"Caitlin Todd." the woman before her says, and Kate's eyes snap up to look at her. Light brown hair, shoulder length, small glasses perched on the tip of her nose; blue cardigan, white blouse, dark jeans. She realises that maybe she is supposed to answer, and she clears her throat.
"Yes."
The woman gives her a smile full of professional sympathy, and Kate stares back as her mind quickly and without hesitation surveys the room and analyses the shapes, furniture and ways to exit.
The woman, Dr Holmes, gives her a friendly look before scribbling something on the piece of paper before her. Kate tries to feel curious but finds she doesn't have enough energy to wonder what the woman just wrote. Dr Holmes does not speak but simply stares at Kate in interest with clear and open eyes. Kate frowns slightly and looks down at the hands that are folded in her lap. Is she supposed to say something? She wonders how she is supposed to make it through these sessions with Dr Holmes when she can barely breathe at the mere thought of... it. She holds her breath for ten seconds, counting them in her mind, and then lets out a soft breath. Focus, Kate, she tells herself. When she opens her eyes again, the doctor is still staring at her with the same alert expression on her face. Kate already hates her, and she is willing to sit in silence for the next 40 minutes if it means she won't have to speak to this Dr Holmes. The woman seems too... happy. Kate doesn't want this fake empathy and she doesn't want to get help to recover from someone who gets paid for it.
"Agent Todd." Dr Holmes says. Kate looks at her, eyes empty.
"Yes, Dr Holmes." she answers politely.
"Either... you make this easy," the doctor pauses and Kate purses her lips in annoyance, "or you... make this difficult. Nevertheless," the doctor leans forward slightly and smiles. "You have to do it. It is necessary for your continued work at NCIS, and you know that."
Kate closes her eyes and frowns, and then opens them again. The doctor is right, of course, Kate knows that. But what Kate doesn't know is exactly what she is supposed to do whilst sitting in this chair, in this small office, speaking to the woman across the small table. What is she supposed to say? How can she be expected to tell all of this to a stranger? How much is she supposed to say?
"I drank a cup of coffee today." Kate says and gives the woman a cold smile.
There is a flash of surprise in the woman's eyes, but then she smiles.
"Okay. Go on," she says and starts taking notes. Kate looks at the woman with distaste but continues:
"Well..." Kate pretends to think for a second, "I forgot that it was boiling hot and drank it. Burnt my tongue." she says and looks at the woman with big, innocent eyes. "Don't you hate it when you burn your tongue, Doctor Holmes?"
Dr Holmes looks like she isn't sure what to say.
"Um... yeah." the doctor looks at Kate with uncertain eyes.
"Coffee's a drug." Kate says, and looks away from the eyes of the doctor. "And..." she pauses, and decides to stop playing this stupid, childish and meaningless game, to stop acting like Tony would (although Tony would probably try to seduce the woman), and get serious. The sooner she starts speaking, the sooner they will declare her well enough to start working again. The room is quiet and the sky outside the window is grey, casting a shadowy light on every piece of furniture in the small room.
"They drugged me."
Dr Holmes starts scribbling frantically on the piece of paper as she nods with renewed enthusiasm.
"They?"
Kate ignores her.
"Have you ever taken drugs?" she asks, and Dr. Holmes looks up from her intense scribbling, shock evident on her small face.
"I can't tell you that." the doctor says seriously, and Kate nods. Dr Holmes looks out the window and bites her lip, lost in thought.
Kate stares at the doctor and wonders for how long the woman before her was an addict.
It is late, and Kate is restlessly watching TV, refusing to go to bed. Her apartment has turned dark and everything is bathed in shadow, but Kate hasn't bothered to turn on any lights. It is not as if she needs any light to be able think. She wishes it were that simple; she wishes she could decide to turn off her thoughts, if only for a while, to give her mind a break from the thoughts that creep into her brain every few minutes. Flashes of images distract her from paying attention to the TV, and she is blankly staring at a spot on the wall where a painting used to hang. She has no idea where the painting is, but she doesn't find any energy to care. She shivers at the thought, at the feeling of fatigue that never seems to leave her anymore, and gets up from her hunched position on the floor. The couch behind her hasn't been touched since she got home. She enters the kitchen, having decided to make a cup of tea. Anything but sleep, anything but dreams, anything but revisiting anything that has to do with the last three weeks, she thinks to herself whilst taking out a cup and some organic green tea – her favourite – but a knock on the door stops her in her tracks. She looks at the digital clock above the oven and realises it's after two in the morning. Who the hell..?- a second knock urges her to go look who it is.
She opens the door, gun ready in her left hand, and is met by the sight of Jethro Gibbs. She doesn't smile, but simply sighs.
"Checking up on me?" she asks quietly and stands in the doorway, blocking his way inside the apartment.
"Yep." he doesn't smile either and he takes a simple step towards her. His proximity leaves her with a strange feeling in her stomach, and her limbs go slightly weak. She manages to hold her ground, and not let him inside just yet. It's dark around them and she can barely see him, but he is standing close to her, their feet planted on either side of the narrow threshold.
"Well, look, I'm fine, you can go." she makes a vague gesture with her right hand, as if to prove her point. It seems as if Gibbs is about to answer, but then he changes his mind. He stands before her, looking down at her with that silent intensity radiating off of him. She looks up at him as she stands there, dressed in a small pair of shorts and a small T-shirt, gun in her left hand and her right hand planted on her hip. They are silent, trying to calculate the next move the other might make. His smooth and low voice breaks the silence with a soft vibration that travels through the air and barely reaches her ears:
"Why are you making this so difficult, Kate?"
Kate's eyes grow hard and cold, and she stares at him in shock as all reason disappears from her confused brain and takes everything logical with it. She almost snarles, and two seconds later, she is pinning him against the wall outside her door, his left cheek pressed against it, arms twisted behind his back. She holds onto his arms, and presses harder, feeling the rage, the hurt, and the confusion fill her up. She rejoices at the feeling of power that suddenly rushes through her body.
"You think I am making this difficult, Gibbs? Is that what you're saying?" She growls.
"Let me go." he breathes, but she refuses to hear him.
"Is that it? Is this my fault? Who the hell do you think you are?" she shouts into his ear, hoping to break his eardrum because at least that would make him pay. She doesn't find the logic to realise how irrationally she is behaving at the moment.
"No, Kate." he replys softly, probably trying to calm her, but it only enrages her further.
"Then what the fuck are you trying to say Gibbs?" He doesn't answer, and when the only thing she can hear is their heavy breathing echoing in the silence of a sleeping apartment building, that is when she finds herself again. She releases him quickly, feeling the sweat cover her forehead. She takes a step back.
"I'm sorry." she mumbles, refusing to look him in the eye. She turns around to enter her apartment again, as he straightens his back and stretches his arms. He doesn't seem to be in too much pain.
"Don't apologize, it's a sign of-"
And she turns around quickly, furiously, and pushes him against the wall again. This time, his back is against the wall, and her body crashes against his. She looks up into his eyes, as her hands travel to rest against his chest, furiously grasping the lapels of his jacket. She looks him straight in the eye and furiously shouts right in his face.
"I'm FUCKING sorry."
So... tell me what you're thinking.