when you are lonely and sick at heart

"Kate?"

Gibbs's voice, disbelieving, almost innocent, spills through the line.

"Yeah," Kate says, furiously calm. Tony and Fornell explained, and Ziva's filled in the gaps, but Gibbs – gruff, determined, unrelenting Gibbs running from his problems all the way to Mexico? This is insane. Kate's going to get to the bottom of this. But she won't be sentimental. "You broke Rule Three," she says instead, as light as she can keep her tone.

In DiNozzo's wave of success and responsibility and Ziva's effortless filling of her socks – shoes – Kate feels a slight vindictive satisfaction in putting her finger on the one thing that has gone wrong while she's been away. They didn't manage just fine without her. Look what happened.

"You reached me, didn't you?"

"It took too long," she accuses, trying not to catch Ziva's eyes. "I needed you last night, Gibbs. I had to put my life in Tony's hands," she adds, an unconvincing laugh punctuating her words.

"I left him in charge for a reason," Gibbs answers, quick, defensive. "He can handle it."

"Yeah," Kate sighs, "I know." She's always seen this in Tony. It's good he's starting to trust it. "But we still need you, boss."

"Kate, what do you want me to do? I'm not there." He pauses, but Kate waits, expecting more. It takes a moment, but he gets to it: "I'm coming to DC for a weekend next month. It'll be good to see you. But DiNozzo can handle this."

"And what about Ari?" Ziva demands.

The chill runs all the way through the phone line.

"Ari?" Gibbs echoes.

"I sent him to a motel where he can lie low," Ziva confirms, "but I do not know what he is going to do. He believes I am on his side, but if he has a plan, I cannot bridle him in."

Rein, Kate thinks, ready to correct her, but Gibbs brushes past it. "He died in my basement."

"I died on a rooftop," Kate counters. "Then I woke up." That gets through. "There's a hole in my head, Gibbs. There's a person out there who did this to me." Now she looks Ziva in the eye, but she doesn't find the strength she's looking for – something else is there instead. "I want to find them," she presses on, "I want to put them in the ground. Won't you help me?"

She might as well have asked him for the winner of American Idol for all the time he takes. The wait is terrible. Kate doesn't know this new Gibbs. He's refused to help her once already, and that strange something in Ziva's eyes –

"Alright," Gibbs says, resignation in his tone. "I'll be there."

Tobias parks his rental car and walks to the gate of the Indianapolis Our Lady of Peace cemetery. God help him, the things he does for NCIS are really getting out of hand.

It wasn't his place to go to the funeral. He sent a card to her parents, of course, expressed his sympathies to her team in his own way, stunted but sincere, but he and Agent Todd were always really just business acquaintances. And yet he's the one who got her somewhere safe, who helped her remember her team, who's now giving up a day with Emily to investigate whatever the hell's happening to her. He really does hate himself sometimes.

Her grave looks… normal. There are flowers laid out, starting to wilt; a few laminated photographs. He picks a couple up. A youthful Todd in a graduation gown grins back at him. In another, she is a child – surrounded by three boys much bigger than herself and one tall, laughing girl. The headstone is clean and perfect, featuring Todd's Presidential Medal of Freedom (does she even know about that? She ought to be told); the ground is damp, but it's been raining; the grass is well-worn as if often visited.

"Good morning."

Tobias spins around – a man, about forty, big and imposing, carrying flowers, smiles back at him.

"Hi," he answers, uncertain.

"Can I help you?"

"Oh." He steps away from the grave. There's nothing useful there, anyway. "I was just... I was in town. Wanted to drop by."

The man offers a hand. "Steve Todd."

"Tobias. Fornell." He shakes, vaguely unsettled by the serene aura surrounding the man who must be Agent Todd's brother. When all this is over, she's going to have to tell her family, he realises – or at least somebody is.

"You worked with her?"

"Some."

"Okay. Sorry, it's just, when I saw you – we had some trouble with vandalism a couple months back."

Tobias glances back at the pristine grave. "It looks well taken care of."

"We had it fixed up nice. Our Katie was a hero, you know, but first she was family."

Tobias shakes his head. "It's not right. What'd they do?"

"Smashed in the headstone." Steve clenches his jaw, glaring at the grave as if the perpetrator might be hiding behind it. "Dug up the flowers, made a whole mess. But there was nothing to investigate. The security tapes were scrubbed."

"That's odd," Tobias agrees, as conversationally as he can. "Seems a lot of trouble. Were other graves attacked?"

"Just hers. The police said it was probably because of the work she did. Someone has beef with the feds, they take it out on her – 'cause she can't retaliate. They wouldn't do anything." Steve picks up the old flowers and holds them out to Tobias. "Check it out."

A camera sits nestled amongst the leaves. Steve grins.

"Hey, you worked with Katie. You a fed, too?"

"FBI," Tobias confirms.

"And you didn't spot it," Steve says with satisfaction. He plucks out the camera and settles it in the fresh bunch. "Of course, we can't do this forever. But, you know, for now. Gives my mom some peace of mind."

