Gibbs POV

An unsettling silence seemed to fill he usually active bullpen; the air hung with traces of past arguments, hatred, and pain. The hatred seemed to split us all into our own little worlds, we were no longer a team, we were three different people.

The atmosphere seemed too thick for anyone to dare try and talk and cut through it; no one had anything left to say, myself included.

I knew that what I did was chancy and risky, but if it were any other agent besides Kate, I knew that Tony and McGee wouldn't have reacted the way they did.

Never let personal feelings get in the way of a case, I reminded myself, but it was no use. Behind the walls that I had built up and the anger and venom surging through me, there was still a part of my heart that screamed for her, that cried for her, that wanted her so bad that it seemed to drown out the hatred in short spurts.

I couldn't keep my personal feelings for her off of the case; not when she was sitting right beside me, only a few short feet away, her face blank, but one look in her eyes told me that she was breaking piece by piece.

I looked at Tony, who was tapping madly on his computer, muttering darkly under his breathe, and glaring at the screen with such a ferocity that I was surprised the screen hadn't shattered yet.

McGee was different; he was sitting in his chair, his eyes wide, his mouth still hanging slightly open from the shock, but other then that, he was in a daze.

"Kate," I began, making two heads turn towards me, the brunette still sat in her chair, staring at her monitor.

I chanced a look at her to see that she had tears in her eyes; distinct tears that were about to flow over.

I walked over to her desk slowly, and stood in front of her. Again, she didn't respond, just continued staring at her monitor, as if contemplating acknowledging my exsistence.

"Kate," I whispered again, sounding drained and weak, even to myself.

She finally looked up and what I saw was not the woman that I had known for the better part of a year; no, this woman in front of me looked broken, her eyes dead, as if all hope was already lost and that if her life were to end now, it wouldn't matter; not to her, at least.

"What," she whispered, "Gibbs?"

Her voice sounded just as drained as mine, if not more so.

This conversation couldn't happen here, I realized, not when half the team was glaring at the both of us.

"I need o have a word, follow me."

I didn't wait to see if she had gotten up, just pushed the call button for the elevator for what felt like the tenth time today, and stepped into the metal cubicle.

She stepped in after me and I closed the doors. She stayed quiet, her face white, her eyes dead. I waited for the elevator to descend to the basement and then promptly pushed the Emergency Stop button.

I turned to her then, taking in her profile.

"Kate, you know I had to do it," I came up lamely, the excuse sounded pitiful, even to myself.

Her head shot up, and I thought I saw a glimmer of anger there, but just as suddenly and expectedly as it had come, it disappeared again.

She nodded, "I know you had to do it, Gibbs, I don't disagree with your actions."

I looked at her, completely bewildered; did she think I was blind? I saw her tears, saw her heart break piece by piece as soon as I offered her up for our anonymous caller. Did she think I was that oblivious to not see the love she held behind locked up with heavy chains in her heart?

"Kate, I know you're not alright with it, and even if you haven't verbally disagreed with my actions, I know that you're hurting," I whisper quietly, when she didn't look up, I continued on, "So please, tell me what I can do to make the hurting stop."

She looked up from her shoes, her eyes glistening with furry now.

"You want to make me stop hurting?" She whispered, her voice dark, " Well if you hadn't just offered me up like a piece of meat to some guy we don't even know, then I wouldn't be hurting in the first place! If you hadn't been treating me like crap since the day you got on that plane to California, then I wouldn't be hurting. If you had just let me in when we began looking for you son, then I," she paused for a moment, her lip trembling, "wouldn't be hurt."

I was stunned into silence.

After a slight pause, she continued again, her voice firm.

"You never even told me that you had a son, never even mentioned it. Face it, Gibbs, you never told me anything about your personal life, you lied about it all. So how do I know that you didn't lie to me when you told me that you loved me? How do I know that you don't just want to get rid of me and our baby?"

Her words stung, as if she had drilled a sword through my chest and the blade came protruding from my back.

I looked at her then, saw the hurt she had kept bottled up, and felt my own pain resurface.

"I always loved, Katie," was all I could come up lamely; it might've been the truth, but it sounded so simple and so weak.

She looked at me for a long moment, and whispered quietly, "I don't believe you."

She turned away from me and reached out to push the stop button again but my hand snaked out and grabbed her wrist, pinning her hand to the elevator wall.

"I have always loved you, Caitlin Todd, and if you don't know what else to believe in this world, then believe that. It'll always be true, Katie, no matter how cold I act, no matter what I do, I'll always love you."

She still hadn't looked up, her eyes glued to my shirt, not even chancing a look at my face, not even bothering to see all the love I had written across my features.

I tilted her chin up with my other hand and made her look at me, and saw that tears were sliding down her cheeks is rivers, one after the other; endless.

"Gibbs, you've hurt me enough already for one day; can't you just stop?"

I felt myself turn cold and my grip on her wrist loosened, my hand falling to my side. She pressed the stop button again and the doors opened; we were back in the bullpen.

She walked out, I saw her hand wipe angrily at her tears and the elevator doors closed with a small thud.

I didn't get out after her; what was the point? She didn't want to listen to me, no, she couldn't listen to me anymore. I wouldn't be surprised if I saw her resignation sitting on my desk tomorrow morning.

Without knowing it, I stepped out of the elevator doors and into the cool room of Autopsy. I expected the lights to be off, but what I saw instead, was different. Ducky sat at his desk, the small desk lamp on, twiddling his pen idly in his fingers.

As soon as I stepped through the doors, he looked up.

"Ah, Jethro, what can I-"

He stopped and his usually friendly features turned hard.

"Duck, I need help," I whispered feebly, reminding myself of a toddler crying out for help.

"Oh Lord, Jethro, please tell me that you didn't," he whispered, appalled; the man could read minds.

I shook my head, "Duck, I don't know how I did it, it just," I groped for the words, "Happened. She's gone now, Duck, and I have a bad feeling she isn't coming back."

I sank down onto an autopsy table and laced my hands underneath my head.

There was a short pause.

"Well you have absolutely no body to blame but yourself! You pushed her away! I mean, our Caitlin can take a lot of things, but being mistreated, is not one of them!"

He was right.

"What else did you do?" He asked darkly.

So I told her, starting from the very beginning when I got the phone call that changed my life, telling him every detail up until the elevator and watched as his expression grew graver and graver still.

"You can't just offer her up as a trade, Jethro! It's simply not done! No matter who you're trading for, you can't just give her away without looking for another alternative!"

"Duck, there was no other alternative, if the man's who I think he is, then I know that he won't budge on what he wants and if he doesn't get it, my son is as good as dead."

"If you give the bastard what he wants," Ducky began, "Then Caitlin won't be alive much longer."

I looked at him then and nodded.

I couldn't guarantee her safety, couldn't guarantee that she would come back home safe, but I knew that I was willing to go to hell and back just to try. I owed her that and so much more.

"The Bordeaux," I began, trying to distract myself, "Was the hotel where Kate was almost killed. It was where the mob took us to. I have bad feeling he's going to finish us both off there."