Reclaiming a Lion
by Sammie

Disclaimer: I don't own the characters. If I did, would Kate be dead? {bares fangs} Oh, and I am STILL mad they made Ari a real bad guy. That was a dumb thing to do to the awesomest "bad" guy on TV. In my world, he is still Mossad undercover.

Dr. Nathan Jackson belongs to CBS and Trilogy's "The Magnificent Seven".

Rating: K+, T max.
Spoilers: "Bete Noire" through "Reveille," with bits and parts elsewhere.

Summary: The hunt for the "Bete Noire" intruder continues. Missing scenes from after "Bete Noire" through "Reveille". (Kate/Gibbs)

A/N: Actual dialogue from the episodes are in italics. Mainly, the other "missing scenes" from these other episodes are set up for my FF on "Reveille" (at the end).

Much thanks to the "FoN" board - I get a lot of my ideas from there.

Ari means "lion" - hence the title. He doesn't actually show up for awhile...this is not really a story about him.

---

"The elephant is never won by anger; nor must that man who would reclaim a lion take him by the teeth." - John Dryden

---

01.17 "The Truth Is Out There"

 
Gibbs hadn't been able to sleep normally since that night.

Every time
he lay down, making the decision to try to catch a few hours, he lay wide awake, unable to sleep. Most times he slept it was out of sheer exhaustion, a mere promise to nap for a few moments stretching into several hours.

They were never peaceful hours. They were filled with nightmares that always involved that terrorist - although most times he was absent. It was like his life now - consumed with his hunt for that terrorist, although the terrorist himself was never there. In the dreams, they found evidences of his work, always one step behind; or discovered to their horror that he had been watching them, but were unable to catch him.

As he walked on ahead to the crime scene, he could hear Tony's nervous prattle. He was not in the mood to deal with whatever Tony considered to be his version of "chatting", however well-meaning.

"What do you do with your leftover cereal when there's not enough to eat but there's too much to throw away, 'cause I was having Cap'n Crunch this morning, and - "

"Tony, I'm really not in the mood today." At least Kate still had patience today to deal with Tony. That was more than could be said of him.

"Well. I was just trying to take your mind off him."

"Who?"

"The one that got away."

"Tony! I'm not thinking about that d-mn terrorist." Like h-ll. Even he knew she was, even though they never spoke of it. They just never...spoke about HIM. He heard Tony apologize, and then Kate's toned down voice. "Look at Gibbs. OK, he's been growling like a wounded bear since that night."

He was NOT. Gibbs pretended not to hear.

"Well, he is wounded," he could hear Tony saying. "And he always growls like a bear. It's his way of never letting anyone know when he's hurting. Yours is to be moody."

"I'm not moody," Kate snapped.

If Tony didn't shut up soon, Gibbs was going to shut his trap for him - permanently.

"I feel sorry for whatever his name is," Tony was muttering, and for a moment Gibbs had half a mind to march over there right at that moment to strangle him. SORRY?

Ducky was already there, and Gibbs was again reminded - in an irritated way - of Tony. He had known a "shortcut" around the GW Parkway. Shortcut, his a**. Even Ducky, who couldn't read a map if his life depended on it, had gotten there before them.

"I came on the GW Parkway," Ducky was countering Tony, and then added somberly, "after stopping at the hospital to visit with Gerald."

Gibbs softened. "How is he?" he asked gruffly, but he knew the answer.

He unconsciously rotated his own shoulder. He had been shot in the shoulder, and it was still sore, but the terrorist had missed his joint. Gerald, though. Gerald would be out for months with an injury like that - he had been shot point-blank, straight into the ball-and-socket joint. And whether or not he wanted to return - who would have thought that a medical assistant would be in that kind of danger working in autopsy? If Gerald even decided to come back....

Yeah, he knew how Gerald was.

---

Daryn Spotnitz wasn't even old enough to vote, Gibbs thought. He'd listened to the boy - and that's what he was - tell how he ran the bar, the profits that he made. That didn't bother him so much. It was what Spotnitz did when he asked about Antoine Mann - with two n's.

That little twerp pulled out a PDA, and he had more gizmos than Inspector Gadget. He felt a sort of burning embarrassment at that. "Kate," he barked, his sharp tone covering over his insecurity, bubbling up.

"Right," Kate replied glibbly, flipping open her own PDA.

"You want me to beam it to you?" Spotnitz grinned.

Kate gave a light laugh. "Sure."

Gibbs just gave a look of exasperation.

---

"Just set the PDA on the table when you interrogate the petty officers," Kate instructed. "It's all set up. We'll beam you anything you need to know, and it will show up on the screen."

"I HAVE used one before," Gibbs growled.

A tiny part of him felt guilty at snapping at her, but his mood was too sour for the guilt to last long. He saw her bite back a retort, take a deep breath, and purse her lips. She was looking at the PDA, counting slowly to ten. "We're holding the four petty officers separately, and we'll bring them to you one by one."

"Boss, just don't touch the PDA, OK?" Tony instructed, obviously not having taken the hint Kate had and continuing to blab on. "Just let us - "

"I got it," Gibbs snapped, and this time Kate looked up instantly, giving him a dark look for the tone he'd used with Tony, more offended now for the colleague she saw as a brother than she was for herself.

Gibbs ignored her, opening the door to the interrogation room.

---

He was staring at the computer program, letting it run again through all the photos of the terrorists. He saw the smirk on the one side of the computer screen, right before the bastard shot out the camera he'd lowered through Abby's floor into autopsy.

Tony and Kate returned then, Tony blabbering on about how redundant it was for Antoine Mann - with two n's - to shave his head, and Kate was busy concentrating - most likely on trying not to kill him for his prattling.

"Hey boss," Tony greeted. "So we talked to Antoine Mann, and boss, you should have seen him. Bald as a cue ball. It was like - "

"DiNozzo!" he snapped, in no mood for his protege's comments.

As they discussed the case, and why the four would lie about the woman they'd gone out with, Gibbs noticed Kate looking at him and his computer search, worriedly, furtively. He dug in his heels mentally and refused to budge or even to look ashamed of his obsessive behavior.

Kate had had enough. "Haven't you already run every known terrorist through this program?"

"I'm running it again," he snapped, and she fell silent, retreating, wounded.

---

It was late when Wong had been booked, and they hadn't eaten since noon. Tony had been shoveling snacks in his face during all his free time - h-ll, he still ate like a teenager, Gibbs thought. No wonder he had to have a job. He had to feed himself.

The older man saw him stop by Kate's desk. "Wanna grab some Chinese at the new place down the street?"

"Sure," Kate replied, then paused. "Wanna ask Gibbs?"

He pretended not to hear it, but his hearing was better than most. He was not in the mood to be social, even if he was hungry. He did not want to go out with them.

Gibbs was almost angry with Kate for wanting to go. She should be searching for the bastard, looking for some other way to locate him. She shouldn't be going out, eating with colleagues. She should be using her free time to track this bastard.

He felt his mood sour even more.

"He's busy," Tony was saying, accurately, and Gibbs thought - a little viciously - that that's why Tony was the senior agent, not Kate. "Same thing he does every night," the younger man answered Kate's question.

Kate gave him one last look, which he ignored, and followed Tony out.

---

Kate came back into the office, grateful for the silence. Gibbs had finally left - most likely to go home to work on his boat or whatever, and Tony had rushed home after dinner to watch some movie. Thank goodness. This would only take a few minutes, but she wanted to be alone when she did it.

She sat down quickly and dialed the familiar number.

"Cassidy."

"Agent Cassidy, it's Kate Todd."

Paula had been wondering when Kate Todd would call. She'd been calling twice a week since the terrorist had shown up in NCIS autopsy over two weeks ago, begging for more information. They'd exchanged information, and both she and Kate were still working on how the Israeli embassy would send a Hamas cleaner to NCIS...or who it was that had said it was the Israeli embassy who had sent the terrorist.

"Agent Todd!" Paula held up a finger to her dance partner, indicating she had to go, and headed outside El Floradita. "Hi."

"Look, I'm sorry to call you now, off hours. It's just that I couldn't get time alone until now."

"No problem," Paula replied. "Look, I'm sorry, but I've got nothing else for you now. I've had Bill Gamal and the FBI agent he works with over here, helping me out, but there's been nothing else on that Little Creek lead."

In the ensuing silence, she could almost see the disappointed look on the brunette's face, but Kate managed a polite, "Thank you, Agent Cassidy."

"Agent Todd," Paula said quietly, then walked some distance away for more quiet. "Are you all right?"

Truth be told, Paula Cassidy was starting to worry. This was not the Kate Todd she had met a couple months before - confident, calm, quick on her feet, the one could play Tony like a violin, and the one who could get Gibbs to acquiesce to her even when he disagreed.

This Todd - she had become withdrawn, almost a little obsessed.

Paula had to admit to a feeling of kinship with the other woman. Women were few at NCIS - agents in particular - and to run into one wasn't that common, particularly in the field. It was lonely, sometimes, particularly when cases got stressful and trying, not to have somebody to talk to. She had met Abby Sciuto before, and although she knew Todd and Sciuto were friends, Paula knew at the same time that being on the field, holding a gun - she was able to relate better to Kate Todd than a lab specialist might.

In addition, to be stuck working with the legend - Leroy Jethro Gibbs' reputation preceded him - was one few women had managed to survive. She had to admire Kate's ability to stand up to him, to win his respect. She herself still hadn't, she had to admit.

Kate's voice, when she finally responded, was small and filled with frustration. "He just disappeared. Just...just disappeared. Gerald is going to be in rehab for months, and that bastard clocked Gibbs in the shoulder."

"Hey," Paula soothed. "Hey, take it easy. We can't get every single terrorist all the time."

"Gibbs has gone insane," Kate muttered discontentedly. "He just growls like a wounded bear all the time."

"Does he know that you've been calling about this lead?" Paula asked, suddenly worried. This constant calling - Gibbs would most likely be concerned if he knew his agent was obsessing like this.

Then again, from the sound of it, he was obsessing so much he most likely wouldn't have noticed.

"No," Kate replied to her question. "He isn't talking to anybody. Grumpily silent."

"This is different from how he is generally?" Paula asked with a small smile, trying to lighten the tone. There was a pause, and then Kate chuckled, and Paula smiled. "And how about you?" the blonde asked quietly.

"Me?" the tone sounded almost puzzled for a moment, and then there was a pause. "I'm doing all right, I guess."

"You can't let this all build up," Paula murmured, worried. She suspected that Kate had been so worried over her wounded colleague and over Gibbs that she wasn't dealing with the fallout herself, and even from hundreds of miles away, Paula couldn't help being concerned.

"I won't." There was a noise on the other end, and then she said, "I've got to go. Thank you, Agent Cassidy."

"Paula," Cassidy corrected. After two weeks, it ought to be less formal. "Paula."

"Kate," Kate reciprocated, and both women smiled a little. There was a moment of quiet, and then the distinctive click of a hang-up.

Paula sighed to herself and brought the phone away from her ear, then snapped it shut.

---

Gibbs found Kate in the Secret Service gym, working out with a tall, brunet agent. The Secret Service agent gave her advice as they fought, and she wore a steely look on her face.

He stood by, watching, with mixed feelings. That she had obviously taken her failure seriously and was trying to do something about it, he thought right and well of her. But she obviously hadn't felt comfortable going to any one in NCIS for help, and he felt unsettled that she had so little trust in any of them that she was still returning to her old Secret Service colleagues for help.

She suddenly noticed him standing there, off the side, and straightened warily. She shook hands with her friend, talking quietly with him.

The man saw him for the first time, giving him a dark look. He then grinned at Kate, said a goodbye, and headed off.

Gibbs stepped onto the mat, looking down at her. He couldn't understand why she had gone back to her old friends for help - she'd been at NCIS for a year. Didn't she trust them? "Why?" he asked quietly, in a hoarse tone.

Kate sighed, then walked past him off the mat. *rip* and she pulled the velcro strap holding the wrestling gloves on her hands.

"Kate."

"Who would I have gone to?" she asked shortly. "Tony? He can't take anything seriously unless somebody's actually shooting at him. Who else was there? Abby? Ducky? I don't know that many people at NCIS, Gibbs."

He didn't have the courage to ask why she hadn't asked him. He didn't want to know.

