Halloween.
All Hallow’s Eve.
The ancient pagans celebrated four fire feasts during the year. The Celts called them Imbolc in February, Beltane in May, Lughnasadh in August, and Samhain at the end of October. Each feast marked the beginning of a new season, and Samhain was chief among the feasts, marking as it did the beginning of the new year.
The Celts marked time in cycles of a year and a day. They believed that Samhain was the day between the years. It was a day of mysticism and magic; a day when, it was believed, the veil between this world and the next was lifted. The Celts believed that on the night of Samhain, the dead walked the earth, and would often set places for their beloved departed at the Samhain feast tables.
--
Abby has been alternative for a long time, and while she herself has never been a pagan, she has several friends who are or have been. She knows about the traditions of Samhain and she knows what they mean. So she places a candle in her bedroom window - the one that faces westward - every Halloween, in remembrance.
This Halloween is no different.
She arrives home from the event of the evening, gets out of her costume and into her lounging clothes, and curls up in her big armchair, sipping a cup of cocoa and staring into the flame. Her mind drifts back over her life, and she slowly and carefully remembers each person she has lost, from the first - her grandfather, when she was eight - to the most recent: Kate.
"Oh, Kate," she sighs softly, closing her eyes briefly against the pain. It has been five months since the day she begged Kate to be careful; five months since she had a dream of Tony with blood on his face. Five months since she waited in her lab anxiously, not knowing why she was so frightened, pacing the floor for hours on end before finally looking up to see Gibbs standing in the doorway.
She had known immediately from looking at him that something was terribly, horribly wrong… but she didn’t know what it was. She just knew that something had happened that had utterly destroyed him. She had gone to him immediately, wrapping him in a hug without even knowing why, and when he pressed his face into her shoulder and began to weep, he had only been able to say one word. And Abby wept with him.
Abby’s cell phone rings on the bedside table, and she is startled, because the tone that plays is a song by Android Lust that Kate had particularly enjoyed. Abby had chosen it as Kate’s identifying ringer early in their friendship and still thinks of Kate every time she hears it. But it shouldn’t be playing now, because although she never took the ring tone off her phone, she has also never reassigned it to anyone else’s number.
She also hasn’t taken Kate out of her phone book. She couldn’t bear to.
At first, she called Kate’s phone nightly, just to hear her speak when the call went to voice mail. Then Kate’s phone had been disconnected. But the number is still in Abby’s phone, and it is still listed under Kate’s name.
The phone stops ringing as Abby sits and stares at it. She swallows hard and she thinks, I must have imagined it. She thinks this over and over in the suddenly loud silence that fills her bedroom. And then the phone begins to ring again.
Without consciously realizing what she is doing, Abby is across the room, sitting on her bed, holding her phone in her hands. She closes her eyes, swallows hard, and answers the phone.
"Hello?"
"I thought maybe you weren’t going to pick up," says the voice on the other end of the line. It is staticky and sounds as though it’s coming from far away - and it is, Abby realizes. That voice is coming to her across the phone line from some unimaginable distance, and she had better take advantage of whatever opportunity she’s been somehow granted before the opportunity is gone forever.
"I would never not pick up if I knew it was you," Abby says softly, trying not to cry. "I was just… surprised."
"I figured," Kate responds, and Abby can hear the smile in her voice. "That’s why I called back."
Abby swallows, tears beginning to slide down her face. "I miss you, Kate," she whispers into the phone. "I miss you so much."
"I miss you, too, Abby," Kate says. "I don’t have a lot of time - you might say I’m low on minutes. I just wanted to tell you that I’m still with you, and you’re still my best friend."
Abby can’t help it - her silent tears turn into sobs. "Don’t go, Kate, please don’t go! I miss you so much! Can’t we just talk for a while? Please? There’s so much I want to say to you!"
