Kate sighed and pushed her hair out of her face as the wind whipped around her. Today had been a crappy end to what was quite possibly the crappiest week of her life. As if it wasn't bad enough that she'd finally lost it with Tony's concerned looks and incessant 'your boyfriend's an idiot' speeches, Jonathon had chosen that week to prove him right. The day after she'd spent her lunch break fighting with Tony over that very issue.

And she'd actually fought with him, too, not just arguing and bickering like they normally did. They'd both said things that they didn't mean – at least, she had, she didn't know whether Tony meant them or not – and they still weren't speaking. Well, they were, but it was that sort of tense, falsely polite conversation that you have after a row. They still hadn't apologized to one another, they were still in a fight. Kate knew that she should go apologize, really, because she was wrong and he was right. But to be honest, seeing as the fight was about her (now ex) boyfriend, it wasn't fair that she should have to say sorry first. Besides, she wasn't sure she knew how to say sorry to Tony. Partly because they'd never had an argument like this, where they went out of their way to avoid one another for a whole week and spent all the time they were together in awkward silence, and partly because all the fights they'd had before were resolved by a few minutes of dirty looks across the bullpen and then a joke from Tony.

Another gust of wind tugged at Kate's clothing and she shivered, wishing she had put on her coat. Or at least a sweater. It was freezing, and she only had her shirt on. It wasn't her fault, though, it was Tony's. He shouldn't have stood back and waved her into the elevator first, then she wouldn't have felt so crappy and wouldn't have come out onto the roof.

Not that she minded him being courteous, for once. Just… she wasn't used to him letting her go ahead of him. They pushed and shoved and dug each other in the ribs to get places before one another. If he was going to suddenly develop manners, she'd prefer him to do it because he wanted too and not because they weren't talking and he was trying not to make it worse. Although, it wasn't just him. She was doing it too. When she and Tony had been the only people around and his stapler had broken, he'd asked to use hers.

"Please could I borrow your stapler, Kate?" he'd asked. Not 'Give me' or 'I want' but 'Please could I borrow'. And she hadn't responded with 'No' or 'Why?'

"Of course," she'd said, all polite and civil.

She hadn't thrown it at his head, either, or made him come and fetch it himself. She'd got up out of her seat and passed it to him.

God, she hated this. Why were they so damn dysfunctional? She didn't know anyone else who she'd rather was horrible to her than nice, and nobody who was only nice when there was something wrong (except Gibbs, but he was horrible to everyone. This twisted little relationship only existed between her and Tony). It was… weird. It was totally backwards.

She rubbed her eyes with the back of her hand and wiped the mascara on her wrist onto her trousers. Stupid hayfever, making her eyes all wet. Now she looked like she'd been crying. Which she hadn't – she didn't cry. Hardly ever. She especially didn't cry over idiotic men that treated her like crap. Whether she meant Jonathon or Tony by that, she wasn't quite sure. Probably both – they were practically twins. And they were both morons.

She really should go inside, it was starting to rain – hard – and Gibbs would be getting more irate by the second while he waited for her to turn up. But she really didn't feel like getting shouted at right now, and she didn't mind getting a bit wet if it delayed having to go back to the bullpen. Maybe she'd stay out here until she got a fever, then she could go down to Ducky and he'd send her home. Then she wouldn't have to face Gibbs and Tony at all, and she'd have a whole weekend without self-conscious, unnatural friendliness or angry lectures about disappearing in the middle of a murder investigation. Maybe, even, she could go to that new risky-looking sushi place down the street from where she lived and give herself food poisoning. That would be at least a week off work, probably more.

On second thoughts, she'd have to go to her desk to get her car keys if she wanted to get home. And the thought of throwing up for days on end was very unappealing – less appealing than facing Gibbs and explaining why she'd run off on the way to talk to a marine's widow. It was a close call, though.

Thinking about their investigation made her feel even worse. Because no matter how awful she was feeling right now, and how much trouble she was in with Gibbs, she was still able to put her problems into perspective. And they weren't that bad, really. Sure, she'd broken up with her boyfriend, fought with her co-worker and was going to an earful from her boss. But it could be worse. She could be one of the dead sailors on Ducky's table, raped and beaten and killed. Or she could be like the widows of the marines they brought in, having a husband and a family one minute and not the next. Her problems weren't that bad, not really. They seemed like the end of the world, but they actually weren't. She'd make up with Tony eventually, and Gibbs could only yell for so long before even he got sick of it. And Abby would stop her caring about the breakdown of yet another short-lived relationship. All it would take was a pair of heels and a couple of shots of vodka.

