Title: Amor Fati
Author: CruorLuna (Alison)
Spoilers: Up to 4x19, 'Grace Period'
Disclaimer: I most definitely do not own any of the characters, plots or dialogue you recognise from the show.
Leroy Jethro Gibbs had never liked funerals. He supposed there were few who did, but he had particular trouble with them. He was known for being a man of few words at the best of times, and when confronted with grieving families, he knew better than most exactly how empty words truly were. He usually made his excuses to leave before the wake, not out of any desire to be rude, but out of courtesy to those who knew the deceased best. Today would be no exception. He had known NCIS Special Agent Paula Cassidy well, yes, but he didn't think that made him remotely equal to the woman he presumed to be her mother, or the sobbing teen that Tony had identified as her niece and god-daughter. Hell, even DiNozzo himself had been far closer with Paula than Gibbs had. Jethro had never been one for overdoing things, and he wasn't about to start now. He had as good as ordered DiNozzo and McGee to take the rest of the day off, and left Ziva to make that call for herself. Abby and Ducky had both insisted on returning to work, and he would be joining them, along with the Director of NCIS, Jenny Shepard, who was currently standing alongside him, head bowed in respect.
Jethro knew that as head of the agency, her job pretty much required her to be present, but he liked to think that she had shown up for her own reasons too. He wasn't aware of her having been close with Paula, but the two women certainly knew one another, and above all else, she had been one of Jenny's people. If there was one thing he hoped she had remembered, out of everything he had taught her, it was that an agent's first responsibility was to their team. She had a hell of a size of team to look out for now, but he believed she did care for them all, in her own way. At least, he liked to believe so.
He straightened slightly as the American flag was folded and handed to the woman he was now positive was Mrs Cassidy. Jenny had pulled some strings with the higher-ups and had Paula awarded with the Presidential Medal of Freedom, for which he was grateful. Cassidy deserved no less. Her father, currently battling the final stages of cancer in a retirement home and unable to attend the funeral, was a highly decorated veteran of the United States Army, and as such, Paula was being buried not only with the full honours due to a Medal of Freedom recipient, but in Arlington National Cemetery, as an unmarried child of a war vet. No greater honour could have been bestowed upon her in death, and Jethro was sure that her father would be able to draw some comfort from the fact, even if the mother didn't seem to be particularly aware of it, or of much else outside of her own grief. He could relate.
"Boss?" DiNozzo murmured as the crowd began to disperse, sounding suspiciously choked. "McGee and I were thinking we would put in an appearance at the wake after all. Offer our condolences, you know. I think Paula would have liked that."
"You're probably right, DiNozzo," Jethro agreed.
"You sure you don't want to come?"
"Positive." Gibbs furrowed his brow as he saw Jenny approach Mrs Cassidy and the two exchange murmured words. "Go say your goodbyes, DiNozzo. I'll see you in the morning."
"Thanks boss." Tony nodded and walked away after McGee, while Abby, Ziva and Ducky all made their way to Ducky's Morgan together. Gibbs watched from a distance as Paula's mother handed the flag to Jenny with a watery smile before taking her leave of the younger woman. Jen wandered off through the cemetery, away from the crowd, and Jethro felt strangely compelled to follow. He remained twenty or so paces behind her as she navigated the morbid maze of over 300,000 graves, weaving expertly through them until she found the one she had been seeking. She crouched on the ground and touched the smooth marble almost reverently, murmuring something he couldn't hear. He stayed in the shadow of a nearby tree, unnoticed, or so he thought until her voice floated over to him.
"It's amazing, isn't it?" she asked of both herself and of him, as he stepped closer to her. "It's been twelve years, and yet out of all these headstones, I can still pick it out a mile away. Can still remember being handed the flag as if it were yesterday." Maintaining a respectful distance, Gibbs came around behind her, and was able to make out the engraving. 'Col. Jasper Shepard,' it read, 'a loving husband and doting father. March 16th 1995. Amor Fati.' Jenny turned and caught his eye, guarded emotion visible in her own.
"Your father?" he asked quietly, and she nodded. He returned it, not entirely surprised. They had never talked about their families. "Amor Fati," he read aloud. "What does it mean?"
"It's Latin. It means 'Love of Fate.'"
"He believed in that sort of thing?" Gibbs asked, slightly surprised.
