Sonja Percy had finally finished a month-long, extremely tiring undercover assignment with her FBI team and now she didn't have any other wish but to take a long hot shower then grab a bowl full of steaming hot popcorn and watch something in the TV. It didn't even matter what, since she knew she would fall asleep almost instantly anyway. In the past weeks she hadn't set foot in her rented apartment and to her immense annoyance she now found all her age-old and somewhat dingy furniture covered in a thick layer of fine dust. She would have to clean soon – but not tonight. Glad she had remembered to grab some food on the way home (the fridge was of course completely empty save for a by now moldy and smelly piece of cheese she had somehow forgotten to throw out), she dumped the grocery bag on the counter and turned the heating up as high as it would go. It was freezing.

At times like that, she was really missing New Orleans: the climate, the friendly, always festive environment, her friends… There, she'd had her best friend as roommate, a team leader who cared more for the team than any other boss she'd ever had, including the recent one, and a partner whom she'd loved a lot more than what was proper in their position. Still loved, in a way… She had also always felt exasperated by him to extremes but that was beside the point now.

She hadn't regretted her decision to leave NCIS and join FBI, per se, but she was sometimes hit by waves of nostalgy she couldn't shake for days, and it would always ruin her mood so much that even her teammates noticed it. Damn, she didn't need that now. Not when she was so exhausted that she was on the brink of collapsing in a heap of misery anyway!

Heaving a sigh, she started towards the bathroom when she noticed the blinking red light of the answering machine, demanding her attention.

'Who would use this number?' – She wondered since normally her friends and family members called her cell phone. Of course, she hadn't been able to pick it up lately, but still… who even knew her landline!? She couldn't remember giving it to anyone. Deciding that whoever had left the message probably days or maybe even weeks ago could wait another 30 minutes, she proceeded with her original intention of showering before anything else.

And still, while enjoying the hot water streaming on her head and down her back, calming her muscles and relaxing her tense shoulders, she couldn't shake the nudging curiosity about the mysterious message. Again: who could it be? What could they want? Her thoughts kept wondering back to these questions despite herself and in the end, she had to admit defeat: she wouldn't be able to spend as much time in the shower as she had originally intended for she was too restless to solve the puzzle.

'Okay, I'll just listen to it very quickly and then I won't have to worry about it any longer.' – Contented with the plan, she wrapped a fluffy white towel around herself and covered her dripping-wet, now shoulder-length dark hair with another one. Stepping into her furry slippers, she left the bathroom. The entire apartment was cozy and warm by now and Sonja was feeling much better than before.

Not suspecting anything bad, she pressed to button on the innocent-looking answering machine.

Instantly, her long-time-no-see friend Gregorio's broken voice filled the room.

Sonja, it's me… Tammy… Listen, sorry but I had P search for this number since your cell's turned off… Ahm… we should talk. Can you call? Please?

That was sixteen days ago and since Sonja – for obvious reasons – hadn't sought her ex-colleague out, there were more messages as well.

Hey, I get it, okay: you have a new life and a new job and I know we haven't exactly kept in touch like we promised… And I'm sorry. But this is important. Very important. Please, call me.

After that slightly demanding second message, the third and last one was more like a pleading than anything else, dispelling any doubt Sonja might have had up to that point that the situation was really urgent.

Damn it… Sonja. Please! Okay, I won't harass you anymore if you really don't want to talk to me. But I'm also not going to say what I wanted to an answering machine. If you'll be interested in the future, you know how to reach me. Ah… okay, that's it then, I guess.

Of course Sonja knew how to reach her old friend. Forgetting – and also not caring – about the late hour, she yanked the phone from its resting place so fast that she nearly tore the cord and dialed the number she still knew by heart, without even having to think about it for a second.

She had to wait for six rings before a sleepy voice greeted her.

- Gregorio… Who's that?

- Tammy, it's me – The sleepiness was instantly gone and Sonja could hear her friend literally jump up from the bed and, going by the soft 'thump' she heard, probably end up sitting on the floor. – I'm sorry I haven't called, I was away on an assignment. I only now got your messages…

- Oh… okay. I though you didn't want to talk to us or something…

- Why wouldn't I?

- I don't know…

Something was definitely wrong, it wasn't like Gregorio to be this lost and unsure of herself.

- Tammy, what happened? Is something the matter?

