A/N: Well, this is it, the last chapter. It's taken me 6 months to finish it but Cold November is at last done and I'm very happy to finally have the whole thing done. I have a thank you at the end and two little spoilers for stories I'm working on writing.

Title: Cold November

Rating: PG-13/T (Old enough to watch to the show and understand the concepts of the plot)

Disclaimer: All of that is in the first chapter.

Summary: I kneel down and set the dozen roses on the grass over her grave, she would have loved them.

I walked slowly down the small path through the very lonely cemetery. I don't want to have to do this, but I know I have to and I need to.

Why was it always so cold when people went to funerals or visited a grave, why was it always so cold when someone dies? I hate it when it's cold outside and when I'm cold, because it always reminds of death. Cold causes death, not guns, poison, drugs, and knifes, it's the cold that overcomes us that kills.

The only part of me that isn't cold is my forearm; the second-degree burn the explosion left on my right arm didn't seem like it would feel cold again. It would heal with time and it had done little nerve damage, but it would still leave a small scar and I people would be able to tell I had been burned.

I concentrate on my feet hitting the stone walkway as I make my way deeper into that cold grassy plain filled with the unmistakable feel of death lingering in the air. After having a job like mine for so long you can just feel death and pain around you, and there's nothing you can do to get rid of that feeling.

I shiver and pull my coat even closer around my body, like that will block out the cold and any other evil thing that will come out from behind a tree and do some terrible thing to me. And that would be so much better, so much better then walking to her grave and trying to hold all the emotions back.

After so many times of deaths knocking at my door I've just learned to look like I feel nothing, like pain can never hurt me or tare me down. But I do hurt when people knock me down, and I do feel the pain of a lost loved one. I just have to be strong for everyone else, I have to protect them and not let them see me weak or torn into pieces, I can't cry or wail in pain, because I'm strong.

I am strong and I will not fall, and I will not break down, and I will not let anything I feel show, ever. I will stand tall and proud and I will never feel, because those of us who are strong do not feel.

I finally reach her grave; small, gray, course and cold.

I kneel down and set the dozen roses on the grass over her grave, she would have loved them.

Tears; there just as evil as the cold, so weak yet with so much power. I hated the tears that spilled over the tips of my eyes, I hated I couldn't take them back, I hated that they just kept coming, and most of all I hated that it felt so good to let them flow down my cheek making the bandage covering the five stitches wet with those little drops of water.

"I loved you so much, you've never really going to know how much I loved you."

I stand back up, this was just suppose to be visit, a time to get everything I was feeling about her out before I headed to the hospital; I had already said goodbye once, saying it again would just make it worse.

I walk back through the path, wiping away what tears I could.

As I got back into my car I took one last look at that cold cemetery and wondered if I would ever come back.

1/2 hour later

I walk into the hospital, by now I know my way around pretty well. I don't have a problem with finding her room anymore. I make my way to her door and walk into the still silence or the hospital room.

It seems to get darker and darker in this room as time goes by, the eerie feeling of loss always seems to do that. Death, hurting, weakness, and sadness always makes things look dark and gloomy. But she was never dark and gloomy; she was bright, happy and always full of energy. This room she was in was nothing like her.

I pick up her hand gently, like she was a fragile flower that had been stepped on and broken in the rain. She was a flower, a very beautiful flower; she deserved more than this, deserved more then being a broken flower, she deserved to be a full and glorious flower who was learning how to be even more beautiful.

They're are those tears again, those horrible little bubbles of transparent fluid that find there own little way across my face and show so much weakness. It felt even better to let go of those little tears now then before, to not wipe them away but let them freely drop.

I held her hand in both of mine and kissed the very tip of her knuckles, "Baby, I love you more than anything. Honey, you have to know I didn't want you to get hurt, I didn't want you to get shot, I didn't want you to hurt." I hold her hand up to my good cheek, "Lilly, you have to keep fighting and not give up, cause I'm never going to give up on you, I'm never giving to let you down again."

I finally brake down, I can't hold anything in anymore, and I can't be strong. I can't stand tall and proud and never feel, I have to feel and let it go, I have to cry and wail in the pain I feel. I cannot be me right now, I need to fall and let my emotions show, just long enough to get it all out and finally feel.

I just stay there crying for Lilly and the life she will never get to live, and for Jessica and the life she lost to that evil cold. I can't stop crying, cause to stop I would have to be strong, and right now I am not strong. I'm weak and just as broken as Lilly; except I'm no flower, I'm nowhere close to the flower she is.

Why couldn't it have been me, why was it my sweet little flower, my sweet little baby girl.

Death; that's all November is, death and hurt and pain, it would never be anything other than that. I would never be happy again, it would never be fun and exciting again, it would always be death.

Cold; it's the feel of evil and death mixed together, the cold would always be unwelcome and hated.

Cold was always evil and November would always remind me of death. So this evil death would always be a Cold November.

Please Review! Just this one time.

Thank You: First, I would like to say thank you to all of my wonderful reviewers, you all made this story so much more fun to write and have kept me going from beginning to end. Second, I would like to thank my sister who half way beta read this story and helped me a lot with the plot and names for characters. And third, I would like to thank all of you NCIS fanfiction writers out there who inspired me to start writing fanfiction, especially Aeria who beta-ed a lot of my work and really helped me get a good love of writing.

Extra: Ok, I thought I'd put up a couple of ideas I had for some new stories up and see which one you the readers liked better. If anyone is looking to write a story with someone I would gladly work with you on one of the these or another idea.

1

When McGee finds himself faced with a family emergency he has to fly to New York with the possible death of his mother looming in the air. While at NCIS, as Gibbs has to find an Agent to fill in the place of McGee for the time he will be in New York and just as the team find the right agent for the job they are assigned to a top priority case and are working against the clock to find a serial killer before he strikes again.

2

After five NCIS Special Agents are kidnapped over one year, Gibbs and his team are assigned to the case after a sixth Agent goes missing and connects the other disappearances. There are just a few problems, the sixth Agent kidnapped is one of Gibbs closest friends and he has to find him and the others before their captors murder the Agents. Plus, their planning on bombing a building in DC, but are team doesn't know when, where, who, or why.