"Rick is an old friend, and his wife Deb is one of my best friends," Kate gave as an explanation. "When HE comes back" - he didn't have to ask who 'he' was - she shrugged, leaving her intentions clear but unspoken.

She picked up her bag, stuffed her things into it. "Is there a reason you're here?" she asked.

Gibbs didn't answer. He realized suddenly he hadn't had a good reason for coming out here - he had been a little worried when she hadn't answered her phone, and then the irrational panic of Ari returning and taking her again had led him to have Abby track her down so he could find her.

D-mm-t, why couldn't he deal with this like she was? She made a mistake, and now she was working steadily to fix the problem.

He hated to admit it. He was supposed to be her boss, the older, more experienced agent, and she was setting the example for him. He couldn't help it. This all-consuming rage was driving him crazy, and at some point he was almost a little bitter - but yet immensely relieved - that she hadn't gotten sucked into the whirlpool he was trapped in.

---

The doctor pulled the lens machine away from Gibbs' face. "It shouldn't be too bad, Mr. Gibbs," he replied cheerfully. "Your eyes aren't that bad, but enough for you to have difficulty reading smaller print and so on."

"How long for the glasses?"

"It'll take a week. Have you chosen a frame?"

Gibbs felt like an old man. He knew full well he'd be getting glasses and that he needed them, but he just didn't want to wear them. He'd worn them around Tony before, and the younger man had been wise enough to say nothing. But now...he hated to wear them around Kate. It was this irrational, juvenile impulse that she might think him old (like she didn't already), but he couldn't quash it. Tony, much to his chagrin, had obviously picked up on his reluctance now to wear them and made fun of his eyesight incessantly.

But Kate saying it was the last straw. He couldn't try to hide it from her any more - that he was basically suffering what most people his AGE - he hated the sound of it - were suffering. He'd been irritated when she'd basically said that he was blind, and had felt childishly vindicated when that bomb at Col. Ryan's had gone off.

Yet the truth of the statement was still there, and he had to admit it hurt his pride to admit he now needed them. What didn't kill one made one stronger, right?

---

He kept his eyes on the road, ignoring the utterly puzzled looks Kate gave him every once in awhile. This had been harder than getting those blasted glasses. At least she didn't know about those. Yet.

His utter helplessness when it came to technology had been blatantly obvious those last two cases. Abby's fast clicking had located the tea shop the terrorist had used, and she'd been off and running in seconds. Gibbs could feel his insecurities rising again at that mere remembrance.

"How long do you think it would've taken me to find the nearest tea shop?" he'd asked, almost in terror. Kate and Ducky and Gerald were being held hostage in autopsy, Gerald with a bullet in his shoulder, and his lack of ability with a...a PD...A? could have made things worse.

"An hour sooner than me?" Tony had offered as a sort of comfort, like a little kid covering up for his parent's mistake. But they both knew the truth - Tony would have found it just seconds after Abby.

Gibbs'd always thought that his learning how to use one of those handheld devices was just a waste of time; a pen and paper would be faster. Save time. Save lives.

In the days afterward, he just kept wondering what would have happened had Abby not been there with her PDA. Spotnitz had just reminded him of the conversation he'd had with Tony the morning of Gerald's shooting. McGee teaching Tony how to use a PDA. Tony teaching him.

It wasn't just the backwards part that bothered him. It was Tony.

D-mm-t, he'd never been so frustrated with his young protege, and it had nothing to do with the kid himself. Tony was so perpetually caught up in his machismo, yet he had had no problem with McGee teaching him how to use a PDA. Tony would make a better agent than he, he reminded himself viciously, for the simple reason that he was willing to admit his weaknesses and fix them.

Like Kate.

Just thinking of that again - Gibbs turned the wheel sharply, make a quick, harsh turn. Kate gave a small squeal, her feet slamming down on the car floor and both hands reaching out to the dashboard to steady herself.

So that morning Gibbs had swallowed his pride and, when Tony and Abby and Ducky had gone out to eat, he'd gotten up from his desk and crossed over to hers. She didn't look up immediately, but when he didn't budge, she looked up, slightly puzzled. He then mumbled a request to her: "I'd like to get a PDA."

She'd stared at him like he was some one-eyed alien. Unsure if she'd heard him correctly, she asked, "What?"

"I need a PDA." At least she didn't laugh. "I need you to pick one out for me. Teach me to use it." At her surprised look, he replied, "McGee's back in Norfolk. Abby's working on a case for somebody else," he added, covering his bases. They really were busy, which was why he was asking her.

Or so he told himself.

---

---

01.18 "UnSEALed"

Gibbs paused, continuing to listen to Tony's long spiel on Jack Curtin as he worked at his desk. "Tony, I'm going to need you to go - "

" - track them down and see if Curtin contacted them?" Gibbs gave him a glare. "Or I could let you finish your question."

Actually, that's exactly what he wanted Tony to do, but he wasn't going to give the younger man the satisfaction of thinking he'd been able to guess. It didn't lessen Gibbs' pride any at Tony's abilities, however. He was shaping up to be a quick-thinking agent, and Gibbs felt a small surge of pride when Tony had obviously prepared for his question about Curtin's commanders.

Gibbs flipped open his PDA, carefully holding the pen and clicking his way through the menus like Kate had taught him. "Where exactly at Little Creek?"

Tony at least had the grace not to look that shocked, and he certainly didn't ask. "Uh, there, exactly," he replied, beaming the information to him. "It's a brave new world, boss."

No joke.

---

"This is why they don't let women into combat," grumbled one agent, tapped to do one of the checkpoints.

Gibbs would have never chosen this idiot to work a checkpoint, but with that many people out sick, he didn't have much of a choice. Chris was working a case, and so was Balboa. He was lucky enough that McGee was available to help out with Curtin's little visit.

"Some protection job," the man was grumbling. "Todd gets assigned to protect one measly kid. Secret Service? Honestly, you have to wonder what kind of protection the president's - "

"You're just jealous," Tony retorted, defending Kate. "You're pissed because you got beat out by a new agent and a female in last month's training."

"Please," the man scoffed. "Todd has nothing on me."

"You listen to me," Gibbs replied, stepping forward until the other man was up against the wall, suddenly silent, being stared down by the angry former MP. "When you face down a Navy SEAL and win, you can open your trap."

---

"McGee," Gibbs barked. "I want to know what happened last night."

"Uh, OK," McGee replied, frowning. "Um, sir, I think Kate - "

"I talked to Kate and don't call me sir."

"She told me she was checking a noise in the kitchen," McGee replied. "Uh, it turned out that the boy had spilled some milk on the floor."

Gibbs raised an eyebrow at that. "Spilled milk? Where was Curtin? How'd he get past all the other agents stationed along the road."

"I...don't know sir. It was dark." He paused. "About Curtin - Kate didn't say anything about him," he puzzled. "The next thing I knew I was asking for a sit rep, she wasn't responding, and when I got in she was tied up."

"He must've used Kevin as a decoy," Gibbs muttered. "All right, what then."

"We headed up to Curtin's room, Kate leading me, and we entered Kevin's room, but Curtin had gone out the window." McGee paused. "To prevent him from escaping in the car, Kate told me to radio the agents and to lie, to tell them that we'd found his vehicle."

"To make him abandon it," Gibbs concluded. "It worked."

McGee nodded. "He carjacked another vehicle passing by the house. I'm guessing Kate hit the car or him with the shotgun, because there was bloody glass on the ground. But you'll have to ask Abby about the forensic stuff."

---

Tony had rushed off on a date already, and Kate was doing...whatever. He ignored her less-than-furtive looks of concern at him as he adjusted the reading glasses on his face.

He tapped the last bit of information into the file Ducky had provided: Euro accent, British syntax, most likely higher education in the British Isles.

Kate picked up her coat, having turned off her computer, and looked carefully at him. He finally snapped. "What."

Kate came around to the front of his desk. "Gibbs, have you considered that maybe we won't ever see this guy again?" His head shot up at that, almost angrily, that she dared to offer that suggestion. "Gibbs, I'm just saying. You've been through that database several times already, and Director Morrow got access to the FBI's full database."

"I'm searching it again for new additions," he replied clippedly, in a tone that said that the discussion was over. He refused to allow for the possibility that he might never see that bastard again. D-mm-t, that wasn't going to happen.

"Gibbs - "

"I don't care how long it takes. I want his name," he hissed, his anger getting the better of him.

Kate flinched slightly at the tone, backing away. She drew herself up to her full height, obviously having decided to go. "Is this what you want us to remember you for?" she asked quietly, repeating his words to Curtin back to him.

He stood there, looking down at her. She took a deep breath, then carefully shouldered her purse. "Goodnight, Gibbs." She paused a moment, as if contemplating whether or not to say what she wanted to say, and then murmured shyly, "I like your glasses."

Without another word, she headed out.

---

"Jethro!" Ducky turned, surprised, shocked, at seeing the man standing in the doorway to the rehab room.

"Hey Gibbs," Gerald greeted with his usual grin. He wiped his forehead, and his therapist nodded and motioned for him to take a break.

"How're you doing?" Gibbs asked the medical assistant, pulling up a chair. "You going to be all right?"

Gerald nodded. "I'm fine. My brother took off a month to come live with me, and my mother's staying on." The man grumbled good-naturedly. "I've got a curfew again," he joked, and the two other men smiled.

"You going to come back?" Gibbs asked after a moment of silence.

There was a sigh, and then Gerald shrugged. "I'm still thinking about it. I want to, but Nate - my brother - and my mom aren't sure."

"And what does Dr. Nathan Jackson suggest?" Ducky huffed. "That you be a medic?" He smiled as his assistant burst out laughing. "Gerald's brother," Ducky explained to Gibbs, "is a medic and an agent with the Bureau of Alcohol, Tobacco, Firearms, and Explosives."

Gerald grinned. "'bout every time his team ends up on a case, one of them ends up in the hospital. Ma was so happy when I ended up working in autopsy. Nothing bad will happen there, she said."

"Ironic," Gibbs muttered.

"So what can we do for you, Jethro?" Ducky finally asked.

Gibbs paused for a moment, then leaned forward. "If you're up to it, I'd like a description of everything that happened that day."

"You know much of it," Ducky replied. "He came in in a body bag delivered supposedly by the Israeli embassy. He caught us off guard." He paused. "He was sure we had an infectious autopsy."

"He wanted us to start the autopsy, so we did. He asked for Abby to bring down the evidence, so I called her to bring it down, but she couldn't do it, so she got Kate to do it," Gerald said thoughtfully.

"We discussed phobias," Ducky recalled thoughtfully. "He has a butterfly phobia."

"Duck, we can't flood the Middle East with butterflies and pick up the one who freaks out."

"Oh h-ll," Gerald muttered, suddenly sitting up straighter. "Kate," he exclaimed, turning to Ducky. "Kate. Doc, we talked about Abby's autopsy phobia being odd since Abby was Goth," he said urgently. "He knew Abby was Goth. So when Kate came down - "

"Caitlin wore a pink sweater and a light tan leather blazer," Ducky breathed. "He would just look at her and know she wasn't Abby before she even realized he was in autopsy. Oh Jethro, I am so sorry."

Just then the phone began to ring, and then came Gerald's mother's voice: "Phone, boy!"



The two men sat in silence for awhile, hearing Gerald's voice in the next room. His easy-going, rich laugh filled his small apartment.

"He's dealing well," Gibbs commented.

"Better than I," Ducky murmured. "At least, appearing to be doing better than I feel I am doing." He took a deep breath and sighed. "I suppose I am fortunate he was the assistant working with me that day."

"What do you mean?"

"These string of other assistants," Ducky replied, waving his hand impatiently. "A lot of them have weak stomachs, or they're constantly tense." He paused. "I miss Gerald," he murmured. "It sounds peculiar, but he's quite grown-up for all his...for all his mp3 and video game obsessions."

Gibbs raised an eyebrow, amused.

"You saw him when we loaded him onto the ambulance," Ducky said quietly. "He was calm, collected, despite his injury."

"Even with the morphine - the bastard and I shot right over him. Didn't flinch. Tony said that he wouldn't leave until he'd directed HRT to where that bastard had locked you and Kate," Gibbs replied.

Ducky nodded. "He was so adult, so composed in autopsy," the older man murmured, and Gibbs thought he looked utterly exhausted. "I don't know what I would have done without him being as calm as he was." He began to say something, then paused.

