Title: The Seven Year Itch
Author: MindyH
Rating: T, adult situations here. This chapter is not for the kiddies.
A/N: Thanks again to ALL enjoying this story and taking the time to reveiw. I really appreciate it.
"Back off. Or I slit her throat."
The FBI took one collective step back.
Gibbs took three steps forward.
"Great," spat the swarthy man disdainfully, shifting backwards with his hostage in tow: "We have a hero in the house."
He stirred uneasily, as Gibbs took another small step forward, his gun aimed level and steady at the man's face.
"I said -- BACK. OFF," he ordered, angrily.
Gibbs stopped but stood his ground: "I'm not going anywhere."
He had no idea how the bastard had got his hands on Kate, but he wasn't leaving without her. The flack vest he'd stripped her of lay useless at her feet while the man held a knife at her throat and gun against her belly.
"Then get rid of them," her capturer demanded threateningly, nodding his head at the horde of agents standing with guns poised behind Gibbs: "Go on! Get 'em out of here!"
Gibbs hesitated momentarily, then without turning, yelled over his shoulder: "You heard the man. Stand down."
The FBI didn't budge, not until Kate gave a slight lift of her head, indicating they should obey. Holstering their weapons, they retreated out of the dark house and away from the three figures locked in a stalemate. Only Agent Findlay remained, taking a few steps forward until she stood at her boss' elbow, her weapon trained on the hostage-taker.
"Findlay," Gibbs mumbled lowly, never taking his eyes from the two figures in front of him: "Out. Now."
The young woman looked up at him briefly, then slowly backed off, her gun trained on the scene the whole way. The empty living room was dark and cavernous without all the agents filling it, their every breath and movement echoing around the space.
"So, you wanna rescue the damsel in distress, Hero?" the man muttered, jostling Kate against him and smirking darkly.
"You wanna get out of this alive?" Gibbs countered, his eyes narrowed at the twisted features appearing over Kate's shoulder
Kate shifted carefully in the strong man's grip, grimacing a little in pain. Her body was pulled taut against the taller man, her chest falling heavily, her jaw clenched tight and her eyes glittering with hate.
"'Cause, however this plays out," Gibbs continued in a steely tenor: "-- we are walking out of here."
He darted a look at Kate to make sure she knew that. She looked at him piercingly, their eyes connecting intensely across the room.
"The rest is up to you, Lieutenant Smith," he finished evenly, as he examined the man's face for clues of what his state of mind and next move might be: "Want to discuss your options?"
This had to be resolved quickly; the longer this bastard held the power – held Kate – the more dangerous the situation could get.
Smith was impervious. He was not surprised by Gibbs' use of his name and seemed unconcerned by the charges against him and the danger he was in. That, in Gibbs' mind made him more of a threat – he was the type that wanted to go out in a blaze of infamy.
"Can you believe," Smith finally answered offhandedly, evidently more at ease with the other agents now gone: "That this is what they sent after me?"
He scoffed to Gibbs skeptically then peered curiously at Kate's face for a moment. "I saw your picture in the paper, sweetheart," he grinned, as Kate tried to twist her head away from him. "I read all about you. Caitlin Todd..." he whispered into her ear, clutching her tighter. He poked his gun into her side and snarled lowly: "You called me a dirtbag."
"You are a dirtbag, Smith," growled Gibbs, grinding his teeth and edging a little closer: "Leave her alone."
Smith looked over at him, his eyes lighting up sadistically: "You have an interest in this little thing, Hero?"
He jostled her again, making the knife at her throat draw blood. Kate bit her lip to stifle a whimper and the fury in Gibbs' gut began to boil.
Smith continued, tauntingly: "You like something a little younger? Huh, old man?" He turned his gaze back on his catch. Kate's nostrils flared indignantly as she struggled to maintain her composure, her body stiff and defiant against his captivity.
"Feisty one, isn't she?" he murmured, pulling her back against him and running his eyes over the front of her body. "Personally," he mused smugly: "I like them… a little more… submissive."
"Like the three women you killed?" Gibbs questioned, bluntly, trying to divert the man's attention from the woman in his arms: "Were they submissive enough when you forced yourself on them? Did they beg you to let them live?"
"I loooove it," he moaned breathily into Kate's ear: "when they beg."
Kate's face hardened further, masking her revulsion and contempt, her breath coming harsh and heavy, as cold eyes scanned her tense expression with malevolent delight. Pressing the gun into her side, he dragged the tip of the knife down her throat, over her chest and to the opening of her shirt, slipping the blade beneath the first button of her shirt.
He glanced up at Gibbs with a maniacal leer. "Wanna see, Hero?" he whispered coarsely, holding Gibbs' fierce gaze.
Kate's face dropped in alarm but Smith swiftly nudged the tip of the knife blade up under her chin.
"Eyes up, Caitlin," he ordered, warningly, forcing her head back and to the side. Gibbs darted a look at her, but she wouldn't meet his eyes, focusing steadily on the ceiling. Her chest shuddered shakily as the knife lowered again, grazing her skin and besmirching it with a violent red scratch.
"Tell me, Hero," Smith murmured indifferently, as he slowly sliced at the top closure of her shirt: "Are you a breast man or a leg man? Hmm?"
Gibbs clenched his jaw, refusing to respond. He kept his gaze fixed firmly on the lieutenant, his trigger finger twitching edgily. Smith smirked, reading the signs of tension in the other man.
He looked down scornfully at Kate's conservative pant suit: "Me, I like a bit of leg. Hate it when they cover it up."
