TAPS
an epilogue

"I don't think I will ever feel about anyone else the way I feel about you."
"That's very flattering. One piece of advice: don't share that with your wife, whoever she might be. She might not understand."

-Harm and Mac, JAG

- - -

Tony was woken that morning by a four-year-old child unceremoniously tackling him as he laid in bed.

"Grandpa!"

"Oof!"

"Time to get up! Gramma says so! She called you a lazy bum."

"She did, did she?" Tony grinned at the little boy. "You can come out now, Jen."

His wife Jennifer, a cheery, plump blonde, emerged from behind the door.

"You caught me," she said, coming over to perch on the edge of the bed. She kissed him lightly. "Good morning."

The little boy was now romping about the room. He knocked into the nightstand, and a small metallic object toppled to the floor. Enthralled, the four year old picked up the little cylindrical object, one end of which was tapered. He immediately began trying to pull it apart, and when he couldn't manage the task with his hands alone, he piloted his chubby fingers towards his mouth.

"Rick, no!" Tony barked.

Frightened, the little boy dropped the object and ran for his grandmother.

"Tony!" his wife looked scandalized.

"Sorry," he muttered.

Tony's pulse was pounding, and he was sure his blood pressure had skyrocketed. He retrieved the object and stared fiercely at it. When he looked up, Jen and Rick had left the room. Jen knew- or, at least, she had some idea- of what the bullet was, and why Tony still kept it.

It had been fifteen years to the day, and he still retained the memory of Kate's death, however faded and time-worn. He retained it because he couldn't forget, refused to forget. He fingered the bullet. I miss you, Kate. A lot of things had happened since then. He met Jen. Married her.

For a few months after Kate's shooting, Tony had stayed at NCIS. He worked late, drank coffee instead of sleeping for the most part, and he did his best not to think about it. Instead he turned his mind to joking, and flirting with Kate's replacement. She wasn't the same as Kate, not anywhere near, and he didn't hesitate to remind her often- very often- that she was trying to fill a pair of shoes that would never fit her. She was just about blind enough to need a Seeing Eye dog, and she didn't notice that Tony was just hiding behind a cardboard cutout of what he used to be. Kate would have noticed, he found himself thinking.

Then, about a year after, Tony shattered. He quit NCIS after one morning when he didn't drink quite enough coffee to get by and ended up lunging across an interrogation table at a suspect in a sniper shooting.

It took him several years to redirect himself. He started attending Mass again, like he had when he was ten and his parents used to dress him up and take him every Sunday, but this time around he didn't want to be a devout Catholic. He just wanted to be good enough. Good enough to get into heaven, where Kate surely was right now. He was going to see Kate again, if not in this life, then in the next.

Church was also where he had met Jen.

She had been married once already, with a thirteen-year-old girl (now twenty-three, married, and Rick's mother) from a previous marriage. Her husband had been getting groceries at the local Shop Mart when a couple of teens with guns shot up the place looking for cash and a little adventure. She was around the same age as him, just two or three years older. She was opposite Kate in that- Kate had been a few years younger than him.

As a matter of fact, Jen was opposite Kate in lots of things. She was blonde, and Kate had dark hair. She had a stockier build, and Kate had been all long legs and slim physique. Jen was gullible and sweet and easy-going where Kate was feisty and sardonic and take-charge. And sometimes Tony wondered if that was why he'd married her. Because she wasn't Kate, was nothing like her, they were oil and water and there was no way to compare them.

Sometimes, Tony wondered if he really loved Jen and her family, if the only reason he picked her was because in the end, in heaven, he'd find Kate and Jen wouldn't mind, because she would have her old husband. But he'd said the words and walked the walk, and here he was, having been married to Jen for almost ten years.

Tony wasn't sure if she knew he kept a framed photo of Kate on his desk at work, next to the one of himself and Jen and Rick grinning and laughing. He didn't remember anymore where he got the picture. Probably from Abby, or Ducky, or her mother or one of her friends. But it didn't matter, because he had it, and it wasn't the wet T-shirt photo.

He drove to work. Parked in his old space at NCIS, where he'd been reinstated. Snapped at his team. Got into a battle of the wills with the newest SecNav. Solved a case. Barked some more orders to his employees. Didn't let them see him stare at the image of Kate, an impish smile playing at her lips.

They thought he didn't hear them when they were talking in low voices.

Today was the anniversary. Of what? Something to do with the brunette DiNozzo has a picture of on his desk. She's not his wife. Not his sister. It was taken over twenty years ago. I heard some scuttlebutt. There was a shooting; that woman's dead. Did he love her? No. I doubt DiNozzo ever loved anyone.

