"What a great funeral! I want a funeral like that, I tell ya. Nice coffin, fancy church, all my family and friends..."
"What friends, DiNozzo?" Gibbs growled.
"There would be too many women to fit into the building, Tony," Kate said dryly at the same time.
"Ouch. Do you enjoy ganging up on me?"
Kate and Gibbs looked at each other, then responded in unison, "Yeah."
"Ha, ha. Seriously, though, have you ever thought about what kind of funeral you want?"
"No, Tony. I, unlike some people, am not morbid," Kate replied.
Tony gave her a look. "What about you, boss?"
Gibbs did not respond for a few moments. "Pine box. Small service. Not a lot of fanfare."
Kate and Tony were silent. There was nothing remarkable in the words themselves; the thoughts and the presentation were the quintessential Gibbs: short, plain, and blunt. It was the promptness and seriousness of the answer that gave them pause. He had obviously been thinking about it.

-

Kate stood next to Tony in the gray, drizzly graveyard. This was not the first funeral she had attended, nor would it be the last. The service had been small and short, but filled with the usual remembrances. There were perhaps fewer speakers than was usual, and no pictures or flowers, but overall it had been quite normal. The cemetery was small as well, with few and simple gravestones dotting the landscape. The grave they stood by was marked by a simple cross, bearing only a name and dates.
People ringed the freshly dug hole, but not many. The pastor was just finishing his remarks and individuals began trickling away one by one. Kate did not want to leave just yet, and she sensed Tony didn't either. Only two others stayed as the pallbearers worked the ropes: an older man with glasses and a bowtie, and a younger woman with what looked like the edge of a spider-web peeking out from underneath her collar. Eventually, even they walked away, but Kate could not leave.
She stayed until the soil completely covered the simple pine box.