- Yes… I… don't really know how to tell you this… Damn. I was planning on meeting you. Inviting you even to… but it doesn't matter anymore, it's too late for that. And I don't know what to do. I wanted to have Sebastian here or P or anyone when we tell you…

Okay, whatever was going on, it was starting to freak Sonja out. She had never ever heard her friend beat around the bush like that! Gregorio was nothing if not straightforward, sometimes even bordering on being too blunt. Surely not insecure and stammering.

- Just tell me already! Is everyone all right…?

- No… It's… oh, God. Sonja: it's Christopher.

The ex-NCIS agent felt her legs start to tremble and she had to hold the phone more firmly in her hand for fear it would slip out of her suddenly sweaty palm.

- What about him? Is he injured? At the hospital? – Not waiting for an answer she began to quickly calculate in her head how soon she could get to New Orleans. Maybe she could catch the first plane in the morning from New York and be there by 11:00 AM… - I will need the room number and his doctor's name and-

- Sonja… Christopher is not at the hospital. Not anymore.

- Oh, that's good then. I guess he's at home? Still living at the same place? I'll be there tomorrow and I'll give Country Mouse a lecture about taking care of himself. I'm guessing he's still unaware that people actually do care even if he clearly doesn't. He's hopeless and-

- He's not at home either… Look, he's-

- All right, it figures Pride would want to keep him close after he's managed to land himself in trouble again. What was it this time? Don't tell me it was because of another crazy woman? Or some heroic act to take on the enemy alone? – She could hear a chocked hiccup from the other end of the line that suspiciously sounded like a sob and it didn't do anything to reassure her in the least. – But… he's all right, isn't he? Tammy…?

- I… You know… No. He's not. Ahm… - Dread hit Sonja again with full force and still, she couldn't believe what she was hearing when her friend continued. – I'm so sorry, Sonja. I don't know how to make it easier for you to hear so I'll just say it: he died. About two weeks ago. We haven't really come to terms with it ourselves yet.

- What…?

- He was shot. Three times. Once in the arm, that wouldn't have been so bad but the other two… Pride did everything he could, he airlifted him to the best hospital available. He was instantly operated. He was stable after that but then… Then he wasn't. I don't understand, it all happened so fast.

- But…

Tammy's voice was hoarse, it was clearly a great effort for her to say the words but Sonja wasn't listening anymore. Not really. Her legs had long ago given up on the task of supporting her weight and she had sunk to her knees, holding the phone awkwardly; cord about to be torn from the wall soon.

- We were all just standing there, gaping. We couldn't help him! And the doctors, they tried to revive him… Remember when we had to give him CPR and he was dead for four minutes? He then got up and was fine, never even mentioned it anymore, right? I thought it would be like that now, too, because LaSalle is always fine, isn't he? He's like a cat that has nine lives. But the lives ran out this time and I don't know why…

- I… I… I don't… NO!

- Oh, God, Sonja, I don't know what to do. Pride is devastated and I think he even blames himself for not miraculously appearing before the shooting or something, and Loretta… I can't even recognize her anymore! - Apparently, now that Tammy had started talking about what was going on to someone who hadn't been part of it, she couldn't stop. – And Sebastian and P… Even Hannah… I guess you don't know who she is, do you? Anyway, she didn't even know LaSalle that well and she's still depressed. What was it about him!?

At that precise moment the cord of the phone gave up its heroic fight against gravity and popped out of the socket, effectively cutting the call. Sonja didn't care. She didn't notice. She was sitting on the floor, staring into nothing, trying to make sense of what she had just heard.

Her Country Mouse couldn't be dead. He just couldn't, especially not for two weeks already! She had been working, eating, sleeping, even joking and laughing during that time and it would have been impossible for all these to happen if Christopher hadn't been alive and well at that time anymore! She was sure she'd have known it if something had happened. She'd have felt the Earth stop spinning or the Moon fall off the sky. There would have been hurricanes, earthquakes, fires or huge, nationwide blackouts. Christopher lived his entire life burning and soaring like a ball lightning; how could his death be quiet and simple then?

When somebody tried to shoot her Country Mouse, guns dry fired and he forgot to even mention it afterwards. When he was shot, he had Kevlar on and didn't even flinch. If he was overdosed, he bounced back from the death. He might be kicked down but he always got up easily right away, joking and assuring everyone he was fine. When he fell and hit his head, he claimed that only his ego was bruised. Christopher LaSalle certainly didn't die from simple gunshots, lying on a hospital bed, silently and permanently.

