Checkmate

By ProfessorElk

Disclaimer: The NCIS characters mentioned below are not mine and no profit has been made in the writing or posting of this story.

Summary: Set after 12x11 "Check." Not having his glasses on to check the caller i.d., he answered with his usual, "Yeah, Gibbs." "Checkmate." The voice on the other line, although only spoke one word, it was enough to make his blood run cold.

Spoilers: Set after NCIS episode 12x11, "Check." General spoilers for the previous NCIS seasons as well.

Part IV

The air was crisp, light with a bite to it, and fresh. He inhaled deeply, trying to reign in his emotions, looking out to the area around him. The sunlight glistened off of the white marble stones scattered across the green lot. It was quiet and peaceful, although his soul felt anything but.

An arm wiggled its way around his, the two appendages linked. A head rested against his arm, the black lace parasol not the first giveaway of who was now next to him.

Drawing his eyes down to the sparkling stones in front of him, he said quietly, "You shouldn't be here Abbs."

"This is the only place I should be." Her cheek nuzzled further into his arm. "I owe it to them."

His eyes watered. Loathe as he was to admit it, even to just himself, it had nothing to do with the bright sunlight dancing across the pristine headstones and burning his eyes.

Taking another breath to calm himself, he resorted to his usual brusque persona. That was safe in a growingly unsafe world. His world. "Where the hell is Dorneget? Go back to the car."

He tried to pull her back up the slope to the waiting dark blue sedan, glancing around nervously, looking for anything out of place. Anything that screamed danger.

She was stronger than he had foolishly given her credit for, and she remained rooted in place. "No, Gibbs."

She gestured to the engraved stone in front of them, "They can't be here for you now."

Her blunt but honest words cut through his already damaged heart.

"But I can. I'm not going anywhere. Not until you're done and we go together."

"Fine. I'm done. Let's go." He tried once more to pull her up the slope. Unsuccessfully.

"When was the last time you visited them?" She reached down to brush aside some leaves and dried grass from when the maintenance worker last mowed the lawn. He could not help himself but to watch the tender gesture, the black lace glove more than likely being poked through to the hand underneath by the debris. She placed a single black rose in front of each stone, flowers he realized he had not noticed she had brought with before. He was slipping, and that scared him.

She noticed his expression and instantly misinterpreted it. "I didn't know what flowers to bring. I thought of something bright and cheerful, they say that yellow is the color of friendship. But when I was looking at the bouquets, it just didn't seem right. I don't know when I'll come again, but I wanted then to know Abby was here. You know, like I couldn't be here with them in body, but I was here in spirit."

He sighed. He was tired, more tired than he remembered being for a long while. Everything had taken its toll. Too much loss, too much suffering too close together. "They're beautiful, Abbs. I know they'd appreciate them."

Pulling on her arm gently, he tried once again to lead her up the hill. She stubbornly planted her feet, shooting him a glare. He sighed in exasperation.

Kissing the tips of her fingers, Abby gently pressed the lipstick stained appendages to the tombstones in front of her, remnants of the dark purple makeup staying behind. With one final look back, she linked arms with him once more and allowed herself to be ushered back to the awaiting car above.

He was met by the flustered face of the agent. "Agent Gibbs, I'm so, so sorry. I thought we were just going to get some CafPow but then Abby wanted to come here with or without me -"

"Boss, what Dorney is trying to explain here is that Abby was coming no matter what and in his professional opinion as her guard, he had no choice than to come with."

It was a feeble excuse, one that normally would not withstand the wrath of his glare. Despite himself, he could not help the small smile that came to his face when he heard that voice. It seemed for a time that he would never again hear words come again from the other's mouth. Right arm in a brace and sling, cuts and bruises that were fading to a sickly yellow, Tony DiNozzo stood before him leaning against the agency sedan with the same grin that he usually sported. The one that purported his own cleverness and self-appreciation for his charm.

"You should be home. Resting." He tried to sound firm, but he knew his agent saw right through him. They had been together long enough, had been through enough together, that they could read one another easily. This was just another instance that had strengthened their bond.

"I am, resting," he clarified. "I got to go on a very restful car drive..."

He glared. Tony just widened his mischievous smile.

