This is not mine. I am so sick and tired of disclaimers…
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Swishthud.
The doors to Autopsy were shut tight, as they should be during an infectious autopsy. Kate couldn't figure out why all the lights were off. It made very little sense. Ducky and Gerald were hardly of the nocturnal persuasion. Unless they're trying to make it more hospitable to Abby…
Kate walked out of the elevator cautiously, evidence box in her arms. News of the Goth scientist's latest quirk had caught her off-guard, but she hadn't really been surprised. Abby always seemed to have some tic or another…
Pushing her friend out of her mind, she knocked on the Autopsy door and caught Ducky's attention.
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Sleeping peacefully.
And then, not so much.
Some sixth sense was trying to tell her-
something
-can't tell what-
Where is he?
Good place to start, that. He was always getting into trouble.
Phone.
Papa?
A moment of silence
Papa where is he?
-sigh-
Go back to sleep.
You tell me what you did with him.
He's on a mission. He's fine. Go back to bed. There's nothing to worry about.
Hang on a-
Click.
You didn't have to ask who.
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Kate's profiling instincts were strong as ever.
The man with the dark hair and the darker soul hovered near the Autopsy door. She couldn't see that much of him, but she could tell that he had that look. The DiNozzo look. The you-know-you-want-me look. The one Kate would perpetually tease her partner about.
Yes, there was certainly that look to him. But Kate couldn't help but think that his... desire wouldn't stop him from killing her.
So she would have to kill him first.
The scalpel lay cold and gleaming on the table. Ducky had probably been about to use it on the dead body. He hadn't yet; it was too clean.
It wouldn't be for long.
Kate hated to kill. Catholic upbringing does that to a person.
However, her Secret Service training had, if not beaten it out of her, certainly shoved that part of her mind back... somewhere.
Wherever it was, it still existed. But she managed to hold it off for long enough to pick up the tiny blade,
-half an inch long, at most?
half an inch of no return-
and slit the invader's throat with it.
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Halfway around the world, a young woman woke up in the middle of the night, choking and screaming.
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Author's note: I am so sorry about not updating sooner- I really meant to get this written ages ago. Thank you, Write or Die.