"Ducky." Gibbs looked at him. "What?"

"I think even Kate was becoming a little desperate," he said quietly. "I think she takes much of the blame for what happened, being the agent." He shook his head.

"Did something happen, Ducky?" There was no answer. "Ducky," Gibbs said insistently.

"Kate picked up one of my dissecting knives," Ducky said quietly. "She was going to stab that bastard with it." He saw the agent straighten and frown, and Ducky pointed out quickly, "She would have never suceeded - the blade was hardly long enough."

"But?"

"She hesitated - she couldn't stab him," Ducky said reluctantly. "I don't know whether to be grateful she couldn't - she is alive for not doing it - or be frightened that she hesitated."



Gerald laughed, trying to cheer up the woman on the other end. Kate sounded so down, so quiet - Gerald had to admit to feeling bad about even asking her whether that bastard was dead yet. Even if it had become their routine when she called or visited.

"Ducky sure wishes you back," Kate joked. "So do the rest of us."

Gerald chuckled. "I am getting bored."

Kate smiled. "Yeah." She sighed. "Don't worry, Gerald. We'll catch him. Eventually."

"I'll bet so. With all this info Gibbs is collecting, it would be impossible not to." He heard a long silence on the other end. "Kate?"

"Collecting?"

"Gibbs and Doc have been trying to put together as much as they can remember about that jerk," Gerald replied. "Well, mostly Doc remembering. We go through all we can remember about what happened."

There was a long silence on Kate's end, and then her voice, quiet and disappointed and hurt. "Gibbs has been talking to you?"

"Why, hasn't he been to you?" Gerald asked, puzzled. "Doc and I figured he'd ask you first."

"Figured wrong," Kate muttered.

Reclaiming a Lion

Disclaimer in Part 1.

---

01.20 "Missing"

Gibbs barked some more directions at them about Sacco and then headed up the stairs.

Kate knew where he was going and what he was going to do. A week and a half ago she'd overheard one of the technicians whispering about it to another: about Agent Gibbs, coming to watch that video of that terrorist shooting out the camera, and how he'd loop it constantly and stand there, sometimes for an hour at a time, watching.

She'd crossed her arms, waiting somewhat impatiently for them as they whispered, before one suddenly noticed her standing there. "Agent Todd," she'd said nervously, pinching the yapping technician into silence.

"Is there something you want me to relay on to Agent Gibbs?" she'd asked.

"No ma'am." They'd looked pretty embarrassed, having been caught in the act.

She paused, letting them squirm a little more, then said quietly, "If you do have concerns about Agent Gibbs' behavior, perhaps Director Morrow should know." Her own weariness and worry must have shown through, because the technicians looked at her for a moment, somewhat surprised, and quickly softened and nodded.

Kate and Tony watched as Gibbs crossed the balcony above and disappeared into MTAC.

"Remember the good old days, Kate?" Tony asked somberly.

"What good old days?" Kate muttered.

"When Gibbs would confide in us, treat us like peers," Tony replied.

Kate thought back to her conversation with Gerald, and she could feel the frustration rising. D-mm-t, did he think she was some kind of imbecile? He'd go to Gerald and to Ducky and talk to them, but not ask her about it? And why wouldn't he trust her enough to ask her? "No."

---

The office was quiet now. McGee had gone, and Abby had driven a smelly and dirty Tony home.

Kate rubbed her eyes; she was tired, the last two cases bearing down hard on her. First Pacci, gutted like a fish in the elevator - killed over money. Now Tony, who could have died for trying to save a Marine's life.

She looked over at Gibbs' desk, and she saw the familiar flashing on the side screen and sighed. He was running the photo of that terrorist - again. He'd scanned the entire database she didn't know how many times already.

"What," he barked at her, having caught her looking at him. The patience and the almost kid-like warmth he'd shown towards her when she was teaching him to use the PDA were gone - he was back to being the distant, cold Gibbs.

"What do you think Gerald and Ducky could tell you that I couldn't?" she asked, trying to keep her hurt down and hidden. She straightened, trying to pull herself to her full height.

He looked slightly shocked, then guilty, and Kate felt a small measure of satisfaction at that.

"I had assumed you'd hired me for my abilities and experience," she retorted. "I guess I was wrong. Was it to fill the female quota? High and mighty Leroy Jethro Gibbs...can't seem like he's a misogynist."

Gibbs recoiled inwardly at her sharp blow, staring at her with well-masked shock. Where had she gotten the idea - ? How did she find out that he'd been talking to Duck - ? Why would she thinking - ? "Kate - "

"Here's everything I have on him," she replied shortly, vehemently, slamming down a rather fat folder in front of him. "Whether or not you finally decide to talk to anybody else about the case, that's your issue."

She started to go when he mumbled, "I didn't want to dredge up bad memories."

What a lame excuse, and he knew it when it came out of his mouth. What he was reminded of every time she was around was his own guilt about being unable to protect her - irrational, he knew - and he had to admit to feeling almost unable to sit near her when he thought of Ari. He had to admit to his selfish motive in keeping his distance from her.

Unfortunately she was a profiler, and she knew it. Kate rolled her eyes. "For me or for you?" she asked sharply. "I'm a federal agent, Gibbs. I can take care of myself."

They stood in the dark office, staring at each other, and then Kate turned and started to leave again.

"Ducky thinks he might have been educated in Britain," Gibbs suddenly said, softly, to her retreating back. "Gerald thinks the same. He told them he has a fear of butterflies, but none of us think he's serious."

Kate turned slowly, looking at him almost in puzzlement.

"Ducky said that he used British syntax, and Gerald said he knew odd facts about England, things he'd only learned from Ducky." Gibbs took a deep breath and began to busy himself with the files, not looking at her. "Ducky thinks that he most likely went to school in the British Isles."

"Then he graduated about ten years ago from England," Kate replied calmly, returning. "Depending on whether he did his undergraduate or doctoral work there."

Gibbs looked up at her with a frown. "What?"

"He's 33, Gibbs," Kate replied.

"How do you know that?" Gibbs replied, a little sharply, but more puzzedly.

She just gave him an enigmatic grin.

---

"Heya Kate," Tony grinned.

Kate rolled her eyes. "Let me guess, you have a date tonight."

"Yup. Whatcha doin' tonight?" Tony grinned.

"Working," Kate replied absently. Her computer dinged to indicate she had mail.

"You worked late last night, too," Tony pointed out. "And nights before that." He paused, and then a smug, conspiratorial look appeared on his face. "You've worked every night this past week."

"I'm working on a case, Tony," Kate replied sharply. "Let it go."

"Come to think of it," Tony paused, leaning on the partition by her desk, thinking. "You've been in really early lately, too," he grinned. His eyes lit up. "So, who is it. Not the translator guy we worked with before, right?"

"Tony!" Kate exclaimed. "Why do you always assume it has to mean a guy?!"

"Hmm," Tony replied, looking around the bullpen. "It wouldn't be that blond from the terrorism squad, would it? So not your type."

"Why, because he acts like you?" Kate retorted, now irritated.

"So you HAVE been seeing somebody at the office!" Tony grinned triumphantly. "Is he somebody we know? You know, Gibbs finds out - "

"Find out what?" Gibbs replied sharply, coming around the corner, a fresh cup of coffee in hand.

Kate just rolled her eyes and shook her head. Let Tony run his mouth - he was just going to run right into a pit.

"Kate's seeing somebody at the office," Tony singsonged. "She's been staying late to meet with him."

There was a long pause, and Gibbs could see Kate's amusement as she held a folder higher than usual to cover her face. "She's been working here, DiNozzo," Gibbs retorted. "With me."

"Oh," Tony sighed. "D-mn Kate, that's boring. You need a life," he replied, picking up his stuff to go.

"I just said I've been working here those same nights," Gibbs said pointedly, daring Tony to comment.

The younger man paused a moment, his eyes widening as he realized his mistake, then quickly corrected, "You have a very nice life, boss," he said, then scooted before anybody could comment.

---

Gibbs poured half of the soup into a styrofoam cup and handed it to Kate, taking from her the paper plate with half the carton of lo mein on it. "Here."

"Thanks." She took a sip of the soup. "That feels good," she murmured as the soup went down, and she sighed.

"What about this guy," he replied, trying to get back on track with the case. He pushed an interview transcript over to him. "Look at the information he's giving."

"Oh, I watched that interview tape," Kate replied, frowning. "I don't think he's telling in the truth when he talked about Little Creek."

Gibbs sighed. "Why?"

"Because, when he said he was describing the clearner, that was not the terrorist in autopsy," Kate replied firmly. "This guy was a trained killer. Gibbs, he knew where to shoot Gerald to put him out. He knew enough about the arteries and all that - you'll have to ask Ducky - to know that Gerald would lose his arm if he wasn't taken to an ER. All that stuff was just going over my head."

"He had medical training?" Gibbs frowned.

"Maybe," Kate shrugged. "You ought to check with Ducky. But he was certainly a trained killer. Gibbs, it doesn't take a doctor to figure out if somebody's dead. Either way, he's well-trained. He wasn't this...emotionally-driven...loony," Kate replied, waving at the tape sitting on Gibbs' desk. "Besides that, the detainee showed signs of lying."

"Body language," Gibbs asked in what sounded more like a statement.

Kate nodded.

Gibbs leaned back in chair, blowing out a breath of frustration.

"All that means is that one detainee wasn't telling the truth," Kate countered. "It doesn't mean all of them were lying."

Gibbs groaned softly, running a tired hand over his face. He took a sip of his coffee.

"OK, just to ask you something about the terrorism thing," Kate replied. She smiled a little.

"What?" Gibbs asked, frowning.

"Well, Director Morrow wanted to send you to that anti-terrorism conference," Kate replied with a small chuckle. "Before Atlas disappeared. And here you are, doing lots...of anti-terrorism. Most likely more than he anticipated."

"What did you want to ask?" Gibbs replied firmly.

"Agent Snyder was sure that the terrorist was Hamas. Paula - " Gibbs looked up, a little surprised at Kate's use of the agent's first name " - said she got the information from an Al-Qaeda detainee. So which op was it? Hamas? Or Al-Qaeda?"

"Al-Qaeda's much better funded. They fund the Hamas op, and it'll leave a word-of-mouth trail."

"That's how Paula heard about the news from Al-Qaeda."

"Most likely. Question is why." Gibbs pulled out another large folder. "I still haven't been able to figure out why."

---

---

01.21 "Split Decision"

"Bringing it online now, boss," McGee was saying. Then he answered Tony's question, "Yearbook photos from every British university taken between '87 and '97."

"Who said our terrorist was British?" Tony asked, puzzled.

"Ducky," Gibbs replied. "Said his syntax suggested higher education in the British Isles."

"Well, maybe he just grew up watching tons of Cary Grant movies," Tony joked, then winced at the head slap. "OK. Why the decade between '87 and '97?"

"Because I estimated his age to be 33," Kate replied, looking up from her desk, "and added five years to either side for safety." She gave a small grin.

"Oh. Did you spend college summers working a carnie as Madame Natasha?" Tony grinned, walking over to Kate's desk.

"Hmmm," Kate chuckled. "I've always been good at guessing ages."

"Yeah? How old am I?" Tony dared, leaning on the partition, right hand on his hip.

"Based on chronology or maturity?" Kate replied, looking up from her papers.

Tony made a face at her witty retort. "Yeah, that's very funny. Come on, how old."

"Thirty-two," Kate replied glibly, looking back down at the papers coming out of the fax machine.

Tony's face was incredulous. "You saw my file."

"Nope," Kate replied, turning a paper around right-side up.

"Well, how old is Gibbs?" Tony asked, stepping closer conspriatorially.

Kate looked up at him, then turned to look at her boss, an amused expression on her face.

---

Kate rolled her eyes in amusement as Tony gave a small cheer and ran out of the bullpen towards Abby's lab to work up a fake ID. There were some times he was just like a three-year-old in a candy store - only this time with bigger and cooler toys.

Gibbs' question brought her out of her side thought, and she replied, "Well, part of Staff Sergeant Grimm's job was to evaluate weapons. If they were beyond repair, then he would transport them to a facility to be destroyed. But once they were out of Quantico, they were out of the system."