Christopher didn't do anything silently and permanently, period.

He was constantly in movement, he couldn't be still, so he couldn't be dead. Dead people didn't move – Christopher didn't stop moving. That was a contradiction impossible to resolve, therefore it couldn't be true. That was logical, so why couldn't Tammy see it? There must be a mistake. Or they were playing some cruel joke on her? If so, then they would regret ever being born; especially Country Mouse if he was in on this game as well.

By now she had worked herself into a full-blown rage, so she stood and threw the now useless phone at the wall, feeling a funny kind of satisfaction upon hearing it shutter to pieces. Good, better an inanimate object than LaSalle's head when they'd meet. Because they would meet, she had decided. She'd travel to New Orleans and give them a piece of her mind about pulling cruel pranks on someone; that someone being her. Yes, that's what she would do. Definitely.

But despite having made her decision, she couldn't shake the dread: what if it was true? Could it be? Surely not, but there was only one way to find out. She found her cell with difficulty and dialed the number she hadn't used in ages but knew equally as well by heart as the first one she'd used that night.

Christopher's phone just rang and rang but there was no answer. 'This doesn't mean anything, it's late after all.' – She told herself, ignoring the fact that, in New Orleans, it was only shortly after 10 PM and Christopher had never been asleep at that time yet. Come to think of it: why was Gregorio sleeping? Maybe they had just finished a case, and were as exhausted as she was. Yes, that must be it. So, she decided to write an SMS instead.

Hey, Country Mouse, what's that stupid rumor I'm hearing? Do you think it's funny to scare me like that? Well, it's not, you great moron!

Yes, that would do. Now, he'd read it in the morning, and know she was pissed. Then he'd call and apologize.

As an afterthought, she typed again:

Call me when you get this and don't you dare continue with the prank, or I'll make you wish it were true! Do you hear, LaSalle? I'll make you pay! I'll be in NOLA tomorrow.

Okay, now she'd just have to wait 'til the morning to take his head off personally. She was just about to log on her computer to buy the plane ticket when her cell rang. A quick glance confirmed: it was Christopher.

She picked up and spoke instantly.

- You're such a caveman, Country Mouse, you know that? You had Tammy do this, right? Is this revenge because we haven't talked since I left?

- Percy… It's Dwayne.

- Pride? Why are you using LaSalle's phone? What's going on? Don't tell me you're in on this stupid prank as well!

- Sonja, I thought you knew… Gregorio was going to call you. I'm sorry, but Christopher is-

- NO! Don't you dare say it. Why are you all doing this to me?

- Sonja-

- NO! I won't believe it! I've gone through hazing with the team once already, I know they're ready to do anything. I just didn't expect you to cooperate.

- I'm not. Listen-

- No, you listen! I'm done with this.

With that, she ended the call with an angry snort and fumed. 'I'll show them! They will learn not to mess with me!' – For a while, she even managed to ignore the small voice in her head that replayed the somewhat one-sided conversation with her old boss, highlighting the broken, sad voice of the usually strong and confident man. Like Gregorio, he sounded tired to the bone, and hoarse as if he had been crying. Weak, even, which in itself was unbelievable.

'What if…?'

Her phone rang again, and this time, it was Pride's own number on the display.

- I'm sorry, I…

- It's okay, Sonja. It's not easy for us to believe either and we were there when it happened…

- So, it's true then? He's really gone?

She had a hard time keeping it together and she was sure her old boss could hear it, too.

- Yes. It is true. I'm so very sorry.

- But… Why? WHY?

Now, she was sobbing and couldn't seem to stop long enough to take a proper breath. She felt as if she were suffocating.

- I don't know…

- It's not fair!

- No, it's not.

- I want to see his grave.

- Of course. I'll take you there. You don't have to deal with this alone.

She nodded, even though Pride – dear, caring Pride who would be willing to forget about his own grief for her sake – obviously couldn't see her. As horrible as it would surely be, she knew she needed to visit the cemetery. Maybe then she would believe it: her once best friend and partner, her great rival and sometimes the most annoying person in the entire world… The one and only Christopher LaSalle a.k.a. Country Mouse was truly and really GONE.

The world would never be the same again.