Fanfic 100 [NCIS]: Somewhere Beyond {1/1}
Title: Somewhere Beyond
Category: NCIS
Prompt: #070 - Storm
Characters/Pairings: Kate/Gibbs, very slight
Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by Donald P. Bellasario, Bellasario Productions and Paramount Network Television. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.
Rating: Teen, if only for language.
Word Count: 1,643
Spoilers: 2.08 - Heartbreak
Summary: And honestly, she was just too damn tired to feel anything anymore.
Notes: So I haven’t done anything for this claim since February. I’m a bad, evil person and I must be shot. Please review before proceeding to the shooting range. LDT can be found [here]. Title is from 'Getting Away With Murder' by Papa Roach.
[‘Human misery must somewhere have a stop; there is no wind that always blows a storm’ - Euripides]
Thunder boomed in the air, followed by a flash of lightning that illuminated the trees in sickly green. The wind howled through empty trails, backed by the staccato drum beat of the skies emptying.
Kate Todd smiled, almost gleeful, and revelled in the sensation of rain dripping into her eyes and the biting cold that raised goose bumps over exposed skin. The steady thump of her sneakers in ever expanding puddles was music to her ears and accompanied the cacophony raised by wind and water.
She followed the increasingly muddy path, lungs burning with air she sucked in while sitting in the darkness of the confessional. Her own voice echoed in her mind, words whispered in silence, wrenched from the depths of Sunday school and lemonade stalls.
That I have sinned exceedingly, in thought, word and deed…
Her breath hitched in as she heard her voice break in time with the sight of her foot catching on a stray rock. She made no attempt to stop her fall, her lips moving to say the words she hadn’t been able to say in the candlelight.
Through my fault, through my fault, through my most grievous fault.
She hit the ground with a thump in time with the cracking of lightning, hissing as the loose gravel tore into her skin. ‘It was suicide by cop Kate, get OVER it.’ Gibbs’ harsh words taunted her as she picked herself up. She bared her teeth, and ozone flavoured water mixed with the tangy copper of blood. The cold seeped through layers of detachment and melted against the hot fury that coiled inside her.
Suicide by cop. Death, (murder?) the end of an innocent life, relegated to the three words that were created to comfort, to absolve guilt.
Mea culpa.
..:;:..
When she showed up for work the next day, Kate had a raging headache and was suppressing the urge to shoot someone every time she sneezed.
After all, shooting someone was how she got into this mess in the first place.
She glared at Tony, because he was there, and well, it was Tony and that meant he would do something today to deserve it anyway. For once, he seemed to show some semblance of intelligence, quickly turning his gaze back to the computer.
And now she was just being petty. DiNozzo didn’t deserve it (for once), so she mouthed a quick apology before sneezing, just as Gibbs walked into her line of sight.
Her fingers twitched towards the gun still sitting tucked between her skirt and the small of her back before she overcame the urge.
Shooting her boss (no matter how much he deserved it) was not conductive to a long and prosperous career. Though, there were more than a few people at NCIS who would congratulate her heartily for removing the perpetual and collective pain in the ass that was Leroy Jethro Gibbs when he got his mind set on something.
She’s being petty again, but it was Gibbs, and he, unlike Tony, deserved everything her cold addled mind can throw at him.
She could feel him looking at her and she managed to resist for all of ten seconds before meeting his stare coolly. She tamped her anger down because despite what Gibbs had said, her eyes don’t lie, and she refused to have this confrontation today. Like always, she’s the first to look away, but she could always blame this time on McGee who had just wandered in from the elevators.
McGee looked at her, and opened his mouth. Her cool stare obviously changed his mind and he settled at his desk, quickly becoming entrenched in the pile of paperwork on his desk (and if Kate read Tony’s self satisfied smirk right, at least two thirds of that pile belonged to the smug agent).
She turned to her own stack, ready to lose herself in the mindless task, before staring at the new report on her desk. His name bounced up from the page, slamming into her with the bluntness of DiNozzo with a new found conquest. She covered the quick recoil with something vaguely resembling a cough and hoped that Gibbs bought it, before understanding dawned.
Bastard.
