Late the next afternoon, McGee was released from the hospital and went home with Tony, much to the patient's chagrin. Staying with Tony meant hearing about movie after movie, and girl after girl.

Elle, however, had to stay one more night for observation. She was still quiet, cried frequently, and only talked to Gibbs. He stayed by her side as much as he could, even though he had to go out into the hall several times for phone calls. Director Vance, in a gesture of kindness towards the team, was making all the arrangements for the fake funeral. Tim had talked to his parents and sister, explaining why things were being done the way they were. Ziva and Tony had gone to the Rogers residence, where the found Mrs. Rogers a mess as she wondered frantically where her husband was. She hadn't seen him since the night of the shooting. Word of the death of an NCIS agent had spread across the news in D.C. His girlfriend was listed as in "stable" condition at the hospital.

I had been lying in the bed for what seemed like years, but I knew it had only been a day. Gibbs was dozing in the loveseat in the corner. From the way he'd acted, I knew he hated hospitals as much I did, but he was too sweet to say so.

A nurse came into give me some more painkillers, but I stopped her.

"I don't want anymore of that stuff," I declared weakly, not even bothering to turn my head towards her.

"Ms. Charlton, you need the meds to keep the pain in control. This will make you feel better," she assured me. Her tone was patronizing and I knew she was thinking—that I was an emotional wrecked young woman who didn't know what she was saying.

"She said she didn't want them," Gibbs said from behind the nurse. I hadn't even realized that he was awake, and neither had she.

"Agent Gibbs, she's been shot," the nurse reminded him. "She's in pain and she ne—"

"How do you know what kind of pain she is in?" Gibbs snapped. "If she says she doesn't want them, then don't give them to her."

Reluctantly, the nurse gave up to Gibbs cold glare and left the room. Gibbs got up, rubbing his eyes and walked over to the bed, then sat down beside me on the small bed.

"How're you holdin' up?" he asked me quietly.

Those same tears welled up in my eyes again and my throat ached painfully. My chin began to quiver, but I managed to conquer it after a few seconds. "I don't want the meds," I whispered. "They make the...nightmares worse, I think."

"Okay, don't take them. I'll get you some Advil in a little while. What else?"

I looked down and played with the edge of the blankets absently. "I won't have a life, once I get out of here. I lost Will, and now Tim." I sobbed when I mentioned McGee's name. "I don't want to live, Gibbs. I want to die!" I tried to sit up, but the wound in my side protested and I collapsed back onto the pillows, sobbing and clutching my side.

Agent Gibbs was torn. He, too, wanted to tell Elle the truth, but he wasn't sure if now was the right moment. He needed to wait about twelve more hours and then, hopefully, all this would be resolved. Until then, though, he'd be stuck in this hospital, looking after Elle.

The next morning, Ziva picked me up from the hospital so I could get ready for the funeral, which was at 11AM. I was in desperate need of a shower, some makeup, and some fresh clothes.

When I looked at myself in the mirror, a towel wrapped around my dripping wet body, I saw the sadness in my own eyes. I couldn't even smile, despite my attempts. No amount of makeup could disguise how exhausted and beaten down I was.

"Elle?" Ziva called, coming into the bedroom. "It's almost time to go."

I nodded silently. That was the good thing about Ziva; she didn't say much. She was smart enough to know there wasn't anything she could say that would make things any better.

I reached out to pick up my phone from off my vanity when I realized that my engagement ring was still on my finger, as beautiful as it had been the moment Tim had slipped it on. I held it up to the light to admire it once more.

"It's beautiful," Ziva remarked quietly. "McGee was so proud of it. He told us that he was going to propose to you."

I swallowed hard and fought back tears. "We had six months of sheer happiness together," I told her. "Then it was all over in sixty seconds."

"I'm so sorry, Elle," Ziva said, looking a little uneasy.

I shook my head. "It isn't your fault, Ziva. I'm ready if you are."

We drove to the graveyard where the service for McGee was being held. Gibbs had vaguely mentioned some sort of memorial service that would be held later on for friends and family.

Gibbs met me at the door of the car, along with the rest of the team. Both he, Tony, and Ducky were dressed in nice suits. Abby was dressed completely in black and looked almost as depressed as I was.

"Elle, you ready for this?" Gibbs asked me.

I took a deep breath and nodded hesitantly. "Yes," I replied, getting out the Dodge Charger slowly. My wounds were still painful, but I continued to refuse the painkillers.

Gibbs stayed close to my side and I held on to his arm for support as we walked closer to the gravesite. My throat ached painfully and my nose was smarting, but I refused to cry right now. The rest of the team stayed close around us, but as I glanced around at their expressions. They seemed to be handling it very well, though. And, for some reason, all of them were carrying their weapons. In fact, they looked like they were pretty much dressed for work, except for the dressier clothes.

In the back of my mind, something told me that this seemed a little...off. I could see Tim's parents sitting by the coffin, but they didn't look terribly depressed, which confused me. I glanced up at Gibbs to see if his face betrayed anything, but it didn't.

As we got closer, I heard "Amazing Grace" playing softly and I nearly choked on the held-back sobs. My heart ached, as cliché as it sounded. I could see the sunshine creating a blinding glare off the varnish on the casket. I could see Tim's parents and sister sitting up front. There were only three chairs; not enough for me. Of course, I wasn't family. I was just the future family who would no longer exist. I felt faint and weak, so I clung tighter to Gibbs' arm. Tony was close at my side, as well.

"Don't worry, Elle. We're here for you," he assured me quietly as we took our places by the casket and the service began.

I leaded my forehead against Gibbs' shoulder and squeezed my eyes shut. I was about to run away when I heard Gibbs mutter something to his team.

"He's here. McGee, he's yours."