He announced his presence with a sharp command as he strode into the room to cover up the fact that he'd heard them. He didn't want to deal with them. Not now.

Tony left early. It was Friday, and he had somewhere to be. He made a visit every Friday at three in the afternoon, like clockwork. He had been told consistency helped Alzheimer's patients. The nurse at the reception desk knew him by now. She waved him on, and he found the room number with no trouble. He knew it by heart. He knocked lightly at the door, and opened it.

"Hi, boss," he said quietly.

Leroy Jethro Gibbs was almost seventy now, and he didn't remember a lot these days. He had long forgotten his parents, all his ex-wives, FBI agent Fornell and JAG official Commander Coleman. He had forgotten Paula Cassidy, Rachel and Primo and their team, Director Morrow, and sometimes even Jimmy Palmer and McGee were a bit fuzzy. Gerald was another story, and the only reason for that was that he was inextricably linked to Ari, one of the few people Gibbs hadn't quite forgotten yet.

No, Ari was still fresh in his memory. So was Tony. And Ducky and Abby, and Kate. He couldn't ever forget Kate.

That, of course, was when he was normal.

Every few months, he lapsed into a strangely calm, serene state. In this state, Gibbs had never heard of anyone named Ari, was that a Middle-Eastern name? In this state, Abby still dressed in her crazy fashion and cracked funny jokes. And in this state, Kate was still alive. As a matter of fact, in this state Kate was more than just alive. She was also married to Tony.

This particular Friday, Gibbs was in that state. Different doctors said it was stress, or the Alzheimer's, or a defense mechanism his subconscious employed so that he didn't have to remember. Tony didn't really care why it happened, because in this state was the one period of time when Gibbs was happy. So he played along.

"DiNozzo, how's Kate?" he demanded as soon as Tony entered.

"She's fine, boss."

"At home with the kids?"

"Yeah," Tony said. "She said to tell you she was sorry she couldn't visit today."

"That's okay, DiNozzo. Someone's gotta stay with the kids, and it sure wasn't gonna be you," Gibbs said with a grin that was but a shadow of his old smirk.

"The kids like me fine, boss," Tony said, pulling up a chair.

"Well who else is gonna feed 'em all the junk they wanna eat?"

Tony laughed.

"Got a call at work from Dr. Houston. He said-"
"He says I'm gonna die, DiNozzo." Tony opened his mouth to protest but Gibbs cut him off again. "I know he put a sugarcoat on it and wrapped it in a pretty package with a bow, but that's what it means. My heart's giving out."

Tony nodded silently.

"I'm not ready to die, DiNozzo."

I'm not ready for you to die, either, he thought.

Kate was gone. Ducky was gone. McGee had been knifed by a suspect, whom Tony killed only seconds later. Abby was somewhere doing top-secret work with a government agency. The last time Tony saw her was almost a year ago.

And now the doctors said it was Gibbs' turn.

The visit that day was fairly short. Gibbs ushered him home to Kate and the kids, and Tony left with a sick, twisting fear in his stomach. This fear was not unwarranted, just a little premature. For the next three weeks, Tony continued his Friday visits as usual, and only one thing seemed off. Gibbs was in his tranquil, quiet state for all three weeks in a row. On the fourth week, Tony got a call from the doctors, since he was the only person listed as one of Gibbs' emergency contacts. When he arrived, Gibbs was lying down, with his eyes closed.

Before Tony could say anything, and without opening his eyes, Gibbs spoke.

"You're not married to Kate, are you, DiNozzo?"

Tony was silent for a moment, weighing his choices in answers. But Gibbs continued.

"She's dead, isn't she?"

Tony nodded.

"That terrorist shot her. Did I kill him?"

"You sure did, boss. Emptied the whole clip into him."

"Tony?"

He started at the use of his first name. Gibbs always called him "DiNozzo."

"Yeah, boss?"

"When I see Kate again, is there anything you want me to tell her?" Gibbs sounded almost like a little boy, and Tony had to fight the sudden urge to cry.

"Yeah, boss. You can tell her... tell her I love her, okay? Tell Kate that for me."

"M'kay," Gibbs muttered, closing his eyes again and settling back into the pillows. The monitor began to slow, and Tony didn't know if it was death or sleep that was claiming the only lifeline he had left.

He still sees her sometimes. She's weaving in and out of crowds, or in the very front pews of the chapel, or on the other side of a glass storefront. He sees her as she watches him and she smiles, and this is when he's sure it's not a hallucination, not a mirage. Because in life, Kate never gave him a smile as soft, as sweet as the one that flits over her mouth now. But before he can say anything, or think anything, or get close enough to touch her, she's gone. And all she leaves behind is sorrow and regret.

Scars heal; glory fades. Fighting the good fight. And that was the end of it.