Chapter Ten: Kate and the Danger
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The shadows in her room are fuzzy with the threatening dawn when she opens her eyes, instantly alert. She's not entirely sure what's woken her. She lies completely still, breath held tightly, listening.
There.
The scuff of a shoe on carpet.
Kate thinks of her weapon locked safely away on the living room bookcase in a small safe. Her eyes flicker about the room. This wouldn't happen to Gibbs. She bets he sleeps with his gun under his pillow.
Gibbs in his entirety is a weapon.
She reaches out slowly. Flinches as her covers rustle. Wraps stiff fingers around the cold case of her cell and pulls it carefully towards her. When this is over, she's really going to rethink her following of rule nine: always carry a knife.
A knife would be goddamn useful right about now.
There's a noise in the kitchen of her apartment, the sound of a cupboard being opened slowly. She sidles out of her bed, bare feet silent on the rug of her bedroom. Digging her toes into the plush fabric, she bobs up onto the tips of her toes and inches forward cautiously. Hairbrush, ceramic cat, book, glass of water. She grabs the ceramic cat around its narrow neck, hefting it in her free hand, the other gripping her cell.
If the intruder stays in the kitchen, she can sidle past, get to the bookcase. Get her gun…
There's a muffled footstep in her hallway and she's out of time, smashing her finger down on her phone's speed-dial and leaping forward, shoulder braced against the door. The door-handle leaps under her hand, shoving forward into her and then slamming shut as her weight strikes it.
"H'lo?" says a tinny voice through the cell's speaker, on the floor near her foot as she holds the door against the person trying to enter. "Kate?"
Oh fuck. Wrong speed-dial.
"Tony, call Gibbs!" she shouts, pitching her voice highly—the better for it to carry. The person slamming his shoulder against the bedroom door pauses for a moment, giving her a chance to brace herself better against the surface.
It occurs to her that whoever is on the other side might not be human.
It occurs to her that if they are human, they'll probably be—
She flings herself to the floor just as the bullet rips through the wood above her head and it splinters violently outward. The sound of the gunshot deafens her. A second bullet follows it as she rolls quickly away from the door, putting her bed between her and the shooter.
Screw her pride, she thinks desperately, and screams as loud as she can. Her ears ring with the reverberation from the shot, her scream painfully muffled. Loud enough, or not really?
She can't tell.
Her door cracks open, a dark shape storming in. There's a snap glimpse of a pale face looming overhead before the gun swings up between them and she ducks down. The room lights up with a resounding flash as something crackles dangerously over her head.
Mage, she thinks in a panic, before realizing that her bed is on fire and scampering away from it.
"Kate!" someone exclaims in the sudden rush of her hearing returning, and she almost buries the ceramic cat in his skull as she spins and lobs it in the direction of his head with deadly aim. He ducks it, holding his hands up. The air is thick with the acrid stink of electricity. The light from the fire on her bed illuminates him, blue flannel pyjamas and all. "Woah! It's me, Jack! From next door, I heard screaming! He's gone, Kate, he's gone!"
Kate straightens, on her knees still and panting as the adrenaline fails to fade. The flames on her comforter flicker and die down, thick smoke dissipating through the window her attacker had escaped through. "Jack," she gasps, pushing a lank of sweaty hair out of her face and choking on the remaining smoke. "Oh, thank god." Suddenly, she's incredibly thankful that her nana had taught her to always introduce herself to the neighbours.
They both flinch as the front door slams against the wall, and someone shouts into the apartment: "Federal agent, hands in the air!"
Kate staggers up, calling out, "Tony, in here, we're okay."
He bursts into the room, eyes wide. "What's on fire?" he says sharply, gaze freezing on the clear bullet holes in her door.
Jack points to the bed, face sheepish. "Lightning mage. I was aiming at the shooter. I… I've never aimed at a human before."
Tony examines him before disregarding him and turning to Kate. "Where'd he go?"
She points to the open window and he's out of it in a moment, calling back over his shoulder, "Get your gun!"
She runs for the bookcase, Jack following after, face pale. She can see shock settling in on his face, glazing his eyes. "Are you okay?" she asks him, concerned, loading the gun in one deft movement.
He waves her away, flopping onto the couch and putting his head between his knees. "Christ, that guy was going to shoot you. He was actually going to shoot you. He would have shot you, why was he shooting at you?"
"That's a good question," Gibbs states from her doorway, striding in with his gun drawn. He's wearing slacks and an old NIS hoodie, looking weirdly casual. "DiNozzo?"
"Out the window, bedroom," she answers shortly. "One shooter, average height, male, Caucasian. Assumed human."
"Dark hair, closely cropped, blue hooded sweatshirt, dark jeans, watch on right arm," Jack adds. They both look at him, eyebrows raised. He shrugs. "We get taught to be observant. Unobservant mages make mistakes."
