Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters to NCIS. They're owned by MSNBC. I made the characters Brannan, Zimmerman, and Amaya.
Brannan and Zimmerman talked on Skype for nearly an hour, going over the fond memories with McGee standing by the door listening. Even though it was against the Regulations about fraternizing with the enlisted, Brannan and Amaya took it upon themselves to care for the one in their unit that others overlooked. "When I get back, the three of us will go out to your favorite place again, like what we did for your birthday," Brannan said with a smile as her slightly blurred face came close to the computer screen.
"Okay" Zimmerman smirked and lightly nodded. Pain was now shooting through his body that he had to inject some morphine into himself to ease it. Knowing the conversation was about to end-Brannan said, "Okay, Robbie. I'll see you soon" waving to him, "Stay safe".
Taking the laptop off the food tray, McGee stepped away from the bed and brought the camera to his face. "Lieutenant, I have to speak for you, lieutenant."
"Of course" the lieutenant replied wiping a finger underneath her eyes.
Going back to the far end of the room by the door, McGee cradled the computer in his hands at chest level, "We have arrested Salvador for attempted capital murder. But, we couldn't link Commander Tanner to it," he said in a low tone to not disturb Robert as he sighed. The morphine was kicking in.
The lieutenant's face contorted to a frown as she lowered her head for but a moment before lifting it, "You did great, Agent McGee. You and your team. What's going to happen now?"
"Salvador is going to be processed and held for arraignment. From there, it's out of my hands, but, if it goes to trial then you might be called in as a witness."
"That's good" she nodded, "I hope they call me, and I'll tell that jury all of the horrid things they did not only to me and Amaya but also to Robbie. It's not right, Agent McGee. The system failed him. The system punished him for being a good sailor!" McGee couldn't agree more. The lieutenant vented but cooled herself before McGee, "I'm sorry, sir," she sighed rubbing her eyes with the palm of both hands, "What's going to happen to Robbie?
"I don't know, ma'am. For now, he's stable. They're going to continue with their surgeries" McGee nodded. He wanted to say more, but didn't want to jinx his words.
While McGee was at the hospital, Ziva and DiNozzo finished up their paperwork back at the office. Being on duty for over 24 hours had stressed their senses. Tony wasn't wearing his jacket, his tie was hanging loose on his shirt, and his eyes were red with bags forming underneath, but he still had enough spunk in him to keep working, but not because of a sense of duty to serve justice-but to try and outlast Ziva.
"You getting sleepy yet?" the sly Italian asked from his desk.
"Not on your life" Ziva smirked as she sat upright in her chair writing calmly.
"Let's make a bet" Tony said, "Last man standing wins."
"Wins what?" the Mossad agent asked without taking her eyes off her papers.
"$20" Tony's eyebrows buckled, "Huh?"
"Tony," Ziva sighed, "There's a man's life hanging in the balance at the hospital and another one in a holding cell," she stared at the man, "You seriously want to play a game and bet money when we should be doing our work that will put that man in a prison for the rest of his life for what he did to that man in the hospital?"
"Why not?" he shrugged and smiled, "Probie and I do it all the time!"
The Israeli could only shake her head and lower her dark eyes back down to her work. All of her words were pooling together. She didn't want to admit it, but the strain and lack of sleep was playing with her mind. In a few minutes the elevator opened and back came McGee with a rather upbeat look on his face.
"Where have you been, Probie?" Tony asked as his counterpart walked by and sat behind his respective desk.
"At the hospital with Zimmerman," McGee responded, putting his satchel behind his chair and waking up his computer, "What did I miss?"
"Hold on!" Tony slowly stood up, intrigued by those words, "You went to the hospital? You brought your laptop with you..." he thought for a moment then smiled, "You were camming with Lt. Brannan!"
"I was...for a bit..." McGee hesitantly admitted, his eyes staring at his keyboard.
"A bit? Got a little ahead of yourself. Zimmerman is still alive..." Tony began to say slowly walking away from his desk.
"I know he's still alive, Tony!" McGee suddenly cried, "I wanted to make sure he and Lt. Brannan were able to talk to each other at least one more time."
"Is he dying?" Ziva asked.
McGee's head again lowered to his keyboard, "No. But I wanted him to at least see her again."
Tony smirked, shoved his hands into his pockets, twirled about and went back to his desk. That was all he could say at the moment, but he jumped back to his feet when Gibbs marched in to his desk, "Tony...Ziva..."
"Yes, boss!" Tony shouted.
"Get your paperwork together and take Salvador to a proper cell. I want him out of this building" the silver haired boss growled as he gathered his belongings about to head home.
"On it, boss" Tony snapped, feeling a sudden spurt of energy. The two agents went into the back to retrieve their primary suspect who was now a blubbering mess having cried his eyes red. "What's going to happen to me now?" Salvador cried as they led him out of the cell and towards the elevator his wrists held together behind him by a pair of steel cuffs.
