The group walked up to the beach house. All were still dressed as they had been for the funeral, but they were now carrying shoes and go-bags. The guys had shed jackets and ties and socks and had rolled up their pant legs.
"Was this Franks place?" Tim asked.
Callie answered, "Yes and no. It's the land where Mike's place was but Gibbs came down and rebuilt it about six years ago."
"What happened to the original place?" Damon picked up.
"When Mike died, his daughter-in-law didn't want to stay here any longer," Tony supplied. "She called Gibbs and he bought it, sight unseen."
"When he got tired of being with us or felt like he was maybe a little too underfoot, he hopped a plane and came here," Harris finished.
As they stepped up onto the wide porch and went in, Callie continued directing traffic. "There are enough rooms for everyone. Just pick which one you want."
Tony wordlessly grabbed Callie's bag from her hand and headed off to the bedroom directly across from the front door. Shaking her head, she let him go and then headed towards the kitchen. She had called ahead, making arrangements to have the kitchen fully stocked.
This was the last thing Gibbs had made her promise to see through. This house, he had left to her, and her only. She figured she knew why but Callie kept that to herself. His final request was that the team would reunite for one last weekend together, no kids. When Callie had questioned, the Boss had only replied, cryptically, "You'll figure it out when you get there."
Callie had left it at that and now, here they were. Lost in these thoughts, she didn't hear Abby and Ziva, now both changed into more comfortable, casual clothes, join her in the kitchen.
"Go change," Ziva's quiet command and hand on Callie's shoulder caused her to start slightly.
"I'm fine," Callie began.
"No, you're not. Neither one of you are," Abby picked up the subject. "And you won't be until you have it out. He's hurting and, deep down, so are you."
"Just go to him, Cal. You are the only one, now, who can handle him." Ziva smiled.
"Fine," Harris harrumphed, "but don't be surprised if I shoot him instead." And she left the two women smiling after her.
Quietly opening the door, Callie slipped into the room Tony had chosen for them. He was stretched out on the bed, arms over his face, covering his eyes, still in his funeral garb.
"You know, I really hate that damned suit," She announced her presence and began removing the suit jacket she had worn for most of the day.
Moving his arm up to peer suspiciously at her, Tony replied, "It's a very expensive Armani suit, Callie. Why would you hate it?"
"It's your funeral suit, DiNozzo. You wore it for Ducky. I'm pretty sure you wore it for Fornell. Now, Gibbs. Hell, for all I know, you'll wear it at my funeral."
Callie was in the process of unbuttoning her dress to change clothes as she delivered her statement. In one quick, fluid motion, Tony had come up from the bed and grabbed her wrist, pulling her to stand in front of him. His other hand bit into Callie's hip. In a deadly tone that she hadn't heard since their days together in the field, DiNozzo responded, "Do not tease about that, Callie Harris, because we both know I have nearly buried you too many times over the last few years."
And Tony slipped his hand up, over her heart, to cover the scar that he referred to. Instantly contrite, Callie bowed her head, bringing it into contact with DiNozzo's.
In the last ten years, Callie's heart had become problematic. The delivery of the twins had done more damage than anyone suspected. She had continued to work the Intelligence Desk, even after Tony's promotion, until the first time, ten years ago, when her heart stopped and she quit breathing. Only quick action by several of the staff had saved Callie's life. The doctor had made the determination then that she couldn't be in any kind of high stress job. Her days at NCIS ended and Callie became full time wife and mother, with limitations. The episodes occurred irregularly and Callie usually could tell when they would happen. The monotony was the worse and the only thing that kept her sane were the hours she spent with Gibbs.
When he had first been diagnosed with the cancer, he had found the rehab center. But, after pressure by Tony and the others, he finally agreed to stay at the house, at least until most of the chemo was over. This gave Callie a way to repay for those long days and nights he had looked after her. It also gave Callie purpose that she hadn't felt since leaving the agency. The two had always been able to read each other…this time together only strengthened the bond.
The worst episode had occurred shortly after Donnie left for Annapolis. Callie was in the house alone. She had felt the twinge but ignored it, continuing to work, lifting boxes and rearranging the kids' rooms. When Gibbs showed up, they estimated Callie had been unconscious for nearly three minutes. The EMT had basically pronounced her clinically dead. But, Gibbs being Gibbs, refused to accept the diagnosis and, for the most part, willed Callie back to life.
