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Ritual. As a child he was exposed to many rituals. Muslim. Jewish. Orthodox. Casual. As a child it was better... a little... sometimes. His father tried, he understood. His mother hated him. Jew. She claimed she did not know. He was British... then Israeli... always a spy. He felt his father truly loved his mother, wanted to give her a better life... more peaceful life. She refused. But she loved her son and agreed to allow him to leave, to learn in England... in Israel... to become a spy as his father had been...
Catholicism was a more distant thing. He understood the faith... the history... the basic protocols. In his journeys he had visited ancient churches... holy sites... holy also to the faiths that dominated his own life. He had respect, as much as he could have respect for any faith.
The cemetery was grassy, full of trees, tombstones and flowers. Holy ground. With an odd sense of humility he wore no weapon, refused to violate this soil as he had violated so much in the last few days. There were limos...cars... vast numbers of people wearing sober dress and uniform. So many people... he never would have guessed... though he should have...
Behind the small mausoleum he crotched low. He raised binoculars to his eyes and zoomed in. He wore a device that heightened sound but the wind only let him catch phrases and words. It was dangerous, what he did here. But dangerous was his life... his ritual. His handlers were gone... his cell phone cut. He was truly alone... abandoned... as he knew he would be. But it was necessary.
He was Al-Qaeda now, an officer. He had the ear of those who had the ear of Bin Laden. He was in. Yes, the soft target hit had failed. The men he had been given to do the mission were dead. But he was in, his reputation beyond reproach... all for one simple act...
"... Appoint Your holy angels to guard her soul and set it free from all the chains of sin as Caitlyn is laid to rest here so that with all Thy saints she may rejoice in Thee forever though Christ our Lord. Amen..."
He heard the multiple responses. Layers of amen from a great many. He watched the priest, a young man, pause and turn his attention to a small group beside him; a man and woman and two small children. The woman gave him pause with her resemblance but he quickly understood. Sister. Caitlyn had an older sister. Her only family... at least as far as blood could tell. Their expressions were grieved but no more than he would have expected, perhaps even less so. In his research he understood relations had not been close.
But behind them, in the forefront of the gathered mourners, he could see what he expected. Six stood at attention, their expressions beyond grief... haunted. Dr. Mallard stood next to a young man he didn't know, a new assistant? Next to them was a young woman with black hair tied back respectfully, her style of dress a little left of tradition but dark and respectful... Abby. The Goth. He smiled. Americans could be strange people at times. She held hands with a young man, someone he had never met. Timothy McGee. Computer genius. Still learning his way but with potential. He knew he would have to watch him. Next to him was another young man, one he knew better but only in passing though he had learned his importance. Anthony Michael DiNozzo. NCIS agent. Talented. Intelligent. Womanizer... or so he thought. To his surprise he had been wrong about this character trait. Even Marta had seen it... had been disgusted by it. And Cait... his beautiful Caitlyn... had unwittingly corrected him...
[One Year Ago]
"There," Caitlyn said as she closed her cell phone and handed it back to him, as agreed. "He thinks I'm sick. Happy?"
He took the phone from her, his eyes narrowed. He sensed something in what she said to Special Agent Gibbs, something his instinct took note of. But nothing seemed out the ordinary, still... "If I have any doubts your Tony will pay the price."
Her skin paled, as he expected. So there was something in what she said. Internally he shrugged. Unavoidable. He glanced around the small ranch they were hiding in, at the people he had been given this time. This job, he understood, had to fail. The kidnapping of world leaders, though ambitious, was not in anyone's best interests. He regarded the young NCIS agent... the woman who attracted his soul. "You have feelings for him?" he challenged quietly as an unfamiliar wave of jealousy passed over him. He wondered if he should let Marta kill the young man before he disposed of her.
Caitlyn's response was instant and honest. She laughed. "No!" She recovered quickly. Her gaze became intense. "Kill me and Gibbs will kill you. Kill Tony and he will make you bleed first."
Ah. He looked at the man standing beside DiNozzo. He was in dress uniform, every inch the Marine he knew him to be. Gunny Sergeant Leroy Jethro Gibbs. In the sun he shone, his cap brilliant. He was honoring her, he knew. Working towards absolution. He shook his head sadly. //There is nothing to absolve, my enemy,// he assured from his hiding place. //It was never in your control.//
"May Caitlyn Morgan Todd rest in peace." The priest's voice held deep emotions. He had known his Caitlyn.
"Amen," came the universal response.
"May her soul and the souls of all the faithful departed, through the mercy of God rest in peace."
"Amen." Ari was surprised to hear the word come from his mouth. The ritual was over. Mourners would gather elsewhere to speak of her. He knew he was not invited. With interest he watched as Gibbs took off his ceremonial sword and in formal moves laid it on the oaken casket. Beside him Tony, dressed appropriately in an expensive suit, seem to waver, his face becoming gray. Sick? He had heard... something... from Fornell. Some weeks ago. And yesterday, when the car exploded. At a distance he had seen the young agent try to sacrifice himself for others, had been surprised by the speed at which DiNozzo could run.... was relieved he did not have to worry about Gibbs coming after him before his most recent mission had ended.
A moment later DiNozzo collapsed. Gibbs broke his formal stance and knelt by his side as Mallard joined him. Those closest gathered then fell away as Gibbs raised his hand, shouting. Ambulance. The priest came to their side to lend aid, his posture familiar... he knew all of them. Older men.... Fornell and another he knew from a picture.... Director Morrow... began to issue orders, gently and calmly, ushering people to their cars and limos.
Gibbs' uniform became soiled as he pulled DiNozzo to him, lifting the young man's head and chest as DiNozzo coughed loud enough for Ari to hear without his listening device. Sick. The physician within him took a step forward. Then he ruthless held back. He was no longer a physician... his hands were permanently stained with blood... the blood of someone he knew...
//You would not understand the reason, Gibbs. The real reason someone wanted her to die and forced me to pull the trigger.// Ari gathered himself. It was time to go. The ambulance was there. Paramedics descended upon the young man though it took Mallard's grip on Gibbs' shoulder to make the older agent let go. //I would never have accepted an assignment to kill you. You're too important... all the things I am not. I was assigned to kill Caitlyn for a reason that had little to do with my mission.// He watched as DiNozzo was put in the ambulance, IVs attached, oxygen at his nose. Mallard was joined by Fornell and Morrow to hold Gibbs back when the Gunny made clear his intention to go with the paramedics, to not be separated.
//You see the man she punched when I took her last year was from a respected family who supported Al-Qaeda. They wanted satisfaction for the act, a restoration of his manhood though the man had been dead for over a year. Trivial. Out of context. Fanatical. But very real to them.// He put on his helmet and strode towards his motorcycle. //I was to kill them both, Gibbs... your support system. But I heeded her warning... though for a different reason. I would have you wounded but never crippled.// He got on and started the engine, aware the noise would attract attention. //I will give them some lie, Agent Gibbs. DiNozzo was never on the rooftop, was barely on the case. It will be sufficient. He was not important... to them. She was. The lamb.//
As he sped away he knew Gibbs has seen him but it didn't matter. His vision blurred briefly then cleared. He had no time to waste on tears. His last mission was beginning; one where is own death would be the trigger. It could be years, he knew. All truly successful plans required careful aging. But then he would have his sweet revenge for what his brothers in Al-Qaeda forced him to do. His past. His present. And all acts leading up that finale had already assured his place in Hell, placing him as far away from Caitlyn as he would ever be. Yet his reward would be the eternal knowledge of vengeance for his broken heart.
End.