters to be delivered should he die in the line of duty."
Tony chuckled softly. "That's my McGeek. Always was a boy scout." Tony took the letter from the lawyer.
Mr. Leevy looked at Gibbs "Mr. Jethro Gibbs?" Gibbs nodded and took the letter from the man.
"Ms Abby Sciuto?"
"She's downstairs. I'll call her."
While Gibbs called down to Abby, the lawyer continued. "Ms Ziva David?" Ziva didn't even bother correcting him on her name. She quietly accepted the envelope from the lawyer.
After a few minutes Abby came in and the lawyer handed her the last envelope. Abby looked confused but didn't speak when Gibbs shook his head at her.
"Thank you for your time Mr. DiNozzo. I have a few documents I need you to sign, and then I'll be going."
Tony signed the indicated areas then shook hands with the lawyer. Mr. Leevey went around the room shaking hands and giving his condolences. Gibbs stuck his head out of the conference room and had another agent escort the lawyer out.
The group of four sat around the conference room table in silence, looking at their envelopes and the manuscript in front of them. Tony kept smoothing the envelope down in front of him. Tony's name was written across the front in Tim's handwriting. The envelope was fairly thick and would flatten a bit each time under the weight of his hand. He didn't want to open it. Didn't want to read the words written before Tim had died, knowing he could die on a case and wanting to get a chance to say goodbye. Tony knew he was being stubborn and even a bit of an asshole, not honoring his dead partner's wishes by reading the letter, but he just couldn't bring himself to do it. Not now. Tony folded up the letter and put it in his pocket.
His movement broke the spell of silence that prevailed in the room. Ziva cleared her throat then spoke softly. "Could I read that after you do?" she asked, indicating the manuscript in front of him.
"Yeah, sure," Tony answered. His hand rested on the exposed dedication page, absently tracing the words there.
Gibbs spoke up next. "I'd like to read it as well."
"Yeah, you can all read it. It just…it might be awhile though."
Gibbs squeezed Tony's shoulder again. "Take your time."
Abby spoke up. The Goth had become quiet and subdued lately, a noticeable difference from her usual bubbly personality. "What is it?"
Tony shoved the box towards here. "It's McGee's last book." He didn't need to tell her to read the dedication page. Her eyes had immediately gone to the words. Tony watched as tears filled her eyes. Gibbs moved and hugged Abby, pulling her close and whispering quietly in her ear.
Tony needed to leave. To do something so he wasn't sitting there thinking about Tim. He stood and gathered up everything the lawyer had left for him before he picked the box up and left the room. The others stood as well and followed him out to the bullpen.
Not one of them had opened their letters.
Six weeks later
Tony threw his keys on the counter as he entered his apartment. It had been a long week. The case they had been working kept them at the office or in the field late each night. Today the team had finally caught the perp.
Tony moved to the coffee maker and pushed the button to begin brewing a pot. The team had been allowed to leave early today after all the long nights, but Tony wasn't ready to sleep yet. He still had nightmares of Tim dying in his arms.
A creased, unopened letter bearing Tony's name sat atop the coffee maker. It had been atop the coffee maker since Tony came home and placed it there the day he received it. The letter was only touched when Tony had to fill the water tank on the machine, and then only to move it out of the way. But he always put it back, as a reminder to open the letter. Some day.
2 months later
It was a warm Saturday in the fall when Tony pulled his car into the parking lot of the peaceful cemetery. He hesitated only a moment before stepping out of the car. Tony shoved the creased, unopened letter into his back pocket before locking the car and heading into the cemetery. The last time he had been here had been the day of the funeral, when they had laid Tim to rest.
Why am I doing this again? Tony thought to himself. Oh yeah, to prove I'm fine. He was fine. It had taken some time (almost four months since Tim's death), but he was definitely better. Gibbs and Ziva had stopped watching his every move with concern in their eyes. Maybe that had only stopped a few weeks ago, but they hadn't started it up again. He no longer looked up towards the elevator every time it dinged, expecting to see Tim stride out, green eyes crinkled as he smiled at Tony. Okay, he only did that maybe once a week now. Tony had yet to drive the Porshe, but he had sat in it at one point last month. Sure a few tears had escaped, but at least he'd gotten in the car. Considering the car was locked up in a storage unit, and Tony had promptly set about trying to forget about it, sitting in it meant he was making huge strides towards getting over his friend's death. He might even be able to drive it one day without feeling the ache of losing his friend over again. In a few more months.
It was a short walk through the picturesque cemetery to Tim's grave. The headstone had been placed a few weeks after he had been interred, but Tony hadn't seen it. Sarah had picked a simple granite stone with a simple inscription.
Timothy McGee
September 3, 1978 – May 20, 2010
Beloved brother and friend
Unable are the loved to die. For love is immortality.
Tony gently touched the top of the stone. Propped up against the headstone was a small stuffed German Sheppard. Tony smiled as he realized Abby must have been by earlier. He knew she visited Tim once a month or so.