She choked down fury and met his smug face head on. She had no illusions about what her face was expressing, but apparently either Gibbs was awful at reading her or he just didn’t care. Kate blinked, slowly, casting around deep inside for some semblance of calm against the strength of the storm raging within. Coming up empty, she couldn’t bite back the snarl. Pushing back from her desk abruptly, she strode towards the elevator, ignoring Gibbs’ increasingly angry calls.
..:;:..
He caught up with her in the park where she’d caught her cold. She was sitting on a bench, hands clenched over the worn wood. She wasn’t angry anymore, not so much, anyway. It wasn’t all his fault - he was a bastard, but she’s always known that, and it was her hand that had pulled the trigger.
That was just something she’d have to live with.
And she’d get over it, like he’d told her to. Eventually.
He sat down next to her without a word. She found the silence oddly comforting (and what did that say about her?) and looked up at the sky. The tempest from the night before had cleared, leaving only a smattering of wispy white against blue-grey that reminded her of Gibbs’ eyes. She remembered going to lunch with Abby and spending over an hour cloud watching. She wondered if Gibbs had ever played the game and then snorted at the idea.
He looked at her curiously, eyes as guarded as ever. Evenly meeting his stare, it occurred to her that if he spoke now the mood would be shattered. Contrary to popular belief, it appeared that the man was not a mind reader, because the second she’d come to her realization, he’d opened his mouth and ruined everything.
She tensed, shifting slightly. He obviously interpreted her movement as acquiescence and continued. She figured that this new found talent for digging his own grave was a one off for him - because, really? Telling her that she’d probably have to do it again at some point in her career and that she should just deal with it already was almost like a plea for her to make good on threat from way back when she’d first heard of NCIS.
And Gibbs was too smart to be that stupid.
The jaunty beeping from her cell phone saved her from saying something she would probably (maybe) have regretted later. When Ducky’s voice responded to her clipped greeting, she stiffened. The ME didn’t seem to notice her hesitation but she’d have bet her last dollar that Gibbs had (the man noticed everything he wasn’t supposed to).
The minute she ended the call, Gibbs pounced. What did Ducky want, did they have a new case, why hadn’t Ducky called him? Kate glared at him and bit back the retort that sprang to her lips. Gibbs and his one track mind were the least of her worries at the moment.
Her voice was icy when she spoke. No, they didn’t have a new case, what Ducky wanted was none of his business and she didn’t give a damn about why Ducky hadn’t called him. She turned back to the sky and wondered what one said to the family of the person they’d killed.
Or what they wore to the funeral.
..:;:..
Kate had lost count of how many shots she’d had, but motioned the bartender for another anyway. He shot her a concerned look but made no protest (she may have to come back when she’s more sober and less heartbroken), topping up the clear glass. She knocked back another two before she sensed his presence and was in the middle of her next before he made it to her stool (his uncanny ability to track her down was slightly worrying until she remembered the tracer in her cell phone).
“So, what, you think that drinking will make you forget all about it?” His voice was harsh and hard, but that’s not really any different to how it normally was so she ignored it, laughing instead. He seemed taken aback by the sound - Kate had to admit, she’d never heard herself sound that bitter.
“No. It does make me feel better though.” She spoke slowly, clearly. Growing up with three older brothers had taught Kate a lot of things - how to hold her alcohol was one of them. Gibbs didn’t call her on her lie, because really, she wasn’t feeling any better.
Numb, maybe. But not better. But at least she wasn’t quite as miserable (guilt trips were a bitch), and honestly, she was just too damn tired to feel anything anymore.
She’d come to the bar with the intention of getting trashed and then burning it off by either going for a run or hot, no strings attached sex (preferably the latter). So far, her list of prospects had been limited to the dark haired guy in the corner. Now that she had a healthy buzz going on, Kate was mentally adding Gibbs to the list.
Bastard he may be but Gibbs had been her fantasy for over a year and nothing had changed that.
Idly, she ran her finger around the rim of the shot glass and revelled in the cloud that settled over her mind. She wondered what Gibbs would do if she propositioned him right now. You’re still a bastard, but do you wanna go back to my place and fuck me five ways till Sunday?
It took the sound of a sharply indrawn hiss before she realised that she’d spoken aloud.
