A/N: Everyone has a post-Twilight story; this is mine. Incidently, it's also my first published NCIS story. I hope you all enjoy it; I've got many ideas of more to come.

"I thought I'd die before I ever heard-"

Her words are cut off without warning, and even as Tony turns to see why, her body is falling, folding neatly on itself until crumpling to the rooftop with a dull sort of thud. His gun's up and at the ready, always the good little NCIS agent, but he recognizes enough of the situation to know it was a sniper's bullet, one whose shooter won't be easily caught. He hears Gibbs mumble one word, one name, and though it fits, even makes sense in some kind of morbid way, his body rebels, stalking towards the edge of the roof while his eyes scan the opposite building for any place big enough for a man, a cowardly, waste-of-space-poor-excuse-for-a-man to hide.

He hears Gibbs barking commands into his cell phone, hears the name Ducky, and thinks he called the medical examiner before paramedics because he's closer, only a few blocks away waiting in his van. This doesn't bode well for Kate, and by extension Tony, this obvious need for speed, but he doesn't take a moment to think about it. Gibbs calls to him, but Tony doesn't hear; for the first time since being put on Gibbs team, he ignores his boss.

He's always had exceptional eyesight, but this time he thinks it might be failing him. There's no movement on the opposite roof, nothing that would give rise to the belief that the shooter was there. He thinks he's failed Kate, that by failing to get the man who did that to her, she'll actually be dead in a way some part of him already knows she is. And as tears begin to fill his eyes, blurring and clouding his vision, he sees it. A glimpse of a movement, nothing much more than a twitch, but he has it and he's sure it's the right move.

He takes one shot, and then another, and another, emptying his clip into his miniscule target, an inarticulate cry rising up and out of his throat, growing louder and more anguished with each exiting bullet. He keeps shooting after he's out of ammo, but the loud, empty click that sounds after pulling the trigger isn't nearly as satisfying as the loud boom that came with the previous shots.

A hand descends from nowhere, and settles on his shoulder, squeezing gently. He whirls at the intrusion, gun still up though now useless except maybe as a blunt instrument, his chest heaving with the exhurtion of the past minute. Gibbs looks at him sadly, but he knows the weapon is empty, and doesn't flinch away. Tony glances past his boss, sees Palmer and Ducky covering Kate with a white sheet, slowly, almost reverently. The energy leaves him in a rush, his arms fall and his gun clatters on the tar papered rooftop.

"He's gone, Tony."

He wants to deny that, to say that he's sure he got him, that Kate's attacker (he still can't think if her as dead) won't bother her anymore. He's aware that the last bit is at least true, but not in the way he had hoped.

The heavy metal door to the roof crashes open, and McGee hurries through, gun drawn and for once, Tony thinks, looking like the agent he is becoming before their very eyes. But then he sees the sheet covered body, and his gaze flickers over to Tony and Gibbs, who still has his hand on the younger man's shoulder. McGee's face sort of collapses in on itself, and he raises a hand to cover his eyes.

Ducky rises slowly from beside the body (Kate) and as he nears the two men still standing near the roof's edge, a tear breaks loose from his eye, and makes it past his nose before he swipes it away. "Death was instantaneous, Jethro,"he says softly. "She didn't stand a chance."

Tony's knees begin to feel weak, and he thinks that even though Dinozzos aren't known for passing out he should hurry up and sit down before he embarrasses himself. His legs have other ideas, as his body always seems to, and before Ducky or Gibbs have a shot at catching him, he crashes onto his knees, tar paper biting painfully through his pants. His hands arrest his movement before he can go further, and he remains like that, supporting himself on knees and dangerously shaking elbows. He feels like he might throw up, but his years of police work have prepared him better than that.

"C'mon, Tony,"Gibbs says quietly. "We gotta go. Area's not secure."

He motions for McGee to help, since Ducky has moved on to supervise the photographing of Kate (the body). McGee walks over with stiff, wooden legs, and they both grab an arm, hauling Tony to his feet.

"He shouldn't have come to work today,"McGee says, and it's as close as he'll ever get to speaking against his superior that Gibbs can only stare for a long minute. He's right, of course; Tony looked horrible before now, and combined with the effects of the past twenty minutes, he looks like death warmed over.

They have to step over the body of a fallen terrorist, but Gibbs leaves them in the concrete stairwell leading up to the roof, with strict instructions for McGee to keep a close eye on DiNozzo. He pauses a half step outside the threshold, hunched stature framed by fast receding sunlight, and turns to regard all that is left of his field team. Tony has collapsed into himself, and now leans heavily against the dirty concrete wall, as though he no longer possesses the strength to hold himself upright. The blood splatter on his face, that until now Gibbs hadn't noticed, contrasts greatly with his pale complexion, making him seem even sicker. His hands hang between his knees, long fingers dangling uselessly in the space below. McGee sits two steps farther down, as though worried Tony might give up any second and tumble down the remaining stairs. He's buried his face in his hands, although from Gibbs' angle, he can see his face is dry, and one eye remains locked on his fellow agent.