"Hey McGee." He felt a little awkward talking to a headstone. Tony had been raised Catholic so he was quite familiar with the concept of heaven and the afterlife. But his life experiences left him rather jaded and he wasn't sure he truly believed the soul moved on after death. He imagined McGee sitting on a cloud in a white toga, plucking at a harp with a halo over his head like so many classic cartoons portrayed. The image alone had him cracking a smile and quickly chased away any lingering feelings of awkwardness. Yeah, his brother was up there watching over him.
Picking up the stuff animal before he sat down, Tony arranged himself next to the headstone, his back leaning against its side, elbows propped up on his knees as he fiddled with the stuffed dog. He turned his head towards the front of the stone as he spoke.
"So I finally came to visit. Sorry it took me so long. It's been a bit crazy at work. Must be something in the air. The second we get one crazy locked up, another one pops his head up." Tony knew that was a bad excuse.
"It's just me, Gibbs and Ziva now. Takes a little longer sometimes, but we get the cases closed. Director Vance keeps getting at Gibbs to pick another agent. Says he'll assign one if Gibbs doesn't pick one soon. Of course he's been saying that for two months now. Gibbs just reminds him that we've worked as a team of three before and we can do it again."
"The team's doing well. We're getting by. Life moves on. You were there for us when Kate died, so you know how it goes. I can tell the others miss you though. Gibbs doesn't say much but he gets this look in his eye when he has to call a cyber geek to get information. Kind of angry and sad at the same time. Like he wants to throttle whoever's on the other side of the phone. But I think they remind him of you. The computer geeks won't even come up to our desks anymore. He kept scaring them off, yelling about how you could pull information out of thin air, why can't they? It'd be funny if it wasn't kind of sad."
"Ziva's probably handling you being gone the best. I see her look at your desk and sometimes she'll smile or her eyes will light up, like she's remembering something you did or said. I haven't figured out how she does that. You know, remember the good stuff without getting sad? I'm trying McGoo, but it's hard sometimes. See, I can say McNicknames and not even tear up." And he didn't tear up. Sure his voice waivered a bit, but he was fine. Really.
"I saw a picture of you by Ducky's desk. I think Autopsy Gremlin put it there. You know how Ducky talks to his bodies? I hear that sometimes he talks to you if he doesn't have any other guests. Well, I guess you'd know that already, wouldn't you."
"I guess you know how Abby's doing. Looks like she came by earlier." He held up the stuffed dog, as if showing the headstone the proof of her visit. "She got quiet for awhile. I don't think I noticed at the time, but I've heard others talking about how different she was. No blaring music, no endless talking. More hugs though. I think everyone who entered her lab got a hug before they could open their mouths to speak. Some even got a hug before they left also." Tony may not remember the changes in Abby, being so lost in his own grief, but he did remember the hugs. They'd helped. Sometimes he had gone down to Abby's lab just for the hugs. "I think she's eased off on the hugs with some of the other agents, but Gibbs, Ziva and I still get them. She's listening to her music again and talking like herself again. Every now and then she'll suddenly stop and get quiet for a few moments, but she's getting better." He paused for a moment.
"We all are."
Tony cleared his throat. It had felt like it was trying to close up there for a minute. "I talked to Sarah the other day. She says your book is doing really well. They're going to make it into a movie. Already scouting the actors. Nobody I know. I have a feeling Abby will drag us all to it when it comes out." Tony smiled, imagining the Goth charging forward into a theater, each of her hands grasping his and Gibbs as she literally pulled them behind her.
Tony lapsed into silence as he sat against the headstone, listening to the breeze blow through the trees. His mind wandered, thinking about Tim, about his team, even thoughts of his father crept into his head.
After awhile he put the stuffed dog back down where he'd found it before reaching into his back pocket for the unopened letter. Tony held it in his hands for a minute. "I can't believe you wrote letters, Tim. You really were a boy scout."
After only another moment's pause, Tony opened the letter and read his friend's goodbye.
Fifteen minutes later he folded the letter up again and put it back in his pocket. Tony stood and stretched. He'd been sitting for awhile. He turned and faced the headstone, touching the top of it once more.
"I miss you little brother. I promise I'll visit again. May not be very often, but I'll visit."
"Keep watching over us." Tony rapped twice on the headstone, then turned and headed back to his car.
2 months later
Tony backed the Porsche slowly out of the storage unit. Nothing else was in the space so he swung by the office to cancel his rental of the unit before leaving. He pulled the Porsche into a parking spot right in front of the office and entered the small space. As he completed the paperwork to discontinue the rental, the man behind the counter leaned over, checking out the sports car.
"Nice car man."
"Thanks." Tony turned and looked at the little Boxer, gleaming in the weak winter light. "It belonged to my brother." Tim may have left the car to him, and he was driving it now, but it would always be his brother's car.
The man looked back at Tony and studied him for a moment, then nodded in understanding.
"You take care of it. Nice car like that deserves to be driven."
Tony smiled. "I will."
He turned and put his sunglasses on as he exited the office and climbed into the car. "Don't worry Tim. I'll take care of it." The smile didn't leave his face as he drove home.
A/N: Ducky's quote is from Robert Southey. The quote on Tim's tombstone is from Emily Dickinson.