Fin.
[x] Feedback will make my day. Seriously.
Category: NCIS
Prompt: #070 - Storm
Characters/Pairings: Kate/Gibbs, very slight
Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by Donald P. Bellasario, Bellasario Productions and Paramount Network Television. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.
Rating: Teen, if only for language.
Word Count: 1,643
Spoilers: 2.08 - Heartbreak
Summary: And honestly, she was just too damn tired to feel anything anymore.
Notes: So I haven’t done anything for this claim since February. I’m a bad, evil person and I must be shot. Please review before proceeding to the shooting range. LDT can be found [here]. Title is from 'Getting Away With Murder' by Papa Roach.
[‘Human misery must somewhere have a stop; there is no wind that always blows a storm’ - Euripides]
Thunder boomed in the air, followed by a flash of lightning that illuminated the trees in sickly green. The wind howled through empty trails, backed by the staccato drum beat of the skies emptying.
Kate Todd smiled, almost gleeful, and revelled in the sensation of rain dripping into her eyes and the biting cold that raised goose bumps over exposed skin. The steady thump of her sneakers in ever expanding puddles was music to her ears and accompanied the cacophony raised by wind and water.
She followed the increasingly muddy path, lungs burning with air she sucked in while sitting in the darkness of the confessional. Her own voice echoed in her mind, words whispered in silence, wrenched from the depths of Sunday school and lemonade stalls.
That I have sinned exceedingly, in thought, word and deed…
Her breath hitched in as she heard her voice break in time with the sight of her foot catching on a stray rock. She made no attempt to stop her fall, her lips moving to say the words she hadn’t been able to say in the candlelight.
Through my fault, through my fault, through my most grievous fault.
She hit the ground with a thump in time with the cracking of lightning, hissing as the loose gravel tore into her skin. ‘It was suicide by cop Kate, get OVER it.’ Gibbs’ harsh words taunted her as she picked herself up. She bared her teeth, and ozone flavoured water mixed with the tangy copper of blood. The cold seeped through layers of detachment and melted against the hot fury that coiled inside her.
Suicide by cop. Death, (murder?) the end of an innocent life, relegated to the three words that were created to comfort, to absolve guilt.
Mea culpa.
..:;:..
When she showed up for work the next day, Kate had a raging headache and was suppressing the urge to shoot someone every time she sneezed.
After all, shooting someone was how she got into this mess in the first place.
She glared at Tony, because he was there, and well, it was Tony and that meant he would do something today to deserve it anyway. For once, he seemed to show some semblance of intelligence, quickly turning his gaze back to the computer.
And now she was just being petty. DiNozzo didn’t deserve it (for once), so she mouthed a quick apology before sneezing, just as Gibbs walked into her line of sight.
Her fingers twitched towards the gun still sitting tucked between her skirt and the small of her back before she overcame the urge.
Shooting her boss (no matter how much he deserved it) was not conductive to a long and prosperous career. Though, there were more than a few people at NCIS who would congratulate her heartily for removing the perpetual and collective pain in the ass that was Leroy Jethro Gibbs when he got his mind set on something.
She’s being petty again, but it was Gibbs, and he, unlike Tony, deserved everything her cold addled mind can throw at him.
She could feel him looking at her and she managed to resist for all of ten seconds before meeting his stare coolly. She tamped her anger down because despite what Gibbs had said, her eyes don’t lie, and she refused to have this confrontation today. Like always, she’s the first to look away, but she could always blame this time on McGee who had just wandered in from the elevators.
McGee looked at her, and opened his mouth. Her cool stare obviously changed his mind and he settled at his desk, quickly becoming entrenched in the pile of paperwork on his desk (and if Kate read Tony’s self satisfied smirk right, at least two thirds of that pile belonged to the smug agent).
She turned to her own stack, ready to lose herself in the mindless task, before staring at the new report on her desk. His name bounced up from the page, slamming into her with the bluntness of DiNozzo with a new found conquest. She covered the quick recoil with something vaguely resembling a cough and hoped that Gibbs bought it, before understanding dawned.
Bastard.
