Thanks, C!
Every day working at the MCRT, cases are different. That's what is fascinating about this job. Sure, some investigations take longer, some take you other countries; some, well, they knock you on your ass.
Today started out an ordinary day. I got up, put my running clothes on, laced up my sneakers and headed out for my run. Cell phone in hand; the one time I forgot my phone and Gibbs' was trying to reach me, that didn't go over so well. I learned my lesson. I was running in the park and I felt my phone vibrate. I held it up and read the name. Director Vance. Fuck, this early. I better not have to ship anywhere. I immediately stop running and rip the earbuds out.
"Sir?" I try to say without sounding winded.
"DiNozzo, am I interrupting something?"
"Running."
"Well, this should make you stop. Run home and get in here. Gibbs' is on his way. Plane went down; Carrying six dead Marines." Click and he was gone.
Today was certainly different.
I was standing over the charred bodies, documenting this scene by taking pictures. My eyes were lifting after every few clicks of the flash, to the fire, the burnt plane and those who had lost their lives. Life is short. Appreciate me – those phrases flashing through my mind. The families of the deceased have gone through enough having lost their loved ones in Afghanistan and some unlucky bastard has to tell them, 'sorry, you have to wait just a tad longer while we make sure your dead loved one is matched for DNA.' I couldn't look at the bodies anymore. I need some fresh air. We were outside, but the air was muddled with fire, flesh, and despair.
We sit and wait while the Duck Man, the autopsy gremlin, and Abby work out piecing this puzzle together. I take this opportunity to check out death statistics. I am genuinely concerned I may not be able to accomplish what I want in this life. Like I just told Timmy, we hitch rides on those transports. At any given time, that could have been us. Of course, he retorts it wasn't. It doesn't matter – life is short and I have to start appreciating it even more.
People of the church frighten me. It could be because after my mother died, the creepy priest came in to adminster last rites. The chapels at school always gave off a strange vibe, the reason being I was forced to go. This Lieutenant – Commander – Chaplin – Lady seems to see right through me and I don't like it. She's a little like Ziva in that regard. She seems to sticking around for this case. Let's see if she can figure out the real Anthony D. DiNozzo, Jr.
Still waiting for the results from Abby, we haven't gone home yet. Makes for a long day. I need something to occupy my time or else I'll be dreaming about being comfortable and watching a movie. The events of the last 24 hours have got me thinking that there are many things I have yet to accomplish in my life. If I don't start now, will I ever succeed in living a full life? I guess before this I thought my life was grand (Apparently not). Next thing I know, a word document is up on my computer screen and viola – The Bucket List was born.
Of course the first item, Master the art of Kung Fu, is something I've wanted to do since I was child. I mean come on – Bruce Lee wannabe, yes please. Some items, I've had in the back of mind for awhile. Other just came to me and I thought, "Why the hell didn't I think of the before?"
As I'm typing them, the wheels are turning and I realized toward the end of this list, there are two items on here, that I need to take care of much sooner. Which items those are, I'm keeping close my the chest, for now.
I hear a drawer open but think nothing of it until the sidekick states blantantly, "Come on, Tony. A Bucket List."
"Hey! No snooping, McSteveAustin. My life is none of your business."
So I hit the print and roll out of my chair, just as the crazy ninja runs over and grabs the copies from the printer. I shouldn't have printed two. I'm sure that McHacker would've figured a way to get the list anyway.
"You're writing about buckets?"
"It's a bucket list, Ziva. It's a list of things I'd like to accomplish before the end of the fourth quarter. Life is short. I've got start making it count." They glance at the list highlight a couple numbers they like and tease me. I've never been more excited to see the Boss Man. Ha, Ziva thought she could keep the list, huh. I don't think so. I stole it back on our way to MTAC. No further reading for her.
No Marine is ever left behind. We seem to hit a snag – dogtags but no body. That is not good. Interestingly enough the code that we live by, the code that Marines live by can be blurred by the grandest intentions. Woman are barred from direct combat. But that did not stop Lieutenant Flores from fighting. I guess when you are that far away, protecting your unit – your family, you do what it takes.
Gibbs' came down the stairs, looked at Ziva and said, "Wheels up at 0500, Ziver. Go home, pack and be ready. DiNozzo, McGee – you're on Afgahistan time now. Get some rest, too. You're gonna need it."
"Will do." I look at Ziva as she gathers her things up. I grab my backpack and escort her out.
We step on the elevator and look at each other. We don't have to say anything but me being me, I can't help it. "Drive you home?"
"That doesn't make sense, I have to come back."
"Then I'll drive you back."
"Gibbs' said to get some rest."
"Do you really think I'm going to be able to sleep knowing you're on a plane – like the one that just blew up - heading to fucking Afghanistan?"
"Fine, you can help me pack."
"Whoa, I said nothing about packing. I just said driving." I smirk at her.
"Then I guess that will do."
We quietly take the stairs up to her apartment. We don't really have anything to say. My mind keeps going to Somalia. Goddamn desert. I don't have the power or the energy to think about a repeat performance. Of course, nothing is going to happen to her. Gibbs' will not let anything happen to her. He will not be one short for a second time. I just have to remember that they are going to meet the Marine unit. I guess it doesn't matter because they strike when no one expects it.
