Disclaimer: I do not own NCIS or William Shakespeare or any of his plays (which is where the quote below is from, and where each of the similar quotes will be from).
A/N: I've been wanting to do a story with the Shakespeare quotes at the beginning for a while now, and I got the idea for this story a few days ago, and voila. I thought that it could work. I want to make this multi-chaptered, but reading over it, I figure it can work as a one-shot as well. So, what do you think? I don't really want to write a whole long story if nobody reads, you know? Anyways, enjoy, and tell me what you think. (:

"Presume not that I am the thing I was;
For God doth know, so shall the world perceive,
That I have turned away my former self."
- Henry IV Part 2, William Shakespeare

Everybody Lies.

A million thoughts race through your mind a day, and over half of them have something to do with why me?

Part of you would like to believe it was because you were just that beautiful, or amazing, or intoxicating, or whatever else you could be. Part of you wishes it was because out of you and the other options, you were the best bet. Part of you says it's just because you were the easiest target, and nothing deeper than that. But you can't fool yourself that easily. You know that it was because you were the easiest way to get to Gibbs - of course, there was always Abby, but after that day in the autopsy room, it just had to be you. You're sure that your background with the President didn't hurt, either.

When it comes down to it, though, you are slightly glad it was you. You know it could have been Abby, had she not been afraid of the autopsy room that morning. Granted, everything could have gone completely different if she had done what she had been asked. Maybe nobody would have been put in that position, or at least nobody that you know. You like to entertain that thought too, even though it makes the knowledge of that will never happen so much harder to bear.

You finger the silver cross hanging around your neck nervously. You've been sitting in the Director's office for at least an hour now and you haven't even caught a glimpse of him. All you know is his name - Leon Vance - but you haven't even met him yet. The thought that you should already know him crosses your mind bitterly. You were supposed to come back years ago, back when Jenny was still in office.

Except then, she went and died and fucked the whole thing up.

Not that you aren't sad that she died or proud of your mission. She died too early and didn't deserve the death she got, but, well, that's life, right? And you did well on your mission. You completed it with flying colors, doing more than you were asked to. God knows there are some things you aren't proud of, but you did them and now you are the only one left who has any real knowledge of them. Very few people are still alive that know enough about the mission to even carry on a conversation about it and you have to admit you like it that way.

The Director walks in and you immediately sit up just a little straighter and let your hands fall to your lap. Something in you tells you that you have to show confidence. You can't let him know how nervous and uncomfortable you are.

"Agent Todd," he says, taking the seat in front of you, "it's an honor to meet you."

You relax simply at the way he says your name. It's been a while since your name has been used in such a friendly way on a regular basis. Sometimes you seem to forget that you are once again where you want to be and who you want to be. You smile and nod at him, and shake his hand once he extends it out to you.

"Thank you," you say politely, though all you really want to tell him is that no, it really isn't an honor for him to meet you. It's quite the opposite, in fact.

Vance leans back in his chair and grabs your file. Silence falls over you for a moment as he scans over the pages. "I'm afraid I had no knowledge of your assignment until just a few days ago," he says finally, setting the folder back onto the table.

"You weren't supposed to," you say. You notice that your fingers have once again found their way to the cold cross around your neck. He looks up at you and you wonder if you said something wrong. "You shouldn't have needed to," you clarify after a few seconds of his staring. "Jenny would have told you, if you had ever needed to know, but..."

"She died." You wonder why it's so hard for you to say out loud but he says it with such ease. Maybe you just aren't as good at pushing your emotions down as you thought.

You shrug. "Yeah." Another moment of silence passes between you and you suddenly feel weak - not physically, but emotionally. You thought you had become strong, stronger than maybe even Gibbs, but it seems that with every passing second you're proving yourself wrong. "It was a suicide mission." You keep your gaze focused on the window behind his head. "That was the only reason we used my death as an out. It wasn't supposed to matter because either way, I would've died. It was in the plans. Her death wasn't."

Vance nods as if he understands, but instead of comforting you this just makes you angrier. He doesn't understand, there's no way for him to. "Well, we've informed everyone of your return." Your breath hitches in your throat. This still feels like a dream to you - seeing them all again makes it real. You aren't quite sure if you're ready for this, or if they're ready for this, but you do know that you don't have much of a choice anymore. "I've told them bits and pieces of what you've been doing. It's not alot. The assignment was very top-secret."

"I know."

He sighs and stands, motioning for you to do the same. You do. You follow him to the door and nearly run into him when he suddenly stops, his hand resting on the door handle. Vance turns back to look at you. He studies your face for what feels like forever, then his expression softens.

