Title: Slow Spinning Redemption
Disclaimer: None of the characters belong to me. Damn. The first and last parts of the dialogue are taken directly from Bête Noire.
Rating: Over 15, I guess. Swearing. Blood. Guts. All that stuff.
Spoilers: Starts through 1.16, Bête Noire, continues on.
Summary: For every action, a reaction. Everything is the same, even if it's different.
Notes: My first NCIS fic, so please, tell me what you think.
Part (1/?)
"Dr. Mallard thinks you were daring me to pick up this knife." She stared at him, knife held lightly in her hand as he walked towards her.
"The proper term is a dissecting tool." His evasion didn't escape her notice.
"You didn't answer my question." She paused. "You just wanted another excuse to shoot Gerald, didn't you?"
She lunged at him, only to have him easily twist her hand behind her back while pulling her flush against his body. Her other arm hung limply at her side as she took in the details of his face angrily.
The quiet chuckles that left his mouth were mocking. "I have no intention of shooting Gerald again Caitlin." He leaned in, his breath hot on her face as he whispered. "I did however, want to see if I was right about you."
"Next time I'll be quicker." His eyes, dark and deep focused on hers as she hissed the words.
"Oh, don't you wonder why you weren't now?" She snarled, lips curling back, before she allowed herself a smirk.
"I know why. So that I could do this." She thrust up with her knee, hitting his groin with a satisfying thud. The arm holding hers back loosened reflexively and she moved fast, knocking the gun out of his other hand. She noticed Ducky spring towards the gun before the arm tightened around her again.
"You shouldn't have done that Caitlin." His face was pale and his voice was slightly choked, but the arm twisting hers was still powerful.
"I suggest that you let her go." Ducky's voice was deceptively calm. The gun in his hands was trained at the terrorist's head.
"I could kill her before you could pull the trigger."
"You'd still be dead."
"Are you willing to have Caitlin's blood on your hands?"
"I wouldn't bleed." Kate smirked.
"Everybody bleeds Caitlin."
"Do you?" She mimicked his tone. Okay, so the guy could very possibly kill her with his bare hands, and that scared the hell out of her, but damned if she'd let him see that.
"Wouldn't you like to know?" He laughed again. "Doctor, put the gun down before I do something I may regret later."
"Would you?" She tilted her head, watching his eyes flash. "Regret it, I mean."
"Of course." He tilted his own, his expression unreadable. "I always regret killing beautiful women."
Her mouth opened, and then closed without a sound escaping. What exactly could she say to that? She tamped down the flutter in her belly firmly. He was a terrorist. He was not supposed to call her beautiful. She was not supposed to get butterflies in her stomach because he called her beautiful (god, Gibbs would kill her). The hand still holding the knife (she refused to call it a dissecting tool) went lax for a moment before she tightened it.
His eyes were dark on hers, pulling her in against her will. Vaguely she was aware that Ducky still had the gun pointed at the man who seemed to be looking into her eyes and seeing her soul. The drugged moan that left Gerald's lips brought her back to reality. He could see into her soul? Well, fuck that. The bastard wasn't going to see anything she didn't want him to. Her jaw tightened, tilted up defiantly.
"So you're scared of butterflies and you regret hurting women." She smiled, and bared her teeth. "Careful, or we might start thinking you're nothing but a fake." His eyes flickered and she restrained the urge to crow. A hit, a palpable hit!
"Kate, stop baiting him." Ducky admonished her.
"So you go by Kate. I think I prefer Caitlin, personally. After all, Kate just seems so, well, common." She glared at him.
"Ducky, just shoot him."
"Ducky? Does everyone at NCIS have a ridic-" Ducky chose that moment to pull the trigger. The shot echoed through the room and left a ringing noise in their ears. She recoiled from the flesh and bone that splattered over her in time with the cry that left his lips. She pulled away, watching dispassionately as he clutched at his shoulder in pain.
"Painful, isn't it?" Ducky's voice was quiet. The terrorist's harsh breathing faded in Kate's ears as she rushed to the phone.
"Not - nothing I can't handle." He grimaced, staring at the gun Ducky still had pointed towards him. The doors to the room burst open as men flooded in, guns trained on the terrorist. Gibbs and Tony rushed in to the room, their own guns drawn.
"Figures that you'd get here after all the work was done Tony." She heard the slight tremor in her voice and scowled, admonishing herself internally.
"You okay?"
"Great. All in a day's work, after all. Drink coffee, do paperwork, get held hostage."
The two shared a smile and turned to watch the HR team lead the terrorist out, Gibbs helping Ducky with Gerald.
"Kate!" She turned in time to have Abby fling her arms around her. "You're okay!" The lab rat pulled back quickly. "You are okay, right?" Kate laughed.
"I'm fine Abs." She tilted her head. "I guess you're over your fear of autopsy, huh?" Abby nodded, her smile fading.
"It should have been me, Kate."
"The hell it should've been." The two looked at her, surprised at the vehemence of her statement. "What would changed by you being down here instead of me, Abby?" Her voice gentled. "Everything happens for a reason."
"You know, this reminds me of a movie I saw once."
"Dinozzo!" She couldn't help the laugh that escaped her lips.
"Well, it does." He slung his arm around her shoulders, leading her towards the elevator. Shrugging his arm off, she looked at Abby questioningly.
"You're not coming up?"
"Nah, I think I'll stay down here a bit longer. Conquer my bête noire, and all that."
"Okay." Kate smirked. "You've got a better chance than Tony anyway." The two brunettes made their way into the elevator, Tony's embarrassed mumbling echoing in her ears.
When the elevator doors opened, she stumbled to her desk with a relieved sigh. She'd given Tony the gist of what had happened, and for some reason talking about it had affected her more than the actual experience.
"So why did Ducky shoot him in the shoulder? Do you think he was wearing a bullet proof vest?"
Kate looked across at him, the words leaving her mouth unbidden. "He was. I felt it."
"You felt it?" The silence carried across the room and lifted him from his desk, carrying him back to her. "Well, how close did you get to feel it?" He perched on her desk, forcing her to look up at him. "Close enough to touch him … with your hands or did you touch him wit-"
She cut him off before he could finish. "Close enough to stab him with the knife in my hand."
He looked down at her incredulously. "And you didn't."
She stared at him before turning her eyes back to the papers on her desk. "No."
Leaning towards her, he licked his lips. "Stockholm syndrome?"
She stiffened. No. "You can't identify with your captor in an hour." God, had it only been an hour?
"Oh, I don't know… Maybe it's like falling in love. It can happen," pausing, he clicked his fingers. "Like that."
Love. No. She didn't fall in love, not like that. It was a stupid idea. She stared up at him, unable to say anything. Deny it, Kate. He waited a few seconds before walking back to his desk.
She continued to look at him, seeing nothing but the face of a man who'd held a gun to her face. She swallowed.
The silence echoed.