Letters From The Sky
I stopped in the doorway to the bedroom, unable to stop the dark frown from crossing my face as I studied her carefully. She was sitting on the bed, her knees drawn up to her chest as she stared out the window, silent tears sliding down her cheeks.
"Abby?"
Her head snapped up at the sound of my voice, and I watched as she wiped the tears from her face with the pads of her fingers. "Hey."
Cautiously, I took another step into the room, noting that her hair was still damp from her shower. "It's almost time," I said, hoping that the reminder would pull her out of whatever dark thoughts were going through her head.
She nodded, continuing to stare out the window with a vacant look on her face. It had started raining, nothing more than a light spring shower, but rain nonetheless. Fitting, I thought to myself, shaking my head before turning my attention back to her.
"C'mon. Want me to have Ziva come in and help you get ready?"
Abby shook her head, swiping at her damp, pale skin. "'M not going."
"You really think that's what he would have wanted?" I asked, moving to sit down next to her on the edge of the bed. "He would have wanted you to have the closure, Abs."
"I can't. I can't go and see him like that," she mumbled, her voice cracking under the strain.
The past week had been hard on everyone, but understandably, Abby had the hardest time coping. I watched as she played with the engagement ring that she continued to wear on her finger, the sight making my chest clench uncomfortably.
She had been on the phone with him when it happened. That fact alone made it harder for her than Kate's death had been years earlier, but their recent engagement hadn't made things any easier. It was supposed to be a routine search, but when the suspect returned, things got out of hand quickly.
He had been downstairs getting an update on the fingerprints when the front door opened, catching him by surprise. He dropped the phone in an attempt to reach for his gun when the suspect pulled his own weapon, shooting him twice in the chest without any hesitation and leaving before the rest of us got to the door.
It was over before we had an opportunity to save him, and as soon as I caught sight of his phone laying open on the ground next to his lifeless form, I somehow knew that Abby had been the one on the other line.
Releasing a heavy sigh, I wrapped my arm around her shoulder and pressed a soft kiss to the side of her head, hating the way she tensed under my touch. Everyone - myself included - had been hesitant to approach her, simply because no one knew what the right words were. There wasn't exactly a right way to go about comforting someone who had just lost their fiance, especially when that someone had heard the shots that took his life in real time.
A small smile threatened at the corners of my mouth when she leaned into me, her damp hair resting against my suit jacket. I kept my arm around her and squeezed gently, letting her know that I wasn't going anywhere and that if she wanted to talk, she could.
"Why did he leave me?" She asked, her voice so quiet I almost let myself believe she hadn't spoken at all, simply because I wasn't sure I wanted to answer the question.
"He didn't know, Abs," I explained, reminding myself that it would be easier to convince her if I believed what I was telling her myself. "You know he loved you more than anything."
Again, she simply nodded and wrapped her arms around her middle tightly. It wasn't until she pulled away from me that I allowed myself to notice that she was wearing his bathrobe, the scent of his cologne still embedded in the fabric.
"I don't think I can do it," she managed, pushing herself to her feet shakily and heading to the window on the far side of the bedroom.
I leaned forward, keeping my eyes on her as I rested my elbows on my knees. "You can do whatever you put your mind to. And I know you've got one of the brightest minds I've ever seen."
She didn't bother to glance back at me, instead focusing her gaze on the street outside, following a car as it passed. The tension in the room was palpable, and I could practically see the knots in her shoulders, even under the heavy robe.
"Abby," I tried again, trying desperately to hold in the quiet sigh that threatened to escape. Instead I stood up and walked over to her, dropping a second kiss to her cheek before squeezing her shoulder gently. "I'm gonna go, alright? We're leaving for the service in ten minutes."
A single nod was the only recognition I received before I turned around and stepped out of the room, closing the door almost silently behind me. It wasn't until I was in the hallway that I allowed myself to release the shaky sigh that I had restrained in the bedroom, hating myself for not letting her see that she wasn't the only one in pain.
"Did you speak to her?"
I look up at the sound of Ziva's voice, a frown on my lips. "I tried. Don't know that it did much good."
She nodded, smoothing the front of her dress with her hands. "It is never easy to lose a loved one," she commented, making an attempt at being sympathetic but not quite hitting the mark.
It wasn't that she didn't miss him as much as the rest of us, it was just her coping mechanism. She divorced herself from emotion in these situations, and while it upset some people - usually Abby - I understood it. Self-preservation is sometimes more important than anything else.
"No," I said, leaning against the wall heavily. "No, it's not."
Ziva moved to stand next to me, her heels making her slightly taller than my shoulder as she crossed her arms over her chest. When I glanced down at her, I couldn't help but notice the way her neatly manicured nails were digging into the skin of her elbows, leaving little white crescent-shaped marks in their wake against her tanned skin.