"He was an Army Colonel, Jethro," Jen said with a smile that he couldn't quite make out. "Of course he didn't. It was something he once told me my mother used to say to him every time he returned safely from a tour. She did believe in it - thought it was fate that brought him back to her every time. It seemed fitting somehow. Even though I don't remember it, I always liked the story. Something between them, you know? Does that make sense?"
"Yeah," Jethro said with a nod. "Does to me."
"I thought it might," she agreed, still wearing that strange sort of smile.
"It sounds familiar somehow," he continued with a slight frown, noting how her eyes flashed with something vaguely akin to panic. "Have you told me that story before?"
"Not exactly," she said with a wry smile, and the tone of her voice sparked something within him. They had been in Marseilles, on their second day of the stakeout, when he had been driven from their stuffy attic by their constant arguing. He had wandered for hours in search of coffee before finally tracking some down, and had been on the street outside their loft when he had been ambushed by gunfire from whereabouts unknown. She had seen the whole thing. He had ducked for cover and hidden for almost two more hours before returning, and when he had finally made it back, she had thrown her arms around him, gushing about how worried she had been and how sorry she was for nagging him. That night, for the first time, they had fallen asleep tangled in sheets, sweat cooling on their bodies as they lay in one another's arms. Right as he had been on the verge of slumber, she had murmured something he hadn't understood, and had been too close to asleep to question at the time.
"Amor fati," he repeated now, stepping forward and kneeling alongside her. "I like it." She shot him a sideways glance and a knowing smile, which he returned before gesturing to the folded flag in her arms. "What are you doing with that?" She glanced down at it with a somewhat surprised look, as though she had forgotten about it.
"Oh," she said softly, fingering the material gently, "that. I told Mrs Cassidy that I would stop by the retirement home with it."
"Uh-huh," said Jethro, waiting for her to elaborate of her own accord, which she did a moment later.
"I can still remember it so clearly," she sighed quietly. "Being presented with the flag of the United States by my father's CO; seeing the lines upon lines of saluting men gathered to pay their last respects. It was a strange sort of comfort to have his boss speak to me when he handed over the flag. Colonel Cassidy was the military in the family, not his wife. I thought that as his daughter's CO ... I don't know. It seemed like a good idea at the time."
"Still does," he agreed, and Jenny smiled wanly.
"You would have liked him, I think," she said, gesturing to her father's headstone. Jethro remained silent, surprised yet honoured by this glimpse into her past; knowing that she must need to talk about him. "And he would have hated you on principle."
"Wouldn't be the first time."
"No ... but I think he would have learned to trust you, with time, and that didn't come easily to him. Nobody was ever good enough for me in his eyes..." She cleared her throat nervously and her cheeks flushed as she caught his eye. "But that was a long time ago now, anyway. And I probably wouldn't have joined NCIS if he had been alive. I needed to throw myself into a new challenge; take my mind off of everything." Gibbs hesitated a moment before straightening up slowly and offering her his hand, which she accepted, although not without a raised eyebrow. He hauled her to her feet and glanced back at the Colonel's grave before asking his next question.
"How did he die?" The urge to recoil from her was suddenly overwhelming, as fury like he'd never seen flashed across her face and her eyes narrowed dangerously. The only thing keeping him by her side was the way that her grip on his hand had suddenly tightened, as though drawing strength from him. She drew in a shaky breath, not meeting his eyes.
"He was murdered." He didn't miss the steely edge to her voice, nor the slight quiver that she was trying so hard to disguise. He nodded, squeezing her hand in a gesture of sympathy and support.
"Did they get the guy?" he pressed, and she glanced quickly back at him, suspicion written all over her features; before they softened slightly as she realised that he was only asking out of concern for her.
"Working on it," Jenny assured him in a tone that indicated quite clearly that their conversation was now over. She extracted her hand from his grasp and turned away, making for the cemetery gates. Jethro glanced down at the grave once more, realising where he'd seen that look in her eye before. And as he considered the reverent way in which she'd spoken of her father, the pieces fell into place. He exhaled slowly.
"The Frog," he muttered, shaking his head. He nodded towards the tombstone, a silent promise if there ever was one, and followed Jenny quickly, reaching her just in time to slide into the backseat of the town car alongside her. She frowned at him.
"What are you doing?" she demanded.
