Epilogue

Tim had an old tin box in the bottommost drawer of his dresser. He had had it for a long time, for so long actually, that he couldn't remember when he'd gotten it. It had always just been there. The box had at one point held cookies, but had during his childhood gotten so scratched and dented that he could barely read the brand name anymore.

Today, he took it out of the dresser, for the first time since he had moved into this apartment. He sat on the bed, clutching it in his hands. He could see now, that it was not unlike Denny's box. Just childhood treasures, nothing of value, but very valuable to him anyway. He hadn't opened the box in years, probably not since he was 15, but he had dutifully brought it with him everywhere he had moved. Even when he had lived in tiny shared dorm rooms or had sublet little rat holes off campus, the box had gone with him. But he hadn't opened it.

The lid was slightly stuck, he had to pry at it and force it open. When he was really little, he'd mostly kept pretty rocks, marbles, bird feathers and such in the box, but those had been cleaned out after the murders. Now, it was mostly photos.

He smiled a little as he looked through them. Some he hadn't even remembered that he had, but now that he saw them, so much came back to him. These were the things he had treasured when he was 12. These were the things he had lost. He and Denny in a swimming pool, squinting in the sunlight, smiling at the camera. Denny with Sarah on his lap on Christmas morning, helping the toddler open her presents. An eight-year-old Denny reading comics to his two-year-old brother. Denny at the hospital, helping his little brother hold their newborn sister for the first time.

Tim kept all of his memories of the life he'd had before in here, not just Denny. There were other photos too. He and Oliver in the tree house. He and Oliver in scout uniforms. All of his friends at his 12th birthday party. None of them had stood by him. All of them were lost to him.

At the bottom of the box was his most secret photo, the one no one had ever known he had kept. On the back the year 1987 was scribbled. It was summer, so it was about 18 months before the murders started, almost two years before Elena died. It had been taken in their backyard; Oliver's family had come over for a barbecue. In the photo, he and Oliver were sitting on one side of a picnic table, close together, laughing at a joke Oliver's dad – who was taking the photo – had just told. Alice was standing at the end of the table, holding Sarah in her arms. Sarah was two and a half years old and the picture of health. The cancer had not yet afflicted her. His mother smiled the radiant smile Tim remembered from his childhood as she looked at her children. He hadn't seen her smile like that in 22 years. On the other side of the table sat Denny and Elena, side by side, their shoulders touching. They were smiling, comfortable in each other's company. His father stood behind them, his hands resting on Denny's shoulders, smiling proudly. So much more carefree back then. So much more loving. It had all been torn asunder. No one in that photo had lived happily ever after.

Tim still couldn't believe that Denny had murdered Elena. They had been friends, they had all been family. Why had he destroyed that? Why had he chosen Elena? It was just one of the many questions he would never get an answer to. One of the many things that still gnawed at his brain late at night.

Denny had ruined so much, for so many people. But maybe there were some wounds Tim could help heal.

xxx

Tim stood nervously on the front porch of a nice suburban house in Oregon. He had insisted on doing this on his own, but now he was questioning his own judgment. But it was too late to turn back now.

He rang the doorbell and waited. The door opened almost immediately. Inside stood a man of his own age and height with a little girl on his arm. "Yes?" he said, smiling inquiringly.

"Oliver Gale?" Tim asked needlessly. Even though it had been 22 years, his best friend was easily recognizable. He had dark brown hair and green eyes and was wearing jeans and a t-shirt.

"Yes, that's me. How can I help you?" Still smiling invitingly.

"I'm Special Agent Timothy McGee with the NCIS." He flashed his badge.

"Oh?" Oliver frowned. "Is this… is this about Denny Langston?"

"Yes," Tim said. "In a way."

"You'd better come in then, Agent McGee." Oliver stepped aside and waved McGee into a cozy, but toy-cluttered living room. He put his daughter down on the floor, where the child immediately found a yellow tractor, which she started driving around on the carpet, making engine noises as she went.

McGee looked around the room. His old friend had obviously made a good life for himself. The room was maybe not furbished with expensive furniture and the latest electronics, but there were plenty of memories and family life. He saw Oliver's wedding photo, photos of children and parents. People Tim didn't recognize and older versions of some he had known. His heart skipped a beat when he saw himself in the midst. A photo of himself and Oliver in little league uniforms, arms around each other's shoulders and grinning madly at the camera. He had the same photo in his tin box, but he had never dared to display it.

