A/N: This my dear readers and reviewers, is the end. Or the beginning of the end (or is it in fact, the end of the beginning?). Thank you all for reading and writing and lurking. Some will not like how it ends. Some might. Some might need tissues while others will need stones to through at me (be aware I will only provide the former). Not matter what though, I enjoyed every review. :)
Epilogue will be posted Sunday.
Chapter Six
"Tim?"
"Tim are you alright?"
Tim, who had been sitting in front of his type writer for the past hour, just shook his head, working hard not to break down right that moment.
"Honey, what's wrong?" Natalie came in the office and sat down carefully next to her husband, "Bad case?"
"Um, no," McGee shook his head, grabbing Natalie's hand when she placed it on his thigh, "It's um, it's a pretty straightforward case. But um, today, today I was looking through messages I had received when we went on our honeymoon and most of them were just random things that didn't really mean much but the last one, it was…um…you remember Tony?"
"Your old partner? The one that went missing a few years ago?" Natalie asked hesitantly. Tim was never like this. Natalie worked hard to push down the dread that slowly rose up from her heart. If Tim had found out anything-
"Well," Tim sighed, smiled slightly, "One of the messages was about him. I mean, the message didn't ask for anything specific, just more details on a missing case. Tony's missing case. And we just need to finish this case before Gibbs will let us look into the message."
"Why would Gibbs…" Natalie trailed off, looking at her husband for an answer, knowing she didn't have to finish her statement for McGee to understand.
Tim just shook his head, "I don't know."
Gibbs had to pace himself. Too many drinks to quickly would give him an awful hangover tomorrow, even if he was by all standards a harden drinker.
But the day had called for bourbon, his boat and his basement.
And since had finished Tony's boat a long time ago, Gibbs didn't have anything to keep his hands busy- except of course, the bottle of bourbon.
Gibbs stood, his fingers trailing over the name. It was a beautiful boat. One that deserved to be admired.
But Gibbs hadn't wanted to share it and after a drunken night of almost setting the thing on fire, Gibbs had realized that this would probably be the last boat he ever built.
Tony's disappearance was different that Shannon and Kelly's death.
With their deaths Gibbs had been able to take revenge, even though it hadn't helped much, but then in their case he had known. He had put their bodies in the ground and had known where they were. With them, they're had been no hope of every seeing them again.
At least not in this life.
But Tony was different. At that thought Gibbs huffed.
If Gibbs could sum Tony up with one word it had to be that: different.
From the first day he had known the young detective, Anthony DiNozzo had done everything differently. From the way he interrogated to the way he had first talked to Gibbs. The boy had been an oxymoron wrapped in a conundrum that hid behind a façade so thick Gibbs had sometimes wondered if even Tony himself knew where one ended and the real Tony began.
But now that he was gone, the pain in his chest when he thought about Tony was different than when he thought about his wife and daughter.
Not to say he didn't consider Tony family. Because he did. It just wasn't in the traditional father/son kind of way. It wasn't less or more.
It was just different.
Gibbs set the cup down a bit too hard, feeling some of the liquor trail down his hand.
"Aw hell," Gibbs mumbled, rubbing his face. He wasn't going to cry damn it. It was the liquor.
Because when Gibbs was drunk, he tried to be honest with himself. And if he was honest with himself, he knew that the reason he was keeping everyone away from that clue concerning Tony's case was because he was scared.
Because Gibbs knew he couldn't handle another disappointment.
Couldn't handle having the small hope that Tony was still alive be flamed into something more.
Couldn't handle it if they found out Tony was dead.
Not after five years.
Tim typed furiously at his keyboard. It had taken another day before the team was able to wrap up the case but to Tim, it had been two days to many.
Tim glanced up and watched as Gibbs jogged up the stairs towards Director Vance's office. He hoped that his boss was asking the director for permission to pursue the lead, however small it might be, for Tony's case.
But Tim figured that as soon as he finished this final report and printed it, it didn't really matter what the director or Gibbs said. He was going to look into that phone call. Abby had already started investigating the phone call the day before. Tim had asked her about it this morning but other than getting a hold of a secretary who had been pretty useless in helping them, Abby hadn't been able to make any headway.
Tim glanced at the clock. He should call his wife to see if she was okay and if she wouldn't mind him staying late tonight. There was some part in him that didn't even want to ask, a part that just wanted to send her the text saying Working late tonight, but if Tim had learned one thing from all this was that obsessions should never take precedent over the people you love. It was only when the obsession were about people you love that things got muddled.
"I will be right back," Ziva stood, setting her report on Tim's desk. Since Tim was senior field agent, his reports took a longer time to write, mainly because he had to read over Wilson and Ziva's reports before submitting all of them to Gibbs, "If Gibbs asks where I am, I will be down in Abby's lab."
Wilson nodded from his desk across the bullpen, before glancing at Tim knowingly. Wilson might still be a bit green around the edges but he was smart and observant, "Don't start without me."
Ziva raised an eyebrow, looking from Wilson to McGee, "We will not start until everyone is there."
Tim nodded his thanks, before sending a small grateful smile Wilson's way. Kid was smart no matter what those stupid tests said.
A few minutes later, McGee heard Wilson stand and place his report on his desk, "I gotta go do something before I head down to Abby's lab okay?"
