Title: Cabin Fever

Author: MindyH

Chapter: 2, Morning

A/N: See part one for disclaimer and spoilers etc.

I love this place, it feels good to be back. There's a slight, nervous excitement in my gut being here with Kate. It's the realization of a mammoth fantasy for me and the beginning of something new for us. My libido is ready to recreate every fantasy I've ever had about bringing her up here. My heart is busy weaving a future.

I take my cup of coffee and step out onto the porch, closing the door quietly so as not to wake her. Kate loves her sleep and misses it. On the job, she tends to fall asleep in cars, planes, at her desk and even waiting on hold on the phone once. I need very little rest, waking like clockwork at dawn.

Taking a seat on the porch, I survey the misty view with a sigh but my mind is mostly concerned with the woman still asleep in my bed. I got lucky last night, I muse, speaking of fulfilling fantasies.

Yesterday was our first full day up here, and I had so much planned. But as I woke, early as always, I was annoyed to see it was pouring with rain. It didn't stop falling all day, forcing us to spend our time indoors. We wandered about, did the crossword, sat on the porch and watched the rain, read, cooked, talked and made love.

After an early dinner, which we ate in front of the fire, I challenged Kate to game of chess. Kate challenged me back, suggesting we make it a game of strip chess. I saw my number one fantasy of making love to this woman on the floor in front of a raging fire suddenly becoming a reality.

I played the game with every ounce of cunning and attention I had, which pissed her off a bit, because she'd lost her watch, necklace, sweater, shirt and socks before I'd even taken off my shoes. Still, we both ended up naked in the end.

Before Kate, I hadn't had sex in a long time and hadn't had sex with someone I cared about in even longer. It's an entirely different experience that I'd forgotten.

My last girlfriend, if you could even call her that, was Cynthia, who I met casually through work and slept with just as casually. When my feelings for Kate became too strong to ignore, I broke it off, confident that even after a year, nobody's feelings were hurt. Like my marriages, the relationship was based on appearances.

Cynthia was gorgeous and I convinced myself that if I focused enough on her big, red curls and her soft, full breasts and her sparkling green eyes that I could forget about the little brunette in the back of my mind.

I was simply attracted to Kate, I told myself -- nothing more -- and attraction could be easily displaced onto someone else. Someone more safe, someone more appropriate. Someone I knew I didn't love.

I struggled for a long time to understand my fascination with the young, upstart ex-Secret Service novice who was not my type at all. Caitlin Todd was uptight, conservative, argumentative and perfectionist. She reminded me of all those Catholic schoolgirls with their starched shirts and knee-length skirts who my friends and I used to watch from afar as a kid. They were untouchable and we hated them for it.

But Kate Todd was pretty, I couldn't deny that. I remember looking at her lying on that couch aboard Air Force One and noticing it for the first time. All of a sudden, she was no longer just an obstacle, just an annoyance, she was no longer just the competition. She was a woman with big brown eyes and a sweet mouth and compact, curved figure.

I made no effort whatsoever to hide my admiration and Kate made no attempt to conceal herself from my eyes. She didn't shirk my gaze, or rush to cover herself up, she didn't blush or look apologetic for her very apparent femininity. I watched as she lifted one hand behind her head, in a gesture that was part pretend nonchalance, part defiant pose. And at that moment, I realized I'd underestimated Caitlin Todd.

But I had no idea what I'd let myself in for when I hired her. Because Kate Todd wasn't just pretty, I discovered in time. She was beautiful. Caitlin Todd wasn't just conservative and argumentative and perfectionist. She was brave and good and tough and clever and loyal.

I wasn't just impressed, I was fascinated. And I wasn't just fascinated, I realized after awhile – I was in love. At the age of fifty, I was in love again, or maybe, in love for the first time.

I'm still getting used to the idea actually. And because of the pace and demand of our work, Kate and I are still figuring out how to be with each other, how to fit this into our already unpredictable lives. But for once in my life, I'm treating it as a priority -- it has to be. Soon we're going to have to deal with the question of if and how we can continue to work on the same team. But not now.

For the time being, we need to just enjoy the simplicity and the satisfaction of being together; and we've come up here to do just that, I suppose. We're still in the honeymoon stage. Everything is new and exciting and our appetite for each other seemingly unquenchable.

I've always been told that I was very good at the sexual side of relationships and not much else. Kate is a very sexual woman; she is confident and open in her desires, and takes great pleasure in making love in a variety of ways. With her, I never feel like I should repress my desires, or that my attentions might be unwanted. I never get the feeling that I'm not enough, that I should be doing more. And because I feel freer, everything else that used to be so difficult seems more effortless now.

I'd been married to a woman with whom I was not compatible sexually. Diane was beautiful and I fell in love with her image almost instantly. But she was not a sexual person. She was like a delicate piece of fine china – and I was a great big oaf with dirty, clumsy hands. She didn't much like sex before we got married, something I thought would change but didn't.

My intense frustration and fury drove me into the arms of a sharp-faced redhead with too much ambition and a habit of flouting the rules. She also happened to be an agent in my command which damaged both our careers and put an end to both the relationship and my marriage very swiftly.

It was only later that I confirmed my suspicion that Diane had had a string of lovers while we were married, but had never fully shared that part of herself with her husband of nine years.

It was after this period of extreme anguish and dissatisfaction and chaos that I first came up here to stay. I had newly inherited the cabin upon my Dad's death, who had in turn inherited it from his uncle. We used to visit up here on holidays when I was a kid and I used to love to take his boat out into the lake.

I hid away for three weeks, getting drunk and vowing never to get married again. A vow that I disregarded entirely when three years later, I took Robin as my third wife. I suggested we come up here on our honeymoon but she hated the idea, to put it mildly. She wanted to go to Europe, which we did, while I relived excruciating memories of Jenny in every city.

I'm sure Kate would love to go to Europe too, or visit an island paradise. I'm sure she'd love a swanky hotel room and to be wined and dined. It's not more than she deserves and I'm not saying I'll never give it to her. I look forward to it, in a way.

But she's here right now and that means more than I can ever express to her, more than I think she knows. This is who I really am and I'm pretty confident she's okay with that. She tells me everyday she loves me, even if it's just with her eyes, and bit by bit, I'm starting to believe that this one is for keeps.

For once, I don't feel the need to hold on quite so tight; not if she's holding on as well.

For the FULL story (rated NC17) go to the NCIS Fanfiction Archive. Thanks for reading!