Always On My Mind
Warnings: Major character death, vague slash, Tate, sort of songfic. Set some time after Twilight, don't know exactly when. Sorry if details are a little vague/out of sequence/plain wrong, I haven't seen much of Twilight or the following episodes.
Disclaimer: I don't own NCIS; I'm only borrowing the characters to play with. Neither do I own the lyrics to "Always On My Mind".
Tony sat at his table, hands clasped round a shot glass. It was full, but he wasn't drinking. He sat completely still, staring into the middle distance as a new song started on the radio.
"And now, folks, it's time for an old classic – tissues at the ready! Here's Elvis."
He barely heard the DJ's annoyingly perky voice announcing the song, but as the piano chords found their way into his ears and that famous voice began to sing, he was suddenly focused entirely on the small radio and the words drifting out of it.
"Maybe I didn't treat you
Quite as good as I should have
Maybe I didn't love you
Quite as often as I could have
Little things I should have said and done
I just never took the time
You were always on my mind
You were always on my mind…"
He hardly noticed the single tear roll down his face until it fell with a scarcely audible splash into the glass in front of him. Hastily, he wiped his cheek on his sleeve to get rid of the tear tracks. But what was the point? There was no-one there to see them. More to the point, she wasn't there to see them.
"Tell me, tell me that your sweet love hasn't died
Give me, give me one more chance
To keep you satisfied, satisfied…"
The tears were falling faster and quicker now, gradually mixing with the vodka in the glass and filling it up one drop at a time. He hung his head, and his tears began to run down his chin onto his immaculate shirt. But he didn't care any more. He wouldn't get another chance. He'd blown it the first time around and now he couldn't fix it.
"Maybe I didn't hold you
All those lonely, lonely times
And I guess I never told you
I'm so happy that you're mine
If I make you feel second best
Girl, I'm sorry I was blind
You were always on my mind
You were always on my mind…"
He thumped his fist down on the table, making it rattle, and the glass wobbled dangerously. That was just the thing. She'd never been his, because he'd never been able to swallow his pride for long enough to tell her how he really felt. DiNozzo, fast-talking charmer, womaniser, chauvinist. That was how she had known him, because he'd never let down his guard, just for a minute, to show her who he really was. And now she would never be able to change her memory of him.
"Tell me, tell me that your sweet love hasn't died
Give me, give me one more chance
To keep you satisfied, satisfied…"
But would it have been enough? Would it ever have been enough? Or would she have turned him down, laughed in his face? It was rejection he hadn't been able to face. It would have been hard, there was no avoiding that. But anything would have been better than this eternal wondering, the ever-lasting "what if?"
He couldn't do this any longer. It was time to end it once and for all: the wondering, the waiting, the mad hoping that one day she would walk back into the office as if she'd never been gone. Quickly, he downed the vodka, not noticing the burn in his throat. Then he fetched a pen and paper and began to write.
"Little things I should have said and done
I just never took the time
You were always on my mind
You are always on my mind
You are always on my mind…"
He finished the letter, not even taking the time to read it back. As the song faded out, he folded it over, wrote a single name on the front, and placed it on a small table in the living room. Without hesitation, he went back to the kitchen, opened a cupboard, and took out the bottle of vodka and the medicine box.
Gibbs slid his credit card into the doorframe and moved it expertly through the lock. Tony hadn't showed up for work that morning, and he was worried. He hadn't shown it, of course. He'd told the others he was going out to investigate a lead on their next case. But he'd come straight here, to Tony's flat.
They'd become closer following Kate's death. They'd both been hit hard by it; Gibbs because he'd lost a highly respected member of his team, and Tony – well, they'd all suspected Tony had harboured something more than the expected friendly feelings towards his co-worker. Both had needed someone to talk to. Gibbs wasn't quite sure how it had happened. But somehow, Tony had opened up to him, one night while they were both staying up late, working furiously on something or other. And if Gibbs hadn't exactly poured out his innermost thoughts and feelings, he'd certainly been a little friendlier towards him. The headslaps became less frequent, the cutting remarks almost non-existent.
It was just a pity that Tony had never got around to giving him a key to his flat, as he'd mentioned a couple of nights back. But he'd known, of course, that Gibbs could get into his flat any time he wanted, as he was doing now.