"I don't know what you're expecting, Agent Todd, but..." He trails off slightly, and his tone seems to change so that it's nearly apologetic. "They aren't the same as they used to be."

You nod. You understand.

After all, you aren't the same as you used to be, either.

You follow him downstairs.

The team - your old team - is already waiting for you. A cold feeling wraps around you, and you have to keep your arms from reaching around for warmth. The cold isn't from the room, but rather from somewhere inside you, or that's what it feels like. You try to switch your focus to something else, and end up studying the looks on their faces. You can make out the surprise, the hurt, the confusion, the slight elation, the betrayal, the disbelief, the anger, and of course the stony-faced mask Gibbs has put on just for you.

You say nothing once you reach the bottom of the stairs. As much as you hate to compare something as innocent and safe as this to what you've been through the past few years, your brain has made the connection before you can tell it not to. You feel like you're on foreign soil, and you've learned that it's rarely ever a good idea to talk first in someone else's territory.

Now that you're in this moment, you can't remember what you were expecting to find. There's no way that you were expecting this to still feel like your safe haven, your second home. There's no way that you were expecting these people to still feel like your second family.

They all just stand there staring at you and you just stand there staring at them. Time ticks by until eventually you close your eyes and get ready to speak.

Then you feel somebody crushing your bones and making you struggle for air. Your initial reaction is to break free and try your best to survive, but once your eyes snap open and are met by a black pigtail you calm down. You can't help the small smile that tugs at your lips. Abby. God, you missed her. Tears prick at your eyes but you refuse to let them fall - you have gone roughly four years without crying and there's no way in hell that you plan to break that now. Instead you wrap your arms around your goth friend and squeeze. It's nothing like the pressure she's putting around you, but still, it's something.

You risk a glance up at the others. They seem shocked, almost betrayed, at this display, so you close your eyes as tightly as you can and bury your head in the crook between her neck and shoulder, willing yourself not to cry.

She pulls away all too soon but you're in no position to keep holding on, so you just let her go. She smiles at you and it's in this moment that you realize she's crying and there's a huge puddle on your own shirt. You feel like your own tears are finally about to fall but you let your eyes close slowly and just breathe, breathe, breathe until they start to ease away.

Before your eyes reopen you feel another pair of arms wrap around you. This time it's gentle and almost hesitant. You're about to look to see who it is when Ducky's soft, comforting voice whispers into your ear "it's okay to cry" and you're telling him "no, it's not." He squeezes you gently before letting you go and giving you a sad smile. It suddenly hits you that he had to know about this, too. He had to have known that your body had not been the one laying on his autopsy table. You wonder if he was in on the entire mission. It wouldn't surprise you in the least bit; you had always thought there was more to Ducky than he let on.

McGee gives you a hesitant hug and you find yourself smiling. You figure that he's only doing it because Abby and Ducky have, but that doesn't bother you. He seems unsure of what to do and that makes you feel a little bit better because you don't know what you're supposed to be doing, either.

Jimmy gives you a small nod when he sees you looking at him. He looks scared and surprised and unsure. You feel bad for him; he must not know what to think. You're supposed to be dead, and he had seen your (supposed) body lying on Ducky's table.

You look away when you feel Gibbs lay a hand on your shoulder. You look up at him, but he just leans down towards you. "We'll talk later," he whispers into your ear, before simply turning to go back to his desk.

That leaves Ziva - your replacement - and Tony.

"Ziva," you say, forcing all emotion out of your voice. "It's nice to meet you." She simply nods. Looking into her eyes, something in you clicks - you know those eyes.

Your gaze migrates to Tony. He meets your eyes before turning and walking away, and even though it hurts, you can't say that you blame him.

----

It would have been easier if you had died. If the assignment had gone the way everyone had assumed it would and you had ended up dead, it would have been easier on not just you, but everyone. They wouldn't have to know that they've been lied to for the past four years and they could keep moving on with their lives. You feel like you're just screwing up their perfect little world. You feel like you're fucking up the life they've all worked so hard to get.

And then, of course it would have made everything easier on the people who would have killed you. No matter how much people say it's a lie, revenge truly is sweet. You think that you just might know this better than anyone.

You turn the water on and splash some on your face. It's cold and makes you shiver, but what's it matter? You already look like shit. There's a little bit of barely visible yellow remaining under your left eye from that black eye you had, and standing out even more than that is the diagonal scar by the corner of that same eye. Your face is paler than you remember, and it contrasts with your dark hair, even as dull as it is. Your bottom lip is still busted; it's been two weeks, and you're more than ready for it to go down. Oh, yeah, and you aren't wearing any make-up. It's been a little under four years since you've worn any, so it shouldn't bother you, but somehow it still does.