"Out of Quantico's system - they still had to be signed in to wherever they were going."

"Well, these are Staff Sergeant Grimm's SRB and Duty records. I'll go through everything," she replied, turning back to her papers.

"Yeah," Gibbs replied, still looking at something on his computer. He punched a key. "You will."

It was nowhere near the kind of grouchiness he had exhibited over the past couple weeks, but Kate was unimpressed. She had had enough of his behavior, and his earlier, impatient tone with Tony - Tony was just excited, and he had a valid point, motivations aside - had her somewhat irritated.

D-mn, if he were mad at the terrorist, or if he were mad at her - either was no good reason to take it out on Tony.

She looked over at him, slowly counting to ten, and her words came out as graciously as she had intended. "You know, Gibbs," she started, standing up and moving a little towards his desk. "I know that you're bothered that the terrorist got away, I am too, but...but you might wanna think about, you know, trying to be a little bit less of a Gloomy Gus." She gave a small, nervous laugh.

She'd never confronted him on an emotional issue before - it had always been over something involving a case. Even taking Gibbs to task over Col. Ryan wasn't directly a request for him to talk about his feelings. She was treading into his personal behavior, and it was dangerous waters, but h-ll, the man wouldn't listen to reason.

Gibbs turned to her, an expression of irritation, surprise, impatience - and the slightest tinge of she didn't know what - on his face. "'Gloomy...Gus'?" He drew out the words sharply, as if asking her for confirmation.

She just gave him a small, awkward smile and a slight shrug, but she wouldn't back down.

---

"The CO from Little Creek called," Kate replied, falling into step with Gibbs. "He wants to know when you were planning to go down to talk to him about the case."

"After this one."

"I need to give him a date, Gibbs."

"Week from today," Gibbs replied shortly, hitting the button for the elevator.

Kate waited until after the elevator doors had shut, and they were well out of earshot of Agent Stone, who was with Tony in the bullpen. "You think you can pull this off by next week?" she asked quietly. "Agent Stone is not dumb."

"We'll cross that bridge when we come to it," he replied. "Do you have a fix on the supplier?"

"I think it has to be somebody who was working with Grimm," Kate replied. "McClain fits the profile - tough, refuses to play by the rules or take instruction from anyone, incredibly cocky about her own abilities. She thinks she's invincible."

"That could be DiNozzo," Gibbs replied, shaking his head as they came off at Abby's lab.

Kate shook her head. "Tony...nope," she replied, shaking her head again with a chuckle. "Tony plays by the rules. He just has to find a boss whose rules he's willing to play by."

"Who else?"

"Staff Sergeant Rafael was supposed to sign those weapons in," Kate replied. "I'm going to talk to him now."

Gibbs nodded, then started to head for the lab.

"Hey!" Kate suddenly frowned. "What do I tell the commander at Little Creek?"

"Week from today!"

---

They were taking the elevator up to the bullpen in silence when McGee suddenly blurted. "Kate, now that you have time to think about my a**"

Kate whirled around, giving him a pointed look.

"I mean - not - not like that, I mean," McGee turned a bright, flaming red. "Gibbs...Gibbs doesn't have to know about this, does he?"

Kate sighed. "McGee!" After a moment she sighed and turned to him. "Look. I'm not going to tell him directly, but I'm going to put it in my report when McClain's alibi was checked for the first time, it checked out, but then it was discovered to be wrong. I have to do that, I have to put it in the report."

McGee nodded nervously.

"If Gibbs asks, then I'll tell him what happened. If he doesn't, all the better. All right?"

"Thank you," McGee breathed in relief. "Thank you, thank you."

"If I were you, I'd go to church and pray desperately that he doesn't notice your mistake."

"Yes ma'am," McGee breathed. "Thank you so - "

"I'm not a 'ma'am,' McGee," Kate barked as she got off the elevator.

"Yes ma'am. Kate."

"Where the boss?" Kate asked as she came into the bullpen, seeing only Tony.

"Out for coffee," Tony replied. "McClain confess?"

"Nope. She went down blaming Agent Stone," Kate replied as she took off her coat. "Stone confess?"

Tony shook his head. "She said she didn't shoot him," he said quietly. He sighed, coming around to Kate's desk. "I really liked her."

"ATF agent involved in illegal weapons and murder. What's not to like?" Kate said with a hint of sarcasm, an amused expression on her face.

"So quick to judge, Kate. Sure, she has flaws, sure she's going to prison," he added dejectedly, "but my instincts tell me she has good qualities as well."

Kate was entirely unimpressed. "Two of them wouldn't happen to live under her shirt, would they?"

Tony looked irritated and a little hurt. "You're not gonna believe this, but, ah, when it comes to women? I actually look for more complex things under the surface."

"Really?" Kate asked in amused disbelief.

"Yeah."

Kate just grinned at the opportunity to tease him again. "Like when you were tonguing that he-she a few weeks ago? Lots of complex things under that surface."

Tony looked at her with slight irritation. "I gotta go," he said shortly, grabbing his things and heading out, nearly crashing into Gibbs.

"What's wrong with DiNozzo?" Gibbs asked, watching the man head out.

"He's conflicted," Kate replied amusedly, leaning back in her chair.

Gibbs sat down at his desk, immediately zoning in on the terrorist search program.

Kate took a look at his intent stare and felt her amusement at Tony dissipate. She gave a small sigh.

---

*ring* "Cassidy," Paula answered.

"Paula, it's Kate," came the voice.

"Hey," Paula greeted, leaning forward to prop her elbows on her desk. "How's it going?"

"Good. Listen, I was wondering if I could videoconference with you?"

"Sure, about what?"

"The Little Creek lead," Kate replied. "I'm sending over my latest notes. If you could just take a look at them? Maybe something'll click."

"Sure, send them over," Paula replied, setting her machine to receive the pages Kate was going to send. "You sound pretty good, Kate," Paula said with a small smile.

There was a short silence, and then a little bit of laughter. "I guess so."

"You all right?" Paula asked, clamping the phone between her shoulder and her ear as the printed kicked in and started to print the first page.

"Yeah," Kate murmured. "Yeah," she replied, her voice a little stronger now.

Paula pulled out the pages, then frowned. Only part of it was Kate's neat print. "Who wrote this other part?" she asked, looking at the confusing scrawl.

"Oh, that's Gibbs' handwriting," Kate replied offhandedly, sounding as if she were working on something else. "I just photocopied his notes rather than copying them over."

Paula paused a moment. "He finally talked to you?"

There was a small chuckle. "Yeah. It was like a two-day long 'bastard' session, followed by weeks of just working late on the case. My brain's fried. I almost wish I were Tony."

"Why?"

"Because Tony gets to leave every day at five beacuse he didn't know anything about the intruder," Kate replied. "Ducky and I were there pretty much around the clock. When we weren't with Gerald in the hospital so Gibbs could talk to HIM."

"How did you get him to talk," Paula laughed as she turned around some pages to make them all right-side up, "Yell at him?"

"Actually," Kate chuckled. "Kind of."

"Why didn't he talk to you earlier?"

"He didn't talk to Ducky and Gerald right away, either," Kate grumbled. "Like the d-mn Lone Ranger running around. Makes you wonder a little if Ducky yelled at him or something about being a loner."

"Actually, even the Lone Ranger had Tonto," Paula pointed out. "I got ten pages. Sound right?"

"Yep." Paula paused. "Hey, I'll give you a call once I've gone over all this, checked with the guy who gave me the Little Creek lead. Then I'll call. Sound good?"

"Sounds great. See ya soon."

---

---

Post 01.22 "A Weak Link"


He closed up her report. They were much better now - well, not that they weren't before. She just hadn't bothered to spell-check after turning in the Fuentes report.

He'd tossed the report back to her that time, and she looked at him, surprised. After he'd given her a short, curt reason why he was returning it, she muttered about English freaks.

Gibbs smiled a little to himself. Her reports were fine now.

He sneaked a look over at her. She was writing something - he didn't know what, since her report was already in. It was Thursday night, and he wanted to get going the next morning, bright and early.

He'd cleared both his and Kate's case-related leave with Director Morrow, who just told him to be in touch if necessary. He figured he'd call Tony to tell him the next morning and have McGee come in to help.

Gibbs refused to feel bad about having assumed that Kate would agree to go with him - he'd asked Morrow for a leave of absence for her, too. That bastard was as much her problem as he was his, Gibbs assured himself. Kate had to go along. That's the way it was.

So he tried to convince himself.

"Kate," he replied finally, looking up from his desk across to her. "We're going to Little Creek."

She stared at him for a moment, slight disbelief on her face, her purse hanging limply from her fingers as she stared. "Now?"

"No, tomorrow morning."

"OK," she replied guardedly, as if waiting for the other shoe to drop.

"Pack a bag," he replied shortly.

"Little Creek's not that far away," she puzzled.

"We're staying until we've interviewed every person on that base," he replied clippedly. He picked up his coat, and without so much a good-bye, headed out.

---

Kate rubbed her eyes. "These interviews are not helping, Gibbs," she mumbled.

"Look harder," Gibbs replied sharply.

"Gibbs! These interviews are only telling us about Qassam - not about the bastard in autopsy," she retorted.

"He's tied to Qassam," Gibbs retorted.

Kate bit back a sharp comment and kept going.

"We'll have to re-interview the fast food manager," Gibbs muttered.

Kate moaned. They'd done it three times already. "Now?"

"Tomorrow."

"Tomorrow's Sunday, Gibbs."

"And?"

"On base, he's not going to open until later. Didn't you see the hours posted on that door?" Kate replied. "Gibbs, couldn't this wait until at least the afternoon?"

---

Gibbs sat quietly in the living room to the small place where he and Kate were staying during the investigation. He sighed a little.

H-ll, he hadn't had to wait for a woman before church in...in awhile. It wasn't the church part. He went to church. He just went alone.

He adjusted his tie, straightened his suit, then fingered the scarf on his long coat, then looked at his watch.

The he fidgeted.

"Kate!" he barked.

Kate came out, dressed in a light, spring print dress with a green button-down sweater over top. Her hair was clipped in the back. It was nothing he hadn't expected from Kate - quiet and conservative dress, appropriate for church - but it didn't make her look any less beautifully untouchable.

He obviously hadn't yet wiped off his impatient expression, because he could tell she was counting to ten. Slowly. Patiently. It wouldn't do to sin in anger early Sunday morning, Gibbs chuckled to himself.

They drove in comfortable silence and slid into a back pew before the Mass started.

He had to admit, he hadn't been to church with somebody since...well, since he had shown up with Kate at Father Clanon's church, and that had been entirely for work. He felt a sort of peace and comfort, sitting next to Kate, maintaining a chaste distance but close enough to feel her warmth.

Two pews up, a little girl stood on the seat of the pew, dressed in a little pink dress with lace on the edges, a little matching bow in her soft, downy hair. She couldn't be more than a year old, two bright brown eyes beaming innocently at all the adults she was distracting.

Her eyes settled on the pair two seats behind her, and Gibbs could feel the corners of his mouth turn up slightly at her big smile. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Kate give the child a little wave, and the small tot beamed at her, bouncing a little on the pew, the bow bobbing up and down.

He sat quietly, the priest's homily washing over him, and felt a slight pang at the quiet, gentle but incising words. He tried to assure himself that he hadn't turned the search for Ari into an obsession, into a compulsion. He wasn't sure it was sticking.

She sat beside him, quiet and attentive.

Kate had insisted, pointing out easily last night that going to church that morning wasn't to cause them to miss the bastard. He was listed as a cold case, Kate had argued, and it was only hot because Gibbs refused to give it up and kept applying the blow torch to it, despite the lack of information.

There were days he felt particularly bitter, angry about his life, and felt he had little to reason to give thanks for anything (which often stemmed from his decision to dwell on the failures). As he sat next to her, though, listening, he felt a quiet calm settle, and he had to admit grudging but heartfelt thanks to God for Kate.

Abby had (in her quite bold, fearless and feckless manner) chirped that he'd been a lot easier to get along with the past two cases. He was being rather nice, she'd said, as Agent Stone had stood behind them, suddenly looking surprised. Gibbs had glared at Abby, but the forensics specialist had just shrugged and went on explaining what she had found.

Abby always spoke her mind, and it was always the unvarnished truth.