But there is heavy static on the line now, and Abby can only hear the sound of Kate’s voice; she can’t make out any actual words until the very end. ""see you again someday," Kate is saying. "Love you, Abs." And then the line goes dead.
"No, Kate! No! Don’t hang up!" Abby cries into the phone, but it is too late. Kate is gone. Abby curls up on her bed, her phone clutched in her hand, and cries herself to sleep.
--
Tony DiNozzo is about three sheets to the wind and three-quarters of the way into some girl’s bed. He doesn’t know who she is - he thinks her name might be Janice. He doesn’t really care. All he knows is that she’s warm and willing and he’s going to spend tonight in her bed.
Tony has had a rough day. The case - a murdered set of parents, a kidnapped little girl - has been particularly hard on the team. Cases involving children always are. But the murderer has been caught and the little girl has been found, reunited with her grandparents, and all should be well. But Tony can’t shake a feeling of things being wrong somehow, which is why he’s in this bar, drunk, with the also-drunk possibly-Janice, getting ready to call a cab to take them both to her place, because Tony never one-night-stands at his own apartment.
"Probably because your apartment is completely disgusting," Kate had teased him when he mentioned his one-night-stand policy once. He had denied it vehemently and spent a good half an hour explaining why one-night-stands were better at the other person’s house, because then when the other person went to sleep, you could sneak out and go home. She had called him a pig, of course, but he had laughed because he knew he was right and, what’s more, she knew it, too. The conversation had degenerated into a paper-ball fight - they didn’t use food any more since Gibbs had threatened them with canned peas - but they had gone home laughing.
He decides it’s time to get out of the bar, so he makes the appropriate noises at possibly-Janice, who is agreeable and follows him out the front door. They wait for a few minutes, but no taxis pass by, so Tony pulls out his cell and calls one. They are waiting there on the curb, locked in a passionate one-night-stand embrace, when Tony’s phone rings.
He sighs. "I should have known better," he grumbles, pulling the device from his pocket and glancing at the screen, expecting to see Gibbs’s name. He does not. His brow furrows. "I know this number," he mutters to himself. "Who is that?"
He flips the phone open and puts it to his ear. "DiNozzo."
"You know, this kind of reminds me of a movie."
The phone falls from his suddenly-numb fingers and clatters on the ground. There is no way he could possibly have heard that voice. It simply isn’t possible.
Possibly-Janice laughs softly at him, thinking that he is drunk, and picks up his telephone, holding it out to him. She raises an eyebrow at him. "You okay? You look like you’ve seen a ghost."
You have no idea, he thinks to himself, reaching out with a shaking hand to take the phone back from her. He brings it slowly up to his ear, swallowing hard. "Hello?" he says softly.
"What’s the matter, DiNozzo? Not happy to hear from me?"
"Kate?" he asks, barely choking her name out around the baseball-sized lump in his throat. He doesn’t even register the expression of surprise and sudden suspicion on possibly-Janice’s face. "Kate, is… is that really you?"
"It’s me, Tony. Sorry if I scared you." There is a pause, and then she continues, "I didn’t want to screw up your… date… but it wasn’t something I could really put off for very long, and I didn’t want you to feel left out."
"Oh, God, Kate," he whispers. He can’t seem to make any other words come out. "Oh, God." He feels himself getting dizzy, and has to stumble backward to lean against the wall of the building to hold himself up.
"Breathe, Tony." Her voice is slightly amused. "I don’t have a lot of time, so it would be nice if you were functional during the conversation."
"Kate, Kate, oh God, I’m so sorry," he moans, clutching desperately at the phone. "I miss you so much, we all do…"
"I know you do," she says, and her voice is gentle in a way that it never has been with him before. "I miss you, too. All of you. I want you to know I’m still with you, though. Every day."
"Are you?" he asks, and his voice has dropped to a whisper. "Are you really, or am I dreaming this?"
