You'll Never Leave Completely
- Chapter 7: The Last Honor -

It wasn't her body language that said nothing but 'I'm doing my job'. It wasn't her face, so perfectly motionless, like nothing special, let alone life-changing, had happened. It wasn't her voice that sounded steady and sure, like her face with no hint of emotion in it. But it was her eyes which made his heart break; the expression in them a mixture of sadness, loneliness and desperation, something he had never expected to see in her eyes.

Tony knew that Ziva had found a home in Washington; he knew that, to her, the team was like a family, as it was for all of them, though she would never have admitted it openly. She was a soldier, one that was used to being alone, and yet she needed people she could trust; people to greet her warmly and give her the feeling of being secure.

He had assured her that they would find a way to return her from Israel soon. He had told her that she should trust them. But she had only nodded; a vague gesture, showing him that she had heard him, but nothing more.

Now they were sitting on the cemetery among all the people who wanted to give Jenny Shepard and Jethro Gibbs their last honor. Another place, another situation, but again, when he took her hand, trying to comfort her in the only possible way he could think of in this moment, she again only nodded. Though her body language spoke of clear professionalism, in her mind she still was somewhere far away, caught up in her own thoughts, still trying to realize what the events of the past two days meant.

It wasn't the lack of experience with the death of people she liked, but it was a lack of experience with the death of two people who had gotten murdered in a fight they barely had a chance to win. It was a difference now because it had been friends; it had been people she had loved as those, as family maybe, perhaps a bit like parents as Abby had them always declared to be. Back in Israel, she had her family, but this one here in Washington was so different, and she had learned to love them, all of them.

She had known that she would be sent back to Israel at any time, but she had never guessed that it would be after the loss of two people she cared for so much, after an event that made her need her friends more than ever. All this felt so unreal; she wanted to get up from her seat and leave, because it was like a bad dream and maybe ignoring it would wake her up.

The funeral speech made her sick; officially, Jenny and Jethro had died in a car accident, driving back from the funeral service to their hotel in Los Angeles. Of course they needed some cause of death that hadn't something to do with terrorists and gunfights, an official version they could present to the press. No one of the agents or other employees who knew the truth was allowed to talk about what had really happened. They had been more or less instructed to forget. Forget the reality. If only it would be so simple; simple as waking up from a nightmare that wasn't one, but this was reality.

A short glance to Tony next to her assured her that she wasn't the only one who found this situation distasteful; though her partner had now tried for hours to give her some comfort, he nevertheless was pale and looked disgusted.

Tony silently wished to hold a speech that would be more suitable for his two bosses; for these two special people he had had the chance to meet. He was thankful for all those years with Gibbs, and for the last three years with Jenny as Director, even though there had been problems, especially concerning his undercover assignment and the story around Jeanne. But now, with Jenny and Gibbs dead, this whole being angry thing seemed so childish and unimportant to him that he wanted to kick himself for being so stupid.

 

Sometimes, he was kind of jealous of Abby. She was able to love unquestioningly; she could love even those who had hurt her; she could forgive, and he wished he had the same gift. Being able to forgive wasn't something that came naturally to someone; you had to have a big heart, one filled with happiness and joy, with some childish light heartedness.

Looking at Abby now, he was afraid that the young woman would maybe lose these attitudes; she looked so bad, so devastated, and this time, Tony wasn't so sure that she would recover. She sat there, glassy-eyed and absent-minded, wearing barely any make-up and very simple, one would even say conservative clothes. From time to time, a single tear would find its way out of her eyes, rolling down her cheek. It seemed like she hadn't the strength to cry anymore; her silent tears the only visible sign of her mourning that must have been so much deeper than that of the others.

In Abby's mind, no clear thought could be formed. She didn't know what to think, what to do, where to go, to whom to talk to. Of course, there were her friends; she had Tony and Ducky and McGee, even Ziva, and they all were there for her; they had assured her of that and she knew it. But the most important person was missing. The one who had always had an open ear for her, the one person that had given her the feeling of a true family.

She wanted to be comforted by his embrace, his silence that had always said so much. But instead, she was sitting at a funeral service that was being held for him.

Moreover, with him she had lost another person who had become a part of her little family; a woman she maybe had a deeper relationship to than her own mother. Although there had been problems between her and Jenny in the beginning, she soon had come to value her. The woman who wasn't so much older than herself, and yet so respectable and successful; the one who had once offered Abby to come to her house whenever she needed advice or someone to talk to. The one who had been a mother, a sister and a friend to her at the same time.

Abby knew that the others had no idea of how close she had been with Jenny. She didn't exactly know why, but they had their friendship kept a secret, although it hadn't been done consciously. But then, like she hadn't been able to understand it herself, no one could have understood why the minutes, sometimes even hours Jenny had spent in her lab had changed her and her life so much.

There had been someone to talk to, someone to trust, a woman she could have a girl talk with; something she had been missing since Kate's death. Of course it had needed some time to get her and Jenny so close for talking about private things, but she had liked the constant development in their friendship.

She knew people wouldn't believe it, but deep inside, the tough Goth she pretended to be was only a girl, too, a person who needed someone to talk to, someone to hug her and tell her everything would be fine. Gibbs had been the one who had always known and accepted it, who had taken care of her without asking questions. And with Jenny it had been the same during the last two years, ever since the Michael incident and Gibbs' coma.

