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I stood on top of the sand dune, my eyes sweeping over the vast desert. The wind ripped through the robes I was wearing, stirring the loose sand at my feet. I turned my face a fraction to keep the sand from entering my eyes, my gaze landing on my companion. He stands not far from me, stoic and quiet. He reminds me of the harsh climate we are in. Hard, deadly, but touches of beauty and softness.
I had followed him here to this desert. He didn't need to ask, I just came. We moved as one – one mind, one thought, and one goal. I handed in my resignation an hour after his. I showed up at his door, bags packed with passport in hand. He watched me, his blue eyes unreadable. I slipped off my glasses, set my bag by the door, stepped up to him and kissed him gently. No words were spoken that night, they weren't needed.
I set up the fancy computer system in his basement. While he worked on his boat, I hunted down the bastard. It took two months of endless searches, bad leads, and pulling every string both of us had to find him. In Cairo. We left in the middle of the night.
I never asked where he got the fake passports; he never asked how I funded the small operation. There was no need to; we trusted each other with our lives. We stayed at a friend's house in the middle of Cairo. I was blessed with a small smile when I commented that it reminded me of The Mummy. I just smiled back.
We planned the operation down to the last detail. Nothing was left unturned. Intel had come back that he was hiding at a training camp inside the desert. A discreet call and a big gulp got us satellite maps of the area. We had his location and confirmation that he was there. It was time to finish the job.
I slid off the camels back, giving him a quick pat on the head. I hid my amusement as he growled at his, and it growled back. The sand shifted under our feet as we made our way across the dunes. We easily made our way to the camps perimeter, not coming across any guards – they weren't expecting company to come out of the desert.
We took positions on one of the sand dunes. The sand shifted under me as my body settled into a relaxed position. We had agreed – after a long nasty yelling match – that I would pull the trigger. In the end he had to agree, my eyesight was better than his. He would mark the target and I would pull the trigger.
He pulled the newly purchased sniper rifle out of its case. It would be buried under the sand when the job was finished – we would never look upon it again – it only had one job to do.
He checked it over, inspecting it like a true Marine. He handed it to me with a nod. I took it in my hands saying a small Catholic prayer before settling down to wait.
The desert was still around us. The wind would blow up and cover us with sand, making us a part of its landscape. He lay next to me, both of us waiting quietly in the stillness of the desert.
I felt him tense, my eyes drifted toward his face. His chin was set, his eyes narrowed. I followed his gaze. The target had arrived. He followed the target closely through the binoculars. He waited till the bastard turned in our direction, and with a smile on his face he marked the bastard. I leaned forward, following the dot through the scope. I waited until the bastard looked in our direction – I pulled the trigger.
I looked up from the scope. The bastard was laid out on the ground - the sand around him turning red. The sand soaked up his blood, absorbing it into its rich landscape. I felt a since of peace settle over me, it was over.
We moved quickly. The rifle was buried – the desert hiding our secret from prying eyes. We didn't talk; we just left the camp, the desert, Cairo. Our mission had been accomplished. Kate's death had been avenged. Ari had messed with the wrong family, and had paid the price.
We never returned to NCIS. Instead we finished building the boat. We named it - Caitlyn. He never asked how I could retire at the age of thirty-three; I never explained that deep beneath this simple cop was a Wall Street whiz.
I'm standing on the porch of our new beach house. There's a smile on my face as I watch him on the pier prepping Caitlyn for her maiden voyage.
There was no fall out over Ari's death. No one really cared, well except for the small family that was gathered around this day. They were all here for this special occasion.
Ducky was rambling on about Vikings and boat making. Abby and McGee were updating our computers systems, complaining about our lack of equipment. I just relaxed in the hammock, feet drifting over the soft beach sand, my eyes watching him.
Kate would always be remembered, always loved. In her death our life was created. I miss her every day. I miss talking with her, teasing her, just her. I don't know where she is or if she's watching, but I hope she's happy – because I am.
I watch as he walks across the beach, a smile on his face. He smiles more these days. He ruffles my hair then climbs into the hammock with me, as usual little words were spoken. I curl into his arms and we rock softly to the sound of the surf, our friends, and the creaking of the new boat on the water. I whisper I love you and he whispers it back. I closed my eyes and take a small nap. We had a busy afternoon planned – we're going sailing.