She choked down fury and met his smug face head on. She had no illusions about what her face was expressing, but apparently either Gibbs was awful at reading her or he just didn’t care. Kate blinked, slowly, casting around deep inside for some semblance of calm against the strength of the storm raging within. Coming up empty, she couldn’t bite back the snarl. Pushing back from her desk abruptly, she strode towards the elevator, ignoring Gibbs’ increasingly angry calls.
..:;:..
He caught up with her in the park where she’d caught her cold. She was sitting on a bench, hands clenched over the worn wood. She wasn’t angry anymore, not so much, anyway. It wasn’t all his fault - he was a bastard, but she’s always known that, and it was her hand that had pulled the trigger.
That was just something she’d have to live with.
And she’d get over it, like he’d told her to. Eventually.
He sat down next to her without a word. She found the silence oddly comforting (and what did that say about her?) and looked up at the sky. The tempest from the night before had cleared, leaving only a smattering of wispy white against blue-grey that reminded her of Gibbs’ eyes. She remembered going to lunch with Abby and spending over an hour cloud watching. She wondered if Gibbs had ever played the game and then snorted at the idea.
He looked at her curiously, eyes as guarded as ever. Evenly meeting his stare, it occurred to her that if he spoke now the mood would be shattered. Contrary to popular belief, it appeared that the man was not a mind reader, because the second she’d come to her realization, he’d opened his mouth and ruined everything.
She tensed, shifting slightly. He obviously interpreted her movement as acquiescence and continued. She figured that this new found talent for digging his own grave was a one off for him - because, really? Telling her that she’d probably have to do it again at some point in her career and that she should just deal with it already was almost like a plea for her to make good on threat from way back when she’d first heard of NCIS.
And Gibbs was too smart to be that stupid.
The jaunty beeping from her cell phone saved her from saying something she would probably (maybe) have regretted later. When Ducky’s voice responded to her clipped greeting, she stiffened. The ME didn’t seem to notice her hesitation but she’d have bet her last dollar that Gibbs had (the man noticed everything he wasn’t supposed to).
The minute she ended the call, Gibbs pounced. What did Ducky want, did they have a new case, why hadn’t Ducky called him? Kate glared at him and bit back the retort that sprang to her lips. Gibbs and his one track mind were the least of her worries at the moment.
Her voice was icy when she spoke. No, they didn’t have a new case, what Ducky wanted was none of his business and she didn’t give a damn about why Ducky hadn’t called him. She turned back to the sky and wondered what one said to the family of the person they’d killed.
Or what they wore to the funeral.
..:;:..
Kate had lost count of how many shots she’d had, but motioned the bartender for another anyway. He shot her a concerned look but made no protest (she may have to come back when she’s more sober and less heartbroken), topping up the clear glass. She knocked back another two before she sensed his presence and was in the middle of her next before he made it to her stool (his uncanny ability to track her down was slightly worrying until she remembered the tracer in her cell phone).
“So, what, you think that drinking will make you forget all about it?” His voice was harsh and hard, but that’s not really any different to how it normally was so she ignored it, laughing instead. He seemed taken aback by the sound - Kate had to admit, she’d never heard herself sound that bitter.
“No. It does make me feel better though.” She spoke slowly, clearly. Growing up with three older brothers had taught Kate a lot of things - how to hold her alcohol was one of them. Gibbs didn’t call her on her lie, because really, she wasn’t feeling any better.
Numb, maybe. But not better. But at least she wasn’t quite as miserable (guilt trips were a bitch), and honestly, she was just too damn tired to feel anything anymore.
She’d come to the bar with the intention of getting trashed and then burning it off by either going for a run or hot, no strings attached sex (preferably the latter). So far, her list of prospects had been limited to the dark haired guy in the corner. Now that she had a healthy buzz going on, Kate was mentally adding Gibbs to the list.
Bastard he may be but Gibbs had been her fantasy for over a year and nothing had changed that.
Idly, she ran her finger around the rim of the shot glass and revelled in the cloud that settled over her mind. She wondered what Gibbs would do if she propositioned him right now. You’re still a bastard, but do you wanna go back to my place and fuck me five ways till Sunday?
It took the sound of a sharply indrawn hiss before she realised that she’d spoken aloud.
Fin.
[x] Feedback will make my day. Seriously.