But still. She didn't feel like going back inside and facing the music and getting on with things just yet. She'd rather just stay out on the roof in the rain and wallow in self-pity for a bit longer. It wasn't like it would do anyone any harm – if they really, truly, desperately needed for her to go back into the bullpen and perform some miraculous crime-solving feat, then they could come find her. It wouldn't take Gibbs that long to figure out where she was, especially as the stairs she had run for earlier only led down to the basement and up to the roof. It would only take a cursory glance and a word to Ducky to find out she wasn't in autopsy, and it didn't take a genius to go through that process of elimination.

She didn't really think anyone would come to find her, though. She didn't expect Tony too, not after their fight and the way she'd treated him, and she didn't think for a second that Gibbs would stop what he was doing to deal with, as he had so sympathetically put it the other day, 'her attitude problem'. Gibbs was pissed off beyond belief that her and Tony's petty squabbling had escalated into such a huge problem between them, and he blamed Kate more than he blamed Tony. Tony, according to Gibbs, had only been trying to help. Kate was being a brat about it.

And that was another thing – why did everybody have to agree with Tony? It wasn't fair. McGee had approached her just yesterday about it.

"Erm, Kate?" he'd asked, all apologetic looks and wide eyes. "I know you're mad with Tony, but I think he was only trying to help. I don't think he those things he said. Maybe if you two talked -"

She'd been pretty harsh with him then. She'd told him that if he didn't stay out of her business and leave her alone right now, she'd give him the same treatment as Tony was getting. She hadn't even let him finish his sentence.

And Ducky – who of all people, she'd have thought would have stuck up for her – had taken Tony's side as well.

"Maybe," he'd suggested. "You're so angry because you know he's right. He's only looking out for you, you know."

Well, she didn't need him to 'try to help' or to 'look out for her'. And she didn't need – or want – him to vet her boyfriends for her. If they were jerks, she'd work it out for herself. She was sick of him constantly checking up on what she was doing, and she was sick of him looking at Jonathon like dirt every time he came to see Kate at work.

Not that he'd be coming to see her at work anymore, Kate reminded herself, and sighed. She really was cold now, and dripping wet. Even the chimney she was sitting up against was doing nothing to protect her from the elements. If anything, it was making her feel worse – not only was she soaked to the skin and shivering, but the cold, hard brick was hurting her back. Facing Gibbs' wrath didn't seem like the worst idea right now – at least she'd be inside, and she could hopefully just block out his anger while she warmed up a bit. Mind you, Tony was probably with Gibbs, and she desperately didn't want to see him. He'd act all smug and self-righteous and rub it in her face that he was right. She really, really couldn't face that right now. Not at the same time as Gibbs was giving her the whole 'what the hell is the matter with you' chew out that he'd been giving her all week.

Maybe she'd stay outside for a while longer. It was the lesser of two evils, really – what was the worst that could happen if she stayed put? It wasn't like she could get any wetter, colder or more miserable than she was right now. But if she went inside and had to deal with Gibbs yelling at her while Tony grinned smugly over his shoulder, she'd probably break down and cry. In front of Tony and Gibbs and McGee and everybody else in the whole damn office.

Kate wiped the drops of water from her face – she wasn't certain whether they were raindrops or hayfever, but they sure as hell weren't tears – and leant her head on her knees.

Why did she even get so mad at Tony? Why didn't she just ignore him, like she did all the other times? Why, when she knew she wouldn't be able to stop herself if she started, did she insist on lashing out at him? And why the hell couldn't he just leave her alone and let her do what she wanted? He'd started the argument anyway, by listening to her phone conversation and involving himself in it when she hung up.

"Why does Jonathon have to come right into the building to pick you up from work?" Tony had moaned when she got off the phone after making plans.

"It's called being a gentleman, DiNozzo," she'd snapped. "Look it up in a history book."

"It's called being a smarmy little suck-up, actually," Tony had replied, getting up and crossing over to her desk. "It's in the dictionary under 'guys who only want one thing', if I remember correctly."

"Just next to your name, then?" Kate had asked, pissed off that he was being so hypocritical.

"Hey," Tony had said, clearly wounded. "I'm not like him – I'm straight with my girlfriends. I don't lead them on and I don't use them, what you see is what you get. Jonathon's a sleaze."