"You’re not dreaming, Tony. And her name isn’t Janice, it’s Jessica. You might want to get that right before she gets you back to her house." Kate laughs then, and it’s that same deeply sexy, throaty laugh he’ll never quite get out of his mind. "As long as you remember me, I’m always with you."
"I’ll never forget you, Kate, I swear it. Never." His voice cracks and he has to clear his throat before he can continue. "Kate, I… I never told you this… but I hope you know… I love you."
"I already know, Tony," she says, and the words are balm to his torn and bleeding heart. "I love you, too." The line goes dead then and Tony DiNozzo falls to his knees, weeping, his phone clutched to his chest.
--
McGee is doing what McGee does best: gaming.
There’s a bottle of Corona on the table by the left-hand monitor; there are two empty bottles in the trash can, and McGee is taking out his frustrations on some very stupid aliens who had the misfortune to attack Paragon City. McGee is not in the mood for aliens tonight.
He can’t get Kate out of his head for some reason. He thought the alcohol would help, but it hasn’t so far. He’s not even sure why he’s been thinking of her all day, but he has, and he can’t seem to stop.
Kate’s death marked the first time McGee lost someone close to him, and he has had trouble moving past that. His grandparents, his parents, all his friends are still living - the closest McGee has ever come to death has been the death of pets, and though those deaths have hurt, they have not even come close to comparing to the pain of losing Kate.
With a sigh, he takes down one last enemy and then signs off of his game in frustration, finishing his beer and wandering over to the window to stare out at the night sky. He remembers trying to explain gaming to Kate, and smiles slightly at the memory.
"I just don’t get the fun part," she finally admitted, after sitting in front of his computer for half an hour, shooting Nazis. "Maybe it’s the learning curve." McGee agreed, privately thinking that it was more like a classy woman like Kate Todd just genetically had better things to do than sit in front of a computer all night. He offered her another beer and she took it, touching her bottle to his before taking a swallow. They shut the game down and spent a pleasant evening talking about books instead. Kate is intelligent and well-read, and McGee likes that in a woman. If this were some kind of alternate universe - the kind where the geek can get the girl - he might have set his sights on Kate Todd. Unfortunately, this is not that kind of universe, and so he makes a conscious decision to spare himself the agony. If Kate is going to pair up with anyone, it will be Tony… unless it’s Gibbs. Timothy McGee hasn’t got a snowball’s chance in hell, and he knows it.
McGee sighs and goes to the fridge for another beer, but before he can open the door, his cell phone rings. "Aw, man, we just finished a case!" He changes direction and snatches the phone up off the table without reading the caller ID. "Hello?"
"Spending all night in front of the computer again, McGee? You ought to be out at a party, having fun."
"Yeah, right," he snaps back. "Because I get invited to so many parties." Then he freezes as the voice sinks into his brain and he realizes who he is talking to. He swallows hard. "K-Kate?"
There is a low, throaty laugh. "How you doing, McGee?"
"I-I-I’m… I’m good, Kate… How are you doing?"
"I can’t complain." She laughs again. "I should have known I’d be able to depend on you for rational conversation. How’s everything going?"
"Not the same without you," McGee says, making his way to a chair. "There’s a new girl, Ziva, on the team. She sits at your desk and makes fun of Tony… but she’s not you. She won’t ever be you."
"Well, don’t be too hard on her. It’s not her fault, what happened. She couldn’t have stopped it, even if she had believed it was going on. Nobody could have."
"I know. It’s just hard." He takes a deep breath. "I miss you, Kate. A lot."
"I miss you, too, McGee." There is a burst of static, and Kate begins speaking quickly. "I have to go; I’m almost out of time and I still have one more call to make. Don’t let Tony be too hard on you, okay? Stand up for yourself. He’ll respect you for it. And don’t forget about me, okay?"
"I won’t forget you, Kate," he responds, tears beginning to roll down his face. "I’ll never forget you. I…" He swallows and forces out the words. "I love you, Kate."
