Thanks for all the reviews, here it is, the end of the story!

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Chapter Eight

Disclaimer: I do not own NCIS; or the song Hallelujah, they are the property of their respective creators.

Six days later there were two funerals, two black coffins covered with roses, dozens of crying people, and a really depressed Abby. Gibbs had brought her the news himself, she hadn't stopped crying since, she didn't eat anymore, and she refused to come out of her bed.

Ziva wasn't herself anymore; she didn't joke, didn't laugh and barely talked. And even though Gibbs liked to believe he was handling it well, he knew he wasn't. He woke up in the middle of the night, seeing Tony's body shaking or McGee being hit by the ambulance.

There was an acting director for the time being. But everyone knew that things would never be the same again.

He was sitting in the front row, Abby on his left side and Ziva on his right. Tons of people who had barely know his agents had given a speech, all about how great they were, how much they were going to be missed. But in Gibbs' point of view they missed it all.

So when it was his turn to say something he walked up to the stand and looked over the people to the trees.

"A lot has been said, and every word of it was true. They were dedicated agents, willing to risk it all for their team, for their country.

But the most important thing about them was their bond. They were not only great as partners, they were great as lovers. They complemented each other.

They died for each other, defending what they believed in. I hope that they're together right now.

And even though they're in a better place now, they're going to be missed."

When Gibbs left the stage with tears in his eyes everyone was silent. After the service was over most of the people went back to their house to go on with their normal lives, but Gibbs knew that his life would never be the same again.

He sunk down on the ground next to Abby and held her close, comforting her the best he could. When the rain started to fall down and she laid her head on his shoulder there was only one thing that he could whisper.

"Love is not a victory march, it's a cold and it's a broken Hallelujah."