We stood there in silence, unsure of what to say to each other. It had been a week since the shooting, and while we had been spending the majority of our time together taking care of Abby, we had hardly talked. Instead we sat in the living room, flipping through the channels aimlessly as she holed herself up in the bedroom.
The focus of our silent thoughts emerged from the bedroom a moment later, completely oblivious to our presence as she turned down the short hallway. Her hair was pulled into a simple ponytail, and while I hadn't seen her face, I could only assume her makeup was minimal at best. The dress she wore - a knee-length black dress that wasn't particularly form-fitting - was one Ziva had pulled out for her earlier that morning, while she was still sleeping.
Ziva and I shared a glance before we moved to follow Abby down the hall, stopping when we saw her pause in front of the bookshelf momentarily. Neither of us said a word as she stared at the various photos that littered the shelf before reaching up and taking one of them down, holding it close to her chest.
"Abby?" I asked, curious as to what her plan was for the photo. "Whatcha gonna do with that?"
"I think I'm ready," she replied, choosing to ignore the question I had asked her.
I shot Ziva a quick glance as I lifted Abby's coat off of its hook and helped her into it before leading her out the door with a gentle hand to the small of her back.
The drive to the cemetery was silent as Abby stared out the window, her fingers playing over the edges of the picture frame that she had brought with her. Unfortunately it took longer to get there than we had anticipated, and by the time we arrived, the rain had started again.
"Ready?" I asked, pulling the passenger side door open and holding out my hand for her.
"Thanks," she whispered, allowing me to help her out of the car. Leaning up, she pressed a kiss to my cheek before ducking out from under the umbrella I was holding, making her way to the group of matching black umbrellas near the gravesite.
I closed my eyes as she walked away, needing a moment to get my emotions under control before Ziva joined me, her own umbrella in hand. "She will be fine," she assured me, offering a tight smile. "Hopefully this will give her some closure, yes?"
"Yeah... I hope so."
The funeral was a simple affair, and despite her lover's ambiguity regarding religion, she had asked the priest from her church to come and deliver the eulogy. When he was finished she stood and stepped up to the casket, resting one hand on the polished wood as she recited a quiet prayer.
After a minute of watching her, I stood as well, moving to cover her with the umbrella. She didn't protest, choosing to lean against me for support, much like she had just over an hour earlier in her bedroom. I didn't say anything to her, so it surprised me when she started speaking, her voice just loud enough for me to hear.
"I thought we were made for each other," she whispered, her voice thick with tears as she set the picture on top of the casket. "Silly, huh?"
I shook my head, reaching for her free hand and squeezing it gently. "You were made for each other. He never loved anyone the way he loved you."
It was at that moment that she looked up at me, her green eyes meeting mine for the first time that I could remember since the day of the shooting. "Thank you," she said quietly, not noticing the people behind us beginning to move back toward their cars. "For everything."
"Don't thank me," I said, glancing to the side when I noticed someone approaching out of the corner of my eye. "Hey, Boss."
Gibbs nodded to me in greeting as he reached over a rested a hand on Abby's shoulder reassuringly. "You're sure that you'll be okay alone tonight?"
"I'll be okay," she managed, averting her eyes from his intense gaze. "I have to do it sometime."
"I'll stay with her," I offered, silently hoping for the opportunity to get her to open up to me again. "If that's okay with her, of course."
Abby shrugged half-heartedly, continuing to hold my hand as she looked back at the picture that she had laid on top of the casket. Gibbs nodded, leaning in to kiss her cheek tenderly before clapping me on the shoulder.
"Take care of her," he whispered, taking another glance at the woman he saw as a surrogate daughter.
"You know I will, Gibbs."
He nodded, a look of defeat flashing across his face for less than a second before he turned and walked away, meeting up with Ziva near his truck and offering to take her home.
"You don't have to stay with me," Abby insisted, wrapping her arms around herself to keep from touching the smooth wood that entombed her fiance. "I'll be fine on my own."
"'Okay'... 'fine'... you're starting to sound like him," I said, looking out across the grass to see that most of the people who had attended the funeral had left. "It's starting to get cold. We should probably get going."
"I don't..." she stopped, closing her eyes tightly against the tears that had started flowing down her cheeks without permission. "He's never coming back. I'm never gonna feel his arms around me again."
Letting go of her hand, I wrapped my free arm around her shoulder and pulled her close, running my fingers over her back as she sobbed into the lapel of my trenchcoat. "Everything will get better, Abs," I tried, unsure if I was trying harder to convince her or myself. "And over time... it'll hurt less."
"I don't want it to hurt less, I want him to come back," she sobbed, her voice cracking. "I want my Tony back."
My eyes fell shut at the sound of his name, the first time it had been used since the day he died. In my head, I knew that she understood what she was asking for was impossible, but in that moment, as I held her trembling body in my arms... I would have given anything to be able to bring him back to her.
If only to see her smile one more time.