Steve lays the fresh flowers down and gives Tobias a sideways look. He averts his eyes, backs away, lets the kid have a private moment.

Steve turns back a minute later, all smiles, but his eyes are damp. "Good to meet you, Tobias. I'll see you around."

"Hey. If anything like that happens again, or if anyone tries to bother your family, give me a call." Tobias hands over his card.

"Thanks," Steve says, smile fading a little, "but we can hardly involve the FBI over harassment or desecration."

"You're not involving the FBI. You're asking a friend for help. It's the least I can do."

"Well," Steve says, wilted flowers tucked under his arm, "I'll take you up on that. Thank you."

"Any time," Tobias says, and watches Steve go.

The things he does for NCIS.

Ziva is more forceful, much more an unknown quantity, than Tony is. When there's a knock at the door, she tells Kate to go and hide in the bedroom, and Kate actually goes.

"There's a pistol in the safe," Tony said this morning. That's no use. She doesn't know where his goddamn safe is, let alone—

"Kate?" Ziva's face appears in the doorway; she's smiling. "You have a visitor."

Trepidation courses through her veins. There are so many people to see, so many reactions, and she longs for them all but there's only so much she can take just now.

The door swings open and her heart soars. The kindest face in the world gazes back at her, tearful and warm. "Hello," Ducky says, "my dear Caitlin."

For the first time since she woke, Kate feels a rush of tears filling her eyes. It's good to know she can still cry, some part of her observes in a corner of her mind. "Ducky," she lets out, half-choked.

He is by her side in seconds, gently guiding her into a hug.

Kate half-registers Ziva's soft, "I will leave you," and the click of the door, but it's Ducky, sweet, paternal, oddball Ducky, who suddenly makes her realise the reality of her situation.

She's dead.

She was autopsied – there's a Y-shaped scar on her torso that she's been pretending not to see – and she was buried. She was in the ground for a year. A bullet fired by Ari tore through her skull, destroyed half her brain, and – shit, she was registered as an organ donor, does that mean –

"What the hell's going on, Ducky?" she whispers to the wall, chin resting on his shoulder. "How could this happen to me?"

"I don't know," he says, soothingly, "but if you want to find out, you are talking to the very man."

Kate draws back, wipes her eyes, and can't help but smile.

Tony stills the elevator, the only real place he can get some privacy in this whole damn building.

"I don't know, Kate," he says, facing the ceiling and closing his eyes. "What am I supposed to do?"

The presence next to him has a smile in her voice. "You've got me back, the real me, and you're still hallucinating?"

"The real you's got enough to deal with."

"She's not fragile, Tony. Nobody wants answers more than her."

"I know that."

"Then bring her in."

"I don't know what's going on here," he says, fighting to keep his voice steady. "I don't know what brought her back. If she's even still you. How much of our Kate is in there? How do I know I can trust her?"

"You're being a coward," she sing-songs in his ear.

Tony turns, facing the wall, and opens his eyes. "I know." Her pristine image, free of scars or wounds or bullet holes, hovers beside him in the mirror for a moment before dissolving into air.

But the Kate in his head is an extension of him, he knows that – a projection of the image he has of her. The Kate at his place with Ziva and Ducky's a whole different person. Real problems. Real fear. Isn't she going through enough?

Isn't he just going to lose her all over again in the end?

Despite Ducky's warmth and sweetness, Kate finds his presence draining. He's kind, of course, he's her old friend, but everything about him is screaming you should be dead, and it makes her feel naked and empty.

When Tony comes home, he takes Ducky by the elbow with a murmured "well?" and they disappear into a corner with Ziva. Kate doesn't have time to think about it before she's engulfed in a tight, tearful, delighted hug from Abby.

"It's really good to see you, Abs," she breathes, squeezing back as hard as she can. The hug lasts a full minute, and when Abby finally lets go, Kate suspects she's going to have a shadow for a while. She's okay with that. Abby is energy, joy, light. She's the antidote to Ducky; he made her feel dead, but Abby brings life with her.

McGee appears behind Abby, hugs Kate and kisses her cheek and welcomes her back in choked tones. He's different, too; confident, grounded, he even seems taller. Kate feels safer suddenly; in the love and affection of these two people she sees how the others didn't quite accept her. In the corner Ducky, Ziva, and Tony talk in whispers, glancing at her every few seconds. Does everyone doubt her?

But then Abby is taking her arm again, pouring out information like a waterfall, and a hand lands on her back – McGee's, she realises after a split second of panic – guiding her to sit down, but he won't drop his eyes from her forehead, even though Ducky brought her fresh putty to fill it and powder to hide it, and –

"Did Tony tell you? You were awarded the Presidential Medal of Freedom, Kate –"

– and Ducky's gaze bores into her, cold and appraising under the thin mask of tenderness, and the blaring of a phone silences the room. She springs up, unsteady, stumbling –

"Kate?"

"Kate –"

The door to Tony's bedroom slams behind her, and she presses her back to it, squeezes her eyes shut, presses fists against her ears, slides down to the floor, and lets the tears spill out.