Gibbs sat on the ground holding Ducky’s lifeless body tightly, rocking slowly back and forth. “I’m sorry, Duck, so sorry,” he kept whispering.
His stunned team stood around them. Ziva touched Gibb’s arm lightly, but Gibbs shrugged it off. Jimmy, who had handed the little girl off to one of the neighbors, stood nearby tears flowing freely.
“Boss, we need to let Jimmy take Ducky home. He'll take good care of him,” McGee gently urged.
“Gibbs, let us help you get Ducky into the truck,” offered DiNozzo.
Gibbs looked up to see his agents looking down at him with sadness. At first he was going to refuse their offer, but realized that Ducky was their friend as well, and they needed to feel they could do something for him. He nodded, wiping his eyes with a sleeve.
“Thanks guys, Ziva.” Together they gently lifted their friend's body onto a gurney and wheeled it over to the autopsy truck. Before sliding the gurney in, Ziva offered a prayer in Hebrew.
DiNozzo touched the doctor's arm and gave it a quick squeeze. “Say hello to Kate, for me, Ducky.” He turned quickly and walked away.
McGee, at a loss for words, simply looked down and held his friend's hand in his, gave it a quick squeeze before turning away. Gibbs paused the longest. With a shaking hand he ran his fingers through Ducky's hair, leaned over and kissed him on the still warm forehead.
Gibbs closed the doors and watched as Jimmy drove off. "Take him home, Jimmy," he whispered to himself.
Gibbs had delayed calling Abby. When McGee questioned him pointing out that she should be told, Gibbs just looked at him wearily. “Tim, there is no one there to support her when she hears the news. She and Ducky were close. We need to be there for her when she finds out.”
Later that afternoon:
“Hey, Gibbs! I'm glad you're back! I'm just finishing up on the details for Ducky's party!”
“Abbs..., Gibbs faltered, looked down at the floor, then tried again. “Abbs, have a seat. There's something I need to tell you.”
“Okay,” she said hesitantly and studied his face. “Gibbs? What's wrong?”
He looked up at the ceiling, willing the tears in his eyes to not fall. Then he looked at Abby,
“Ducky's gone, Abbs. He's dead.”
Her hands flew up to her mouth to stifle a cry. “Oh, no, Gibbs. You must be wrong. Ducky's retiring on Friday. We have the big party planned for him, what do you mean he's gone?” She jumped up from her chair and pushed Gibbs shouting, “Don't joke about things like that! It's not funny.”
Gibbs grabbed her hands, forcing her to look at him. “It's true, Abbs, Ducky was shot while protecting a little girl.”
Abby looked up at him and saw the truth in his haunted eyes. “Oh, Gibbs, I can't believe it.”
Gibbs pulled her into a tight embrace and stroked her hair, “I know Abby, I know...” He held her for a long time before giving her a kiss on her cheek and letting her go.
"Ducky's down in autopsy, Abbs, if you want to go say good-bye."
Abby nodded and dried her tears. "Thank you, Gibbs, I'd like that."
"Do you want me to go with you, Abby?"
"No. No, I think I'd like to do this alone."
Abby walked into autopsy and was glad that no one was there. Jimmy, having already said his private goodbye, had felt the need to retreat to his apartment.
She walked over to the clipboard on Jimmy's desk to see in which drawer Ducky's body had been stored. Walking over to vault 108 she slowly pulled out the steel drawer.
She looked at him and ran her fingers through his hair. With the exception of the pasty pallor of his skin, Ducky looked like he was merely asleep.
"Oh, Ducky, why did this have to happen?" She stayed a few moments reflecting on the years they had worked together at NCIS. How much she would miss his stories. No longer would he stand on his tiptoes to reach up and give her a peck on the cheek or forehead nor his laughing eyes look up at her.
As she pushed the drawer back in, she sensed Gibbs was behind her, then felt his hand upon her shoulder.
"You okay, Abbs?"
"No." She turned around to bury her face in Gibb's shoulder. "It's just not fair, Gibbs, it's just not fair."
"I know, Abbs." He held her tightly for another moment then said, "Let's go up to the bull pen and see the others, this is no time to be alone.”
Up in the bullpen the mood was glum. The members of the team were sitting at their desks, lost in their own thoughts. They all looked up when the elevator doors slid open and stood to greet Abby and offer hugs of support.