There is more static, but he can still hear her. ""love you too, McGee." And then the line goes dead and she is gone.
He sits very still for a long time, then goes to the refrigerator for another beer. Before he drinks it, he walks to the window again and toasts her memory.
--
Across town, Jethro Gibbs is working on his boat, as usual. Halloween has never been his favorite holiday, and he likes to leave the lights off upstairs and hide out in the basement to avoid the fresh-faced children who come around with their trick-or-treating bags and their costumes. It’s still painful for him to look down into their faces and see his Kelly in her princess dress (the year she was six) or her Pink Power Ranger costume (the year she was seven). She didn’t make it to Halloween the year she was eight. Shannon had been talking about making her costume that year - Kelly thought she might want to be an ice skater.
So, to avoid the painful memories, Gibbs does what he always does - he works on his boat, and he drinks. Sometimes he puts the television on for background noise, but he doesn’t really feel like it tonight. He’s trying to drown out the memories with silence: memories of Kelly in her costume; memories of Shannon in hers when they had gone to Halloween parties. Memories of Kate a year ago, coming out of the bathroom in her own costume after they had finished a case.
She’d had a party to go to, and was volubly relieved when they closed up their case early enough for her to make it there. She’d brought her costume with her, so when Gibbs told them all to get out of there and head home, she simply grabbed her duffel bag and vanished into the ladies’ room. Fifteen minutes later, she had come back out dressed in a toga and gold-colored sandals with straps that wrapped halfway up her calf. She’d pulled her hair back into a sausage roll on the back of her head with a few tendrils hanging down around her ears, and grinned at Gibbs unrepentantly as she passed his desk, returning to her own just to grab her purse and her keys. "You really ought to get out of here," she told him, heading for the elevator. Then she paused, turned and came back. "Hey, Gibbs?" When he looked up, faintly irritated, she said casually, "You wanna come with?"
"Oh, Kate," he whispers, leaning against the sympathetic wood before him and closing his eyes. "I wish I’d gone with you."
His phone rings. He sighs heavily - no rest for the wicked, apparently - and strolls over to the workbench to pick it up. "Yeah. Gibbs."
"I wish you’d gone with me, too," says a voice he knows far too well, and he feels his heart stop and his blood freeze.
"No," he whispers softly. "It’s not possible."
"Anything’s possible," she replies, sounding amused. "Isn’t that one of your rules? Rule number thirty-five, I think. Anything’s possible."
She’s right - it is. "Oh, God, Kate," he moans softly into the receiver, leaning heavily against the workbench and clutching the phone as though his life depended on it. "Kate, oh, God, I’m so sorry."
"Don’t apologize, Gibbs," she replies, and he would swear she is laughing now. "It’s a sign of weakness, remember? Besides, you don’t have anything to apologize for. It’s not your fault."
"It should have been me, Kate," he declares, feeling the tears begin to fall. "It should have been me that bastard shot, not you."
"Do you honestly think things don’t happen for a reason?" she asks him pragmatically. That’s one of the things he always loved about her - her common sense. "It was me because it was me. And let’s be honest - do you think the team could have survived if it had been you? I don’t. And believe me, I have a pretty clear perspective on things from where I stand."
"Kate…" he whispers. "Kate, I miss you so much."
"I know," she replies. "I miss you all, too. And Gibbs?"
"Yeah?"
"I love you, you know."
"I know," he chokes out around a throat gone suspiciously thick. "I love you, too, Kate."
There is a burst of static, and the line goes dead. And Jethro Gibbs drops to his knees on the floor of his basement and weeps.
Story Notes:
Inspired by spark_force’s story “October Country” (http://community.livejournal.com/ncis_flashfic/75435.html)
Author's Chapter Notes:
The distance from which this phone call comes is incomprehensible.
Chapter End Notes:
Inspired by spark_force’s story “October Country” (http://community.livejournal.com/ncis_flashfic/75435.html)