The two men sitting next to her, McGee on the right, Ducky on the left tried their best to support her; to tell her that there were people who were there for her. And though she knew it without needing them to tell her so, she also knew that no one of them would be able to give her strength; on the one hand because, in this situation, nothing and nobody would be able to help, and on the other hand, she could nearly feel the sadness they had in them.

Ducky, sitting as straight as Ziva, but unlike her failing to hide his emotions that were all available to read on his face now, did his best to avoid any tears falling from his eyes. He hadn't cried often in his life; not because he thought men weren't allowed to cry, but because he had always been a positive person, even in the worst situations. Yet now, this one was about a friend, a very good friend, maybe his best friend, and about a much adored woman he had loved as a friend, too, since they'd met all those years ago.

What was bothering him was not only that both had lost their lives being so young, having so much left to do, to experience, and so many people to meet and help. It was also that he knew they hadn't been completely happy in the end. He wasn't one to intervene, and he even tried to avoid gossip, although he had to admit that it was sometimes interesting. But he was neither stupid nor blind and he had once seen Jenny and Jethro how they had been during their relationship; more easy-going, more open-hearted, more laughing.

He really had wished for them to get that back, although he somehow knew that it hadn't ended well all those years ago. Nevertheless, he had seen the looks, the knowing glances that had assured each other that they understood what the other was saying and thinking. He had seen the longing in Jethro's eyes when Jenny once had come down the stairs in her ball gown, back then when he had been the Director's escort to the Marine Birthday Ball. And he had seen the glances speaking of care and gentleness Jethro had given Jen in the last few months, and that often had Ducky made ask himself if there maybe could be a second chance for them, if they hadn't it taken already.

Now there was no second chance anymore, there was only a Goodbye. The last thing he could hope for was that Jen and Jethro also had had the chance to tell each other goodbye. Whatever was going to happen to your soul after your death, Ducky was sure that it was haunted by some missed chances.

Thoughtfully, the older man let his gaze drift to the person sitting at Abby's other side. He would have never guessed that McGee could be so supporting in such a situation. He could tell that it was heart-breaking for McGee as well, but nevertheless, he showed no signs of weakness, of breaking down and giving up. Not that Ducky would really think of it as weakness.

Of course Ducky couldn't know it, but Timothy McGee was not as strong as he pretended to be. He only pushed every possible thought away. Every thought telling him the truth, telling him about the reality. He knew that Tony was doing it, too; he could tell from his friend's behavior and eyes. He could tell that Ziva and Ducky needed much self control to stay as motionless as possible. And he could tell that Abby was at the end of her tether.

For her, it was like losing her parents. McGee wished so badly that he could take some of her pain away from her, to cope with it for her, but the only thing he could do was try to show her that he was someone she could rely on him, that he would never leave her alone. He hadn't taken her words which in any other situation would have been hurting, serious, and he wasn't going to leave her only because she told him to.

Moreover, concentrating on Abby and blocking out the reality helped him not to get overwhelmed by the fact that his mentor and the woman he had admired very much were just... gone. His own mourning wasn't important now; only Abby was it.

At funerals of colleagues, people often said that it had been an honor working with the deceased, and in most cases it was only an empty phrase. People said it because it was just usually said. McGee didn't like that, and he wouldn't do it. But this time, he really could tell that it had been an honor, no, more than that, to work with Gibbs and Shepard. He knew he had been lucky that he had gotten the chance to become a member of Gibbs' team.

Maybe for him it had been a bit like for Abby; he had found a second father in his boss that had always been strict, but also caring. He knew that Gibbs had been someone to rely on, no matter what happened. He remembered the case when he had shot another agent, and how his boss had forced him to not give up. He still knew all these moments when Gibbs had, directly or indirectly, told him just to go on. He had made of him, the shy and inexperienced MIT graduate, a reliable, self-confident, even brave agent.

He wouldn't claim that Jenny had been a mother to him as she had been to Abby. Maybe he was the one of the team that had the least among of contact with her. He knew now that Gibbs' had been her lover and Tony her special undercover agent; that Ziva had been a good friend and Abby a daughter or little sister. Ducky had obviously known her nearly as long as Gibbs had. And he, McGee? McGee sighed. They all had been close to Jenny in some way. And maybe this was the reason that he was able to support Abby; that he could all this, as sad as it was, push away a bit more easily.

--- 

It was Ducky and Abby to stand up and receive the flags that were folded to triangles. Because there were no relatives for either Jenny or Jethro, it had been arranged to give the flags to the two persons who were the closest the deceased had to relatives. Abby had been like a daughter to Gibbs, everyone knew that, and it, too, was no secret that Ducky, Gibbs and Shepard had been close friends to each other.

The people around them gasped when Abby staggered and had to be caught and steadied by Tony who had jumped up due to quick-thinking. With an idle glance she took the flag that was given to her, as did Ducky, before they went back to their seats. The young woman clung to the cloth in her hands till the end of the ceremony, not moving, not even blinking.

"I'll take her home," McGee told the others when they had finally left the cemetery, and his friends nodded.

"Call me if you or Abby need any help," Ducky responded, patting the young man lightly on the shoulder. Tim only nodded and left, an arm around Abby, worried watched by the others.

"Can I take you two home?" Tony then asked Ziva and Ducky.

"Thank you, Antony, but I'm here with my own car. Try to get some rest now; I don't think working for Director Vance will be easy." With that and a weak smile, the older man left.

"I'd like to take your offer, Tony. I don't feel like walking back home." DiNozzo acknowledged Ziva's words by nodding, then laid a hand on her small of her back, guiding her to his car.

Chapter 8