He had to admit, grudgingly, that he'd felt...less...angry...since talking to Kate about the case, and he hated to admit that talking to her about the case had made him felt better. It would just lend credence to her comments to him about learning to talk things out.

He'd shocked HIMSELF when he'd made that tongue-in-cheek crack to Agent Stone about Tony not being a good weapons supplier, repeating Tony's "scumbag-type" comment. He hadn't meant it spitefully or sharply; he'd merely wanted to make a joke. How unnerving.

He'd turned over in his mind, again and again, what he was thinking when he'd told Kate that "Guts are good" and gave her the interrogation. It wasn't that any of that was wrong or incorrect, or that he didn't trust her. It just.... It had rolled off his tongue like he was barking "Grab your gear" or something. Like it was something he often said, rather than something he rarely did.

And he had to admit to his gentle amusement, strapping Kate into the harness, twirling her around by her slim waist, wrapping his arms around her, and teasing her for her nervousness about the whole rappelling business.

She settled him. She most likely didn't even know it, but she settled him. Seeing her quiet, seeing her diligent in pursing that bastard but healthily unobsessed, seeing her ability to be serious and to be light at the same time. She was an emotional stabilizer for him.

He was supposed to be the older. He was supposed to be the one who taught her, and he knew he was teaching her other things: how to interrogate, how to conduct a crime scene investigate, how to run a case....

But she was teaching him how to live.

Reclaiming a Lion

Disclaimer in Part 1.

---

01.23 "Reveille"


Gibbs frowned, turning his head slightly to look over at Kate's desk. Still empty. D-mm-it, how long did it take to eat lunch? His eyes drifted back to the computer, still scanning through the faces to find the terrorist.

He pushed the button on his cell phone to call Kate, and it just kept ringing and ringing before going to her voice mail.

He needed coffee. He stormed up, heading out, when the phone on his desk rang. "Gibbs."

"Jethro," came Ducky's voice, unusually quiet.

"Sure, Duck, coming down now," Gibbs replied, cutting him off. He headed for the elevator, then pushed the button to head down to autopsy. He had a sudden feeling of dread in the pit of his stomach, and he could feel his heart pounding.

The door opened, and his heartbeat grew louder, almost deafening. Gibbs paused a moment, his eyes warily darting right, then left. He stepped slowly off the elevator and entered dark autopsy slowly. He looked to his right - there was a body on one of Ducky's tables. Why was it so dark? Wasn't Ducky conducting an autopsy?

He stood in the dark, only the light from the hallway outside shining on him. His eyes searched the room quickly; there by an examination light was Ducky. Ducky looked at him sadly.

Gibbs crossed over to the body and pinched the zipper between his fingers, about to unzip the body bag. His heartbeat sped up, and he looked up at Ducky again to reassure himself - but the ME's expression hadn't changed. The agent felt his stomach flip-flop.

Gibbs slowly unzipped the bag and flipped back the top.

He swallowed hard, biting back a gag at the sight of Kate, a bullet through her forehead. His initial look of concern quickly smoothed into one of horrified, muted shock as he stared, unable to look away.

Kate.

He looked up, back to Ducky, who had been standing by the examination light, desperately seeking for some kind of explanation. But this time Ducky was not there; Ari stood in the ME's place, smirking.

"Wake him up," came a familiar voice - Abby's. Right. Wake her up. Gibbs started to reach for Kate on that autopsy table. Wake her up, wake her up. She wasn't dead. He could wake her up.

Abby had said "wake HIM up". Who...?

"I don't know. Maybe he needs the rest." McGee - why was he here?

Ari began to fade away, as did autopsy and the horrifying image of Kate's cold, dead face. He began to focus on their voices, slowly becoming aware of his surroundings. He was at his desk, at the office. He'd had a nightmare.

There was a deep sense of relief. A nightmare. Kate was alive somewhere.

"He's not resting. Look at him. His eyeballs are disco dancing under those lids."

"Disco dancing. Is that bad?"

"It's Gibbs," Abby replied knowingly. "It never left."

He sat up, opening his eyes. "McGee should have."

---

When he got to the counter of his coffee shop, he greeted with an unsmiling nod the quiet coffee girl who generally served him in the morning. He just didn't have the energy to be gracious today, and he was thankful that she never tried to chat him up or be perky. "Regular," he replied, referring to his usual.

She nodded and turned away to get his coffee when he suddenly said, "I need another large coffee. Milk and sweetner."

She stared at him, puzzled and uncomprehending. "Milk and sweetner?"

"Yes, the second coffee. I want milk and sweetner in it."

She gave him another puzzled look, then went about preparing the coffee.

He knew what kind of coffee Kate took. He'd watched her get coffee before, and his mind had unwittingly stored away that tidbit of information, like he had her shoe size and what her tattoo was...one of those things he kept assuring himself was just a way to keep his observation skills sharp. Not that he had any other motive or interest.

He was going to her to ask her to profile the terrorist. That was the reason he'd gotten her coffee and would go to track her down - no other reason. She was a profiler, and he needed a good profile of the terrorist, maybe turn up more clues on the man's identity. Never mind that she already had written one out, and no doubt she'd be confused as to why he wanted another one.

He assured himself it had nothing to do with his need to see her alive, to wash away the images of his dream.

The employee set the two cups of coffee before him, marking his with a small black 'G' on the cup. Gibbs nodded and paid for the coffee, then stepped outside.


He walked briskly the two blocks to D.C. Beans, as if going faster might help him to leave behind the last vestiges of his nightmare. It ran again in his head, like a motion picture on the silver screen, playing again in his mind. He remembered flipping the top of the body bag back, and seeing her cold face, the black bloom of a gunshot on her forehead, and visibly flinched. His step quickened.

He arrived at the door to D.C. Beans and looked in, seeing a brunette standing in there - white suit, small tan purse, shoulder-length brown hair, and almost dropped his coffee, almost running in to grab her and turn her around to assure himself it was Kate.

He was entering when he heard her voice. "Kate. NCIS."

He calmed a little - she was fine. Alive, anyhow, not lying on a cold slab in Ducky's autopsy room. That was her voice - he'd recognize it anywhere. He tried to dismiss the relief that washed over him. It had been a nightmare only.

He shook it off and was about to approach her as she continued to speak with the man in the line a head of her. He was talking about actuarial analysis and hail and storm damage. Since those had so much to do with NCIS.

Kate gave the man a slightly puzzled look. "What NCIS do you think I'm with?"

"National Crop Insurance Service."

He was an Aggie? He was with the Agricultural Department. Gibbs was almost glad that he'd come today. All this pent up tension...some Aggie - innocent or not - made a good target. "That's us," he replied, squeezing past a surprised Kate. "Oh, yeah," he continued, gesturing lightly at her with one of his cups, "she's a whiz on how corn losses affect pork belly futures." He passed another customer. "Excuse me."

He caught a glimpse of her half-puzzled, half-surprised expression...and tried not to smile to himself. Kate was so hard to fluster, so hard to catch off balance. He loved to pull something out and make her trip over it - make her blush, feel her puzzled, confused eyes on him.

The nightmare of that morning was entirely gone.

He could hear her still talking to the Aggie. "My boss. Weird sense of humor." She smiled apologetically, and then came over. She had wiped off her puzzled expression from before and now looked at him now with a "I don't know what you're up to, but don't think I'll fall for it" expression as she approached him.

He put his foot on the chair across from him, pushing it out for her.

"'How corn losses affect pork belly futures'?" she repeated, in a "are you kidding?" tone. She stood by it for a moment, still looking at him suspiciously, although she did slide her purse from her shoulder.

"Rule number seven. 'Always be specific when you lie'," he quoted to her as he pushed the coffee across the table to her.

She still wasn't buying it, and Gibbs wasn't sure whether to be disappointed that Kate obviously thought so little of him that she didn't think he'd do something altruisitc or to be proud that her agent's instincts had been honed to this level. "Why are you bringing me coffee from your caffeine dealer two blocks away? And don't use rule seven."

"You want that or not?"

She looked at it with calm wariness, then said, "I take my coffee with milk and sweetener."

"Taste it," he replied nonchalantly, taking a sip of his own coffee.

He could tell she was still watching him, lips slightly pursed, as if she wasn't sure if this was some kind of joke and whether or not to take him seriously. After a moment, she took a sip. "Little strong," she said, her voice a little cracked as she swallowed the strong coffee.

He smiled for the first time all morning, slightly amused by her reaction to the coffee. "Strong's better."

She still wasn't buying it, setting the coffee and down and then waiting impatiently for him to say something, her fingers drumming against each other nervously. "Gibbs, you're making me nervous. Scary scenarios are popping into my head, like you're here to fire me or to tell me that I'm going undercover as DiNozzo's wife."

He wasn't about to do either. Especially not the wife thing. No, not with DiNozzo, anyhow. He held back a chuckle at the DiNozzo's wife comment, though - poor Tony, that Kate would consider her playing Mrs. DiNozzo on par with being fired. "I want you to profile a terrorist."

He could see her mind turning. They always referred to that bastard as "him" or "THE terrorist" or "that bastard" or something, and they hadn't had a case since Lt. Johnson's, and he hadn't shown up since that day at NCIS. No wonder she was confused. "What terrorist?"

"The one you couldn't stab," Gibbs replied darkly, and he watched as Kate's face fell slightly when she realized now that he knew.

He had to know. It had been bothering him constantly since Ducky had told him what happened, and he'd always comforted himself with the (naive) hope that the terrorist wouldn't come back; that he'd kill that bastard before he came within ten miles of Kate.

The nightmare had changed all that, and Gibbs couldn't shake the terrifying feeling that no matter how much he tried, no matter how much he wanted to, he couldn't protect her.

Kate paused a moment. "Ducky tell you that?" she asked, her face falling slightly. "It's true."

He stared at her, unbelieving that she couldn't do it, not wanting to believe that his Kate would be unable to do something like this. "Why?" he barely managed to get out, his voice coming out hoarsely.

---

"Hey, Paula," Kate greeted, moving about in front of the 'Most Wanted' wall as she spoke on her phone. If she were from her desk, Tony would whine about wanting to talk to Paula.

"Hey Kate!" the other woman's voice came over the line. "What can I do for you?"

"Could we, uh, video conference?" Kate asked, cupping her hand around her mouth and the voice piece of the phone. "About the Little Creek lead you gave a couple months ago."

"Video conference," came the puzzled tone. "Well, sure, if you want. You know, we could...do this over the phone."

"I'd like...face to face," Kate replied, pausing. "If that's OK with you."

"Sure," Paula replied. "No problem. I actually have a free schedule today."

"Wonderful. How does 1800 Zulu sound to you?" Kate replied, checking her PDA date book for that time.

"Make that 1830 Zulu," Paula replied, checking her own calendar for Tuesday, "and you got a deal." She looked at the 1.30 pm time slot.

"Done. See you in a few hours."

"Bye."

---

Kate rolled her eyes as Tony hit up the female bartender at the restaurant, nursing a drink he obviously didn't want THAT much. So much for being so in love with whatever Swedish woman whose name he didn't know. He was like a kid who forgot about his Woody cowboy toy when he got Buzz Lightyear.

There were days Kate was convinced that Tony was a real-life version of Jack in that Robin Williams movie - the little kid whose body aged four times as fast. Three days ago he'd whined and begged incessantly for one of the protein bars in her purse, complaining that he was "starving". Gibbs had rolled his eyes as Kate finally gave in.

Gibbs.

Kate frowned and sighed. She had hoped that, for once today, she could put out of her mind Gibbs and his obsessive search for that bastard. Going out to lunch with Tony and Ducky, making weekend plans with Abby to go to a spa...anything...to try to get her mind off the search for that terrorist.

Yet, even on that one girls night out with Abby, she had to admit that a few times she'd worried that Gibbs was sitting at his desk, obsessing over being unable to find the man. Normally her girls' nights out with Abby were wonderful at making her forget work, but the case still haunted her.

"Are you all right, Caitlin?" came the cultured, gentle voice.

Kate gave him a smile. "I'm fine, Ducky."

"Are you certain?" the ME asked, gently touching her arm as they sat out in the sunlight, waiting for their food. "Is there something bothering you?"

Kate paused a moment, half-wondering if she should try to assure him she was fine, then decided against it. She'd voiced her concern about Gibbs to Tony; Ducky was Gibbs' oldest friend and had known him longer than Tony had. Ducky had been more than helpful in Col. Ryan's case, too.