"Don't be late," McGee answered back, a bit harshly than he intended.
Wilson though seemed to take it all in stride, "I won't," the probie agent said before disappearing down the hall.
McGee had no idea where the agent was going nor did he want to think about it at the moment. He had everyone's report and thankfully, he had been telling the truth to his wife when he had said that this had been a pretty straight forward case.
Well, as straightforward as murder cases can be.
Ignoring the ringing of his office phone, Tim didn't know how many minutes passed until he was running the final spell check on his report.
McGee hit the print button, waiting for it to print before gathering up his and his teammates' reports and placing them in the file on Gibbs desk.
He was just sitting down to lock his computer when he heard the voice.
"Probie?"
Tim cringed. Not again.
He was under too much stress. Tim knew that too much stress could cause this sort of thing. Really, hallucinating a missing friend in the safety of your own home was one thing but to have that ghost follow you to work, especially when you were headed off to search for that missing someone, was too much for Tim to bear.
"Tim McGee?"
McGee stilled at that. Tony's ghost had never done that before.
Was he slowly going crazy?
McGee turned slowly.
"Tony?" McGee asked, taking in the sight of the ghost in front of him. Only this time he was actually looking at Tony, not glancing over him because he wasn't real.
Seeing Tony standing there, a series of images flashed through Tim's head.
First, Tony as he had been five years ago, laughing and joking with him right before he dived into the woods, never to be seen again.
Then Tony as Tim had imagined him, unaffected by time and looking at him with those understanding eyes, looking a lot like the Tony Tim had first met when he had joined the team, before the plague and Kate dying and bombs destroying sailors and people leaving.
And finally, Tim saw Tony as he was now, his once full head of brown thick hair thinned slightly and peppered with salty colors and his usually smooth face, covered in a light beard, it too colored in multiple shades of gray. And his eyes, which had always seemed to be filled with mischief, fun and secrets never to be told, now only held a bit of uncertainty and something Tim had never seen before.
"Hey," Tony smiled, looking a bit sheepish. He kept rubbing a leash of some sort between his hands and Tim would normally have looked to see where the other end was but at the moment, he didn't dare take his eyes off of this Tony, afraid this Tony might leave if he so much as blinked.
Tim didn't say anything, to afraid his voice, heck even too strong of breath, would break whatever miracle had descended upon him.
Even this older version of Tony didn't say anything, instead he continued to play with the leash in his hands, also never taking his eyes off the other man.
Somewhere in his brain, at least the part that was still rationally thinking, Tim was reminded of a quote his father had read to him long ago, his deep baritone voice seeming to thunder against him as his father held his son against his chest after so long away from home.
"As happens sometimes," his father would start, even though Tim was still crying and clinging to his father shirt, breathing in his father's smell, feeling his father's heart beat steadily and strongly against his much smaller body.
"A moment settled and hovered and remained for much more than a moment," and his father would pause, waiting for his son to stop crying no matter how long it took. For the next part was Tim's favorite and no matter how many times his father left or when he returned he always let Tim help him say the next part.
"And sound stopped and movement stopped for much, much more than a moment," and here Tim's breath would hitch, had hitched every time he had said it, from the very first time his father had taught him the saying when he was just five years old to the last time Tim had ever held his father.
And here Tim would stop, because it was his father's job to finish it. He had been the one to start it and he always finished it, just like he had done with his last breath in that hospital bed.
"And then the moment was gone."
"Tony?" Tim whispered, adding nothing and taking nothing away from the statement.
"Yeah?" Tony's response was hesitant but his eyes shone with the same intensity that Tim had always remembered. And…there. Even if the mischief and fun were gone Tony still had that secret twinkle in his eye, as if he had figured something out long ago and knew that it should never be told to anyone.
Tim had to choke out the next words because he was still afraid and hopeful and utterly and completely desperate because if this wasn't it, if this wasn't what he thought it was, Tim would surely fall apart.
"It's really good to see you again."
As Tim finished the statement, he held his breath, waiting for the other shoe to drop.
But it never did.
Tony smiled slightly, his lips lifting and the corners of his mouth going back, "Glad I found you," Tony said quietly.
But Tim still didn't move, some part of his brain still yelling that this was a trick, a joke, a ploy by his own subconscious to fool him into thinking…
But then, when Tony finally let the smile reach his eyes and envelope his whole face in the smile that was completely and utterly Anthony D. DiNozzo, Tim knew the truth.
Because only Tony would be found the same way he had become lost.
Unexpected and life changing all wrap in one event that left Tim reeling.
Because that was Anthony DiNozzo.
That was Tony.
So when Tony took one step towards Tim, Tim did the only right thing and met him halfway.
And suddenly, Tim understood why his father had loved the end of the saying.
Because when one moment was gone, another one took its place.
And sometimes as happens in life, you were just lucky enough that the next moment would be better than the one before it.
And right now, as Tim held a man he hadn't seen in over five years and breathed in Tony's smell and felt Tony's beating heart against his own and felt the man breathe and held him close enough to finally feel everything that was Tony again, this was one of those times. Because soon, he would ask a question he didn't know the answer to and Tony would answer, and Tim would try to understand what had happened.
It might not be enough for five years.
But for the moment, it was enough.