"Takes one to know one, DiNozzo!" Kate hissed, standing up and glaring at him.

Then they'd screamed at one another and called each other all sorts of names and insulted every little thing they could think of about one another, before Gibbs got back and demanded to know what was going on.

But it had turned out that Tony was right – Jonathon was a sleaze, and he did only want one thing. And when he got it, he'd cleared off. Because of him, she was mad with McGee, in trouble with Gibbs, and Tony… well, her relationship with Tony was pretty much in shreds.

To be honest, if it had been Abby saying what Tony was saying, she'd have listened. But it wasn't Abby, it was Tony, and that, for some reason that she wasn't willing to think about for fear of what she might realise, made all the difference.

Still. It wasn't her fault – how was she to know Jonathon was such a jerk? Aside from Tony pointing it out to her on a daily basis, she had no way to tell, did she? And at first, she'd found it kind of sweet that Tony was concerned – annoying, but sweet. But you could have too much of a good thing. And why did Tony have to be so condescending when he said it? Like she was a total idiot and needed him to rescue her from the big bad man. For God's sake, she wasn't a child. It wasn't like she had no experience with the opposite sex, and it wasn't like she'd have asked for his help even if that was the case.

The rain was heavier now – Kate would have thought that wasn't possible, but apparently it was. If it had been like standing in a shower before, now it was like standing under a fountain. Kate felt like someone was standing behind her pouring a bucketful of water over her head. Oh well – on the bright side, she was pretty sure she was already as wet as it was possible to be without actually drowning, so it wasn't likely to make a difference to her.

"Kate? Kate, are you up here?"

Kate could hear someone calling her over the drumming of the rain on the concrete, but she wasn't going to move. If they wanted her they could damn well fetch her.

"Kate! Gibbs wants you, Kate! Kate?"

Fantastic. Gibbs had gotten to the point where he was interrupting his work to come and find her – he must be furious.

"Kate, are you out here? It's me, Tony, can you quit hiding?"

Tony? She hadn't been intending on getting up no matter who it was, but Tony? She'd just live on the roof, if she had too. No way was she going over there.

"Kate… I know you're out here, I've looked everywhere else!"

Kate huddled further against the chimney. It didn't really hide her, but the rain was so heavy she could barely see and so if Tony didn't know where to look then he probably wouldn't find her unless he walked past.

"Kate? I'm not going away until you come out. I can wait here all night – Gibbs told me not to go back without you, so it doesn't matter how long I stay!"

Dammit. Trust Gibbs to ruin everything. Kate climbed to her feet, and saw Tony's grey-ish outline against the bright red fire door. She was still mad at him, but somehow he looked… safe. Like if he would just hold her for a bit and talk soothingly to her, like people did when she was a little girl and she got upset, then everything would be okay.

"Oh, Kate, for God's sake!" Tony gasped when he saw her. "Get over here, what's wrong with you? Why are you out here in the rain… Kate… you're so stupid," he said, running over to her and wrapping his arms around her. "Kate… God!" he exclaimed, lost for words.

Kate shivered as Tony squeezed her close to him, blocking her in against his chest with his big muscly arms. His shirt was wet already, but not as wet as she was, and she buried her face into his chest. He smelt like car oil and fast food and leather and cologne, and he was so, so warm and his body was so, so protective and she didn't know why but she decided she never wanted to move, even though his hands were holding her arms a little too tight and his shirt pressed against her face was making it kind of difficult to breathe and she was still mad at him.

"You stink of burgers," she said huffily into his torso, her voice muffled by his shirt.

"You smell like wet dog," he said, shoving her lightly, and she sneezed. "Kate…" he groaned, rubbing her back roughly. "You've probably given yourself pneumonia, are you thick or something? Get inside."

"Is Gibbs -"

"I'm not taking you to Gibbs," Tony said, dragging her over to the door. "I'm taking you to Ducky. God, Kate! I bet you have some sort of rain-disease now!"

He pulled her into the doorway, slamming it shut and peering at Kate's face. She desperately wanted him to hug her and tell her everything would be okay, but that would mean she'd have to tell him he was right all along and, quite frankly, she didn't want to give him the satisfaction. He had taken his jacket off her and wrapped it round her shoulders, and even though it reached her knees and the shoulders sagged midway down her arm, it felt cozy and warm.

"You were crying," Tony accused, pushing some hair away from her eyes.

