A DULL ACHE
It's a slow afternoon, outside the sky is grey, the colour of lead, filled with the promise of snow or rain or both.
Absentmindedly I massage my right arm. It always seems to ache in this weather, a nagging reminder.
I look up to find Kate's eyes upon me, full of concern. I don't need her pity, but it's good to know she's concerned. Just that look is enough. We seem to have some sort of telepathy, whole conversations in miniscule looks and shifts in body language. DiNozzo's different; I would need a sledgehammer to break into that jumbled mind of his. The head slap works okay, but a sledgehammer – maybe one day… I answer Kate's look with a slow blink of the eyes. She nods, unnoticed by those around her and returns to work.
I return to my computer screen, but hell it's difficult to concentrate. I punch the off button in disgust, rise and pick up my coat.
Kate and DiNozzo look up in surprise and check the clock, both wondering if they have misjudged the time. Kate looks puzzled, she knows how I feel about skipping out on The Man. DiNozzo wears an expectant look, oh I know what he's thinking, he'll be out the door two seconds after me.
"Kate, when you've finished that, you may go" I say quietly. "DiNozzo, I want that report on my desk first thing tomorrow" said with more authority. God, I sound like a schoolteacher, but then again sometimes working with these two is like the 3rd grade.
The cemetery is deserted; a cold wind whips across the regimented rows of grave makers, each a testament to life once lived, now gone.
I pause to get my bearings; it's been a long time since I was here last. Too many things getting in the way, too many memories.
The stone looks like any other, granite; gray, stark against the short clipped grass. I kneel and brush away the snow that has collected in the deeply etched inscription.
DONALD KOMAROWSKI
A BRAVE MARINE
BELOVED SON
I stand back, head bowed. Don had been a good friend, one of the best. Hell we'd been together since training, shared everything from toothpaste to girls. Don was smart, witty, and good with the girls, everything I wasn't.
Why'd he have to go and leave me? I clench my fists, digging my nails into my palms, fighting the urge to cry – Marines don't cry.
I still remember how he died. On cold, dark, still nights the visions haunt me, making me wake from a restless sleep, sweat-soaked and entwined in my sheets. I can still smell the acrid smoke, taste the blood. He died saving me, threw himself on me as the grenade exploded, knocking me into the sand, shielding me with his body. A good way to go, they said, a Corps way to go. What the hell did they know?
That business in Colombia didn't help. Brought it all back with a vengeance. It was pure instinct to protect Kate, to throw myself on top of her, putting myself between her and the blast.
"Is that my blood?" she'd asked.
The sight of my own blood surprised me, I hadn't felt the shrapnel hit. I felt calm, in control, out to nail the bastard, no time for self-pity, no time to curl up in agony – Marines don't cry.
I take a deep breath, fighting the urge to throw myself on the grave, sobbing like a child, protesting at the unfairness of it all – Marines don't cry.
A soft touch is on my shoulder, her perfume fills the air. I glance sideways. She is here. She looks at me questioningly, sees the pain in my eyes, and looks away. She doesn't press me, she know she doesn't need to know, not now. I'll tell her when I'm ready.
"Let's get some coffee Gibbs"
Story Notes:
Not my characters - only borrowing.
Author's Chapter Notes:
Set after 'Marine Down'
Chapter End Notes:
Not my characters - only borrowing.