The lock clicked back and he stepped inside. He could see at once what he'd really known he would see all along. Tony was lying on the sofa, his head tipped to one side. As he got closer the acrid smell of sick hit him, but he didn't falter. When he reached his friend's body, he knelt down beside him and gently wiped the vomit off his face with a clean tissue. There were tear tracks down Tony's cheeks, still visible, though Gibbs guessed he'd been there since the night before. His skin was pale, cold and stiff, and he no longer looked like Tony any more. Dammit, he wasn't Tony any more. He was just another body, just like the ones Ducky cut up every day down in autopsy.
Gibbs stood up, and glanced down at the table. There was an empty glass, and next to it a folded piece of paper bearing his name in Tony's handwriting. Slowly, he picked it up and began to read.
Dear Boss,
I know you'll find be the one who comes to find me. And I know that by the time you're reading this it'll be too late. I'm not letting you stop me this time. Third time lucky.
I'm not going to apologise for what I'm about to do. All I can say is, I'm sorry for what I'm going to put you and the others through. I know that when you find me I won't be a pretty sight. I know that Abby and McGee will be shocked – hell, I'm DiNozzo. DiNozzo wouldn't kill himself. And I know it'll be hard for Ducky to see my body – first Kate, and now me.
Kate. I'm sure you'll have guessed why I'm doing this. You and all the others know I loved her. And I was too proud to admit. Always too proud, and now I'm paying for it.
Because she died. I couldn't save her, Gibbs. None of us could. And now she's gone, and I never told her. It would have been so easy – just three small words, and I could never pluck up the courage to say them. I'm a coward, and I'm taking the coward's way out. I know that, and to be honest, I don't care any more.
I can't bring her back. No amount of waiting, wishing and wondering is going to bring her back to life. Abby, Ducky, McGee – they can't bring her back. Even you, Gibbs – even you can't bring her back. The bastard that did it is dead, and she didn't come back to us. To me.
They say that ghosts are the spirits of people with unfinished business. I don't know about you, but I never saw her ghost. I don't know if that means she didn't feel the same way about me, or whether I'm just not in tune with my psychic side, as Abby would say. But I'm going to find her.
She was religious, wasn't she? I can't say I ever believed there was anything out there, but if there is a God, and he has any kind of heart at all, he'll give me another chance. I haven't led a bad life. If there is some kind of afterlife, I should be going to wherever Kate is. I hope to God I am.
And if he doesn't exist, well, I haven't really lost anything, have I? Only my life, and you couldn't really call it living any more, could you?
I know this is selfish. I'm a selfish bastard. I dealt with that a long time ago. You all did. But I am sorry. I'm so, so sorry about what this is going to do to all of you. But especially you, Gibbs. Because I never wanted to hurt you. I really didn't. And maybe, in another life, in another world, a world without Kate, we could have had something. I love you. They say you can't love two people, and I say they're wrong. I love Kate, and I love you.
But it's not enough to keep me here any more. I can only hope you don't feel the same way about me. The others need you. Even more so, when I'm gone. Buy Abby a Caf-Pow for me. It's not much, but it'll have to do. Give Ducky a hug. I never did, and I should have done. And hear one of his stories out for once. He deserves that. And McGee – tell McGee he was the best probie I ever knew. Let him have my desk, my computer. Look after him, Gibbs.
I've got nothing left to give you. Have whatever you want from my flat. The others can too. But you probably won't want it. All I can say is have a good life. And remember me. Please.
This doesn't sound much like Tony, does it? But Tony died when Kate did. Tony, the Tony you've all been seeing, he's just a thin façade. It's cracking, and I couldn't let you see the real Tony. Except you. This letter, this is the real me. And I wish you could have seen it before all this happened. But I never opened up to anyone.
So there it is. And now it's time to say it. If any of me still exists when I'm dead, I'll miss you all.
Goodbye, Gibbs.
Tony
He sat for a while next to Tony's body, staring into space, just as Tony had done the night before. Then he folded up the letter again and slid it into his pocket. It was time to go and tell the others.
In the kitchen of Tony's flat, the radio crackled and fuzzed. The DJ mumbled on about this new hit and that new artist, but no-one was there to hear it. But if there had been anyone there, they might just have heard a faint whisper.
"Kate? Are you there, Kate?"
(More angsty drama again – like/dislike?)