There is darkness in this chapter.


"I was a sniper... stationed..." he pauses, looks down at his hands for about two seconds and then looks up again, "Doesn't matter... But... Yeah. They caught me. Lonely marine on a deserted road. Easy target, y'know? They didn't shoot me or anything. They just... passed by in a car and picked me up.. Brought me with them..." He swallows. "They wanted information."

Kate doesn't say anything. She waits. These things take time, she should know; she has been to five appointments with dr. Holmes already and only uttered about fifteen sentences in total during the sessions. Gibbs is lost in thought and she wonders what world he seeing before his eyes. She keeps still and quiet.

"I was there for three days." he says. "Three days. And they didn't get a single word out of me." There is no pride within him. There is no gold to find within these words that hold so much pain.

Kate exhales slowly, "You served your country well." She says with an undertone of bitterness.

"I... spoke. Told them things..." she trails off, unable to finish the sentence. "Am I going to get into trouble for it? Am I... posing a threat to the national security now or something?"

He doesn't answer right away. She can feel her heart beat wildly in her chest; she can feel the guilt beginning to eat at her.

"Yes." He says and her face turns toward him quickly and her eyes beg, they beg for him to- please no, don't let me feel guiltier than this, I have already reached the darkest part of this dark place in which I am- don't, don't, don't-

"But you shouldn't give a damn."

Her thoughts freeze.

"Sometimes..." he begins, "sometimes I wonder what this is all about."

She has no idea what he is talking about.

"This pride that we're taught to feel. This love for our country that we're supposed to feel. Sometimes, I think it's all crap. How can a country allow for this to happen?" He takes her hand in his, eyeing the small scar on her wrist. "How... can they expect us to sacrifice ourselves like this?"

She tries to ignore how warm and soft his hands seem.

"What keeps you going? Why don't you just... quit?" she asks, trying to understand how this man who serves his country so damn well every single day, who devotes himself to making this country a better place, can find the strength to keep going when these are his thoughts.

He hesitates, and it dawns upon her that there is more to his story, there is more madness and loss than she ever thought there'd be.

"There's something else, isn't there?" she says and he quickly removes his hand from hers. "You don't have to tell me." she says, because these things take time.

He avoids her eyes.

"Don't tell me. Matter of fact, it's an order. Don't tell me." she says and his eyes quickly flicker up to meet hers. He looks slightly surprised.

"You're ordering me not to tell you." It's a question without a question mark. She smiles slightly.

"Yes."

His eyes shine in the sunlight, curious and blue, "You don't wanna know?"

"No." she says, and raises an eyebrow in a way that could be interpreted as slightly seductive. Suddenly both of them are smiling.

"Liar." he says, eyes fierce and playful with an undertone of the seriousness that was present just seconds ago. She smirks at him.

"Whenever you tell me," she rises from the chair and takes the almost empty cup of coffee. She smiles as reaches the kitchen counter and refills the single cup, not bothering to reach for a second cup. She turns back toward the kitchen table and slowly drinks the coffee. His eyes are on her and she fully cherishes his attention.

"Whenever you tell me, Gibbs," she repeats and her smile fades, but only so that she can make him understand how much she means the words that are about to leave her mouth, "It's going to be because you want to." She finishes the cup of coffee and licks her lips. "Not because I asked you to."

She puts the cup in the dishwasher and when she turns around he is standing up. He is smiling at her.

"Okay if I take a shower?"

She doesn't know why there's a sudden rush in her stomach, "Sure," she breathes. "Towels are in the bathroom."

He flashes her a smile before turning around and heading to the bathroom.

As the bathroom door closes, Kate is still standing by the kitchen counter smiling and thinking. Without really noticing, she begins to make breakfast.


Kate goes to bed and somehow in the depths of her stomach, she can sense her own vulnerability being slightly more present than usual. This will be one of the bad nights. She can just feel it.

She screams. The only answer she gets is the sound of a hoarse female voice echoing in the darkness. Something is shoved into her mouth, effectively silencing her next scream. She is forced to breathe through her nose, and she tries to once again calm down enough not to faint from lack of oxygen. But she cannot breathe, not when the tears are rolling down her cheeks and she can feel her nose close up- and not when there's no fucking will to breathe, not when... this pain... not when... and her stomach begins to convulse. It's a miracle that she manages to spit out the wet and dirty towel in her mouth before she pukes. What comes out of her mouth is some kind of mix of water and sour juices from her empty stomach. But there is nothing to throw up. Nothing.

She jumps out of sleep in sheer panic, sitting up in bed and throwing the thick covers off of her sweating body. She heaves herself off of the mattress and onto her feet. The soles of her warm feet softly settle themselves onto the chilly wooden floor of her apartment, but she doesn't feel it.

Her hands don't hesitate in the slightest as they grab the cellphone and begin to punch the buttons. She's not aware of herself yet. She's not awake, not really. A part of her is still asleep, trapped in the nightmare of the memory; a part of her is still screaming.

He answers before the phone gets a chance to ring.

"On my way," he says and hangs up.

He arrives in a hurry, bringing with him the cold wind of a dark night and a warm embrace. They stand in the dark hallway for fifteen minutes without moving or saying anything. When her breathing evens out against his throat, he slowly walks her into her bedroom and lays her on the bed.

"I'll remember," she says with an undertone of desperation, clutching at the lapels of his jacket.

"No, you'll sleep, Kate." He says and pulls her close. She is lying on the bed in a sobbing mess and he is sitting next to her, hand in her hair. "Sleep."

She doesn't let go of his jacket and she doesn't sleep.

An hour passes.

He's been drinking. She can smell it on his breath. He drove while intoxicated. In her twisted mind, it leaves her feeling slightly proud. He drove while intoxicated. To get to her.

"You've been drinking," she states into the darkness that is her bedroom, and she can feel him move slightly next to her. While she is lying down under the covers, head on the pillow, he's still sitting up, leaning back against the headboard. Neither of them have slept.

"Yup."

"Why?"

"Because."

Kate closes her eyes and tries to find something to say, something that isn't a scream or a yelp or a sob, something that is not highly inappropriate and embarrassing like 'don't hurt me'.

And the thought grabs her, violently pulling her into its grasp, into the reality she wants to forget so badly- she's lost.

"Who do you work for, girl?"

"I don't know. I don't know. I don't know." she is whispering into the darkness, with a voice that holds no strength. The stale taste of blood is on her tongue.

"Tell me, princess."

She can sense the presence of someone close to her.

"Don't..." she is breathing loudly, air painfully making its way down her raw throat, "Don't hurt me. Please."

When she wakes up, the sun will be shining and the sky will be blue. When she wakes up, she will know how to breathe properly. When she wakes up, she will look into the mirror and see a young woman with a life to live. She will see the freckles on her nose and accept them, trailing a finger along the shape of her nose, her lips, her eyelids. She will feel the energy in the tips of her fingers, in her legs, in her bones, in the dark brown of her eyes. She will want to run in green fields that greet her when her feet hit the ground. She will listen to the music she never takes the time to hear-she will look into the eyes of Leroy Jethro Gibbs and she will thank him. Thank you, Gibbs. Thank you for driving when you've drunk a little too much of that scotch that you seem to like so much. Thank you for cleaning my apartment. Thank you for-

When she wakes up, she will go to dr. Holmes office and stare at the white office door for minutes and minutes, internally trying to will herself to take a step forward and knock. When she wakes up, she will lie in bed, wondering whether it was all a bad dream, hoping but knowing that some thoughts are better left alone.

She is still sleeping, and she is dreaming, and she is screaming.