"Caitlin?" Ducky encouraged, taking a sip from his cup.

"I'm worried about him, Ducky," she said quietly. Ducky paused, then nodded, well aware of whom she was thinking. "Ducky, he's been crazy this whole time. I think you know." At the ME's slow, understanding nod, she continued, "Then this morning, he bought me coffee, then came to my coffeeshop and started pressing me about the terrorist. Abby and McGee said they found him asleep in his chair this morning. We didn't have a case for the last week."

Ducky sighed. "I was afraid of that."

"Ducky, I left last night at 11 pm, and he walked with me out to the parking lot. I thought he was going to leave. He came back." Kate's frustration came out.

Ducky gently squeezed her arm. "I understand, Kate. He will be all right." Out of the corner of his eye he saw the waitress coming with the food, and Tony following her like a cow being led by a rope.

"I'm starved," Tony moaned as he sat down. He looked at Ducky and Kate, who had suddenly become silent, and then got a suspicious look on his face. "Whatever she said," he insisted, pointing at Kate, "it's not true, Ducky."

The ME chuckled. "We were discussing Gibbs, Tony."

Tony rolled his eyes as he dug in. "Well," he said pointedly, looking at Kate. "I think boss is just persistent and Kate worries too much."

Kate rolled her eyes and looked to Ducky for support. The ME just chuckled as they began to eat. "Jethro's behavior does warrant much concern," he conceded to Kate. "But he has been obsessive like this before and managed to recover."

"Really?" Tony asked curiously. "When?"

"Gibbs was like this just before his last divorce," Ducky replied.

Kate chuckled as she took a sip of her drink. "We can't divorce him, Ducky."

Ducky chuckled. "You wouldn't want to, my dear, no matter how gruff he becomes," he smiled. And he didn't think Jethro would do well - at all - if Kate were to try.

---

Ducky chuckled as Gibbs examined the meat puzzle, as he and his new assistant had begun calling it. He was glad to see Gibbs slightly distracted at this point, however morbid the distraction. "This poor fellow was found in a 55-gallon drum of alcohol beside a dumpster at Bethesda Naval Hospital. He'd been dissected by a sadist with a knowledge of anatomy."

The medical examiner suddenly frowned, flashing back. He could almost hear the cultured accent as the man's hand passed lightly above the body, tracing the path of the heart as he spoke. "Right ventricle, left atria. You haven't done an autopsy."

Ducky gasped, and he heard somebody apologizing to Gibbs, saying something about narrowing the search for the bastard - before he realized it was him. Good heavens, and to think that he'd hadn't thought much of Kate's offhand comment a few weeks ago.

"What if it isn't just university? Maybe he went to some kind of graduate school, medical school, post-doctoral work. Maybe he did work with MI-5, or 6, or whatever number they're up to now." She had been speculating.

"Medical school?" Gibbs had asked in disbelief.

"Hunch."

"Hunches don't get convictions in court," Gibbs had replied sharply.

"I'm not asking you to take it to court," she'd returned, mildly. "I'm just thinking aloud."

Ducky replayed that scene over and over in his head: Kate had not been sure, and had begun every comment with "I'm not sure, but - " At the time, he'd dismissed the medical school theory - that bastard had come in far more like a spy and a terrorist, and Ducky could never imagine somebody like him breaking the Hippocratic oath as easily as he had.

Yet, in retrospect...Kate's medical school hunch had come because she'd said she'd been lost during all the morphine, vessel-clamping talk. All of the men, she'd said, knew what they were talking about - the intruder, Ducky, Gerald. She'd assumed that meant that they all had knowledge of something she did not, and the only common denominator she could find was medical knowledge.

Ducky felt the guilt weighing down. He and his assistants were so immersed in the study of anatomy, and of medical knowledge, he sometimes forgot what the others didn't know. When that bastard had been rattling on about Gerald losing his arm, Ducky hadn't taken that to mean more than common knowledge.

But with that autopsy comment....

"Right ventricle, left atria. You haven't done an autopsy."

He turned to see Gibbs staring at him, waiting. "Oh, Gibbs, I am so sorry. I should have realized. It would have narrowed your search for that bastard who put the bullet into Gerald's shoulder. It only just came to me."

"What came to you, Ducky?

"That bugger knew anatomy! I even asked him if he was a doctor. He didn't reply but I'll wager he went to medical school in Britain!"

---

The phone began to ring, but Kate refused to reach for it.

"Simi," the driver said, and the man seated in the back reached towards her, taking the obvious opportunity to grope her.

"It's on the left side on the belt!" she spat.

Simi flipped it open, and Kate caught the name on it. #2 - Gibbs. Gibbs was calling. For a second she felt relief - somebody was looking for her. Maybe Paula had called the office when she hadn't shown up; most likely, though, she guessed that Gibbs was yelling at somebody for not working on some cold case.

"Who's Gibbs?" the driver suddenly asked.

That's when the concern, preceded by brief panic, set in. She was not going to give away her teammates. Kate just gave the driver a contemptuous look.

He grabbed her hair, slamming her head back. "Who. Is. Gibbs?"

The words came out of her mouth before she realized what she was saying. "My boyfriend. He calls me when he leaves the office." What?

"Where does he work?" the driver asked sharply.

Kate smirked, narrowing her eyes slightly. "Iraq." She bit back a scream of pain when he punched her, splitting her lip.



It rang...rang...rang...rang...then Kate's voice. "Todd." Gibbs felt a sudden relief. Then it went on. "Leave a message." Voicemail.

He squeezed the phone, anger turning into worry now, and snapped the phone shut. "Keep trying her home phone," Gibbs barked.



Kate glared at the man, sitting primly and angrily as he got ice. He set the small bowl of ice down. Her phone rang for the third time, and the terrorist smirked. "Gibbs must be quite worried about you," the man said with no small measure of amusement.

Kate just glared at him.

The tall, dark man chuckled out loud now. "You are Gibbs' agent through and through. You have some of his mannerisms now."

"I also have one of his bullets with your name on it."

At that, the terrorist shook his head in amusement. "It's little wonder he likes you," he mused. He sat down and picked up a cube of ice and started moving it to her lip.

She plucked it from his hand and applied it to her own lip, then said sharply, "You told me I could call Gibbs."

The man smiled. "On one condition. "

Kate was hardly surprised, but certainly not amused. She put down her hand, holding the ice to her lip. "Surprise, surprise," she replied sardonically. "And what am I to say?"

"You became quite ill after lunch," the man replied, as if telling a story. "You went to emergency, where it was diagnosed as food poisoning. They pumped out your stomach, gave you an IV and sent you home. You'll be fine tomorrow. You just need some sleep. "

Kate tried not to grind her teeth in anger at that. It was specific, it was a good story. 'Always be specific when you lie,' Gibbs had said. She was sure he could fall for this story, if she delivered it right; but she wasn't about to let this bastard go again, even if it meant her getting hurt. "And if I don't say that?" Kate dared him rebelliously.

The man just smirked. "Marta?" he called, and Kate turned to see the "love of Tony's life" standing there in the doorway.

Her heart dropped into the floor.



Gibbs had his cell phone out before the first ring was over, and Tony and McGee looked up instantly. He flipped the phone open. Kate. He felt relief washing over him, and then anger at the fact that she'd waited this long to call back. He opened his mouth to yell at her when she cut in.

"I got food poisoning," she said, and Gibbs suddenly felt bad about his preparation to yell at her. "I had to go to the hospital, get my stomach pumped."

Gibbs felt a pang at that - she was sick. D-mn. "Mm." He made a mental note to go down to talk to Ducky, see if the M.E. would go over to her apartment to see if she was all right.

"No, there's no need for Ducky," Kate replied, as if reading his mind. "They pumped my stomach, and I'm just tired." She sighed, then said, "Tony's right. Never eat oysters in a month without an 'R'. I'll be fine by tomorrow." She hung up before he could reply.

Gibbs snapped his phone shut.

"She OK?" Tony asked, concerned.

"Food poisoning," Gibbs replied tonelessly. D-mn, he'd been worried something had happened to her. It wasn't like Kate to miss meetings, particularly when she'd asked to talk to Agent Cassidy face to face. The day she'd been throwing up on Air Force One, she had worked through it. She had to be pretty sick. He was mad that she hadn't called earlier, putting him through an emotional wringer, but then again, he had to admit to feeling bad because of it...she was throwing up her guts somewhere.

A small part of him, however, was suspicious.... But why Kate would lie about taking a break? His gut was telling him that something was wrong. D-mn, he needed to think. "I need coffee."

---

Haswari held out her phone to her. "Call your old friends at the Secret Service. I will tell them all they need to know. Take it. My Hamas are well trained. They will kill or capture your president and mine."

Kate stared at him for a moment. "Your president," she said, frowning.

"I'm Israeli. Mossad." Haswari held out the phone. "Take it. Call the Secret Service."

Kate frowned, then picked up her phone. She flipped open the phone slowly, and her fingers began to dial. She had to concentrate to remember the number - it had been awhile - and she had to focus to keep her fingers from trembling.



His phone began to vibrate on its spot hooked onto his belt, and William Baur waved at his new agent to indicate that he was going to take the call. He stepped into the hallway. "Baur."

"Sir."

He blinked for a moment, the sound of the voice familiar but still foreign. It took a moment for the name to register with the older man. He hadn't heard it for months - almost a year. "Kate?!"

"Sir, this is really important," she said in a clear, crisp but urgent voice.



"Boss!" McGee shouted, standing and pointing at the computer as Gibbs came down the stairs from MTAC. "I got a location. Kate just turned her phone on. She's actually making a call."

Both Tony and Gibbs reached for their cell phones, but neither rang. Neither did any of the desk phones ring.

"Who is she calling?" Tony puzzled.

"WHERE is she?" Gibbs barked, rushing to his desk.

McGee typed quickly. "No, no," Abby corrected. " 'C', then 'A'."

"I know," McGee replied, quickly deleting and retyping the command. "She's..." he blinked in surprise. "She's out on a farm about an hour from here. That's the address. Want me to copy it down for - "

McGee's eyes popped out of his head as he watched Gibbs pull out his PDA, scribble in the address, and then look down at the screen at what were directions.

"Tony, let's go," Gibbs barked. "McGee, see if you can't find out who Kate's calling."

As the two men hurried out, McGee turned to Abby in surprise. "Did you teach him how to use that PDA?"

"No, I thought you did," Abby replied.

"No...."

---

They were pulling out of the NCIS headquarters' parking lot when Gibbs' cell phone began to ring. He threw it to Tony to answer.

"DiNozzo," Tony replied. "Boss, it's Kate."

A wave of relief washed over him. She was alive.

"No, we know where to go," Tony replied. "McGee tracked down your phone call when you first called. Hey, how come you didn't call us first? Who'd you call first, your boyfriend?" Gibbs could hear a sharp, impatient retort. "OK, OK," Tony muttered in apology. "You need the truck? Sure, I'll call Ducky. Send an agent with him? Why?"

"Tell McGee to go with Ducky," Gibbs barked.

"OK. OK. Hey, K - " Gibbs heard the distinct sound of the phone hanging up. "Well that was rude," Tony mumbled.

"Get on the phone, call Ducky," Gibbs replied sharply. "Tell him to grab that new assistant of his and bring McGee along."

"Hey boss, don't you think it's weird that Kate thought Ducky should come with an agent? I mean, do you think we should call her back and ask - "

"Just do what she told you," Gibbs snapped.

Reclaiming a Lion

Disclaimer in Part 1.

---

They found her sitting in an ambulance, the EMTs checking her over. Gibbs stood silently as Tony and McGee and Ducky rushed over to check on her. She was fine, she said.

Satisfied, Tony began looking around. His eyes nearly popped out of his head when he saw the dead blonde. "What is she doing here?" he exclaimed. "But - "

"She's a Hamas terrorist," Kate shot at him, her tone sharp and angry. "You really know how to pick them, DiNozzo," she snapped.

Tony reeled back a little, hurt by the tone. He backed away, back to the truck and nearly bumped into Gibbs, who tilted his head at the crime scene. Chastened, Tony pulled out the kit and made his way over to the picnic table to begin his work.

