Title: Seven Year Itch
Author: MindyH
Rating: T, adult themes.
Chapter 3.
A/N: Thanks for all the feedback, it's really inspiring and rewarding to know that the tension is working. All will be revealed in time. There are ten chapters in all and here is the next. Please enjoy and please reveiw!
He was late, but that was probably a good thing. Didn't want to seem like he'd been looking forward to this all day.
He'd been buzzing excitedly since he'd asked her, since she'd accepted. Actually, he'd been buzzing since he'd seen her again yesterday. Something in his gut was screaming "FINALLY!"
Finally, he would get to be alone with Kate Todd again.
He'd thought Sammie's was a fairly safe choice. They used to hang out there after cases occasionally, back in the old days with DiNozzo and McGee and Abby. It was a casual joint that many used for business meetings and after-work drinks. Not too romantic or intimate. Not that that had stopped him in the past from having inappropriate thoughts about the attractive, young brunette under his command.
He remembered coming to Sammie's on Kate's thirtieth birthday for celebratory drinks and watching her get slowly smashed, enjoying the way she leaned on him and touched his arm and the way her eyes twinkled when she teased him. It was merely one of many lost opportunities he'd pondered in the years she'd been absent from his life.
They had not parted on the best of terms. Actually, their parting was somewhat anti-climatic and he'd often wondered whether he would ever hear from her or see her again.
He'd never actually known how much he cared about Kate Todd until someone stole her away. All of a sudden, she was gone before he'd had his chance with her --a chance he'd never considered his for the taking until much too late.
For the past seven years, Special Agent Bradley Hughes of the Federal Bureau of Investigation had been on his secret, personal hit list. Not only had he taken his Katie away to work for the FBI, he'd subsequently and swiftly married her. He'd never resented a man more.
Or been more envious.
Brad Hughes was everything he was not. Young, energetic, good-natured and friendly. He'd been there the day they'd met. They'd been investigating a double murder and had butted heads once more with the FBI over jurisdiction. The smooth, fair-haired agent had immediately taken a liking to Kate, but Gibbs had foolishly dismissed him as just one more in a line of her short-lived pretty boys.
Things had been extremely tense between him and Kate for some time anyway, but she'd positively knocked him on his ass when, four months into the relationship, she handed him her resignation. She told him that Brad had convinced her to accept a position with the FBI.
He couldn't believe it at first, thought she would reconsider. But he hadn't made any attempt to dissuade her. Instead he had done everything within his power to make sure she knew just how much he did not approve of her decision.
He still remembers the hurt look in her eyes, when he'd refused to say goodbye to her on her last day with their team. He would not let her know what she was doing to him, not when she was capable of so casually deserting him. It tore at the last remaining shreds of his heart to not be able to look her in the eye and wish her good luck, but he simply could not tolerate it.
He'd run and hid, like he always did. And by the time he came back, her desk was empty and she was gone. At the time, he'd thought it was for good.
He was shocked to receive word from her nine months later. But his stomach dropped when he opened the wedding invitation. He had no idea why she'd invited him, whether it had been a peace offering or polite gesture. All of her old team received one of the white and gold gilded cards from the soon-to-be Mrs Kate Hughes, but they seemed determined by tacit agreement not to talk about the impending event in front of him.
He conveniently forgot to RSVP and on the weekend of the wedding, he made damn sure that he had a case to work and plenty to occupy his mind. He still could've attended. He knew that Abby and McGee, DiNozzo and Ducky put in an appearance.
But the thought of watching Kate walk down an aisle in a white dress towards another man, the thought of that man beaming at her, kissing her, owning her; the thought of speeches and well-wishes and music and cake; the thought of having to construct something sincere to tell her and her new husband made his skin crawl and his skull burn.
Kate Todd never seemed so lost to him as she did on that sad, spring day.
But he adjusted to life without her pretty easily. He'd had a lot of practice at letting women he loved go. He knew just how to treat a wounded heart. Work, work and more work, and when that ran out, there was always his boat.
Shortly after the wedding, he'd been in Abby's lab when she'd had photos of the wedding up on her computer. Curiosity had over-whelmed him and he couldn't resist a glimpse. He only saw one, before Abby interrupted, but he'd carried the image in his mind for years.
It was of Kate, and only Kate, in a long, ivory dress, standing against the deep green of a large hedge. It was a candid shot, catching her mid-laughter, her body leaning over slightly, her head bowed and eyes lowered, a vibrant clutch of flowers held close to her breast. The train of the dress was sleek and pale against the lush backdrop in contrast to her dark hair swept up from her shining face. She looked beautiful.
He'd kept an eye out for her, whenever he encountered the FBI, he'd always expected to see her, but this was the first time their paths had ever crossed again. He'd heard about her separation last year, care of Ducky who seemed to think he would like to know. And while he couldn't help a little satisfaction, the power of his compassion for his former colleague surprised him.
For the first time, he'd started to consider contacting her, just to see if she was alright. Somehow despite all his best efforts and her lengthy absence, his feelings for Kate Todd had never fully died or even diminished.
He stepped inside Sammie's and out of the cold, pausing on the threshold and scanning the area cursorily. The dim joint, with its long row of deep, leather booths and an untidy cluster of circular wooden tables and chairs, had never changed in all the time he'd been coming here.
He spotted her immediately, sitting at the bar, just like she'd never left. She was perched impeccably on a barstool, wearing a professional but elegant black dress and black heels, both of which displayed her long arms and legs to greater advantage than she was probably aware. Her figure was still slender and feminine, but her face had thinned somewhat, he noticed from afar. Having lost the last vestiges of adolescent roundness, now her features were all well-defined curves and neat angles.
Her gaze wandered aimlessly as she absently drummed manicured nails against the bar, completely oblivious to the smile the bartender offered her when he placed her drink on a napkin in front of her. She lifted it with her right hand and took a small sip, tucking her hair behind her ear with her left. He watched the movement with interest, noting the absence of any ring on her finger and admiring the way her hair, now a slightly lighter, redder brown and cut to just above her shoulders, curled softly against her neck.
His heart quickened unexpectedly as he made his way towards her, even as warning lights were flashing madly in the back of his brain. This whole situation could turn very dangerous, very, very fast.
She sensed him before he reached her, turning toward him with a slightly uncertain smile.
"Hey," he greeted casually, nodding to Jim behind the bar who immediately began to pour his chosen poison.
"Hey," she responded, smoothing one hand over the lap of her dress.
"Nice dress," he commented, coolly, as he reached for his glass.
He permitted his greedy eyes to drift over her every inch, above the rim of his glass as he slowly drank the smooth scotch. He watched the color of her cheeks darken somewhat in response to his too direct, too lingering appreciation.
"You look great," he mumbled lowly, enjoying her reaction, while desperately trying to control his own.
Kate blinked at him in surprise for a moment, but recovered swiftly: "Thank you," she murmured softly.
"Let's get a table," he suggested, abruptly breaking the awkward silence that descended and looking about.
Kate hopped down off her stool to follow him, but her heel skidded and he turned back just in time to stop her tumbling to the floor. She grabbed onto his jacket instinctively, his hand moving to clasp her waist securely. Her body brushed along his just faintly, her scented hair waving beneath his nose, and he had to stifle the low groan that arose from his body at the smell and feel of her softness. His other hand gripped her elbow, lifting her back onto her feet.
"You okay?" he asked, peering at her lowered face.
"Fine," she whispered, sweeping her hair out of her eyes and stepping away gingerly: "Let's get a table."