He abruptly knifed open another button of her shirt, looking down at her exposed roundness: "These aren't bad though, honey," he remarked crudely, tracing the plunge of her bra with the blade. "What do you think, old man?" he asked callously, pulling apart her shirt and presenting her roughly to Gibbs: "Bet you haven't seen anything like this in a while, huh?"
His eyes glittered with power as he carried on stroking her bra carelessly, his body pressed up close behind her and his saliva spitting onto her white shirt as he hissed at Gibbs over her shoulder: "I think the good FBI agent has been holding out on us, don't you, Hero?" he grumbled to Gibbs slyly.
He paused a moment then, without dropping his gaze from the man opposite, ruthlessly sliced through the strap of Kate's flimsy bra, causing it to wilt on her. "Now -- would you say these are Caitlin's best feature?" he continued conversationally, peering down at her chest for a moment. "Or --" he murmured darkly, reaching down to deliberately stroke the zip of her pants with the knife blade: "Or do you want to see what else little Caitlin has to offer?" he drawled eagerly: "Huh? Tell me, old man. You wanna see what it takes to make the feisty little thing beg?"
"You get off on this, Lieutenant Smith?" Gibbs demanded harshly, still refusing to let his eyes drop: "You like humiliating women?"
Kate's head lowered again, her cheeks red with shame and wrath, but the knife came up under her chin once more.
"I said--"Smith grit against the skin of her cheek, pressing the point into her throat until it dripped with her blood: "Eyes. Up."
She cried out painfully, her eyes closing over as she titled her head back, exposing herself to his abuse.
He roughly pressed the sharp edge down through the last remaining closures covering her, the shirt gapping on her body obscenely: "Take a look, Hero – I'll bet you're a breast man," he muttered maliciously.
"Wow," breathed Gibbs derisively, refusing to give him the slightest satisfaction: "Your mother must have done a real number on you."
Smith froze, his eyes flickering with barely restrained rage: "What do you know about her?" he drawled contemptuously.
"This was her place, right?" Gibbs continued evenly, the Lieutenant's glaring reaction not lost on him: "Was she sadistic, too? Like you?"
"You shut up about her," the other man warned, turning his gun on Gibbs.
"Your victims all look like her," Gibbs persisted coolly, watching his grip on Kate's gradually loosen as his focus shifted and waned: "You think we wouldn't pick up on that?"
"No, they didn't!" he argued hotly, his eyes darting about in panic.
Kate's eyes met Gibbs' – that was half a confession. Gibbs' gaze held little satisfaction, but he took the opportunity to send her the smallest of nods, telling her to make her move while he was distracted.
Kate glanced at the weapon trained on Gibbs and stayed where she was.
"They all had blonde hair," Gibbs pointed out, his voice rising as insanity began to emerge in the other man's features: "Like your mother. And green eyes," he persisted, tenaciously: "Like your mother."
"Cut it out, Gibbs," Kate finally spoke out in an ominous tone, trying to prevent him from deliberately drawing the man's fire.
"Shut up, Kate," he commanded sharply, still focused on the increasingly agitated man in front of him.
"Don't do this!" she cried, nervously, straining against her imprisonment and ignoring the sting of the blade at her throat.
"Shut up, shut up both of you! Just SHUT UP!" Smith roared, loosing his self-control and swinging his gun between the two of them, unsure who to target.
Kate took the opening, striking back with her elbow into his abdomen, making him buckle over her in pain. He yanked her back with the knife at her throat and fired aimlessly three shots one after the other.
The second caught Gibbs in the arm, causing him to jolt and fall to the floor. Kate repeated the blow to the gut, twisting suddenly and pitching her left fist up under her capturer's chin. Blood sprayed out of his nose as his head flew back and the weapon dropped from his hand. She grabbed his arm and twisted it behind his back, forcing him to his knees and then to the ground.
Groaning in agony, Gibbs stumbled to his feet, clutching his injured arm with his hand as agents swarmed the room, in a frenzy of noise and action, encircling Kate as she handcuffed the man face down on the floor.
"Since you asked," Gibbs muttered, his voice strained with pain but impelled by victory: "Kate's best feature," he told Smith, standing in the dirt by his face: "is her left hook."
"Get him out of here," Kate ordered, rising off him and turning to Gibbs with concerned eyes: "And get the paramedics in here NOW!"
Smith was hauled away in the bustle as Kate stepped closer to him, swearing under her breath.
"I'm fine," Gibbs told her, gritting his teeth against the white-hot pain and with his free hand, pulling at her blood-stained shirt to conceal her from prying eyes.
Kate seemed unconcerned that he could clearly see her through the opening, reaching out to him with both hands, one touching his chest, the other resting lightly on his bloody hand. She looked up at him with big, wet eyes and he gazed down at her a moment in dazed relief.
His eyes ran carefully over her; her hair tousled and face streaked, the angry marks on her chest and the blood drying on her flushed skin. Despite the situation, he couldn't help but sneak a lingering look at her now; her delicate curves and womanly shape partly visible beneath her ripped shirt. But then, he'd just been shot for this woman, he mused dimly—that had to count for something.
The paramedics arrived and forced him down on the gurney. Although this was more minor than his other experiences suffering a gun shot wound, it still hurt like hell. He could feel his body rapidly sinking into shock, his temperature lowering and his vision wavering.
Kate followed the gurney to the truck, her brow creased and her arms folded across her ruined shirt. She swept her hair out of her eyes with her fingertips, inadvertently painting her forehead with his spent blood.
As the ambulance doors were being shut, she was trying to tell him something. There was too much noise and confusion. People were trying to take care of her injuries, ask her questions. The medic was giving him pain meds and telling him to lie back, he couldn't focus on her properly.
From a distance, he thought he saw her mouthe the words "Thank You" before his body shut down and his eyes closed over.