"Was not," Kate said half-heartedly. "I have hayfever."

"You've never had hayfever before."

"I'm especially vulnerable at certain times," Kate mumbled, looking away uncomfortably.

"Certain times? As in when you're sad?"

Damn. He wasn't supposed to work that out, he was supposed to take it at face value and leave her alone. Well, not alone, because now he'd had the audactity to come get her from the roof, she wanted him to stay with her. Especially if he was going to haul her down to Ducky to get looked over for 'rain-disease'. She loved Ducky to bits, but she preferred him when he was examining someone other than her. Getting jabbed by needles and having lights shone in her face was her least favourite thing. Answering questions that she didn't want to answer came a pretty close second, though.

"Maybe," she said, even though it wasn't a real answer.

"Kate… were you crying because of me?"

Kate raised her eyes to Tony's, and shook her head slightly. It wasn't just him, and he looked really worried. And she didn't want him to know he could make her cry. Not that she had been crying, but if she had… she didn't want him to know. He wouldn't look away from her, though, keeping his eyes locked on hers even when she dropped her eye contact with him. Suddenly, she threw herself forward against Tony's chest again and squeezed him tight, wrapping her fingers around his shirt. She clung onto him and burst into tears.

"Jonathon…" she said, struggling to talk through her sobs. "Jonathon -"

"Did what I said he'd do?"

Kate nodded. She didn't know why she was telling him, right up until the words came out of her mouth, she'd intended to keep it secret. Mind you, she'd not intended on sobbing on Tony's shoulder either. So much for not crying.

"Do you want me to shoot him?" Tony offered, twirling Kate's sopping wet hair around his hand and feeling it fall through the gaps between his fingers. "Because I will, if you want. So will Gibbs."

They would, Kate knew. If she asked them too, they'd contrive some circumstance where they had to chase him and shoot him to stop him getting away. They wouldn't kill him, there was a line after all, but they'd do him some serious damage.

"No," Kate smiled weakly, pulling out of Tony's grip and wiping her face on his jacket sleeve before she realized what she was doing.

"Kate, that's -" Tony began, wincing as she smeared her make up and tears all over it. "Armani," he sighed, shaking his head.

"Oh, erm, sorry. I'll get it dry cleaned for you."

She hadn't meant to mess up his suit. Earlier in the week she'd have gladly poured paint and food colouring and goddamn sulphuric acid onto it, if she thought it would make him pissed, but she hadn't thought of it. Now, though, she felt bad. She didn't hate him anymore – at some point in the last few minutes she'd forgiven him for annoying her and for sticking his nose into her personal business, and for being right. Probably it was when he let her get all emotional on his shoulder, but she couldn't be sure.

"It's okay," Tony said. "Don't worry about it. Look, I'm sorry Jonathon turned out to be such a bastard."

"It's not your fault. If I would have listened to you –"

"And Gibbs, and Ducky, and McGee, and –"

"Okay," Kate giggled, pushing him lightly as they made their way down the stairs. "I get it."

"Hey, Kate," Tony grinned. "You could enter another wet-tshirt competition if you wanted – I can totally see through your top."

Kate rolled her eyes. Just when she thought he wasn't always a sexist pig, he went and made a comment like that and ruined the illusion. Still – she was glad he'd said it. He wouldn't have said it if they were still fighting with one another. She followed him down to autopsy, glancing around nervously in case they saw Gibbs.

"Oh, by the way," Tony said, as they made their way down the stairs. "I forgive you."

Kate made a face at him.

"Did I apologize, DiNozzo?" she asked, raising her eyebrows at him. "I don't think so. You can't forgive me if I don't apologise."

"Can too," Tony grinned.

"No you cannot! I haven't said sorry, you can't forgive me!"

"I can forgive you if I want," Tony replied, as the doors to autopsy opened. "It's my choice."

"It is not, DiNozzo, it's my choice! And I'm not giving you the choice to forgive me."

"Well, Katie, I forgive you anyway!"

"No you do not!" Kate shouted, elbowing him.

"Are you two bickering again?" Ducky asked sharply, looking up from the body he was examining.

Kate and Tony squirmed under his warning glare.

"Erm…" Kate said, uncomfortably.

"Maybe," Tony said, nodding.

"Just a little bit," Kate admitted.

"Sorry Ducky."

Ducky's stern expression relaxed into a happy smile.

"Oh good," he said, putting down his instruments and beaming at them across the autopsy table. "I am glad."