"McGee," Gibbs said sharply. The younger man looked up quickly, and Gibbs tilted his head over at the crime scene. McGee nodded and hurried off.

"Who is a Hamas terrorist?" Ducky asked gently, sitting down beside Kate in the ambulance.

"You know the blonde DiNozzo was chasing at lunch today?" Kate spat. "The 'love of his life'?" she imitated snidely.

Gibbs swallowed down the bile in his throat, his sharp hearing picking up their conversation even yards away. That's why Tony had been so late.

"Oh dear," Ducky murmured. "Oh dear."

"He's so stupid," Kate ranted. "First that he/she, then a psychotic serial killing waitress, then an ATF agent guilty of dealing in illegal weapons and murder, and now a Hamas terrorist. And to think he's capable of passing on that idiocy gene!"

"Caitlin!" Ducky replied chastisingly.

"Sorry," Kate mumbled, not sounding very sorry.

Gibbs was surprised at her outburst for the mere reason that it sounded un-Kate-like; he had to admit that Tony had been making poor choices of late. That social worker Michelle whom he'd told Tony to run from sounded like an angel in comparison.

Still, Kate's tone was almost bitter.

He nodded to Ducky and left, going over to help the other two with the crime scene.

After a moment, Ducky murmured quietly, "Caitlin, what happened?"

"Nothing."

"Caitlin."

After a moment, Kate sighed, and Ducky was certain that her voice trembled slightly. "She and Ari - they threatened me. When I called Gibbs, Ari told me to tell him I had food poisoning. I wasn't going to, but then he called her out," she said softly, and her angry resolve began to crumble. "She said she'd kill Tony that night if I didn't."

"Oh Kate," Ducky breathed sympathetically. He could see all over her face her fury, her disgust, and most of all, her fear of watching her colleague. The elderly ME hadn't meant to force her to relive her emotional state at the time, but it seemed inevitable. "Kate, you can't protect Tony all the time. He's a grown adult. He has to be responsible for his own actions."

"Ducky - "

"Kate, you watch out for him like you're his mother, or his older sister. Kate, what decisions he makes - those are still his own. You can't stop him from making bad ones, Kate. You aren't his parent, and you certainly aren't the good Lord."

Ducky wrapped his arms tightly around her, hugging her tightly against him. "Caitlin," he murmured soothingly. "You take too much responsibility on your shoulders," he chastised in a fatherly, gentle tone, rubbing her back as he held the young woman against him.



Gibbs watched as Ducky came out of the EMT truck a little bit later, leaving Kate there, and headed over to the crime scene. "What have we here?"

"Gunshot to the head," Palmer said in an expert tone. "It seems fatal, sir."

"Does it, now," Tony replied, rolling his eyes at the dumbly official tone Palmer was using.

"Well, uh, I suppose it certainly WAS fatal, given that she is dead," Palmer replied, flustered.

Gibbs intercepted Ducky, taking him to the side. "Ducky," he said, his tone implying what exactly it was he wanted to know.

Ducky had half a mind to play the unknowing fool and force Gibbs to say that he wanted to know about Kate, but then decided against it. They were all exhausted. "She's all right," he assured the older man, and was a little gratified to see the agent's relief - albeit masked. "Besides her lip, she has not a scratch on her."

"Why didn't she call for backup?" Gibbs asked, beginning to feel his impatience rise. D-mm-t, she should not have gone off alone. She should not have -

"Jethro," Ducky replied sharply, chastisingly. "You were willing to send Tony off alone after Atlas."

"He had to call every hour! He - " Gibbs stopped when he saw Ducky's 'I'm not buying it' look. Gibbs took a deep breath and tucked away that nagging question into the back of his mind. "What about that woman?" he asked.

"You'll have to ask her about the case yourself, Jethro."

"I'm not asking about the case, Ducky," Gibbs said pointedly.

The ME paused for a moment, then realized what he was asking and nodded. "She and that bastard - they threatened to kill Tony if Kate didn't cooperate," Ducky explained quietly, and he saw Gibbs' jaw set angrily. "When she called you and lied to you about the food poisoning - she was doing it to save Tony's life."

Gibbs ran a tired hand through his hair. No wonder Kate had lashed out at Tony like that - he would have had a good mind to do the same if put into that position - having to decide between maintaining national security and cooperating with a terrorist to save af friend's life.

"There's another matter," Ducky said quietly. "She didn't know until she made that first phone call, until after the...Hamas terrorist was shot." He paused a minute, then looked at Gibbs carefully. "That bastard is Mossad. He's not a terrorist. He's undercover."

Gibbs looked up instantly.

---

The Secret Service agents had barely gotten the arrestees out of car when Gibbs descended on them, furiously. McGee watched in shock as he grabbed one of the Hamas men and slammed him against the side of the car. The man was shouting, as were the Secret Service agents, but despite the noise, McGee could hear every little hiss coming out of Gibbs' mouth.

"Who. Drove. The. Car!" he demanded, and there were some low statements made in Arabic.

The NCIS agent with them translated: "Bassam. The third man from the right," he replied, innocently unknowing of what was going to happen.

Gibbs had barely reached the man when he swung, the round-house blow sending the man reeling backwards into the two Secret Service agents standing behind him. There was shouting as Gibbs hauled him up, and Bassam spat out of a busted lip, "Who are you?"

"Gibbs!" he hissed, picking him up by the collar and shoving him against the car.

---

"Colombian drug dealers, Mark?" Morrow snorted derisively.

The Secret Service director looked a little miffed. "That's what my agents have suggested." At Morrow's less than satisfied look, the director huffed, "It works as a cover story, Tom."

"He shot two of my people," Morrow replied. "He held two others hostage, one twice."

"I lost agents too, Tom," the FBI director retorted. "One dead, three wounded. Have you forgotten?"

"Why, did you?" Morrow snapped back coolly. The man recoiled a little on screen.

"What we want," the CIA director cut in, "is for your assurance that when Ari gets his get out of jail free card, that you won't send your agents after him."

Morrow didn't answer.

"Tom, we need Ari Haswari," the CIA director pointed out. "You know that. You know that he had something to do with providing us the information we needed for November 2002 - " he left the event unstated, knowing well the NCIS director would know what he was talking about " - following the USS Cole bombing. He's valuable."

"My agency will not look for Officer Haswari," Morrow promised.

The other directors nodded, obviously relieved.

"We have one concern," the FBI director finally spoke.

Morrow raised an eyebrow, a smirk growing on his face. He was well aware what that 'one concern' was. "Yes, Charlie?"

"We want your promise he won't go after Ari. We want your promise he'll forget about Officer Haswari - Gibbs would blow his cover."

Morrow just chuckled and took a sip of his coffee.

"We want you to talk to him," the Secret Service director replied.

Morrow just snorted. "No, I will not."

"Tom!"

"I have given you my promise that NCIS will not pursue Ari Haswari," Morrow replied coolly. "But he still shot two of my people and kidnapped two others - including one of my agents, twice. If I have little sympathy for him, I think that's to be expected."

"Agent Gibbs will obey you," the FBI director replied, leaning forward. "Tom, you are the director of NCIS! Tell him to leave Haswari alone."

Morrow gave him a pointed look. "Charlie," he replied, seemingly answering just the other man but meaning it to refer to all of them, "I don't ask of my agents things I am entirely unwilling to do myself."

---

The TV blared in the dark basement, filling the quiet in the room. "A shoot-out today in Great Falls National Park between FBI agents and alleged Colombian drug dealers led to the deaths of three suspects and the wounding of two agents. One suspect is reported to have escaped on foot and a widespread manhunt is underway throughout the park."

Gibbs was sardonic. "Suspected drug dealers, huh? Whose idea was that?"

"Secret Service," Fornell replied. He had to admit, he was unimpressed, too, when his boss had told him.

"They give Ari his 'get out of jail for free' pass, too?"

There was no missing the bitterness in Gibbs' tone. "No," Fornell replied mildly. "CIA did that. But all the directors agreed, even yours," he added pointedly.

Getting no response, he continued, "Ari's father was Mossad. Probably knocked his mother up to get a son with Arab blood. Sent him to medical school to vet him as a doctor in Gaza. This guy's been a sleeper his entire life." Fornell had to admit, he was impressed with the preparation that they'd taken to make a mole in a terrorist group.

"I'd love to put him in a coma," Gibbs muttered, continuing to sand vigorously.

Little wonder. Ducky had accompanied Kate to the hospital, and Fornell had to admit surprise when Gibbs had left the cleaned up crime scene and evidence with Agent DiNozzo and that newbie, McGee. He'd disappeared, and Fornell had assumed that he'd gone to the hospital to check on Agent Todd.

Fornell's agents tracking Gibbs' cell phone indicated he'd gone home.

There was little that surprised the weathered FBI agent, but this had to be one of them. He'd tried the door, found it to be open, and came inside; he'd followed the sound of insistent banging into the basement, where, in all honesty, Fornell wasn't sure he was building or tearing apart the boat. Either way, working on a boat after what had happened...?

'Well,' a little voice had commented. 'There was nothing more he could do.'

Fornell knew Gibbs. The man was a control freak. Being out of control no doubt frightened him, if the man could be frightened, and he had no doubt that the day had been like Gibbs' worst nightmare come true. Talk about having no control whatsoever; Ari Haswari had dictated every move, with Kate Todd responding and redirecting, and all Gibbs had been able to do was stand to the side.

It was little wonder Gibbs wanted to kill Ari, but he'd been asked by his director to prevent that. "Tom won't do it," his director had said, referring to Gibbs' boss. "He refuses to do it; he's as mad as Agent Gibbs is. You're our next best choice."

'No,' Fornell had thought. 'Kate Todd would be the best choice. She could get him to stop.' But he doubted that either Todd or DiNozzo would agree to speak to Gibbs about it, particularly after their level-headed director had apparently displayed to all the other agency directors his own desire to kick Ari's butt.

So here he was. Trying to convince Leroy Jethro Gibbs not to seek out revenge against the man who'd shot one of his guys, shot him, and kidnapped his people. "Al-Qaeda funded this Hamas op," he began. "Ari was just doing what he had to do to make his bones with them. "

"You tell that to Gerald," Gibbs snapped. Yeah, he hadn't forgotten.

"You forget I lost a man and had three wounded," Fornell retorted, beginning to lose his patience somewhat.

"No," Gibbs replied in a biting retort, turning to the man standing next to him. "but it seems you did," he snapped, his director's words coming out of his mouth.

Fornell flinched slightly at the hurtful comment. "You know better than that."

"There's a line, Tobias. That bastard crossed it!" Gibbs replied, gesturing. "You don't make your bones shooting friends!" Gibbs exclaimed.

Fornell could feel his own anger - directed at Ari - rising. He knew exactly how Gibbs felt. He'd lost agents - he was no less likely to forgive Ari for that than Gibbs was. But national security called for it, and he couldn't exchange that for his agents' lives. "What do you want us to do?" Fornell shouted, his own frustrations coming to the fore, and for a moment he was wondering if he was trying to convince Gibbs or himself. "He's inside Al-Qaeda now! "

"I don't know!" Gibbs yelled, slamming his hands against a rib of the boat in frustration. A small whirlwind of dust went up.

The two men stood quietly, Gibbs' last statement hanging in the air between them. There was nothing they could do. They'd sworn to protect their country - not to put their agents' lives over the safety of the civilians. The quandary Fornell had presented - they needed Ari - still didn't counter the emotional response Gibbs had voiced for the both of them.

They'd had their conflicts, but in that moment, both men fell quiet, for the first time reaching a mutual understanding.

Fornell coughed. "How the h-ll do you breathe in all this dust?" he muttered, changing the subject.

"I don't," Gibbs replied.

"You got anything to wash it down?" Fornell asked. Preferably something with alcohol. Strong.

"On the top shelf, next to the paint stripper."

Fornell moved over to that shelf, pulling down the bottle. He nearly snorted in laughter - how Gibbs. Antiquated. "Who drinks bourbon anymore?" he asked, amused.

"I do," Gibbs replied grumpily, obviously catching Fornell's 'antiquated' implication.

"Got a glass? "

"Use my coffee mug," Gibbs muttered, working again.

Fornell picked up the mug and blew the dust out of it, then poured some bourbon in. "What about you? " he asked, raising the mug to his mouth.