"You're going to a cell," DiNozzo said having spruced himself up before heading out, but he couldn't remove the fatigue from his face, "When we get all the paperwork in order-you're going to be arraigned. After that, you'll go to a General Court Martial"
Ziva held Salvador's wrists them against the small of his back giving him a squeeze to tell him that if he tried to resist that she could break bones. "How long is it going to take?" Salvador asked.
"I don't know, but, as long as you're out of here, I don't care. Our job here is done," Tony sighed as he pressed the summoning button for the elevator car. "Attempted capital murder could get you life in Leavenworth," he said with a smile relishing the look as the suspect squirmed. He wasn't fit for prison. He would die in just a couple of years from insanity.
The doors opened, the three of them stepped into the car, pressed for ground floor, and the doors slowly closed, but with just a few inches left, a knife hand slid between them and the sensor tripped forcing the doors back open revealing McGee with a frown.
"Want to ride with us?" Ziva asked.
"No" the man replied in a surprisingly serious tone, "We're amending the charges-to 1st Degree Murder."
Despite all of their efforts, Zimmerman went into cardiac arrest and passed away an hour after his Skype session with Brannan. Amaya was called, the news caused her to fall to her knees and cry. Brannan's screams were heard by the whole room through McGee's Skype when she was told. Commander Stevens remained a dignified man and didn't say a word when he was notified, but his face fell as did Kessel's.
Two weeks later...
The trees were in bloom as a gentle wind blew through various trees including oak that were in bloom gently taking their leaves and sending them on a gentle ride to the ground where they began forming a thin layer on the thick green grass or fell on the shoulders of those gathering to lay the sailor in his final resting place. Standing side by side beside the empty plot was Gibbs and the Secretary of Navy as they waited for the flag draped casket to arrive. SecNav had a smug smile on his lips, not because of the death of Zimmerman, but for what he did for him. As a final gesture of excellent service and to right the wrongs done by Salvador and Commander Tanner, he thought it best to award Zimmerman with a Bronze Star with V device and a gold star to denote a second award for risking his life to save two wounded men from a bullet swept field in Iraq and Afghanistan, but for all of the other medals and commendations that were held back by Tanner-the Secretary spent two days going over each one of them and decided that instead of issuing out individual awards for his work, he wrapped up into Commendation and Achievement Medals, the highest he could go. "I wish I could give him the DSM (Distinguished Service Medal), but that's only for old folks-like me."
"He didn't do this for medals" Gibbs said to his old friend, "He did it because he loved it. Medals mean nothing."
SecNav smirked and shook his sagging jowls slightly, "Medals mean something. To us-they're reminders of where we've been. To others-they mean that we still have nightmares." Gibbs smirked and looked at the rack on the man's bright full white dress uniform. For several decades of service he had racked up an impressive array of service and valor medals, but somewhere in the middle of all of that was a medal, a bronze disc with an eagle surrounded in barbed wire. Attached to it was a black ribbon with two white stripes near either end. Like Zimmerman's artwork, each medal told a story-a story on he knew the true meaning behind it.
A Marine Honor Guard team served as pallbearers as they slowly carried the flag draped casket across the close cropped green grass. Behind them was a small procession of followers; the rest of the NCIS team including Jimmy and Abby dressed head to toe in black-face behind a black veil and a small umbrella shielding her head from the rays of the sun holding arms with Ducky as they silently followed the casket. Just ahead of them were those that mattered to the departed, in their smartly dressed uniforms were Commander Stevens, Lt. Commander Kessel, and Lieutenants Brannan and Amaya. They were the only ones from their unit to appear for the funeral, either because of guilt or no sincerity to the departed it was a small affair. Not even the press appeared to take a single photo.
When the casket was put in place over the grave, a priest gave the last rites and spoke some kind words to the departed, the Honor Guard fired 3 volleys of five rifles, the flag was folded and presented to Brannan and Amaya both. One by one those present stepped forward to place a red rose on the casket before it was lowered.
Having been in many funerals, Gibbs was a rock showing no emotion and not saying a word as he placed a rose on the casket and stepped away. It wasn't that he was numb to the pain, he had learned to suppress his feelings in tiring times. For Brannan and Amaya, the loss of their friend was almost too much to bear. They wept and hugged the members of the team that captured the murderers.
Brannan approached Gibbs as he stood away from the casket, hands folded and hanging low in front of him. "Agent Gibbs?" she asked and hid nodded, "I just want to thank you..."
"There's no need for that" Gibbs whispered.
"No. There is. I want to show you something," the lieutenant said and reached into her pocket. "There's something I want to show you. I know this is against the Regs, but I don't care". In her hand was a small black leather wallet and opened it to show the contents to Gibbs, a series of pictures covered in plastic to preserve them. She combed through a few before settling on one. "This was Robbie's birthday. His last birthday. Everyone else had forgotten about it, so, we took him to an Olive Garden and partied it up for him. That was the first time I ever saw him smile," the picture was of the three of them cheek to cheek smiling at the camera with the lieutenants having purchased a large double chocolate cake with candles for him just before blowing them out. It was nostalgia that sent a warm feeling through her body and smile flashing her white teeth. "I wanted you to have this..."
