My head snapped up and I followed Gibbs' line of sight to the nearby grove of pine trees. That's when I saw him. Mr. Rogers, the man who had murdered my fiancé and shot me twice as well, was watching the funeral from the cover of the trees.

"That son-of-a-bit—" I began, stepping away from everyone as the rage boiled inside of me.

"Hold her, Tony," Gibbs instructed the younger agent and in a moment, two strong hands held me from going any further.

"Let me go, DiNozzo!" I hissed, struggling to get away from him. "Please, let me go."

"Just hang on for a minute, Elle," he insisted. "Let Gibbs and McGee take care of this."

I looked at Ziva and she realized that Tony had given it all away. Tim was still alive? My heart leapt for joy when I thought of the possibility.

"Where is he?" I demanded to know, ceasing my struggle to get away from Tony.

"He's right there." Tony pointed towards the grove of trees and I saw McGee emerging, hauling a furious Mr. Rogers, handcuffed, with him. Gibbs met them and steered the man towards the Charger.

"TIM!" I screamed, my voice tinged with hysteria. He was so close that I could see the corners of his mouth begin to turn up when he saw me.

I hardly knew I was running towards him, but I was. My high-heeled shoes had somehow ended up in my hand and I was weaving between the tombstones until I could throw my arms around McGee's neck. He wrapped his arms around my waist tightly and I ignored the pain his grasp was causing me.

"Oh! You're alive," I sobbed happily, still unable to believe it. "You're here! You're safe!"

"Elle, I'm so sorry. We did it to protect you. We need you to be convincing," he explained, stroking my long blonde hair.

"I don't care, baby," I assured him. "You're here, with me. I love you so much, Tim." I sighed with relief, smiling and feeling my heart miraculously beat in my chest again. It didn't ache anymore.

"I love you, too."

After twenty minutes, everyone left the "funeral" and headed back to the NCIS building. I couldn't bring myself to leave Tim's side; he was alive and he was still mine. While Tony and Ziva rode up front, he and I sat in the back seat, making up for a little lost time.

Once back in the bullpen, everyone huddled together to discuss what had happened. Suddenly, I looked up at Tony sharply.

"You!" I exclaimed. "You're the one who told me that Tim was dead! How could you?"

Tony looked at me uncomfortably and then tried to look somewhere else. "I...um..." he stammered, trying to figure out what to tell me.

All the pent up rage and hurt that had been building up inside of me since I'd been told that Rogers killed McGee had to be released somehow. At that very moment, I could only think of one thing that would make me feel better.

I punched Tony DiNozzo's jaw with all the strength I could. He reeled backwards from the blow.

"What the hell did you do that for?" he demanded to know, rubbing his jaw tenderly.

I tossed my head. "You were the one who told me that McGee had been killed!" Behind me, I could hear Ziva and Tim laughing.

"She really hit you good, Tony," Ziva pointed out.

"She's got a hit like you, Ziva," DiNozzo told her. " You almost broke my jaw. And it wasn't my idea to tell you that! It was Gibbs'."

"Gibbs?" I echoed, unable to believe that he'd authorized a scheme like this one. "He actually told you to go through with something this stup..." I let my voice trail off when I saw Tony's eyes get big. "He's standing right behind me, isn't he?" I whispered.

"Yep," Ziva, Tim, and Tony chorused.

I pivoted slowly and found myself face-to-face with Gibbs. His expression was serious, but I could see the amusement deep in his eyes.

"You gonna punch me too?" he wanted to know.

I thought for a minute. "No. You weren't trying to hit on me while I thought McGee was dead, so I'll just give you a kiss." I stood on tiptoe and kissed his cheek softly. He hugged me gently and I could see a smile twitching at the corners of his mouth.

"Wait a second!" McGee exclaimed. "Tony, you were hitting on my fiancé while she thought I was dead?"

DiNozzo blushed and shrugged, grinning devilishly despite the blow I'd just dealt him. "Boss said to stay in character, so I figured that's what I would have done if you'd really died."

I leaned my head against Tim's chest happily. "It doesn't matter, McGee," I assured him. "I told him to get the idea out of his head."

"You slapped me as hard as you could," Tony reminded me.

"Yeah, so?"

Gibbs walked up to Tony and stared at him for just a moment. Then, he promptly smacked him on the back of the head.

That night, we went back to my apartment to relax for a little while. Both McGee and I were exhausted and sore from our wounds, along with the excitement of the day. Suddenly, going home didn't seem so depressing anymore. All the reminders of McGee—the pictures of us on the fridge and shelves, his tennis shoes in the foyer closet, our writing piled on the kitchen table—no longer made my heart ache.

After we changed out of our dressy clothes, we collapsed on the sofa.

"Tired?" McGee asked me.

I nodded. "And sore." I snuggled closer to him, listening to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat. "I love you," I whispered softly. "When Tony told me that you were dead...I wanted to die, too."

Tim kissed my forehead softly. "I know, baby. It's fine now, though."

I looked up into his bright blue eyes. "You're my life now, McGee. I don't go on without you, so don't get shot again."

"I'll do my best," he replied, pressing his forehead against mine.

For what seemed like forever, we stayed snuggled up on that couch, discussing our future together and sometimes doing other things besides talking. Each kiss was tenderer than the last. We were so in love with one another and that was all that mattered.