Part I: Hello Again
"Katie," the name slipped from his lips as easily as it ever had and he cursed himself as a flash of pain crossed her delicate features.
He was the last person she'd ever expected to show up on her doorstep in Spain. How had he found them?
"What are you doing here," her voice was harsh with hurt, even now.
"I heard," he
shifted feeling tightness in his throat, "I wanted to see…"
"If
I was okay," she finished and he looked down at his shoes.
"Well yeah" and it really was true, ultimately he was concerned about both of them. However, he also cared about another victim in all this, the one in a coma.
She stepped aside finally, opening the door enough so he could step in, she said nothing but the gesture was enough. He walked inside, but not far and then turned towards her.
"How is he," the words were an empty gesture in a way, the prognosis wasn't good, but he meant it as a genuine query, and she knew it, at least he hoped she did.
"They don't know if he'll ever wake up," she whispered.
The sadness radiating off her was clear, and he wasn't entirely sure which was worse for her at this moment, his presence or the entire situation. He was fairly sure having your heart broken twice was more than enough reason to feel that miserable.
She glanced up to study him. He was older now of course; his once grey hair was now getting closer to white, and his chiseled features - so distinguished when they met - were now fatigued with more age, more years of wear and tear. But he was still handsome and still so damn irresistible. She looked down suddenly afraid her would read 'dare she say it, desire' in her eyes.
She looked the same to him as he studied her features, not really even a day older than the day he left. Her age had always bothered him in some sense. She was so young, so perfect, so un-jaded, to good to be true, for a man like him. He had had four wives, three divorces, and yet somehow – despite the odds - they'd fit together, like a hand in a perfect sized leather glove. She'd completed him and their happiness had been the talk of the office. He'd been changed by her, for the better. Although he was still a bastard when it came to field work, he allowed others to glimpse the hidden parts of his personality when he was around her. She would come find him at the end of the day doing paperwork, and anyone who was working late would get to see his entire persona shift. He would smile, for real, and pull her towards him so he could briefly rest his head on her flat stomach, she would caress his hair lovingly and they would remain in such a stance drawing strength and comfort from each other. He would never kiss her in front of others like he wanted to, but his eyes would tell her exactly what he wanted to do to her and she would blush. She loved how he looked at her. They would leave the office hand in hand. She would be glowing, he looked peaceful, something that during the day would be hard to find. People believed that perhaps he had found the real one. After a time, despite her own knowledge of his history with relationships, she came to believe it to. He'd let her believe that, maybe even allowed himself to become used to her love, but when he received his assignment, orders perhaps, he had to go – his morality would not let him rest.
He was so much older, now she did notice it, but she had never cared before. Swept off her feet by a man she worshiped had been a dream come true for Kate. She imagined how wild and yet tender he would be, and he didn't disappoint her. She slowly learned what he was like in a relationship and perhaps the more she knew, the less she even realized he was so much older. Maybe she should have, perhaps it was the warning sign she failed to heed. Maybe it would have saved her heart. But her heart had really been his, it became his almost against her will, and for a while she believed she had in turn won his, but maybe he hadn't wanted her heart or even her love. Even though his departure had made sense, especially considering he was still the tough investigator with an unequaled success rate, the manner in which it was done and the sudden withdrawal from their life together still made her heart ache, even five years later. Was it possible to love anyone like she'd loved him? She doubted it, and she wasn't sure she ever wanted to.
"Coffee," she offered knowing some things really would never change.
"Thanks," a small smirk, but eyes filled with sadness, perhaps he felt the same way? They had changed, but his addiction to coffee at least would not.
She made her way to the kitchen and put on the water, as she assembled the mug and spoon and sugar she suddenly stopped as if remembering something about him that she'd forgotten. He had followed her and was about to say something when she paused.
He felt a flash of pain and then relief, at least she did remember, even if at first she hadn't. His coffee needed nothing else in it. He liked it strong and black, something that was of endless fascination to the many who'd worked with him and to the disgust of the unfortunate few who had accidentally picked up the wrong cup.
He watched her put back the sugar and spoon and then she turned to him and leaned against the counter her eyes making contact with his own. Deep pools of brown showing far more hurt and confusion than he ever wanted to see from her.
"How did you find us," she asked softly.
"Director," never a man of words, she had never thought much of that either; his eyes had always spoken volumes to her. That had been enough.
"He told you?" Somehow that wasn't what she'd expected.
"No, heard something happened, through the grapevine, I asked him," he didn't meet her accusing yet curious eyes.
"Asked," she held back a slight smile, a typical description of a man willing to do anything when he really wanted something.
"Yeah," he laughed softly. He didn't have to meet her eyes at all to know what was shining in them. Amusement and disbelief he imagined. He wanted to see it though, and glancing up he caught a glimmer of the old Kate, before she broke his gaze. It went like a knife through him; they couldn't even share a humorous moment together anymore.
"Right," she sighed, but she let it go, somehow she bet 'the conversation' wasn't quite that dignified, or civil.
