AN: This was supposed to be one really really long chapter, but considering that it was to be the last chapter of the story (minus the epilogue) and the fact that I haven't updated in two weeks, I figured that I would get it out now. So now there will be two more chapters, including the epilogue.

Enjoy!

Thanatopsis Chapter Twenty

Tony buried his face in Ziva's hair and wrapped his arm around her waist. She curled her body around him as silent sobs racked her body. He felt Gibbs sit down beside him and try to give some semblance of comfort to his tea regardless of how much he clearly needed it himself. The strong hands were shaking and Tony could hear him taking calming, yet ragged gulps of air. Nothing could be done, however, for Tony could barely breathe himself. His chest was constricting and the only thing keeping him drawing air into his lungs was the soft scent of Ziva's hair.

The dread hanging in the air around them was palpable, practically crushing Tony alive. He couldn't get Tim's face out of his mind; every time he attempted not to think about him, all he saw was the blood gushing from his mouth. He saw blood seeping from Tim's chest and through his hands. He saw Ziva panting, the red liquid dripping from her lips.

Tony held Ziva until she finally stopped crying, and then let her go as she went to the bathroom to wash up, leaving Tony feeling cold. She came back with a pink face from scrubbing and a few damp hairs still clinging to her face and neck, found a chair, and curled up. Gibbs left for a second and came back with a couple wet wipes for him to clean his hands with. He had completely forgotten that they were still covered in Tim's blood. Gibbs left him to it as well, finding a chair opposite Ziva. Tony threw the trash off to the side and leaned back, eyes closed. Why did Tim have to be so damn self-sacrificing? Didn't he see what he was doing to all of them?

You would have done the same thing, a voice in his head told him. You were about to, and Tim would have been sitting right where you are now and feeling like he didn't do everything he could. Tony sighed. Better that than dead.

They had been sitting for nearly an hour, and yet, there still wasn't any news. Tony was at a loss for what to do. He just couldn't call Abby; not again. She would find out eventually, whether good or bad, but he didn't want to make her worry. God knew she was always about one extra-large Caf-Pow away from a heart attack on a good day.

He took to watching the nurses going about their business though the glass wall of the waiting room. It reminded him of when his mom was sick. How the nurses at that hospital would let him hang out with them when his dad dropped him off to visit his mom as a child. They would let him sit in their laps as they went about their work. He was always supplied with all the chocolate milk he could drink, as long as they were allowed to call him 'baby,' and one particular nurse would always pull out the chess board from the storage closet and play with him when there was nothing else to do.

He was fairly certain that she was the nurse that Tim had seen in his vision. She was the one that held him for two hours after his mother had died. She was also the one that almost took him home with her at the end of her shift when his father didn't come for him after five hours. That was the last time he'd ever seen her. He'd always had a great respect for nurses because of her, but even so, he still hated hospitals. To him, in his profession, hospitals almost always equaled death. And he honestly didn't thing that he could handle another one, not after all he and Tim had been through.

They had been friends for nearly a decade. All the others had come and gone, but Tim had always stayed. Even through all the teasing, tormenting, practical jokes, hazing, hardship, loss, anger, pain, life-and-death situations, fear of tomorrow, missing the past, enjoying the present, and so much fucking more, he was unshakable. Nothing that Tony could ever do could make Tim want to leave.

But now, after all this time, that was precisely what he was trying to do.

Well, Tony wouldn't have it. He stood suddenly, took three long strides to the door, and fought not to run as he made his way down the stairs and outside. He flung a back exit door open and immediately sank to the ground, not caring that he was less than twenty feet from a stinky dumpster and on the dirty pavement.

He took a shaky breath and said, "Tim, if you can hear me and I'm pretty sure that you can... You know I don't have that many friends, not many who stayed anyway. If you leave... I'll be all alone again." Another breath, almost a sob. "I need you.

"Please come back."

NCISNCISNCISNCISNCISNCIS

Abby's lab: not quite the most appropriate place for quiet contemplation, but McGee could think of no other place to go. He watched her as she hummed along to words that he could not make out as she danced, swinging her hips back and forth. Her eyes were focused on the computer screen as they quickly scanned some complicated chemical equations that he could not even fathom.

McGee stood in the doorway, afraid to go in. If he chose to go, this would be the last time he ever saw her. He closed his eyes. What could he do? Could he really leave them all behind? A machine dinged and Abby squealed. McGee stepped up to look over her shoulder. Just something from the case, not that it mattered anymore.

If he left, he didn't know what would happen to Abby. She didn't handle death very well. He'd seen her at her worst, when Kate died, and Director Shepard. He still remembered the way her arms felt wrapped around him so tight as she cried into his shoulder, and he needed it just as much as she did.

Abby was always so sweet to him, even when nobody else was. And funny too.

Agent Gibbs looked at him strangely, and then at Abby. "He stay at your place?"

