Okay, so, it's Thursday not Wednesday, but I had literally no time to write anything until this evening. This is short, but hey, I only had an hour and a half to do it in so what do you expect?! ;-) I was in a rush to update, so it's only just been written, so please excuse any silly typos. I did check it over, but it's easy to miss them. Anyway, hope you like it!

He didn't mean to hit her. Really, he didn't. But before he'd even realised he'd drawn back his hand, her face was turned away from him and he was staring at his palm, hot and tingling from the force of the strike. Kate's head had snapped sideways as he slapped her, and her hair was hanging in front of her face like a curtain, so Tony couldn't see how much damage he'd done for a long, long moment. Kate's breathing was deep and heavy and gasping, and when she finally looked up, Tony's breath caught in his throat. There was a bright red mark on her left cheek, a stark contrast to the deathly white of the rest of her face. Her bottom lip was ripped open where she'd bitten it, the bloody spot garishly livid, partnered by a single droplet of deep red blood spilling over and rolling down Kate's chin. That wasn't the worst thing, though. The worst thing was that, as Kate raised a trembling hand to her mouth to wipe away the trail of blood, Tony put his hand out to help her and she flinched away. She flinched away from his hand, and then, with her eyes wide with fear and her fingers and tongue gently working against the side of her already-swollen mouth to assess the damage, she stepped backwards and away from Tony.

"Kate –" Tony began, but Kate narrowed her eyes at him and shielded the wounded side of her face with her hand.

"Don't touch me," she hissed.

"I didn't mean to hit you," Tony protested weakly.

"You don't hit people by accident," Kate spat, her dark, furious eyes glaring at Tony as she wiped a blood droplet from the corner of her mouth and winced.

"Oh, but kissing them's another matter," Tony shot back, his voice dripping with hurt and sarcasm.

"You're a bastard, DiNozzo," Kate muttered, pushing past him and out of the kitchen, colliding into Gibbs' chest in the doorway.

"I'm hurt, Kate," Gibbs teased, oblivious to the previous conversation he'd just missed. "I thought I was your only bastard."

Kate fixed Gibbs with her most scathing look – normally reserved only for the likes of Tony, her older brothers, and the obnoxious man who worked in the newsagent at home and always addressed her as 'Little Lady' – and tried to push him out of her way.

"What happened to your face?" Gibbs asked, visibly horrified, as Kate glared at him.

"Nothing," Kate growled. "Get out of my way."

"You want ice for that," Gibbs pointed out, deliberately blocking Kate's route.

"No," Kate corrected, "I want you to get out of my way."

"Kate -"

"Move, Gibbs!" Kate's voice cracked as she spoke, her tone increasing in pitch as she tried to force her way past Gibbs. She may be strong, but she was small, and when it came down to it, mass was mass and if a great big former marine like Gibbs wanted to stop her getting through a doorway, he could. He didn't, though. Maybe he'd decided he wanted to talk to Tony alone, or maybe he took pity on her, or maybe he just thought it was in his best interests not to stop her, but he stepped to the side and let Kate through.

"You hit her?" Gibbs asked, raising an eyebrow at Tony as the bedroom door closed behind Kate.

"Yeah," Tony muttered.

"You planning on giving me an explanation?"

Tony shrugged dejectedly. "Is there one?"

"There's no excuse," Gibbs growled. "But there had better be an explanation."

"I was angry," Tony mumbled, examining his hand. There was a tiny spot of blood from Kate's lip, already dry, stained red on his thumb. "I didn't even... can I go to her?"

Gibbs nodded, once. "I'm still expecting an explanation," he warned, as Tony took off after Kate.

--

Kate lay face-down on her and Tony's bed, clutching the duvet tightly in her hands. She'd expected Tony to be angry – she'd been prepared for yelling, and throwing things, and him storming out and declaring that he never wanted to see her again. She hadn't expected him to hit her. He hadn't meant to. She did know that, despite what she'd told him about not hitting people by accident. Tony would never willingly, knowingly, hit her – no matter what she'd done. It had been midway into McGee's second month as fully-participating member of their team when he'd gotten into the elevator with Kate and Tony and asked, hesitantly, why Kate was never the unlucky recipient of one of Gibbs' infamous headslaps. Kate had um-ed and ah-ed, trying to find a way to explain what she didn't quite know herself, and tried to articulate that though she knew without a doubt that Gibbs would never hit her, she couldn't explain why she knew that, or why he wouldn't. It had been Tony who had summed it up within a few words, looking at McGee as if he'd just asked if they were sure the world was round. 'You don't hit girls, McGee', Tony had said, deadly serious for a change, 'only cowards do that', and Kate had spent the rest of the week arguing with him about equality. Tony had made his opinion very clear – if equality meant hitting girls, then equality could take a running jump. Tony didn't have a lot of fervent beliefs, but, as Kate had learnt that week when he'd argued with her not to annoy her, but because he truly believed in his point, one of his firm policies was that, no matter what, you don't hit a girl.