"DiNozzo took the car," he explained. It wasn't a lie. He had just neglected to mention that his truck was parked just around the corner. "Thought I'd hitch a ride."
"I'm stopping by the rest home," warned Jen. He shrugged.
"No hurry." She rolled her eyes but signalled to Melvin to drive on nonetheless. The ride to Sunny Oaks Respite Home passed in silence, but not uncomfortable silence. Once the car stopped, Gibbs got out and rounded the vehicle, opening Jenny's door for her before she had a chance to. She allowed him to help her out and shook her head at him, a small smile playing on her lips.
"Let me guess," she said in tones of mock-seriousness. "Your newfound chivalry is going to extend to you offering to escort me inside as well?"
"Well, if you insist ..." She laughed aloud.
"You are incorrigible, Jethro."
"Yeah," he agreed with a smile. "Shall we?" She shook her head in what he knew was an attempt at despair, but which didn't quite work as the smile remained firmly fixed on her face. He allowed her to precede him into the building and hung back while she explained quietly to one of the nurses why they were there. The nurse eyed him slightly suspiciously but nodded, leading them through white, emotionless hallways until they reached yet another of the white, emotionless doorways.
"Mr Cassidy?" the nurse called out in a singsong voice. "Mr Cassidy, are you decent? You have some visitors who would like to speak with you." There was a moment of silence before a gruff male voice responded.
"Who are they?"
"They say they're with – what agency did you say you work for again?" she asked Jenny in a loud whisper. The redhead rolled her eyes.
"NCIS," she said for the fourth time since arriving. "We used to work with his daughter."
"Did you hear that, Mr Cassidy? Some friends of your daughter are here from NCSI." Jen shot Jethro a sideways glance, looking exasperated, and he stifled a chuckle. There was another long pause before the door swung open to reveal an elderly, grey-haired man with drawn features and sharp eyes that regarded them warily.
"All right," he said slowly. "You can come in – but I want to see some identification." Gibbs pulled out his badge and held it out for inspection, and Jenny, looking somewhat surprised at his easy cooperation, did the same. Frank Cassidy looked over both IDs closely before nodding and turning his back on them. "Come in if you want to."
"Thank you," Jenny said quietly to the nurse, who nodded.
"There's a call button in there – just press it if he or you need anything," she said before turning and heading back towards her station. Jenny followed the ex-Colonel into his room and Gibbs brought up the rear, closing the door behind them. The older man gestured for Jen to sit on one of the chairs and he sat in the other, while Jethro took up a position standing just behind Jenny's shoulder.
"So you knew my Paula?" he asked somewhat hoarsely.
"Yes, Colonel," Jenny said gently. "I'm the Director of NCIS, and Agent Cass – Paula, was one of the best we had. You can't imagine how sorry I am for your loss."
"Thanks," the man acknowledged. "You work with her often?" Gibbs saw Jenny hesitate slightly and intervened before she could respond.
"I did," he said, drawing the other man's attention away from Jenny. "First met her over three years ago, when she was stationed in Gitmo. Worked with her on and off on a lot of cases over the years. She was good friends with my Senior Field Agent, Tony DiNozzo."
"I heard the name once or twice," Cassidy agreed. Gibbs nodded.
"She was a fine agent, Colonel. She did you proud." The other man looked Gibbs up and down thoughtfully for a few moments.
"You military, son?" he asked, and Jethro smiled slightly at the term.
"US Marine Corps, sir," he said with a nod.
"Uh-huh. You got that vibe about you. So you really thought highly of my girl?" Gibbs contemplated the best way to put into words what he thought of Paula Cassidy, especially of the way she had died to save so many others. How to even attempt to ease the grief he knew the man was feeling at the loss of his daughter?
"I think … I think your daughter would have made a damn good Marine, sir," he said truthfully, and the man's eyes lit up at the praise. Any military man worth his salt knew all about Semper Fi and the honour that came with being a part of the USMC brotherhood.
"I appreciate that, Special Agent …?"
"Gibbs, sir."
"Agent Gibbs," Cassidy repeated. "Although I don't think a good Marine would die needlessly." Gibbs frowned.
"Paula did what any good Marine would have done, sir," he assured the other man. "She put the welfare of others above her own."
"But she could have lived," was the reply. It wasn't a statement. There wasn't a doubt in Jethro's mind that the Colonel had enough contacts in government to know exactly how his daughter had died. He considered his answer for a moment.
