Epilogue: … and letting go

Even when the sun shines, cemeteries are an eerie place, but this one was the real epitome in the morning fog. In the middle of all the tombstones a solemn priest was tediously reciting the bible while shivering relatives and friends gathered around, handkerchiefs and umbrellas ready, expecting the worse.

The cold wind made them huddle even closer together, a black spot in the whirling white mist. A women was leaning her head on a man's shoulder while silent tears rolled down her beautiful face. The man's grief couldn't be measured in tears but the emptiness and maybe even guilt in his eyes were just as powerful.

A few rows back a man was overlooking the service from higher grounds. He was standing in front of a weathered tombstone and although it was quite cold his black jacket was wide open, a testimony of his nonchalance.

He kept observing the service, even when another man joined him on his watch. After a few more minutes the service came to an end and the party left quickly. Finally the first man cleared his throat and broke the gathering silence.

"That could have been me.", he said.

"Yeah, I know, things like that make you modest, I guess."

"How do you deal with the knowledge that you could get killed every day?"

"I've a will."

"Don't joke."

"Okay, I don't think about it, I'm currently applying my denial tools."

A small grin appeared on the first man's face and blew his hands in an attempt to chase away the cold.

"How did you know I was here?"

"Well, I kind of hoped you would have been there for my grand escape of the white halls, but Gibbs told me you left suddenly. So I guessed you came here and he was kind enough to give me a lift."

"Sorry about that. I wanted to see this place before I left."

"And when exactly does your plane leave?"

"In three hours."

Both men were quiet for a while. It was the silence of old friends when everything was already said except the inevitable goodbye.

"You should come by more often, you made quite the impression on the boss.", Tony said while adjusting the bandage around his neck.

"He slapped me on my head and told me I was an idiot.", Nick retorted casually. Tony chuckled and shrugged his shoulders.

"Yeah, come to think of it, you should watch out. Next thing you know, he tells you you're the most irresponsible fool he ever saw and offers you a job." He smiled and continued. "But seriously, when did that happen?"

"Oh, you were quite out of it. McGee was summarizing your old case and concluded that it was very clever of you that you faked my death which resulted in you repeating the word 'clever' over and over again, like thirty times or so."

"Thirty times?", Tony asked in disbelief.

"At least, after the head slap I lost count.", Nick reassured. "Nobody told you? They're probably going light on you. Just wait until the next time you call Tim McFluffy or read Ziva's mail, Abby filmed it."

"I should be going, Tony. Clara is expecting me home and Jake probably grew an inch."

"Sure sounds like a great kid.", Tony said.

"You should visit us this Christmas, Clara ordered me to ask you and you know she doesn't take no for an answer. And now that I met your family, I want you to meet mine."

"I would like that very much."

"Great, but now am really leaving, just thank Tim again for me, if it wasn't for his vest, I would have had a hole here instead of a bruise.", Nick pointed to his heart.

"Will do, Foulkes, will do."

"Good bye, Blakeney, and this time, see you soon.", and with this Nick left, taking the morning mist with him leaving the cemetery basking in a shy sun.

Tony lingered for a while, watching the entrance where Nick disappeared in a cab and Gibbs was honking impatiently.

He sighed, breathing the invigorating cold air. Nick was right, it could have been him. When Nick further asked how he dealt with death, he lied of course. Every time a case hit home hard or after every close call, he would come here.

Gibbs finally got out of the car. He saw Nick leave but Tony wasn't showing any rush. He sighed, he could see Tony's pensive look from afar, but didn't want to intrude. If Tony wanted to talk, his door was wide open, literally.

With one final glance on the tombstone, he left, hoping his next visit was scheduled in the distant, very distant future.

The epitaph was slowly fading, but wasn't engraved in stone alone.

Eadem mutata resurgo

A/N: "Eadem mutata resurgo" means "Although changed, I shall arise the same." It's an epitaph from the mathematician Jakob Bernoulli (1654-1705). I thought it was very appropriate in Nick's case…