For not the first time since taking this job, he wishes he wasn't the boss. He wishes he could sit down with his fellow agents, and do nothing but think of what a great loss this was to all of them. He knows that he has loads of unpleasant business ahead of him, and he knows that he could lessen the effect on himself by involving those two. But despite the near constant bickering and consistent evidence to the contrary, the three had been extremely close, and since Gibbs isn't a total monster, he decides to give them a moment to get themselves together.

He walks back onto the tar paper, leaving the door open a crack behind him by wedging an abandoned brick against the doorjamb. There are other agents he recognizes from the office milling around the sheet covered body, solemn looks on their faces. They are mourning the loss of a co-worker, a sort of detached regret related to such an obvious waste of life. But they didn't know. They may have seen Cate in passing, talked to her in the break room, or down in the lobby. But they didn't know her. They didn't know that she planned on having kids one day. They didn't know that she once broke up with a guy because he didn't use mouthwash. They had no idea that she had taken it upon herself to improve the health of her teammates. They are mourning the murder of Special Agent Todd, not Cate. They are worlds apart, and Gibbs feels nothing but contempt for the difference.

He spots NCIS Director Tom Morrow heading his way, and briefly considers walking the other way. But Cate deserves better than that, so he roots his feet to the rooftop below him, and waits.

"What the hell happened, Gibbs?"

Gibbs can't help but wince, because the Director's words are indicative of the scores of investigations that are sure to follow. If there was anything that could've been done to avoid this loss of life, and if blame should be laid, whose shoulders should be the ones to take it. Or, though Gibbs thought this outcome might be worse in a way, the whole thing buried, never to be solved and never to see the light of day again.

He takes a deep breath before beginning. He wants to round off on the man, give him some kind of snarky remark to wipe that fake look of concern off his wrinkled old face. But he finds he doesn't have the energy to do so. "Dinozzo and I had just neutralized the drone from the rooftop. Three terrorists were down, one more was firing on McGee from somewhere on the third floor. We were moving to flush him out, send him into McGee's gun, but he came up to us." He looks past the steely resolve of the Director, to where they are carefully loading her body onto a stretcher. "Cate...Agent Todd, saw our man coming out the stairwell door, he fired, she took the bullet. It was over, it should've been over. She was wearing her vest. But then Ari Haswari shot her. With a sniper bullet, from the next building. We underestimated that prick again, and this time Cate paid the price."

His eyes drop to the blood pool left on the rooftop, bits of bone and grey matter swimming in it. He wants to be sick, but even if he was one to give in to his own urges, he doesn't want to sully Cate's memory by vomiting all over it.

"We'll need your guns, of course,"the Director says, even as Gibbs is pulling it out of his holster and holding it out. "Where's the rest of your team?"

Gibbs' eyes narrow, until his gaze could surely melt stone. "They just lost a teammate. They're taking a minute." He motions to the far end of the roof, where Dinozzo's gun has been left abandoned where it fell. "That's Tony's over there."

He knows the Director wants to remark on the cleverness of leaving a loaded gun out in the open, so he waves his hands in what approximates to a 'leave it alone' gesture. "The clip's empty, the building's secure."

He lifts the gun, checks the chamber to make sure, and hands the nine millimeter over to the Director.

"Go back to headquarters, take care of the paperwork. Then I don't want to see you or your team for a full week. Are we clear?"

Gibbs simply nods, because he doesn't want to be in that bullpen with that empty desk, and since he's resigned anyway, he has no reason to go back.

Morrow's hand lands on his shoulder, and even though the touch is brief, it leaves a lasting impression on the man who has never needed human comfort.

It's a long few minutes before he can return to the stairwell, and his team.

When they arrive at headquarters, it's to a plethora of sympathetic looks and promises of vengeance. Gibbs doesn't notice them, he's on a mission; to return to his desk and chug back the cooling coffee he left there. He feels as though he might colapse before he gets there. Tony is still walking around in a daze; the blood that remains on his face is a painful reminder of what they are all trying desperately to forget. The paramedics that arrived on the scene tried to clean him up but he put up such a fuss, complete with flailing arms and curse words, the only animation he has shown since crashing the drone, that Gibbs eventually waved them off. McGee is left to accept consoling words, a slightly ironic fact considering he knew Caitlin Todd the least amount of time. But he knows that doesn't matter anymore, that nobody is going to call him on it.

They arrive on their floor, and in one simaultaneous move, all heads turn in their direction. Gibbs steps off the elevator, and with one swath of his steely gaze, averts the onlookers. Tony and McGee exit next, shoulder to shoulder, and those who weren't properly intimidated by the boss man are taken aback from the blood on Tony's face.

The bullpen is empty save for one person; a black haired pigtailed genious in diametrically opposing white lab coat and black fishnet stockings with red hightop sneakers. Abby's already heard the news; she might be confined to the lab, but she is still a part of the team and as such, knows everything that goes on out in the field. She's clutching a half eaten energy bar in one hand, but if the Big Gulps she downs at regular intervals are any kind of indication it wasn't her who carefully rewrapped it in hopes of later consumption.