Gibbs nods, mouth twitching in an almost smirk. "Get your gear, both of you. You're going to NCIS. Abby will do sketches." He starts towards the bedroom, stops, and turns back to them with a definite smirk this time. "Might need pants, Kate."
Kate looks down and groans at what are decidedly not her nicest underwear, on show for everyone to see. Well, shit. Tony is never going to let her live this down.
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Kate has her head on Abby's desk, listening to Jack and Abby chatter happily. She has no idea how they're so chirpy. Six hours of staring at the screen of Abby's sketching program and her eyes feel like they're trying to claw themselves out of her head.
"This is fascinating, the parameters of this spell are unique," Jack murmurs, flicking through the pages of Abby's notebook and peering in so close his nose almost touches the page. "I've never seen charms written in quite this fashion."
Abby is placing the final touches on her new attempt at bringing Bert to life, carefully balancing the stuffed hippo on a heaped pile of lifesaver candy. "My mother was a spell-muse. My father was an etymologist." She looks up at Jack and grins. "They compiled their knowledge."
"What are you trying to do, Abby?" Kate asks tiredly, squinting at the candy.
"Isn't it obvious?" the witch asks perkily, rearranging the candy around the hippo. "I'm using etymology magic to animate Bert. My mom used to do it for my show and tell. Mrs. Ebbison was particularly pleased by the crying apples I took in in third grade."
"Crying apples?" Kate asks dully. She wonders if Abby will notice if she falls asleep at the desk.
Jack snorts. "Pineapples. She made pining apples."
"Exactly! And now, with the power of words, I will finally create the perfect companion!" Abby cackles, placing her hands on the runes circling the candy mountain and tapping out the spell. The bang resounds around the room, startling Kate up and out of her chair, hand on her gun as she vividly remembers the sound of wood splintering. Abby yelps and leaps back, hands held in front of her to try and hold the fountain of heavy, gold coins showering from the table. Bert rolls on the river of gold, farting slightly as he hits the floor and disappears under a pile of coins.
"Oops," Abby says with wide eyes. "Life-savers. Life savings. Sorry, Bert."
"Lucky you didn't use a Payday," Jack responds mildly, nudging coins away with his foot. Kate sees a flicker of movement by the door, looking up to see who it is.
"Don't look so excited, Tony, it's Fool's Gold," Abby says, cutting off her giggles as she stands up from rescuing Bert. "It'll vanish in a few hours."
Kate bolts out of Abby's office and into the lab, looking for DiNozzo. "Tony! Did you catch him? Where's Gibbs? Who was it? Is my apartment okay?"
"Can I go home?" Jack adds, looking hopeful. "I have assignments due, I really need to study." He looks down at the coins and grins at Abby. "Not that this hasn't been a thoroughly informative experience that I'd love to repeat, barring the man trying to shoot my neighbour."
Tony runs his hand through his hair, looking ruffled. Kate notes how unkempt his clothes look. She figures he'd pulled on the first ones he'd had at hand in a rush that morning. "Hello. No. Director. No idea. Depends how much you like your décor burnt. And yes, I can take you home, strange man, while we grab clothes for you, Kate."
"Is Kate going somewhere?" Abby asks, hugging Bert.
Tony grins cheekily. "Yeah. Until we work out whether she was a target or not, she's coming to my place. We're having a sleepover!"
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"I'll take the fold out couch," Tony instructs, hastily tidying the magazines beside his bed before she can peer through the bedroom door at them. "You take the bed, otherwise I just know you'll complain all night."
"I don't mind the couch, Tony," she says, looking around at his spotless apartment. "It's probably more sanitary. Why do you have a single bed?"
Tony stands upright and gives her a strange look and doesn't answer. She holds up her hands in surrender and backs out the room, letting him go past her with an armful of blankets from his linen cupboard and pull the couch out, making up a bed for himself neatly and efficiently. After seeing his desk at work, it came as surprise how clean his home was.
She sidles into the small kitchen, pulling open the fridge. "Hey, Tony, do you have anything to drink…" She trails off, staring at the contents of the fridge above a battered box of pizza and two opened bottles of mayo.
"Not unless you take A+," he replies from next to her, pushing the fridge door shut and smirking at her startled expression. "Or did you forget?"
"I just… I've never seen you drink blood before," she replies. "I just assumed you're a pizza vampire."
"That's racist," he retorts, filling a cup with water from the tap and pushing it across the counter at her. "Just because I'm Italian. And, no, Kate, office etiquette generally demands that you avoid taking either tuna fish or blood to work for lunch. Tends to make your co-workers uncomfortable."
She shakes her head at him. "Can I use your bathroom to get changed?"
His smile is cunning, and she groans inwardly. "As long as you plan on wearing the same outfit as last night. Nice panties, Kate. Meow."
"Shove it, DiNozzo," she snaps, storming into the bathroom and shutting the door firmly. Perve.