She is a light packer on missions. I imagine she may be more liberal when packing for weekends away, that's something I haven't figured out. I just take a seat on her couch as she is moving about her bedroom. I glance at the remote and just as I reach for it, she comes out and announces she's ready to go.
I drop her off. "Come back in one piece, please. Preferably alive."
"You have my word." And just like that, she's gone.
"Anybody here? Cool Hand Luke, of course you knew that. I could've used you a few months ago, got my head scrambled pretty bad. Of course, I understand you're a busy guy. We haven't talked much. It's my bad. I've been doing the best I can down here, you know. For a DiNozzo. Hopefully, living up to my end of the bargain. You remember our bargain. It would be nice to hear from you. So, you have a plan? Anything you wanna share with me. How about you let me know I'm on the right track? How about you let me know I'm not talking to myself? You are so predictable. Well, I guess what we here - is failure to communicate."
I was standing in my place at the right side of the altar, waiting for Wendy to make her entrance for our rehearsal. There she was wearing a beautiful white sundress, carrying a small bouquet. She seemed to glide across the floor making it to her final destination next to me. I had a wide smile on my face. Tomorrow, she would be my wife. Mrs. Anthony DiNozzo. Except after the rehearsal, after the dinner – we were exchanging good-byes. I told her I'd see her tomorrow. She said she wouldn't, she couldn't do it. She said she thought she could. Perhaps, the dry run would cement her feelings. Not so much. She turned away and left me there. She didn't glance over her shoulder like they do in the movies. She didn't cry. She just left.
Between my intoxicated nights when I thought Ziva was dead. I would talk out loud to her, to God. Seeing who would answer first. That's when I made a bargain. I asked Him if he could bring her back, I would be in his gratitude. I wanted to believe she wasn't dead because I was still functioning – barely. I needed to make a bargain. Maybe it was another way to change to circumstances. His son rose from the dead, right then He could bring her back. The things you think of when intoxicated. I'm sure I would've eventually thought about it when I was sober. And I did. And she's back.
I told the chaplain we had a lead then scooted out of the sanctuary as fast I could.
When I got back, McGee told that Ziva was looking for me. I gave him a curious look. "MTAC"
"Ah!" And with that, I ran up the stairs.
I sat down and secured the headphones. "Agent Dah-veed, you couldn't go two days without me." She looked visibly upset. "We found her, Tony. She is safe now."
"That's a good thing."
"The girls, though, they have been tortured. Little girls, Tony, because they wanted to be educated. One has cigarette burns on her entire body. The other had hot grease thrown in her face. Yet, they smile and are so full of life. It's amazing and heartbreaking all wrapped together."
"You helped save them, Ziva. You should be proud."
"There are so many others like them." She pauses and wipes a tear. "Also, we lost a Marine. Captain Quincy, I was with him when he took his last breath." I hear some footsteps behind Ziva.
"Ziva," Gibbs' says "Time to go home. Make sure you wash the Ohio State t-shirt before you give it back to DiNozzo. You know how he hates the sand."
She smiles. "I have to go. See you soon." The feed cuts out. Now I wait.
"Very Special Agent Anthony DiNozzo doesn't get scared. I've jumped out of airplanes. Dead dropped onto aircraft carrier, and I've killed people, sweetheart - lots of them. I've gotten the plague. Kissed a transvestite. Been tortured by the best the Middle East has to offer."
"And still you're shaking."
"Okay, it's time to face my fears. How bad can it be? Bring it on, Chaplin."
She opens the door and all I hear are the cries of children – babies and toddlers. Running around doing whatever they do. I take another step forward and stop, wanting to turn around and run out but I can't. So I just continue to stand there and take it all in. All of sudden this little girl runs at me with paint on her hands. She hugs my leg. I become a little more apprehesive, I can feel my heart beat faster. Just like that, the little girl disengages. Look at that, I'm still alive. I didn't drop dead. Anthony DiNozzo - 1. Fear – 0.
Now that it's over. My breath returns to normal as I step off the elevator back in the squad room.
"You let a child hug you?" Ziva asks like it's the absurd.
"I was facing my biggest fear."
She laughs, "Of all things in this world, children frighten you the most."
"She ruined my suit."
"Fingerpaints are water based. Your suit will survive. And DiNozzo, the orange handprints gives it something extra."
"Thanks, Boss."
Ziva didn't want to go alone. So we are driving to the bay area of Maryland, there is a motel she insisted we stay at. I didn't argue – she's been reflecting on life since returning to from Afghanistan.
She turns and looks at me. There is it. The Inn at Perry Cabin. I pull the car into a spot and we proceed to the front desk. The bell on the door rings as we enter.
"Can I help you?"
"Mrs. Quincy?" Ziva asks.
"Yes."
"My name is Agent Ziva David. I was with your son when he died in Afghanistan." Mrs. Quincy comes from behind the counter and hugs Ziva. "I'm sorry for your loss, ma'am."
Mrs. Quincy tries to speak through the tears and the hiccups. "Thank you. For coming."
Ziva reaches in her pocket and pulls out a picture. Lietenant Flores is hugging the two girls. "Your son died protecting these three. He has given them another opportunity to change the world. You should be proud, Mrs. Quincy. He wanted me to tell you and your husband that he loved you."
"We love him, too. And Ziva, thank you from the bottom of my heart for this picture."
"He died a hero. Don't forget that."
"I won't."
She turned around, gave me the look and squeezed my hand.
Semper Fi.
Thanks for reading!