Author's note: I do not own NCIS: LA or its characters
Rountree came into work about half an hour early so he could talk to Fatima before work. When he saw her in the shooting range, she was crying as she slung knives at the targets. He realized that no matter how he phrased it, there was no easy way to tell Fatima what he needed to tell her.
He opened the door and wandered over to her.
"What's wrong?" he asked softly.
"I don't really wanna talk about it. Just leave me alone, okay?" she whispered.
"I'm sorry, but I really need to tell you something," he whispered. She looked up at him expectantly. "There's really no easy way to tell you this," he said softly.
"Just tell me," she groaned. Rountree took a deep breath.
"So, um, well, last night I saw something I wasn't supposed to. It was an accident, I promise! I would never do anything like that to you on purpose without your permission," he rambled.
"Get on with it," she snapped.
"Okay! Please don't hurt me," he whispered. Fatima glared at him. "Um, last night I was watching your show..." he began.
"Just tell me! I'm having a bad enough day as is," she yelled, tears streaming down her cheeks. Rountree immediately felt bad about the whole situation.
"I went to hit Next Episode, but, um, I hit the wrong thing, amd I accidentally clicked on your profile, and, um, there was something there that I don't think is supposed to be there," he continued. Fatima glared even harder. "Um, it was an accident, it was the very front," he choked out. Fatima narrowed her eyes, a bad feeling in her stomach growing. "There were some pictures. Of you. Naked," he choked out, tears in his eyes. He watched as Fatima's eyes widened and a single tear escaped. "Sweetie, I'm so, so sorry. I need to know, though. Did you upload them? Even if it was a while back. I promise you I won't judge, but this is going to decide our next move," he whispered.
"No, I've never taken any pictures of myself like that, or let anyone else for that matter. Will you help me?" Fatima felt incredibly small and embarrassed, and she wanted to curl up in a ball and cry. Or die. Both worked for her.
Rountree reached out and squeezed her shoulder.
"If course I'm going to help. And we don't have to involve the team," he whispered. She sniffled and started sobbing again.