"No, ma'am" Gibbs said, "That's your picture. You keep it. In fact, I was told that there was something else for you, Amaya, and Stevens to have. That was McGee's signal to come forward with the portraits they recovered from Zimmerman's room and gave them to their respective sources except for Kessel who felt left out until McGee produced a small pad of paper and handed it to him, "I found this from items we found with Salvador. It would appear that he was working on your piece, sir," McGee said, "But he didn't get the chance to finish it". Opening it up, Kessel found the intricate detail of Zimmerman's hand had traced the outline of his slightly sagging face, dark eyes, and thin lips that gave an appearance of stone with thinning gray hair on a egg shaped face, the commander couldn't but smile at the detail in the work that would never be completed.
"You all meant so much to Zimmerman," McGee said, "This was his way of showing it." They were silent, looking at the work in their hands. None of the officers knew what to say to this except nod in appreciation to McGee and Gibbs.
When Zimmerman was put into the ground the attendees took a handful of dirt and tossed it onto the casket then paused to think of a few parting words. It was silent except for a breeze blowing through the trees and sending more leaves to fall around the casket. One by one they left. The team had their work to do back at the office and left together with Zimmerman's friends going home in their own vehicles after several minutes of hugs and tears.
That night Amaya was at home looking at her portrait as it sat on the kitchen table. She had removed her uniform and put on pajamas, but coming back into the kitchen and staring at the piece she couldn't help but admire it. It was immaculate representation of her face, as if taken by a camera using black and white filters, but in looking at it, there was a queer feeling that fell over her that there was something else to the portrait than what she was looking at. She couldn't explain it, but she turned the frame over and moved the locks holding the back in place. Pulling the panel away a piece of yellow lined paper, folded in half, fell out onto the table. Setting the frame pieces aside, the lieutenant picked up the paper, unfolded it and found it full of writing.
Dearest Amaya,
If you're reading this, then it should mean that something bad has happened to me. I'm not worried. My pain would be over. When I joined the Navy, I didn't think I would be able to last long. In fact, I was hopping we would be deployed again so there would be another bullet with my name on it. I couldn't get help here, the pain was too much, but don't lose hope. You and Brannan did everything you could to help me. You two were my only real friends and for your kindness I will always love you and ensure that you will be rewarded. My last wish is for my artwork to be put somewhere where everyone could see it. Every picture has been made for a specific purpose, remember us. Crockett at the Alamo, the 300 Spartans, President Lincoln-their legacy, their soul, continues to live so long as they are remembered. That's is my last wish-remember us. A man truly dies when they are forgotten.
Amaya sat staring at the letter with tears rolling freely down her smooth cheeks, "Oh, Robert" she gasped to herself.
Brannan found her letter rather by accident. The frame had slid off a table and landed on its back, breaking a lock. When she lifted it up the back fell free and out came the letter.
My dear Scarlett,
If you're reading this letter then it means that I'm no longer on this Earth. I'm in a better place now. A place that has no pain. A place that I am at peace. I wanted you to know how much I loved you. I know that with you being an officer and I an enlisted that nothing could develop between us, but there's more to love than just that. You and Amaya gave me strength through troubled times. You did your best, don't let any feelings of failure damper your future. You will move on in life. Like every piece of artwork I've ever done, everything has a story. Don't forget to write your own, and don't forget about me.
"Robbie!" she cried balling the letter in her hands.
Epilogue:
Petty Officer Salvador received a court-martial for murder as well as several smaller crimes stemming from his harassment of Zimmerman including; theft of government and private property, destruction of property, and 2nd degree assault for pushing Zimmerman down the stairs. He pleaded guilty to his crimes to avoid the death penalty and was sentenced to life in prison with no chance of parole and demoted to E-1 with the loss of all pay and privileges.
For Commander Tanner, SecNav came through with his promise. A general court-martial was held for him on charges of; leading a toxic command, nepotism, retaliation, destruction of government and private property, physical and sexual harassment, illegally withholding awards and commendations, and filing false fitness reports, and conduct unbecoming an officer. He pleaded not guilty to all charges, but there was no doubt to his guilt. Found guilty on all charges he was sentenced to confinement for 44 months and dismissal from the service. The hand of irony and retribution was not lost on him. When Tanner first arrived at his detention facility, he was placed in a holding cell for processing. In a few minutes the electronic lock opened and in stepped a man, Tanner thought him to be a guard, but he wasn't wearing a uniform-but street clothes and he was a tall man and well built. "Who are you?" Tanner asked.
"You know who I am" the man growled, balling both fists, "I'm the man that boy saved over in the desert. You took something from him that didn't belong to you. I'm here to pay it back." Alone, trapped, and helpless Tanner cried in horror as the man stepped forward and delivered a beating so severe that the guards watching through the closed circuit cameras recoiled in horror, but didn't bother to stop it.