"And what's your excuse?" He turned to the youngest agent, seated in the front passenger seat of the agency sedan. She flinched under his stare, not yet hardened against his moods.

"I, ah, promised Jake that I'd keep my feet up," Bishop smiled weakly, "and then I remembered that the agency cars reclined really far back and I thought that might help."

She shifted in her seat under his scrutiny, unable to hide the wince the action caused. The van's seatbelt had caused one hell of a bruise.

"We leave, now," he commanded. He felt too vulnerable out in the open, with them out in the open. His agents, his kids. His family.

"Not yet." He stared down his agent, not liking the defiance. The other man looked back, unflinching.

"We pay our respects," Tony nodded down to the gravesite he and Abby just left, "and we wait."

Tony stared back at him calmly, and slowly he began to feel his heart's burden begin to lessen without really understanding why.

"Wait for what?" he asked impatiently.

A bing from Abby's purse echoed through the otherwise quiet lot. The spark in Tony's eyes ignited and he gestured toward the forensic scientist. "For that."

She answered her phone with a triumphant smile, holding the device to face them so they all could see. He could not help but let out an exasperated sigh.

"You're supposed to be resting."

"I am resting," came the indignant reply, unknowingly echoing what was said only moments before. "I haven't left this bed for days, Boss."

The tired and strained face of Timothy McGee greeted him through the tiny device, the buttons and levers above the hospital bed visible through the image. Video call, he remembered Abby referring to once.

"Whatcha got for us, McLaidUp?" Tony cut straight to the point.

Tim smiled, the lines of pain that had haunted his face since he had awakened disappearing momentarily. "I have a lead."

His breath halted.

"You have a lead?" Tony asked, clarifying. Hopeful.

"I was able to trace his position by bringing up the processing code – "

"McGee!" He felt momentarily guilty as he watched the younger man startle, flinching in obvious pain.

"I think I can find him, Boss," Tim said simply, sinking back into the bed's pillows, energy waning. He knew it was too soon for his agent to be putting so much stress on a barely healing body. But he could not help but feel the tiniest flutter of excitement. Teach that bastard to shoot his agent. Instead of deterring him, Tim was even more determined to find him.

"We're coming to you," Tony replied, taking the lead. "Take a nap before we get there, Tim. You've earned it."

Tim's exhausted face broke out in a content smile before Abby pressed a button on her phone ending the call.

His mind was whirling with possibilities as Tony clapped him on the shoulder. "You took a stupid risk," he stated to his agent, "bringing everyone here." He watched as Dorneget held the door of the sedan open for Abby.

"Yah, well, you weren't too into letting us meet together at the office, or anywhere else. Figured we'd find you here and we could all finally talk."

Tony waited until their gazes met. "Michnev made a really big mistake, Boss. He underestimated us, and it'll cost him. We'll get him."

He gestured back down to the two headstones below the incline. "Go say what you need to. We'll wait."

He just stared at his agent, until Tony gestured again, this time his look more forceful. He felt his feet move on their own volition down the slope, heart finally starting to feel more whole than it had in a long while. He stopped in front of the two stones, crouching down so he was closer to them. So his words could only be heard by them.

"Hey," he started, not quite sure what to say. Instead, he mimicked Abby's earlier motions, brushing off nonexistent dirt and debris from the stones.

"Tim says he can find Michnev," he reported. "If anyone can do it, that kid can."

He stared at the inscriptions, rereading the words that were not only etched in stone, but were etched in his heart and memory as well.

"Wish we could have had a happy ending," he whispered. "I won't let Michnev ruin this like our time together was ruined. We'll get him."

Standing up with determination, he cast one last look at the gravesites, at his girls. "I'll be back when this is over."

Looking up the slope, at his agents, his family, waiting for him by the cars, he felt his resolve grow. Michnev was a dead man walking. "Checkmate," he whispered.

The end

a/n: Thank you to all who read, reviewed, alerted, and favorited this story. The response has been amazing and I so appreciate your support. Thank you!

I have a few ideas in the works, so hopefully they will be ready to share with you in the near future. Ideas and suggestions for the next adventures are always welcome as well.

Thank you all, again. Until next time everyone!