Author's note: um, so Kate's alive :D (in my mind anyway) that's pretty much all you need to know. This story is multi-chapter so stayed tuned. Oh yeah, Ziva willed be mentioned but she will not feature in this fanfic. I think she's actually okay it's just I only watch NCIS season one and two and gain more recent information from spoilers and shit. So I don't know how to write Ziva and therefore she is not really mentioned that much.
There are no words to describe how is feeling right here, right now.
He's so conflicted, doesn't know what to think.
He should feel happy, relieved, and thankful. He should feel hurt, angry and betrayed. He should feel shocked, confused and perplexed. He should demand to know what the hell is going on.
But he doesn't.
It's like time has frozen and he's looking down on the scene before him. Like he should be the one supposed to be in heaven.
He can't think. His mind is plagued with thick, heavy fog. He's desperately trying to form some kind of thought but he can't.
She's sitting there with an air of confidence and professionalism but he knows better.
Her stance is off. Only a little but it's off. He can see the awkwardness she feels, he can see how unsure she is deep down.
"Gibbs, I'm sorry. There was no way I could have told you."
He nods vaguely, he hears her but he's not listening. He needs to distance himself from her, from everyone and everything so he can think clearly.
He hasn't said a word yet, hasn't given any sign except for a nod that he understands what's going on but the director still attempts to offer some explanation. As if it was that easy.
The director stops talking and Gibbs moves to leave. Kate calls his name, a desperate plea for forgiveness. He looks at her properly for the first tie since he was summoned to the conference room, hesitates and walks out the door but not before hearing the frustrated sigh that he leaves in his wake.
He bumps into Ducky almost as soon as he's out the door, he's a little dazed at first but then all he can think is did he know?
He must have said it out loud because Ducky replies, "Well of course I knew Jethro, got the fright of my life when she shot up on my autopsy table. A very rare case, our Caitlin. Quite improbable that the bullet would strike the exact place an aneurysm was forming – if it had been one more centimetre to the left-"
He doesn't hear the rest of what Ducky has to say because he's pushed past the elderly ME and begun his descent down the stairs.
He forgot that McGee, Abby and Tony were still in the bullpen – anxious to know why Gibbs had been summoned to the direct at such an odd hour (1900 hours) when they had no case.
He pushes past their invasive questions and questioning stares and grabs his gun and keys from his desk draw and then he's gone. But not before he hears the shocked reaction of Abby spotting Kate.
He throws his phone furiously across his basement - it hits the wall with a clatter. Good. He thinks, now it won't ring. But it does - only a mere few seconds after it had settled on the cold, hard floor.
He bangs his fist against his boat, he's so mad he can't think straight. He wants her to stop calling him, he needs her to stop calling him. He doesn't want to hear what she has to say he just wants to drink. His cell rings again and he swears loudly. "Why can't you just leave me the fuck alone?" he says to the empty air around him.
Maybe five minutes later when he's calmed down a bit (the phone has stopped ringing) he hears the front door open and the distinct sound of heels click clacking across the polished wood corridor.
He wishes he had locked the door now.
He sees one black shiny stiletto pump first, far too high to climb (or descend) stairs in. Then he sees another. Next thing he know she's halfway down the stairs before she stops and awkwardly looks him in the eye. "I don't know what you want me to do Gibbs," she says, desperation creeping through her voice, "I don't know what to say."
"Then don't" is his bitter reply.
She sighs. "I couldn't even tell my family,"
"You never returned any of their calls anyway"
She runs her hand through her hair, frustrated. "That's not the point Gibbs. Weren't you the one the always said 'tell no one your secret and if you have to, tell as few as possible'?"
It's true, he did say that, does say that.
"Can't you just be happy that I'm alive?"
"Nope" he replies almost automatically.
She can't help but laugh at his typical response. He laughs too.
The mood has changed, it's light, more comfortable, less angst.
"So," she asks, "what have you been doing for five years?"
He grins and dips his head, "Not much."
She smiles.
"Come 'ere" he says with a tilt of his head.
She obeys immediately, still looking for redemption.
"You ever worked on wood before?"
"No, I can't say I have"
He puts the sander in her hand and guides her with the grain. He chuckles inwardly at his actions because this is how he seduces a woman.
He stops when her hands stills and she turns to face him.
"Gibbs, we're okay, right?"
He nods and pours them both a mug of bourbon.
She accepts the peace offering with a smile and turns back towards the boat.
They stand there, bodies close and brushing in silence for a few minutes until Kate says, "You know, I'm surprised Tony hasn't set this thing alight yet."
And he laughs, he really laughs.