Hey, all! Sorry for the delay—I'm seriously a little stuck on where to go from here. I know what I want to do, just not how to get there, you know? Anyway, I'm starting school Monday, so I don't know when I'll be able to update again. Hopefully soon!

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Chapter Nine

Boss, you can't go home alone." Tony informed Gibbs, as he watched the man rise from his chair, gathering his jacket and other belongings.

"Yeah, Tony? I really don't care what happens to me anymore."

"McGee and I do. Which is why, at this moment, he is testing the surveillance at your place, and placing a team around the clock. I'm taking you over."

Within an hour, Tony and Gibbs were seated in Gibbs' basement. Gibbs' whiskey was suspiciously close to him, and Tone eyed it. Drown your woe with the bottle! he thought. Too bad it was eventually resurrected. Too bad the bottle eventually emptied. Was life full of too bads and what ifs and whys? Why? That one question kept going through his mind. Yet even if he knew the answer, the hurt would be the same.

Would it last forever?

Tony shifted in his seat. Awkward silence had smothered the room, since they entered. Gibbs was staring moodily at nothing, totally ignoring Dinozzo.

After several long minutes, Gibbs gave a heavy sigh, and finally met Tony's eyes.

"How are you doing, Dinozzo?"

Anthony Dinozzo paused. A strange questions—especially for Gibbs.

But how was he doing? Was he "doing"? Heck, he wasn't. He wasn't living. He was barely being. He never thought life could be so—lifeless. So empty.

He had lived over thirty years of his life before he had met her. Thirty years! His whole childhood, his teen years, his college life—all the years that were supposed to shape your entire life.

But it was Kate who had done that. Not just shaped it, but changed it. On the outside he appeared the same, but deep down he knew he would have done anything for her.

He would have died to save her.

He should have died to save her.

But he hadn't. He could have, but he didn't. And now, here he was at Gibbs' house, and the said boss was staring at him, wanting—no, demanding—an answer. He took a deep breath, praying silently that he wouldn't break down in front of Gibbs.

"Well….boss…."

"You aren't okay, Tony! Don't say it! No one's 'okay'! Everything is wrong!"

Tony stared at Gibbs. His boss was voicing his heart—and if that wasn't strange enough, both of their hearts.

"Its all wrong, Dinozzo. For you, for me, for her family, for Kate herself," He took a large gulp of the whiskey, and continued, "Most of all for Kate herself! She wasn't even thirty yet, but she still had accomplished more than most. What could she have done--?"

Tony interrupted him. "Are you saying all she was was a good agent? That she could have done more to further the team? Not more to further her life? Not to get married, not to have the kids she always dreamed about? Only her capabilities as an agent matter to you?" He stopped. He knew it wasn't true; he knew Gibbs, no matter how he appeared sometimes, deeply cared. Kate was their agent, yes, but she was also a friend. To them, particularly. She was the only family they had. At least that cared about them.

Oh, Gibbs cared about Kate. But why didn't he, ever, for Pete's sake, show it? Not that Kate craved affection, in fact, she was the type that wasn't normally crazy about it, but she was human. She did need it. Did he himself give enough? That is, to Kate? What did she really consider him?

A friend. The closest of friends. No doubt about it, they both knew they shared an incredible bond. Yeah, they fought a lot; sure, they liked—enjoyed—getting on each other's nerves. But they also were there for each other—for little things and big. From a simple ride to work to staying in the hospital with each other.

Yeah, they were friends. And yeah, they both wanted more. But he could have shown it. He could have taken an extra step. Oh, he'd been so close those last few days when he had returned from sick leave. But he hadn't.

Gibbs' eyes seemed to soften, as Tony remained quiet. The older man finally grew brave enough to speak.

"Dinozzo, you….and Kate…you weren't…" he didn't need to complete the question, or hear an answer. The look in Tony's eyes said it all.

"You were," Gibbs finished.

………………………………………………………………………………………………..

"Lets the get the shot from the back running up, and we're all good to go," Agent Timothy McGee spoke into his headset, watching the final screen light up to life as the back of Gibbs' home was shown.

He remained quiet, watching intently all screens looking for any hint of danger. Everything seemed calm and peaceful.

Unlike the whole world around them.

Marines, Navy, Army, Air Force—all the military fought terrorism. With attacks and defense and combat.

But all wars weren't fought on a physical battlefield.

In Washington, D.C., the President sat in the Oval Office, commanding all. The West Wing fought with words. Generals strategically planned their moves. Intelligence officers chased for more information.

And then there was he, Timothy McGee.

Fighting for one who was practically a sister to him. Yeah, an older sister who mostly liked to pick on him, but who's frankly sensitive side sometimes showed through the hard exterior.

He remembered first meeting Kate. He even admitted, her strong, capable, independent attitude mixed with undeniably pure femininity had floored him. Intrigued him.

She could beat him up—he knew that. By experience.

Yet she was there.

An image flashed though his head. He was seated on the back of an ambulance, staring moodily at the ground. It was his first opportunity to alone review a case, and he was looking forward to proving himself successful to his teammates. It wasn't just the fact that he had undoubtedly sweet witness. He had to prove he was one of them.

And everything failed. But as he was sitting there, while Gibbs and Dinozzo moved on to the scene, it was Kate who came. Kate who came, and almost maternally, placed a steaming cup of coffee in his hands. She had made it right. Made him feel that he had done his best. That, at least she, thought "they'd make a field agent out of you yet."

Hopefully, she was right. And hopefully, his feelings about her being alive were, too, correct.

He might be the only one who thought she was live. Dinozzo and Gibbs couldn't, they went through her last minutes with her. He couldn't have succeeded even in destroying the missile. He could have been up there with them—with her. The thoughts whirled through his mind. But he knew one thing—now was his chance to help her.

If he had to find her, if she was still alive, himself, he would do it.