"I use my coffee mug," Gibbs replied, taking the mug. "You go upstairs and get a glass or" he indicated the bottle "drink out of the bottle."

"What the h-ll," Fornell replied and took a swig. "I see why you keep it with the paint stripper," he managed to gasp out hoarsely.

"It's 125 proof. You sip it, Fornell," Gibbs replied, going back to his sanding.

There was quiet for a little bit, and then Fornell inwardly sighed. He still had yet to secure Gibbs' word that he wouldn't hurt Ari - what all the directors had asked him to do.

D-mn, this job sucked.

Fornell picked up a stool and set it down by the boat before sitting down. "The directors want your word that you'll forget about Ari," Fornell said quietly. "They think you'll blow his cover."

Hey, he knew Gibbs well enough. Gibbs wouldn't endanger national security for the purpose of getting payback. He'd find some other way. But whatever he believed, he still had to repeat to Gibbs what the directors wanted him to say.

"If I get payback, it won't be by blowing his cover," Gibbs replied, confirming Fornell's thoughts. After a pause, he asked with slight amusement but definite puzzlement, "Why are you asking me this and not my director?"

"He refused to," Fornell replied. Smart man. No wonder Gibbs followed him, learned from him. Morrow wasn't going to ask something of Gibbs that he personally was not excited about doing himself.

"Yeah," Gibbs chuckled, sanding a couple times. "All right, one condition," he acquiesced, standing up to face Fornell.

"There's always one condition," Fornell muttered.

"I want to speak to him, in a place of my choosing...alone."

He might as well have just asked if he could blow up the moon. "Nobody's going to go for that. "

Gibbs smiled to himself as he went back to his sanding. He didn't need the directors or any other person to agree. He just needed the one. "Ari will."

---

He emerged from the elevator, the gun he'd just shot Ari with back in its holster as he came into the bullpen. His rage was no less, and the temporary satisfaction of revenging himself on Ari had worn off in those mere seconds on the elevator.

Kate was sitting in her chair, wrapped in a blanket, writing calmly. Tony and McGee both hovered awkwardly at the desks opposite his and hers, giving her worried looks every couple of minutes. Ducky met him before he entered their office area. "Shock," he answered Gibbs' unvoiced question. Gibbs nodded, and Ducky said quietly, "Director Morrow wants to see you."

Gibbs took one last look at Kate, then headed up the stairs towards MTAC and the director's office. At the balcony above, he saw the director leaning over the railing, watching his team with a concerned, protective expression. "Sir."

Morrow looked up at him, and Gibbs watched as the director gave him an appraising look, and then his expression changed into one of reluctant disapproval.

For the first time all day, Gibbs felt like a first-grader squirming in the seat outside the principal's office. He wasn't stupid. Morrow seemed to know what he'd done. D-mn, just like he'd seen through Gibbs's statement that he'd gotten Kate to cooperate on Air Force One....

Morrow sighed and shook his head but said nothing, then returned to his position leaning over the railing. "I'm giving you and your team off the next week," the man finally said. "You've had a long day."

Gibbs nodded.

"Make sure Agent Todd gets home safely. If she wants, the NCIS psychiatrist will be available to speak with her." After a pause, he added firmly: "and you, too."

Morrow stood now, and Gibbs straightened to face him. The director gave him a pointed look. "Agent Todd," he said carefully, "may have made a mistake today in not calling for back-up. She, however, took the course of action that I believe any of us would have taken, refusing to pass up a good opportunity."

H-ll, Gibbs thought. He wasn't planning on yelling at her for that.

All right, maybe he was. Guilt washed over him. His nearly insane fear of her getting hurt had gotten in the way of his rational thought, and he had to admit, if it had been him, he would've gone running after Ari without a second thought. He'd sent Tony after Sacco alone, too, albeit with hourly phone checks, but still alone. Kate was no different. She'd done what anybody would have done.

He huffed a little, not wanting to concede that point to the voice of rationality - which, unfortunately for him, right now came in the form of his director.

The corners of Morrow's mouth twitched, and Gibbs thought grumpily that he wasn't sure he liked having a director who knew him so well.

"Agent Todd," Morrow continued, more sharply this time, "has also taken a well-balanced, professional view of the Ari Haswari matter." He looked at the other man steadily. "I think we all do well to learn her emotional balance in handling her work."

Gibbs nodded, duly chastised. He understood the pointed reprimand behind that comment. He'd been a little...insane about the whole thing.

The two men watched as McGee entered the bullpen, carrying a coffee, and nervously mumbling something as he set it on Kate's desk and retreated quickly. Kate looked up, eyes clear, and gave him a small thank you.

He could see the nervous little smile McGee gave back.

Gibbs swallowed, his mind tracing over the events of the day. The nightmare, and the lingering panic that had gripped him in his unsettled feeling that Kate was dead - resulting in his subsequent explosion at McGee and Abby over the search when they were trying to explain to him how long it would take to find that bastard.

He had felt himself slowly descend back into his fury throughout that day. Every time he came to the bullpen - every time he came hurrying back to see if Kate were there, she was gone, and he could feel his frustration returning. The more they searched for Ari, the less Kate was there; he'd told Tony that he wanted Ari's name, and he wanted it today, but getting it hadn't made him any better. He'd only gotten more agitated, and he'd reached for her, and she hadn't been there.

She was just...not there. When he needed her to be.

Once they'd gotten Ari's name, Gibbs had ordered Tony to the elevator - they were going to find Ari. After they found Kate.

Tony had stood there, looking puzzled but following him obediently. He didn't blame the younger man for his confusion: they had just found out Ari's identity, and Tony would naturally assume they would go after Ari, particularly since Gibbs was so sure that he was stateside and not in the Middle East. Yet, oddly, Gibbs was obsessed with finding Kate.

Tony looked at him puzzledly. "Kate's at home, boss." Gibbs had heard the implication. 'She's sick, boss. Couldn't we leave her to get better? Do we have to drag her on this? We can handle this. Let Kate rest. She's PUKING HER GUTS OUT, boss. Have a heart.'

Gibbs wasn't there to force an ill Kate to help for the hunt. He wasn't there to force her to work. He needed to see her, to reassure himself. He needed to see her, to ground himself before he went crazy. She didn't answer her phone, and Gibbs was beginning to fear that she hadn't gotten food poisoning, and his worry about where she was had mixed with his desperate need to hold on to her, however briefly, before he drowned in his anger.

And then Tony had unknowingly informed him with that tuna comment that Ari had Kate.

Gibbs stood next to the director, looking down into his bullpen, trying to assure himself that she was all right and sitting in her desk, afraid that if he turned away, he'd turn back to find himself staring at her empty chair, as he had that afternoon.

Morrow finally spoke, his voice much softer now as it broke through Gibbs' thoughts. "I just hope this matter is over for now," he said, and for the first time Gibbs heard the fatigue in his voice over the Haswari case. "Make sure Agent Todd is taken good care of. She's a valuable asset to this agency, and I think to your team."

---

The last time he had spoken to her was that morning. That morning, 8.13 AM. He knew exactly what had happened: he had probed her about that terrorist - he refused to call him anything else - and then they had taken their separate cars to work. They'd gone through the turnstile, through security, greeted Henry, who had this little gleam in his eye at seeing them arrive together. They had gone upstairs in the elevator, walked out to the bullpen, put their things down. They hadn't said a word to each other.

Then all he'd said was, "I'm going to talk to Bahrain and then Director Morrow." It was the last thing he'd said to her.

He'd been up there all day, then gone down to Abby's lab, and when he came back up Tony and Kate were gone - gone to lunch with Ducky, McGee had said. Then Ducky came back, Tony came back, and Kate didn't.

He called, and she didn't respond.

He called again, and got her home answering machine.

He called again, and got her voice mail.

Then she called once, used the newest rule she had learned - #7 - and he fell for it hook, line, and sinker. The nightmare, the gut which told him Ari was in the U.S. - nothing told him she was lying. Nothing. She had even tried to clue him in to her "illness", making that out of place reference to oysters, apparently hoping that he'd say something about her food poisoning and then either Tony or Ducky would point out that that's not what she had. He'd been too consumed by Ari to think about it.

He'd felt nothing - nothing until Tony corrected his offhand statement about what Kate said she ate. Kate had tuna salad, not oysters. It had taken Tony's unknowing reply before he realized something was wrong.

Then it was hours....

Fornell was trying to hold back the FBI and the CIA, forbidding them to interrogate Kate too harshly. Agent Baur was there, and he was helping. It could have been because of their own concern for Kate, or because of the obvious anger her boss and her boss' boss was emitting, or both.

"I think this interrogation has come to an end," Director Morrow finally said, his cold, sharp tone brokering no argument.

The agents looked up, wanting to argue, but Director Morrow simply looked back at them, his arms still crossed. The other FBI, CIA, and Secret Service agents looked back at Kate for a moment, then at Morrow, then at Kate, then began silently to pack up and go.

Fornell chuffed under his breath in amusement, "Pretty clear where those cowboys get their chutzpah."

Morrow didn't move until all the agents were gone but his two and Agents Baur and Fornell. "Well, gentlemen, I doubt you expected to be back here so soon," he said, his voice now conversational, slightly amused.

"A little bit of deja vu," Baur replied with a small chuckle. "Kate." He sat down across from his former junior agent, looking at her with fatherly concern. "You OK?"

Kate straightened, and nodded, and Fornell could see the pride in her ex-boss' face. She was firmer, stronger, hardier now than she had been at the Secret Service, and she'd already been a brick wall when Fornell had first met her on Air Force One, a tough agent who had dispelled any doubts of somebody as young as she on the presidential detail.

She'd grown in the one year here at NCIS - maturing many years beyond her age in just the few months between the Col. Ryan case and this one. Fornell doubted she could have grown like that under Agent Baur, as capable an agent as he was. Baur was a calm, collected agent; he could only teach by example.

Gibbs was brilliant; smarter, more creative, more capable, trickier.... But he had nowhere the emotional grounding Baur did. He was desperately different. Todd had matured to the level of somebody much older than her age, not because she had a good example to follow but because she needed to grow up fast to deal with her circumstances - because Gibbs needed her to.

Because Gibbs needed her.

---

Gibbs tried not to look at the angry, brutal broken lip as Agent Balboa drove them home. There was complete silence in the car except for the radio, which Balboa had thankfully put on - low - to fill the silence.

After her outburst at Tony, Kate had become frighteningly quiet. She had been quiet when the EMTs checked her over one last time and released her. She had been quiet when she identified Marta's body. She had been quiet when they had taken that bastard away. She had been quiet on the ride back to headquarters. She had been through the interrogation, answering only in clipped tones. She was quiet now.

Once at her home, she had followed him quietly up the stairs to her apartment, unlocked the door, and changed out of her suit - the creamy white suit that had made her look so alive, so sharp, feminine, but professional that morning. Now it just hung sadly on her, its cheery tone and aura totally unfitting of a woman who had been kidnapped, nearly killed, and had stood her ground to protect the president.

She didn't need coffee, but he did. He made her instead a cup of hot chocolate, steaming and dark with hot milk, and brought it into her. She sat huddled in a large comforter, sitting on her bed, and for the first time Kate didn't look the formidable Secret Service - turned - NCIS agent who had sat there, pissing off Hamas terrorists and watching a woman get shot before her, standing up to clamoring agents from every agency in the U.S. and then some.

He handed her the mug silently, and she took it gratefully, warming her hands on it. He sat in the chair across from her, watching as she tried to sip the drink.

They sat there, in complete silence, for ten, fifteen, twenty minutes...and then the tears began to fall. She wasn't sobbing, but the tears just fell down her face - exhaustion, frustration, anger, sadness - but mostly just exhaustion.

He paused for a moment, not sure what to do, and Kate was busy trying to hide her tears, wiping away impatiently the tears as fast as they came.

He took the mug from her and set it on the nightstand. He slipped his arms around her, and she collapsed on his shoulder as he tightened her hold on her. She kept crying, the hot, salty tears wetting his shirt. He just held her, and he could feel her energy, her resolve all drain right out of her. She leaned on him, her weight just dumped against him, and for the first time since this mess had begun, she depended on him to be the emotionally stable one, not vice versa...and he was grateful she trusted him to do that for her.

"Katie," he whispered, the first thing he'd said to her all day since that morning.

END