He realized he should explain, or try to justify, or maybe in the end just apologize. But was there still a point? He did feel like pointing out he hadn't hesitated in coming to Spain.
"I left right away," he sighed, "Katie…I…" and then hesitated giving her a perfect opening to make a point.
"Please don't call me that, Kate is fine," she requested.
It brought back way too many memories, hurtful ones, she didn't ever want to relive.
"I know that I…" and God he hated that he hurt her. Her very body language was enough for him to know that he burned bridges he could perhaps never rebuild. Did he even want to? Or was he just here to make sure she was okay, and that he was getting the best treatment possible while he was in his coma? What was this trip going to accomplish?
"Destroyed me," she completed his open ended sentence, but not in the way he was expecting, and he flinched. Of course he should have expected that, the second "b" was for bastard. He was so out of his element here, emotionally, it wasn't even funny.
"Oh I'm sorry," now her tone turned slightly sarcastic, "was that too harsh for you Gibbs," and she stopped feeling almost ashamed at his intake of breath.
In the earliest of their working days, she always called him Gibbs, when that changed to Jethro, eventually he expected that outside of work. Hearing Gibbs for the first time in five years from her, instead of Jethro, shouldn't have hit him that hard. But it did.
He didn't do apologies, and ever well, even when he tried, although among friends perhaps – as he once told Ducky – but this was different. He was of course sorry, so very sorry, for hurting her. It wasn't supposed to end like that, but he made a choice, and even now he wasn't entirely sure it was a wrong one. But the consequences were greater than he could have imagined. Perhaps she'd understood, although they'd never talked about that part of it, but his behavior would have changed that. A typical lack of communication forced her to the outside of his mindset; he didn't have time to let her in, perhaps she had been hurt the most by that.
"Kate," he tried
and stopped, "I just wanted to check on you."
"And him,"
she waited.
"Of course," the one who he loved like a son, whose betrayal he'd come to accept, but never expected. Or was it a betrayal? He'd lived five years convincing himself it was, but in the end, perhaps it too was inevitable considering the turn of events.
"Really," disbelief was in her voice, he couldn't blame her.
"Yes," firmness in his. He did care; he always would, no matter what.
"Okay," she turned and walked towards the door, "let's go."
She was testing him and he rose gracefully to her challenge. It was time to face the past again, more thoroughly; he wasn't terribly excited about the prospect. Then again, he had it coming.
Minutes later they were on their way to the hospital, Gibbs driving for some unexplainable reason, then again that had been the dynamic since they'd known each other. He always drove.
He struggled to think of words to say, but memories swarmed from years past and the silence, although awkward, was mutually understood.
Just being around her was intoxicating, painful, mesmerizing. He'd forgotten how a turn of her head with her hair swishing set his heart racing, how her perfume was addictive to his brain and how her smile made his knees weak.
Flashback
"You're a God in bed," her comment made him chuckle until he turned his head to look at her.
With her hair fanned out on the pillow, flushed cheeks and sparkling eyes in the aftermath of recent climax she looked like a true goddess.
"And you look like a goddess," he finally returned knowing it was almost corny, and he rolled over on his side to look into her eyes, "my goddess." Clarification was needed, she belonged to him, and his heart was hers.
She was used to saying things to him, and he would rarely verbally respond. Sometimes he would take her again, passionately, but rarely would he speak. It wasn't his way.
His use of possessive filled her eyes with tears that slipped down her cheeks. He felt terrible before he realized that she was just touched and he kissed away her tears.
"Never leave me," she pleaded.
"I promise," and his eyes said so much more.
End flashback
Gibbs didn't like breaking promises to those he loved. Despite their history, he'd come for her now, if only to be beside her through this tragic ordeal. He had left her, and he wondered if coming back counted for anything. He followed signs for the hospital mostly, Kate speaking to direct him only when necessary. He followed her inside and was reminded again why he hated hospitals.
At the nurses station the on duty nurse smiled sympathetically at her, "no change, but you can go in."
They entered and Gibbs found himself staring at his son, the man who'd once filled his life with hope, who he'd been so proud of and entrusted him team to those years ago, who had never failed him, and found that once again he was regretting all of his choices. The younger man had never questioned him, not even when watching his former partner cry as Gibbs walked away. Somehow his belief in Gibbs held strong or maybe just his desire to please. Gibbs had given him the team and the responsibility of holding it together. He'd said nothing about taking care of Kate specifically, but perhaps the feeling of duty led his senior agent to her anyway, or maybe it was out of a love Gibbs had never wanted to see in his eyes and therefore missed. He never knew how that came to pass.
She'd gone to sit beside him on the bed and watching her touch his face lovingly was almost more than he could stand.
"I'll leave you two alone" she left abruptly sensing his turmoil. It was the least she could do.
"Tony, you're going to get better, she needs you son," he whispered and then he found his throat clogged with emotion, so he sat there holding the young man's hand and praying for a miracle.