Tony woke up suddenly. He rubbed his eyes, and blinked.

"Where am I?" He asked, groaning, to no one. He looked around. He appeared to be in…an old bar room. It was woody, but it was empty, save for a few chairs and a surprisingly modern-looking radio on a table. He stood up. There seemed to be no door, either. He started to panic. Had he been kidnapped?

"Tony, relax." A voice said. Tony froze, and turned around.

"Zi-Ziva?" Tony asked, confused. He must be dreaming. But, somehow, he saw none other than Ziva David, dressed in a white V-neck shirt and blue skinny jeans.

Ziva had died, twenty years ago. He had watched her.

"Ziva?" He asked again.

"Yes, Tony!" She laughed. "Who else would it be?"

Suddenly, Tony was hugging her, burying his face in her shimmering locks, trying his best to hide his tears. He held her tighter, and he felt her suddenly reciprocate the hug.

She had missed him so much.

They broke, and he looked at her. Suddenly, his eyes widened. He looked down at his chest, and ran his hands over it.


"Yes, Tony?"

"But-James and the gun-"

"What about them?"

"He shot me, Ziva! Where are the scars, the bullets?!" He asked, slightly panicked.

Ziva looked at him sadly. "After thirty years on the job, they got you, Tony."

"I didn't- I didn't survive?"

"No. You passed away on the scene. They're all at your funeral. Abby and McGee miss you terribly." Suddenly, she whirled her hand, and there was a small window-like thing hanging in midair. It showed an older Abby, crying into the shoulder of a graying Timothy McGee. A boy with his bright green eyes but Abby's coal-black hair stood there, bowing his head. Their youngest boy, a junior in high school. An older Palmer held hands with Breena, and two golden-haired children were clutching his other hand. One was a teenager, and the other looked barely five.

"Daddy, Iris, why is Uncle Tony lying in the black box?" The little boy asked.

"He's going to sleep for a while, Georgie." The older girl, Iris, said.

"Like Grandpa Gibbs and Grandpa Ducky?"

"Yeah, like them." Jimmy choked out, wiping his eyes.

Others were crying, wiping their eyes. Tony peered into the sight a bit more and saw his own open casket, his pale face surrounded by red velvet suddenly closed upon.

"Your whole team misses you, just like you did when Gibbs passed."

They watched them carry out the casket, also draped in a flag. They lowered into the pit, and cover it in dirt. Then, he saw it, and nearly broke down.

Right next to the pit was an older, fading tombstone that read:

In Loving Memory of:

Leroy Jethro Gibbs


Loving and dedicated
father, husband, Marine,
agent, and man.


Tony watched, as tears stung in his eyes, the last of the dirt cover his coffin. Abby, whose eyes were red with tears, laid a bundle of black and red roses on each burial spot. She suddenly started sobbing, and she turned to Tim burying her face in his jacket. His eyes traveled up to the sky, and Tony could've swore Tim looked right at him and Ziva, and could see them.

Tony suddenly saw younger Timmy, the timid but sweet guy that had first joined NCIS. Now, his sandy-brown hair was edged with gray, stubble speckled on his chin. He was standing next to his youngest son, who was his spitting image, save for spiky black hair. But if Tony looked hard, the sweet boy he knew could be seen.

He saw Abby, the spunky Goth blaring heavy music in her lab while she danced around with her black pigtails. He saw her with her wide smile when she heard good news, her eyes lighting up when she had something to show Gibbs (or maybe that was just the Caf-Pow highs….). Now, her face was more lined. Her black hair was, too, lined with gray, but her eyes were still as bright as the first day he had met her.

Tony could see Palmer, the little boy with the glasses that was terrified of Gibbs and loved listening to Ducky's many stories as they worked over a body. Now, he was somehow even more muscular. His light brown hair was darker, his face lined and blunter. He was even holding hands with two of his children. But he was wearing the same glasses, which made Tony laugh inwardly.

He was suddenly aware of how much older all of them looked. He wanted to cry with them. Ziva wrapped her arms around him, and held him there, and he put his arms around her.

"I'm sorry, Tony- a guardian's protection only lasts for so long. Fate has it's way of doing things. I could only protect you for so long." She said softly.

"You were my guardian?"

"Guardian angel, yes. I protected you for another twenty years on that damned job." She smiled sadly. "I did a pretty job, if I do say so myself."

He looked at her. "So I'm dead?" He asked bluntly.

"In some ways more than others." She said. "Your spirit is obviously alive and well." She smiled.

"So…am I in the infinity part? You know, paradise and all that?"

Ziva took his hand, and walked to the door. She opened it, and it led out into what looked like a park.

"A park? Where's the beer and the babes?" He asked mockingly. Ziva laughed.

"This is paradise, Tony." She said, taking his hand. She led them over to a park bench, and sat them down next to some familiar faces.

"Well then, glad to see the trip was safe." A silver-haired, blue-eyes man laughed.

"Tony, my boy, you're here!" An older man with glasses and a slight British accent cried out.

"Hey there, Tony." A familiar red-head laughed.

"Tony-long time no see." A brunette with shining eyes smiled at him.

"Welcome home." Ziva said, kissing him.