The heart was too damaged for a pacemaker by this time. If she behaved, watched what she ate, didn't engage in anything too strenuous or stressful, Callie would, most likely, live to see grandchildren. The only people who knew this prognosis were Tony, Callie and Gibbs.
For awhile, they had all walked on eggshells around the redhead until she threw a classic screaming, hissy fit. After Gibbs and Tony finally quit laughing, they got the message, and life, for the most part, returned to normal. However, Gibbs still watched her intently, whenever he was near. And, the couple knew, that was why he had told the Rehab Center to call Tony rather than Callie, when something happened.
His hand over her heart had become Tony's way of checking to make sure Callie was still with him. It was also a show of affection unique and special to the two of them. She moved her hand to cover his and whispered, "I'm about to break Rule #6."
He whispered back, "If you will, I will."
"I'm sorry. I hate he felt he had to put it all on you."
"But, he didn't, Cal. It was his way of protecting you and loving you right to the very end. You know that."
"And, you?" Callie asked, moving her hands up to cup his face, "How are you, really?"
And he pulled her close, putting his head against her heart, allowing Callie to wrap her arms around him tightly.
"It hurts, Callie. It hurts so goddamned much I don't know what to do," And Tony began to sob.
She held him that way for a few minutes until he got himself under control. He finally spoke, "I don't know how I'm going to do this job now, Cal. Who will be there to help me?"
Callie smiled, "Anthony, you've been doing the job by yourself all along. Gibbs let you use him as a sounding board but he never suggested what you should do. He always just let you talk until you worked it out for yourself."
And, shockingly, Tony realized she was right. Leaning up to look Callie in the face, she smiled.
"There's something you need to see." And she released him and grabbed her phone from her bag. Scrolling through pictures, she stopped at one showing an ornate wood and glass display case and then turned it around for Tony to see.
"What's that?"
"Gibbs and your sons made it for you. He decided it was time the medals came out of the drawer," she smiled. "Even now, Janette's making room in your office and the boys will have it hung by the time you get back. They knew about the flag and made room for it. I suppose T.J. probably knew about the other medal and planned for it. Now, whenever you need help…"
"His example will be right there." He looked up, smiling, genuinely for the first time in what seemed like years.
"Also," Callie grabbed something else from her bag, "this is yours, too."
"The keys to the Charger," DiNozzo replied before she could even toss them over. "I can't believe he kept it."
"He kept it for you," she answered simply.
Shaking his head in disbelief, Tony grabbed at Callie's hand and pulled her close. "In all of this whirlwind, what did he give you?"
Callie was surprised by the question, "You don't know?"
Tony shook his head.
"I got everything, Tony. I got a job that I loved and was very good at. I got friends that are closer to me than any family. I got a father who loved me for me. I got a soul mate, confidant and lover for life. And, I got the three most beautiful children in the world. I got everything." Callie explained.
Reaching into his pocket, Tony pulled out a small box. Over the years, the box appeared at random times, always accompanied by a question. And, each time it appeared, Callie always gave Tony the exact same answer.
"You always keep that handy?" She teased.
He smiled, "Actually, yeah. I figure one of these times, I'm going to open it up," and he did as he spoke, "And ask the right question."
"What's the right question, DiNozzo?"
"I'm tired of not knowing how to introduce you. It's been almost 25 years, Cal. I think it's for keeps. And, we really should make our children legal. Marry me, Callie Harris. Be Mrs. Anthony DiNozzo. Say yes."
She smiled into beautiful green eyes and said, "Yes."
"I mean, really," Tony barreled on and then stopped. "You just said yes?"
Callie nodded, "Yes."
And he pulled her into a kiss to seal the deal.
"Now," Callie responded, coming up for air, "you get some rest. I'll call you when it's time to eat."
He didn't need to be told twice. Tony pulled off the suit, wadded it up and threw it in the corner. He'd give it to Goodwill when he got back to D.C.
Joining Abby and Ziva in the kitchen, they were both smiling, knowingly.
"I didn't hear a gunshot," Abby teased.
"There are other ways, much quieter, to kill, Abs." Callie reasoned.
Ziva laughed, "I have always preferred a paper clip."
They started cutting vegetables when Abby gave a quick squeal.
"Callie, let me see your hand."
And, Harris extended her right hand.
Slapping it, Abby admonished, "The other one."
Smiling, she extended her left hand, showing the extremely large diamond and platinum ring.
Ziva, again, had the final comment. "What was it you used to say? Oh, yes. It's about damn time."