Disclaimer: NCIS and all it's characters do not belong to me, but to Donald Bellisario and the people at CBS. This is purely for my own enjoyment and entertainment.
A/N: Everyone has to do a post-Twilight piece, it's like a rite of passage. So here's mine. It's just a short little piece, focusing mainly on Gibbs and his reaction to Kate's death. All comments appreciated, but please bear in mind that I live in Britain, and therefore I haven't seen anything past Twilight, so all I know is that Ari killed her, and my knowledge of the characters. If I infer something that doesn't happen, it's not my fault! Please review and tell me what you think.
It had been the perfect kill shot. Clean. Quick. Perfectly targeted. If Gibbs had still been a Marine sniper, he would have applauded. But he wasn't and he hadn't. It hadn't been some anonymous target, miles away. It had been Kate.
Kate. Kate, who always challenged him. Kate, who bickered with Tony as though they had been born brother and sister. Kate, who had become instantly close friends with Ducky and Abby, and who had helped McGee fit into their little team. And then there had been the Kate who never backed down from a challenge, who followed her heart on cases, however much trouble it would cause, Kate who did what she believed was right. Kate, who never compromised.
He was sitting on the floor in his basement, staring at the shadow of his half-built boat. The only light in the room came from the hall outside, the door to the basement only half-closed, letting through a sliver of light. The thin shaft of pale yellow light illuminated his workbench, where his old sniper rifle lay gleaming. He had returned home and cleaned his weapon, as though he had been the one to fire, as though he had killed her. Tears stung his eyes as he thought that, so he reached for the glass by his side. He knocked back the remaining liquid and picked up the bottle, about to refill the glass.
With surprise, he noticed that the bottle of Jack Daniels was almost empty. He had only bought it that evening. And yet the alcohol wasn't doing its job. He could still see her lying so still, smell the blood in the air, see the horror on Tony's face. He drank another shot.
Why? That was the question that haunted him. If Ari – and there was no doubt in his mind that it had been Ari – had been able to shoot Kate, then Gibbs himself must have been in his line of fire as well. So why her? Why did he have to shoot intelligent, brave, wonderful Kate? Why not Tony? Gibbs gave up on the glass and drank straight from the bottle at that thought. He knew he'd be in the same state if Tony had been the one to die, maybe worse. But why hadn't Ari shot him, the one who the contract was supposedly out on?
A shake of the head and Gibbs tried to think of something else. That was a question he couldn't answer. Not yet anyway. When he found Ari, he would shake the answer out of him, beat it out of him, do whatever he had to, to find out why. And he would find Ari. He would make him pay. The director had simply sent his whole team home that afternoon, but surely no one would deny Gibbs his right for revenge and justice? Or Tony's right, or McGee's right. They were owed justice as much as he was.
He wondered where the rest of his people were. Abby had been inconsolable, but McGee had sworn he would take care of her. For once, the young agent's eyes were filled with the sort of anger and emotion that meant Gibbs didn't doubt him for a second. Anyone who upset Abby this night would be in for a rude awakening. Ducky had left to go home and take care of his mother, knowing Kate would be waiting for him in the morning. The Director had said someone else could do the autopsy, but Ducky, with his usual dignity had simply stared at the Director, until he agreed that Ducky was the best man for that job. Gibbs didn't envy him. He would be there, though, supporting his friend through his self-appointed task.
And Tony. Where would Tony be? Others who didn't know the young Italian well might assume he would go out drinking, get utterly drunk and end up with some strange girl, yet another one night stand. Those who knew him better, and it had taken several years for Gibbs to enter that category, knew that Tony would most likely be at home by himself, drinking a silent toast to Kate's memory, much like Gibbs was at the moment.
A creak of a floorboard sounded loud in the silent house. Gibbs blinked, stood up, and slid further into the shadows of his basement. Steps echoed as the intruder made his way into the dark room, and Gibbs waited. When he was certain that the tall man was in the right position, he pounced, leaping out from the darkness, one arm clamped around the other man's neck, a chokehold that would reduce the intruder to unconsciousness in thirteen seconds.
"Boss!" Tony croaked as loudly as he could. Gibbs released him instantly and Tony stood there, rubbing his neck with one hand. The other held a bottle of something; Gibbs couldn't make it out in the darkness. "I bought over some Jack, thought we could drink a toast to Kate."
"Sure." Both men sat down on the floor and Gibbs smiled as he realised Tony hadn't asked why he was sitting in the dark. Tony cracked open the bottle and poured a generous measure into Gibbs' glass and a spare mug he had found upstairs.
"To Caitlin Todd. One of the best friends and best agents I've ever known," Tony said, raising his mug high.
"To Caitlin Todd." Gibbs couldn't think of the right words to add. Tony had said it all. They drank and sat there in silence for a bit. Gibbs couldn't be sure, but he thought the darkness seemed a little less oppressive now. The air seemed a little lighter as Gibbs remembered her smile and the light in her eyes when they caught the bad guy.
Tomorrow was only a few hours away, and then they'd start the hunt. Ari. Gibbs gave a feral smile to the darkness. Kate would get her justice. Tony was obviously thinking the same thing, as he chose that moment to whisper, "We're coming Ari." Unsure whether he was meant to have heard that, Gibbs didn't say anything. They were going to get him. There would be time for mourning after that. This night, in the darkness of his basement, was enough mourning for the moment. For now, there was only the hunt.