"Sorry about that," Oliver said, gesturing to his daughter and the noise she was making. "My wife's out grocery shopping with our oldest, so I have to keep an eye on her while we talk. Please, sit down."

"It's fine," McGee promised. "I don't mind. How old is she?"

"Almost two." Oliver smiled proudly. "A little bundle of pure energy. Do you want some coffee or something?" He gestured for Tim to sit down on a yellow couch.

"No, thank you," Tim said, sitting down. "I'm not staying long."

"Okay," Oliver said, sitting down in an armchair across from Tim. "So, what did you want to talk to me about?"

"As you know," Tim began, "Dennis Langston escaped from prison ten days ago. I was part of the team that tracked him down and rearrested him. In the following investigation we found some things that he collected from his victims 22 years ago. His trophies."

"Elena's bunny," Oliver said immediately.

"Yes," Tim said, reaching into his pocket and pulling out a plastic evidence bag with the pink stuffed bunny in it. He squeezed it briefly in his hand before handing it over.

Oliver took it and held it reverently in his hand. "I knew he had taken it. No one ever believed me, but I knew that he had it. I never thought I'd see this again. Can I take it out of the bag?"

"Of course," Tim said, nodding. "It's yours now."

Oliver took the stuffed animal out and held it in his hand, staring at it. "I gave her this," he said. "A couple of weeks before she died. I won it at a carnival, at an air riffle stand. I thought it was lame and too girly. I was gonna throw it away, but a friend of mine convinced me I should give it to Elena. To earn brownie points for future use, I think he said."

"Yes, I remember," Tim said, then biting his tongue. He hadn't meant to say that.

Oliver looked up sharply. "You remember? What do you mean—" Then his face softened and he turned his head to the side, regarding Tim closely. "John? Johnny! Is it really you?"

"Yes," McGee said nervously. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't—"

But Oliver was smiling. "I gave it to her that evening. She was really happy about it, she thought it was sweet. She put it on her bedside table and named it Ollie, after me. Then she hugged me. I was at the age where I thought hugging was lame, so I didn't let people hug me that often. So that was the last time I ever hugged her. Then she made us popcorn and we watched my favorite movie together. That evening has been such a precious memory for me since she died. And I owe it to you. It was you who told me to give the bunny to her."

"I'm glad," Tim said truthfully. "It's important to remember the good times. I've learned that the hard way."

"John," Oliver said wistfully. "I can't believe you are really here. I've thought so much about you over the years. We treated you so badly, all of us, all the kids in the neighborhood. It took me a while to realize that. I was just so mad about the whole situation. I hit you – really hurt you. We beat you up, when it wasn't your fault. We just couldn't see that back then. I've always been ashamed about the way I treated you. I'm so sorry."

Tim shook his head. "I never held it against you. You were a kid and you were hurting. And I was sorry too. I felt guilty, even though I had no reason too. That took me a while to figure out too."

"I lost a sister," Oliver said shaking his head slightly, "but you lost a brother too. We should've bonded, we should've supported each other. We were in the same boat, but I couldn't see that back then. Too immature, I supposed. And too hurt. But I've thought of you a lot since I came to my senses. I've missed you. I actually tried to find you, a few years ago, but I couldn't. I had no idea you had changed your name."

The little girl came and leaned against her father's leg, looking at the toy in his hand, reaching out and patting it. "Bunny!" she said happily.

"That's right, Ellie. A bunny. It belonged to your aunt Elena. She would've adored you."

"Ellie?" Tim asked.

"Yeah," Oliver said. "Named for Elena, of course. I have a son too, five years old. He's called John."

"John?" Tim asked surprised.

"Yeah," Oliver smiled. "Named for the bravest boy I've ever known. The boy who put my sister's murderer in jail. Twice now! But you're not John anymore. I'm sorry, I forgot what name you introduced yourself by."

"Timothy," Tim said. "Tim."

"Well, Tim," Oliver said, stretching out his hand for Tim to shake. "Welcome to my home. Won't you please stay for dinner? I know my family would love to meet you. And we have a lot of catching up to do."

Tim smiled, feeling a slight burn behind his eyelids. "I'd love that."

THE END

xxx

A/N: Phew, am I glad that's over! Another monkey off my back! Hope you all enjoyed the story and that it wasn't too melodramatic for you. When I get in that mood, there's just no stopping me. Thank you so much for all the wonderful reviews and thank you so much for reading!