"She could have lived," he agreed. "But I don't think she could have lived with herself." Cassidy seemed to deflate somewhat at this, nodding slowly. Jenny took a deep breath and leaned forward in her chair.
"Colonel, I have something for you," she said gently. He met her eye, looking surprised, and she withdrew the folded flag from her large bag. "This was presented to your wife at the ceremony earlier this morning. As Paula's CO, I thought it would be fitting to deliver it to you myself, in keeping with tradition. Your wife knows she can find it here." Cassidy's eyes were distinctly watery as Jenny stood up and took a step towards him, holding the flag out towards him. "On behalf of the President of the United States and the Chief of Naval Operations, please accept this flag as a symbol of our appreciation for your loved one's service to this Country and a grateful Navy." Cassidy nodded, keeping his eyes downcast as he took the flag and rested it on his lap, stroking it softly. "I really am very sorry, sir," Jenny added quietly.
"Jen," Gibbs called softly, and she glanced over at him. He indicated with his head that they should leave and she nodded, picking up her bag from the chair.
"We'll leave you alone with your thoughts, sir," she said hesitantly. "It really was an honour to work with your daughter, and I'm glad I could meet you today. If there's anything I can do …"
"Thank you," the older man said hoarsely, looking up at them both with eyes shining. "I'll never forget this, Director Shepard. Agent Gibbs … semper fi." Jethro smiled.
"Fair winds and following seas, sir," he returned with a nod. He opened the door and stepped aside to let Jenny out of the room in front of him, before following her and closing the door quietly behind them. One glance at her shining cheeks told him that the meeting had affected her more deeply than she would have liked. "Jen?"
"I'm fine, Jethro," she said, somewhat unconvincingly. "Can we just leave this place, please?" He nodded and they made the walk out of the building in silence. Once on the stairs just outside of the front door, she let out a long breath and he stopped walking and turned to face her.
"You want to talk about it?" he asked. She bit her lip as though thinking about it for a moment, before letting out a sigh.
"I don't like having to do this part of the job, Jethro."
"No CO does, Jen," he reminded her. She nodded, seemed distracted.
"I know, but …"
"What?"
"This isn't Iraq or Afghanistan. My people are not supposed to be killed by suicide bombers here," she explained, looking frustrated.
"No, but they were, Director," he pointed out as gently as he could. "Our job is to do our best to make sure it doesn't happen again."
"How do you stand it, Jethro?" she asked, her tone anguished. "How do you live with the knowledge that so many people you know – agents; fellow Marines; friends – are killed by these people every day? How did you keep your cool in there, when that poor man was so close to falling apart? I can't do what you do. I can't shut it off."
"It's not about shutting it off, Jen," he reminded her a little more sternly. "It's about what you do with it. I choose to fight back before I stop to feel the pain. The only way to fight these people is by not giving in to the fear." She nodded vigorously, wiping away tears and looking irritated with herself.
"You're right," she agreed, taking a long breath. "You're right. I just … I got a little overwhelmed. Colonel Cassidy reminds me a lot of my father. I can't imagine what he's going through, losing a daughter."
"Hell," Gibbs said grimly, and Jenny's face paled and her eyes widened in horror.
"Oh, Jethro," she all but whispered. "Jethro, I am so sorry …"
"Don't apologise," he began, but she cut him off by clapping her hand over his mouth and glaring at him.
"That was thoughtless of me," she said firmly. "I am sorry." He wrapped the fingers of one hand around her wrist and removed her hand from his mouth, pulling it down towards where her other one rested. He then stepped closer to her and took both of her hands in his, looking down at her thoughtfully.
"All right," he said quietly. "I'll accept it, just this once." She half-smiled, glancing down at their connected hands.
"Good," she agreed a little breathlessly. "So do you, uh … do you still need a ride home?"
"Sure," he said, beginning to let go of her hands reluctantly. One of hers shot out and grabbed one of his, and her cheeks flushed red.
"Unless," she said, her voice somewhat higher pitched than normal. "Unless … well, there's bourbon at my place. I'm sure Noemi wouldn't mind making a little extra food tonight. And I … I think we could both use the company." He tightened his fingers around hers, thinking about how if Paula Cassidy hadn't been killed, they never would have wound up here having this conversation. He nodded slowly before replying.
"Amor fati."