He digs through his movie collection while she washes up, putting on an old James Bond movie and happily ad-libbing the lines as they come. Kate watches until she can feel her eyes gluing themselves shut, then excuses herself to bed. She leaves the bedroom door open, the corner of his fold out couch just visible from where she lies. He sits facing the front door, relaxed but alert, and she has the uncomfortable feeling she's the only one getting any sleep tonight.
Before she can tell him that it's unnecessary, she's asleep.
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She wakes with his hand over her mouth, light from the muted TV in the living room gleaming bluely off his skin. He drops his hand and passes her gun and cell to her. "Call Gibbs," he mouths, turning his head away and narrowing his eyes at the bedroom door. She holds her breath for a moment as she unlocks her cell, hearing slight scratching at the doorway, like mice. Lock picks. She wonders if Tony remembered to put the chain on.
Her partner darts to the doorway, leaning out with his gun aimed at the entrance. Kate presses call and holds the phone to her ear. Expectedly, Gibbs picks up almost immediately. "Gibbs. What's up?"
"Front door," she whispers. "Unknown number. We're armed."
"Hold tight. We're on our way. Keep me on the line. The units out front?"
"No idea." She stands, checking the ammo in her weapon with one hand and keeping her back to the wall, sidling around the bed towards her partner. She catches a glimpse of herself, pale and determined in the mirrored door of Tony's closet. Her eyes meet those of her reflection, outlined starkly against the heavy blackout curtains hanging in front of the bedroom windows. Something bothers her about those curtains.
Gibbs says, "In the car now, Kate. Eight minutes."
"You shouldn't talk and drive, Boss," she murmurs, gaze locked uneasily on her reflection, wondering what had caught her eye.
The curtain twitches again.
She spins, dropping the cell and placing three shots through the curtain and where the chest would be on an average-sized man. The drapes splay outward and a shape bursts out, rising from a crouch and aiming a shotgun at her as the curtains billow from the open window and cut off her view.
Tony hits her from the side and they go down firing, the boom of the shotgun followed by the explosion of Tony's mirror from behind her, peppering her with broken glass. Tony rolls, places himself in front of her as she scrabbles for her gun. He bares his fangs and fires twice more. By the third time, there's nothing but ringing in her ears the worrisome notion that she's going to be deaf by thirty.
Her fourth bullet goes wild as the shotgun fires again and Tony stumbles back into her trying to avoid it.
Her fifth neatly impacts into the left of the man's forehead, dropping him.
She's up. Kicking the shotgun away. Checking the dead man's pulse and bolting for the front door, aiming through the wood where a person would stand to pick the lock. The home phone rings loudly, startling her, and she picks it up on reflex. "Tony!" barks Gibbs' voice sharply.
"Kate," she corrects, eyes still locked on the door. She can hear Tony moving around in his room. Hopefully checking the window for a second shooter. "We're okay."
"I'm three minutes away. You hurt?" Kate lowers her gun as the door stays resolutely shut, chain in place, and looks down at herself.
Her front is crimson with blood. Nausea hits her. "Shit," she hisses, pressing the hand holding the gun to her belly and checking for a wound.
"Kate? I asked if you're hurt." She hears tires squeal over the phone.
"Not you," says a quiet voice behind her, and she turns to face her partner. He's holding one hand to his stomach and the whites of his eyes are pitch-black and inhuman.
Red seeps between his fingers.
"Tony's hit," she says blankly. "Tony's hit bad. Call nine-one-one. I gotta go." She hangs up the phone and takes a hesitant step towards him. "Is this fatal?"
He blinks slowly at her, swaying slightly. Blood pools quickly at his feet. "Wha'?"
"This, is this fatal?" she repeats slower, taking one more step. "Tony, I don't know what to do for you. Can bullets kill a vampire?"
He begins to slump and she catches him, staggering under his weight as she lowers him to the ground. Trying to press down on his stomach is harder than she'd thought, unable to find a way to cover every part of the seeping wound with her hands without her palms sinking into him. Tony's hand comes up, gripping tightly around her wrist as he tries and fails to produce words. The wound is gaping, blown open by the force of the shot, and she can't look too closely at it without thinking she might throw up.
Gibbs' voice echoes dully in her mind. Bullets work on almost anything.
"Oh no," she tells Tony firmly as he stills under her hands, fingers slackening and falling to his side. "Gibbs is on his way and you sleeping on the job is going to piss him off, Tony."
He opens his eyes and blinks at her blearily and she does her best Gibbs glare as heavy footsteps pound up the passage towards the apartment. "Hold my hand," she instructs, taking his and feeling it tighten slightly around her palm. "Don't you dare go anywhere, DiNozzo."
"Not goin' n-ne… where," he wheezes between clenched lips.
Someone is kicking down the door behind her, but her world has narrowed to this moment. Holding her partner's hand while his blood soaks her pants, sticking them wetly to her legs.
"Don't give up," she says, firmer this time. No arguments allowed. "I promise you, Tony, this is not the end of you."