The door swings open and you break your gaze away from the mirror to see Ziva walking in. You aren't sure how you are supposed to treat her, so you simply turn back to the sink and turn the water off.

She stops beside you at the sink and you finally turn to look at her. "Why did you -" she begins, but you shake your head and she stops.

"Classified," you say simply. You know she was going to ask why you agreed to the mission.

She looks at you like she doesn't believe you, her eyes scanning your face carefully. After a few moments of scrutiny she shrugs and turns away.

She's at the stall door when she stops and turns back to look at you. "I am sorry about Ari," she says, her voice emotionless and detached.

"Sorry?" you repeat. Why should she be sorry about him? You know for a fact that she is the one who killed him, and you're glad that the bastard is dead. You should be thanking her, not having her apologize to you.

"Yes." She turns away from your gaze. "I know now about... the two of you."

The two of you? What the hell is she talking about? You're just about to ask when it dawns on you - Vance didn't tell them the truth. He lied. He told them that you were dating Ari. Maybe it was to save you an ounce of dignity, or to make you tell them yourself, or just because he didn't want to get into it, but that must have been what he told them.

"No," you say softly. "Don't - don't apologize." She tilts her head to the side and looks at you, confusion etched on her face. You take in a deep breath. "I just... You know what? Thank you."

Ziva continues to look at you with that confused expression, so you just nod at her, give her a small smile, and walk out.

---

You find yourself in the elevator. You can't control the shaking and your racing heart beat, and you don't even know why you're heading down here, but you are. You shouldn't be. It's not the same place anymore, because you aren't the same person and she's not the same person and there's all of this stuff between you, all of the past four years, but for some reason you decide to go anyway.

The elevators slide open and you step out, hesitantly walking into the lab. Abby's lab. You want some of the old comfort you used to know, but standing in the doorway, you realize it just isn't going to happen.

You force a mask onto your face, making your muscles relax and your expression go emotionless, then step completely into the lab. The music you hadn't realized you missed fills your ears and the scent you had all but forgotten about hits you full-force. You remember all of the hours you had spent in this lab with Abby once-upon-a-time, just talking and laughing and making plans as the two of you waited for test results, a new case, or Gibbs to find you and make you get back to work. You run your fingers along the cold metal table you used to sit on while Abby ran around, pressing buttons on the machines and talking about something completely different from the original conversation.

Tears prick at your eyes, and you're not sure whether it's because of the memories or what's happened or Ari and the lies or just because you can't handle all of this or if it's a mixture of everything, but you still force them back the best that you can. The truth is that all you want to do is cry, but you refuse to show yourself - and more importantly, everyone else - that sort of weakness.

A hand comes down on your shoulder and you tense up automatically. Your hand slowly and carefully reaches for your gun before you even have time to think.

"You okay, Kate?" Abby's voice floats into your ears and your hand, which had nearly reached your gun, falls limp. You scold yourself - you need to stop being so damn paranoid. You're safe now, and it's only Abby. You sigh as the thoughts run through your mind: what has this done to me?

You force a smile onto your face, hoping all evidence of tears is gone, and nod.

"Vance told us why they picked you," she says after what feels like an eternity, shifting her weight from one foot to the other uncomfortably. "Is it.. true?"

"Is what true?" you ask, leaning against the table for support.

"You and Ari."

Just the sound of your names together makes you feel sick to your stomach. At least Ziva hadn't said it out loud - it was so much easier to deal with that way. You grab onto the table as your legs start to feel like they'll give out on you at any second. "I -" You start to speak, but the room starts to spin and the water builds up in your eyes and you can't finish. You wonder why you have to be so weak, why you can't be strong like all of these other people you know (knew?).

You feel her arms wrap around you and she whispers words into your ears that you can't quit make out.

You swallow hard and force the only answer you know to use out of your mouth - "yes."

You feel her nodding against the back of your head as she continues to whisper those words of comfort. You wish you could tell her the truth, but it would only make you feel more broken and her feel even sorrier for you, make them all feel sorry for you - you don't want that, you can't have that, not so soon. You feel so bad for lying to her, especially when she starts to rub circles on your back, but you can't bring yourself to tell her the truth. The truth would only hurt you and her even more and right now, you can't deal with that. Not yet.

It's not a lesson that you want her to have to learn, but you know that she'll have to eventually. Who are you to try to prove it wrong?

After all, you know it just as well as anyone. You have seen it proven true time after time after time.

Everybody lies.