That was why, even in the split second when Kate had seen Tony's raised hand and realised he was going to slap her, she'd known he didn't realise what he was doing. But, she wondered, was that worse? If he could get so out of control that he could hit her – and hit her hard – and not even know he was doing it, did she really want to be with him? Kate had expected to come out of the conversation with Tony wondering if he still wanted to be with her. What she hadn't expected, what hadn't even crossed her mind, was whether or not she'd come out wanting to be with him.

She could have barely been in the bedroom two minutes when a knock on the door startled her. Without a pause, the door was pushed open and Tony came in. Kate didn't look up, but she knew it was him from the scent. He didn't have the musky, sawdusty smell that still clung to Gibbs though he'd been away from his basement for some time now, and he certainly didn't smell of Jenny's expensive perfume.

Tony sat on the bed beside Kate, gently tracing the pattern on the duvet with his finger. He wished he could see her face, but it was hidden in the pillow, so instead, he focussed on her knuckles – white with the strength she was putting into clasping the blanket in her hands.

"I, uh," he began, clearing his throat before trying again. "I brought you some ice."

Kate paused. She didn't want to look at him and let him see quite how much he'd hurt her – physically or otherwise – but her face was still tingling from the force of Tony's hand, and she could still taste blood in her mouth against the hot, throbbing backdrop of her swollen lip. Ice sounded good. Slowly, she lifted her head and sat up, turning to face Tony. He winced as he saw her lip, guilt flooding his features.

"I'm sorry, Kate," he said, miserably, holding out a small cube of ice and pressing it softly against her lip. To his surprise, Kate didn't push his hand away, and let him tend to her cut himself. "Gibbs wants to know why I hit you," Tony murmured, as the ice melted over his fingers and he reached for a new cube.

"Do you want me to tell him?" Kate offered quietly.

"No," Tony said. "I'm going to say that we were having a fight." Kate looked up in surprise. "I don't want to get you in trouble," Tony mumbled. "And it's none of his business anyway."

Kate swallowed. "I'm really sorry, Tony," she whispered.

"C'mere," Tony croaked, discarding his bowl of ice and lying down on the bed, drawing Kate into his arms. She went willingly, surprised at how all her fear and anger and doubt had gone away now Tony was there. She looked up, horrified to see Tony's mouth contorting as he tried not to cry. His eyes were damp and his cheeks were red, but he was managing to hold back tears – just.

"What's wrong?" Kate gasped. "Are you upset because of me?"

"No," Tony said firmly. "No. I just... can I tell you something?"

"You can tell me anything," Kate promised.

Tony nodded. "I didn't mean to hit you," he whispered, "I really didn't."

"I know," Kate soothed, finding his hand with hers and squeezing it. "What do you want to tell me?"

Tony didn't reply for a long time, simply buried his face in Kate's hair and gently stroked his thumb over her cheek. Kate could hear him sniffling into her head, and every now and then his fingernail caught the cut on her lip and made it twinge, but she didn't say anything, she just lay still beside him.

"My mother," Tony muttered, finally. "My dad hit her. Not often, but sometimes. I don't ever want to be like him. I don't... I don't want you to be afraid of me, like she was of him."

"Hey," Kate said, reaching up and stroking Tony's face. "I'm not afraid of you. I could kick your butt any day – you just didn't give me fair warning." It was a lame attempt at a joke, it wasn't even funny, but it made Tony smile. Sort of. "And Tony?"

"Hmm?"

"I really am sorry about kissing that guy. I -"

"I don't want to know what happened," Tony interrupted. "I'm not mad at you, I just... please don't tell me what happened. Maybe someday. Not now."

Kate nodded. "I'll never do anything like that again," she said.

"I know," Tony assured her, stroking her hair. "Neither will I."

"Hit me?" Kate asked, with a grin. "Or kiss another guy?"

"Hit you. I promise."

"Me too."

Kate tilted her head up and kissed Tony, closing her eyes as his lips met hers and only breaking away when she absolutely had to.

"You're a better kisser than him, anyway," Kate declared, and Tony finally gave one of his typical, smug-ass smirks.

"I knew I was."