She raises her head at the approaching footsteps and though her face is dry, it's clear she's on the verge of tears. She places the bar on the desk she's leaning against, and hurries into the outstretched arms waiting for her. Gibbs holds her close in a rare display of intimacy, and strokes her hair softly. "I'm sorry, Abs."

She pulls back, and annoyed at her own weakness, swipes at her face. "Are you guys okay?" She looks over the boss carefully, then her gaze shifts to McGee, standing off to one side and looking as though he'd like the floor to open up and swallow him whole. "Where's Tony?"

McGee frowns, and turns around, saying, "He was right here. I mean, I thought he was."

"I'll go find him,"Abby says, straightening her labcoat and wiping at her eyes again. "He can't have gone far."

She moves to step around her co-workers, but a silent communication is exchanged over her head, and her forward momentum is arrested suddenly. "No, Abby. I'll go. He's probably just in the bathroom. I'll be right back." McGee gives her a reassuring smile, glances at Gibbs quickly, then turns without another word and strides quickly away. It seems him and Gibbs thought on the same wavelength; apparently neither of them wanted Abby to see Kate's blood splattered all over her friends face. McGee hadn't considered how that might affect her before arriving here, but obviously Tony had.

He reaches the men's bathroom, in the corner most opposite the bank of elevators. He knocks first, calls out Tony's name, but when no response is forthcoming he enters boldly. The stalls are empty, the sinks dry. It doesn't look to McGee like anybody has been in there all morning. He closes his eyes softly, sighs heavily, and even as he's stepping up to the sink to wash his hands, he's thinking of other places Tony might've gone. The building isn't that big, and not even Tony could get far with that much blood on his face.

He turns the tap on, soaps up his hands, and tries not to remember how bright the pool of blood looked against the rooftop. He's drying his hands with a wad of paper towels when a muffled sound makes it's way to his ears. His frown deepens, he tosses the paper towel in the garbage can. He didn't even think to look in the door connecting both male and female bathrooms to the showers. But now as another sound comes through the nearly closed door, he realises that was a mistake.

"Tony?" McGee opens the door slowly, and slips in before letting the door close behind him. Tony's sitting right across from him, in the shower stall directly opposite the door. He must've made a beeline for it, McGee thinks as he nears his fellow agent. There's a blood stained towel in a heap on the floor next to him, McGee notices, but his face isn't entirely clean yet. He stops at the edge of the stall, the toes of his expensive work shoes just touching the tile work of the shower. Tony looks up with wide, sad eyes, and moves over a few inches, enough to make room for McGee to sit down.

The probationary agent is grateful, because up this close, he can see bits of skull bone and grey brain matter mixed in with the blood on Tony's face, and this way he can sit down before his wobbly knees make a scene and he embarrasses himself. The shower stall isn't that wide, and even with both of them as far over as they can go to their respective sides, their shoulders are touching in between. This surprises McGee; the man sitting next to him, the one who could barely admit that McGee was now a field agent, let alone a part of the team, had acted more like a friend in the past hour than he had in all the time they had known each other.

"Where's Gibbs?"Tony asks, and even though his voice is raspy, his eyes aren't wet.

"With Abby. In the bullpen. Director Morrow doesn't want to see us for a week."

Tony snorts, but there is no humour behind it. "After our reports are filed, I'm sure."

McGee nods, even allows himself a small smile. "Actually, yeah." He pauses for a few seconds, then says, "Abby's looking for you."

He doesn't respond immediately, save for an obvious slumping of his shoulders. "I wasn't being a coward. I just...I didn't want her to see this." He makes a shapeless movement with one trembling hand, encompassing his face and the bloody towel next to him. "Then once I got here, I couldn't go back out there."

McGee nods again. He glances next to him, at the man he used to think was unable to form personal attachments. He now stands corrected. He can see it in the endless loyalty he holds for Gibbs, the pedestal he keeps for his boss only. He sees it in the way he takes care of Abby, makes sure her current squeeze is taking care of her right. He says he knows how to guard against his type better than anyone. Most importantly, McGee can see it in the way he grieves for Kate. Kate, who everyone knew annoyed him relentlessly, who revelled in teasing him, and hitting with as many low blows as she could. And who, in turn, knew how to take Tony's teasing and what might even be considered harrassment in some ways, with good grace and humour. Her absence will be felt, he knows. And in more ways than her skills as an agent.

McGee stands finally, wiping at the seat of his pants. "We've got to go back out there. Gibbs is gonna need us." He extends a hand down to Tony, and for a second, thinks he might ignore it. But then the older agent is nodding, excepting the help and rising to his feet. McGee grabs a clean towel from the stack at the far end of the room, and tosses it to Tony. And despite the situation, he finds himself smiling. There's still a team. They may have lost one of their key components, but they'll carry on. That's what teams do.