Ack, I thought this would be finished by now, and it keeps getting longer! Well, here we go again, and the plot continues to thicken. Lots of over protective peeps & some vunerable!Kate. As always, thanks so much for all of the wonderful reviews. Also, in case anyone is still confused, I own none of these people except that I made up a random doctor. Some other NCIS friends shall be coming into the plot soon, possibly a chapter or two from now _cue suspenseful end-of-scene-sound-fade-to-black-and-white-still-of-an-agency-car…
Gibbs sighed in frustration as he exited the interrogation room. A solid two hours of questioning, and nothing would stick. The doctor had insisted he didn't knowing anything about Kate prior to her arrival in his exam room, that he knew nothing about laced medication. What's more, Gibbs believed him. The man wasn't just convincing—nothing in his demeanor indicated that he was covering up. And they had nothing to hold him on.
McGee and Abby were running traces on the companies that supplied the hospital, back tracking medications and batches from the manufacturers. It was a painfully long process, and he hated knowing that the longer it took, the more time the guilty people had to escape, the longer laced medication could be administered to more patients. Already they had found a handful of bad reactions, all likely traced back to the batch. Well, they suspected. There was no real way of proving it, and at least one instance had been fatal. It made his blood run cold.
He grabbed his keys and his weapon, slipping from the office. Two and a half hours ago he took Rachel to his place, knowing it would take DiNozzo a while to locate and bring in the doctor. Part of him wanted Rachel in the other room, to get her to weigh in on the doctor's reactions, but he knew how worried she was about her sister. Rachel wouldn't have been in the right head space to analyze reactions and behavior.
"How is she… really?" Rachel asked, unable to let the silence fall between them as they slipped into the car.
He quickly backed out the car and shot into traffic, weaving from lane to lane. "She's tired, she had cracked ribs that didn't heal from the bullet she took to her vest, and she doesn't remember the last three weeks. Nothing between the shooting and then waking up in the hospital yesterday afternoon."
"God," Rachel gasped. "Did they run tests to rule out brain trauma?"
"CT scan came back fine. They think it's psychological."
"Does she know?"
He shrugged as he took a hard left and scowled at the honking of a nearby car horn. "I think she does, at least a little. She knows something's not right, but she hasn't put it all together, yet."
"That's not like Kate." She gave words to his thoughts. "I don't understand how this happened. You're supposed to take care of your team."
The words stung because they were true. He hadn't been able to protect Kate, and he knew full well he could be harder on himself than anyone else could. Still, he felt like he deserved the accusation.
"You push her too hard," came the next accusation, thrown as he accelerated onto the highway and quickly worked from one lane to another, passing cars going far too slow for his liking. "Do you know how good she is? How hard she's worked, and what she does? She works so many hours that I never know when to call her. When I do leave messages, sometimes it's days before she has the time to answer—"
"I know what's she's capable of, and it's more than she thinks. And more than you know," he answered quietly. "She wants—needs—to be pushed. She needs the challenge."
"It's too much," Rachel ground out. "She's been in the hospital twice this month because of this job."
The red light at the exit finally forced him to stop. As much as he might cut an 'orange' light, this was solidly red, and he needed to make a left hand turn. He shifted a little to give Rachel a hard look. "She knows the risks of the job. Sometimes I wish she didn't take them, but we all know them. You don't take an Olympic sprinter and tell them to make a six minute mile pace. You push and push and demand more and more. She's not running high school track."
He stopped briefly for the Chinese take-out that he had ordered before leaving the office. Enough to feed the team, and finally pulled in beside Ducky's car. The rain started as he jogged up and let himself inside, barely missing the downpour.
Ducky greeted him at the door, taking the files and one of the bags of take-out and following him into the kitchen as they pulled out plates and napkins. "You said Abby mentioned the batch was laced?"
"Yeah, it's in the report." He stacked the plates neatly and began to fill the pot for another round of coffee. "I think this is bigger than just Kate. It's really big, and I'm surprised Fornell hasn't dropped in, yet."
Their medical examiner sank into a kitchen chair with the report. One finger tapped anxiously at the paper. "Oh dear… this is a mess."
"What is?"
Gibbs's head lifted at the voice, and he worked to keep his expression neutral. "Hey, Katie. Feeling better?"
"Ribs hurt again," she answered with a scowl.
It was expected with this weather. His knee had started aching a good hour ago, and it seemed to be far more reliable than a barometer or weather forecast. "
"That's because she should take her next round of pain medication," Ducky reminded gently. "She's as stubborn as you, Jethro."
The dark head shook slightly. "I'm taking it." That she was willing to concede that she needed the medicine… that in itself told him that she was really hurting.
"Kate, is there anything I can get you?" Rachel was joining them now, giving Gibbs and the food Ducky was setting out a wary look.
Kate shook her head, taking the tablet that Gibbs offered. He knew she wouldn't be able to manage the effort it would take to unscrew the childproof cap—the pressure and torque on her ribs would hurt a lot. After swallowing down the medicine and taking a few more sips of water, she turned, shifting her feet carefully, making sure not to twist her upper body. "Actually… could you get my hoodie? The oversize one that zips up? I'm a little cold."
Rachel nodded, and with an, "of course," disappeared upstairs.
Once she was out of ear shot, Kate slipped into the chair beside him, carefully taking the box of shrimp and lo mien and taking a small bite. "This is bad, isn't it." It wasn't a question, and she watched him carefully as she took another small bite of dinner.
Gibbs didn't answer at first, not wanting to upset her. He was still trying to judge what state she was in and how much she could handle right now.
"Rachel's scared. She's barely leaving me alone long enough to go pee."
"It's complicated," Gibbs answered. When she set down her chopsticks and tried to formulate a question, he added, "We're working on it. Trust me to take care of this for now."
"I trust you," she answered softly, glancing to the end of the table and gauging how absorbed Ducky was in the reports. "But, Gibbs," she whispered, amber eyes large and her fingers toying nervously with the chopsticks. "I'm… scared."