Gibbs waited until they were finished and then spoke. “I want everyone to go home and take tomorrow off. I'll be making arrangements for Ducky's memorial service. There won't be an autopsy since we know what happened and we were witnesses. He'll be transferred to the funeral home this evening where he had already made arrangements to be cremated. I'm thinking it would be fitting to have the service on Friday, the day that was to be his last day at NCIS.”
There were exchanged glances and then murmurs of agreement. Ziva, Abby, Tony, and McGee gathered their coats and hats and left together then went their separate ways once they got to the parking garage.
Gibbs went directly home. Turning on his kitchen light, he wearily dropped his pack, took out a large manila envelope from the pack's largest pocket and carried it downstairs into the basement. Throwing it down on the workbench he grabbed a jarful of nails, upended it and poured it half full with bourbon. He picked up the sander and began rhythmically smoothing the grain of wood on the ribs of the boat as silent tears ran down his face.
A third of a bottle of bourbon later, Gibbs stopped working on the boat and finally found the nerve to pick up the envelope he had brought downstairs. On the front, written in Ducky's fancy script was the word, "Jethro". He opened it letting the contents spill out onto the workbench and picked up the handwritten note on top.
“Jethro,
If you are reading this, then it must be assumed that my death is imminent or has already occurred. If it happened in the line of duty, then I know you are more than likely blaming yourself. Please don't. We cannot control our fate, dear friend.
I have lived a good , no..a wonderful life and I have no regrets. Some of my friends may ask if I regret not having my own family. Once I would have said yes. But you and the others have become my family, and I have loved and cared deeply for each and every one of you.
Most of all, Jethro, I have valued your friendship. We have had so many adventures together and shared both good times and sorrows. You have truly enriched my life.
Now it's time for you to move on, Jethro. Miss me, if you are so inclined, but please do not grieve for me. I would not want that. Life goes on, Jethro. How it goes on is your choice to make.
Best regards,
Ducky
Gibbs picked up the envelope and through freely flowing tears saw a second page lying under it. He picked it up. It had been typed on an old typewriter. At the top was a note: “Jethro, because of your love for boats and the sea I thought this might help. Ducky.”
He read the page, and read it again. Then after drying his tears laid it down. he raised his glass, smiled, and said, “Cheers, Duck!”
December 4th:
The gathering at the private memorial service was modest in size. Of course, team Gibbs was there, Director Vance, the Secretary of the Navy, Tobias Fornell, and some of Ducky's friends and colleagues from around the country were in attendance as well.
The minister led the group through the litany of the service, and gave a homily. A bagpiper played "Amazing Grace". Then it was Gibb's turn to offer a eulogy.
Slowly he walked up to the podium. As he looked out among those attending, he saw Tim's arm around Abby's shoulder, both openly weeping. Jimmy sat on the other side of Abby looking forlorn and lost. Ziva held back her tears, but accepted Tony's offered hand and held it tightly. Tobias Fornell discretely wiped a tear or two from his eyes while Director Vance blew his nose quietly into a handkerchief.
And he began:
“Dr. Donald Mallard was a dear friend not only to me, but to most of you. He will long be remembered for his generosity, his vast knowledge, and his stories." A gentle laugh could be heard among the congregation. "We all knew him to be a giving, kind, and gentle soul. His selflessness is what we will remember. He thought of others above himself up until the moment he was taken from us. Because of his selfless actions last Monday, a young girl is alive today.
"I thought for a long time how I could put into words about how we will miss him, but Ducky knew I would have trouble and left me this poem. I think you will find it says it all.” Clearing his throat he read:
“Gone from My Sight” by Henry Van Dyke
I am standing upon the seashore.
A ship, at my side,spreads her white sails
to the moving breeze and starts
for the blue ocean.
She is an object of beauty and strength.
I stand and watch her until, at length, she hangs like a speck of white cloud
just where the sea and sky come to mingle with each other.
Then, someone at my side says, “There, she is gone.”
Gone where?
Gone from my sight.
That is all.
She is just as large in mast,
hull and spar as she was when she left my side.
And, she is just as able to bear her load of living freight to her destined port.
Her diminished size is in me " not in her.
And, just at the moment when someone says, “There, she is gone,”
there are other eyes watching her coming, and other voices
ready to take up the glad shout,
“Here she comes!”
And that is dying...
On cue, the bagpiper began playing, "Scottland the Brave" bringing a smile to many faces.
Gibbs looked skyward, “Good bye, Ducky.”
Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. No money is being made from this work. No copyright infringement is intended.