"Yup," she said excitedly.

"You sleep in the coffin, McGee?"

Wait, what? "Coffin?" He turned to her. "You said that it was a box sofa bed."

Abby looked like she had just been caught with her hand in the cookie jar. "Well... it is!" she said, uncomfortably. "Sort of…"

He could believe what he was hearing, how could he not know? "That's why you wouldn't turn the lights on." Oh, God. "I can't believe I just slept in a coffin."

A mischievous grin, "…Not just slept."

Her CD player stopped, and she went to replace the disk. At first, McGee thought that the speakers had busted, for the first couple of notes of the new song sounded like metal grinding against metal, but then she started dancing again and McGee gave her one last look and left for his next destination.

Ducky and Palmer were down in autopsy, as usual, catching up on paperwork, considering there was nothing else to do. Yet. Palmer checked over his shoulder, and then checked his phone, smiling when he got a new message. Likely from Breena. Palmer was a good man, but still one of the strangest people McGee had ever met.

McGee, Tony and Ziva stepped out of the elevator, and then stopped dead, seeing Jimmy standing in the middle of the bullpen with his shirt off, trying to put ointment on a rather brilliant allergic reaction on his back.

"Dear God!" Tony said, horrified. "Someone fed him after midnight."

"Jimmy, what happened to you?" Ziva asked, a little concerned, but mostly scared. She stepped around him, avoiding touching him as if he were a leper.

Palmer turned around, eyes lighting up at the sight of them. "Turns out I am really allergic to henna, but I-I can't reach back there. So do you think you guys could…" he looked at them expectantly, holding out the ointment to them.

Tony grabbed his bag and ran toward the elevator. "I'm late for a squash game."

"I'm sorry. I gotta get the hell out of here," Ziva said, right on Tony's heels.

Palmer followed them, running right past McGee. "Please, guys!" he said, desperately. "It really itches!"

"That's what girlfriends are for!' Tony yelled as he jammed the button for the elevator.

He caught up to them. "Yeah, yeah, ok. I can get the top part."

Tony held his hands up and attempted to keep him back. "Stay, stay, stay!"

"No please! It might be contagious." Ziva said as he followed them into the elevator.

"I may have to hurt you massively. I may have to hurt you massively!" Ziva was yelling.

Tony pointed to Ziva. "She'll do it! She'll do it!"

"I would do it for you!" Jimmy pleaded as the doors closed.

"No you wouldn't!"

Ducky surreptitiously glanced from his own work and caught sight of Jimmy on his phone. He smiled wider than he had in days, looking back at his own work. Had it only been days since his friend had passed? What would another death do to him right now?

McGee sat on Ducky's table scratching at his face, which was covered in bright red blemishes. "What I don't understand is how it got all over my face."

Ducky was looking him over. "It's the urushiol oil in the plant, McGee. Once it gets on your hands, it spreads to anything it comes in contact with."

McGee's eyes widened, "Well... then I have a major problem, Ducky."

Ducky raised his eyebrows. "Hmm?"

McGee swallowed. "When I was out there, I had to... you know…" he floundered, trying to say it without really saying it.

"No, I don't."

"Relieve myself."

"Oh," he said, not realizing what was implied, then, "Oh... well, uh, let's take a look, then."

McGee's face turned red as he unbuckled his pants. "This is, uh, this is kind of embarrassing…"

Ducky rolled his eyes. "I'm a doctor, McGee. I have seen everything there is to see more times than I care to remember."

McGee dropped his pants.

Ducky's eyes widened momentarily, but he didn't try and hide his surprise. "Good lord." "What?" he looked down, horror-struck. "What, is it bad?"

Ducky tried to control his expression, and failed. "No, no, it's fine. Nothing to worry about. I didn't expect to see quite so much…" he tilted his head to the side. "Swelling."

McGee closed his eyes in horror. "If Tony finds out about this, I'm gonna have to quit."

"Well, your secret is safe with me."

Somehow, Jimmy chose that exact moment to enter the autopsy suite. "Doctor, I've got the new evaluation forms you req…" he stopped short, first looking to McGee, then down, and then back up again. "I'll come back." he took off, at a pace that told McGee he was trying not to run.

Ducky looked after him and then turned back to McGee, a slight smile forming on his face. "Him I'm not so sure about."

McGee smiled at the memories. They may not have been agents, but they still meant as much to him as his real family. God, his family. What would dying do to them? He wondered if they knew yet. Sarah was home for the next two weeks for break. He didn't want to think about how it would affect her. She came to D.C. to go to school to be closer to him. Would she even stay?

Of course, they knew what they were getting into when he told them he wanted to be a cop. His mother had cried, Sarah had threatened him, and his father didn't talk to him for seven years. He couldn't do that to them, could he?

AN: I'd appreciate reviews, especially constructive criticism considering the story is almost over. Thanks for reading!