Disclaimer: Gibbs, Kate, and Air Force One aren't mine. Never will be….darn.
Spoilers: 'Yankee White' big time!
Summary: Gibbs' thoughts in the bathroom on Air Force One.
Author's Notes: I honestly have no idea where this came from. I don't usually do POV fics for guys, just because I find it hard to get into their mindset. But this just kinda wrote itself...hope you enjoy it!
I almost throw her into the bathroom, and I shut and lock the door behind me. Not like she could get past me anyway, I find myself thinking as I grab her gun. She looks up at me, confusion and sudden distrust in her eyes. I tell her about Commander Trapp, and watch as everything begins to sink in.
Her posture suddenly screams defiance, her eyes dance with incredulity. "What, you think I did it?"
We banter back and forth, and I have to admire her fire. No one else would stand up to me like this while I was accusing them of murder. I've seen fright, anger, sarcasm, but never the full out fire that I see in Caitlin Todd. Don't let her be the one, I think to myself as I go for the jugular. "He wasn't with Major Kerry yesterday."
And suddenly, a little bit of the fight leaves her. "Tim?" She says softly, disbelieving.
I nod, forging ahead. I can see the pain in her eyes, but I have to know. I have to know if she did it. "Stroked, on a Georgetown street." I study her as she deflates even more. She begins to sag back against the wall behind her. Now for the clincher. "You know what, I'll bet it wasn't far from the bar where you two kissed and said bye-bye."
And then I'm up against the door, her small fists beating against my chest. "You asshole!" She grinds out, putting all her strength, which isn't much right now, into punching me.
I almost sigh in relief as my arms come up around her. She didn't do it. This Secret Service agent who has some how wormed her way past my walls, isn't a murderer. I hold her for a minute, calming her down. She finally gives up and collapses against me, crying.
I want to indulge, for just a minute about holding her in my arms. There's a strange chemistry between us, one that I've never felt before. It's…different to say the least. But I can't. If Kate didn't do it, then we still have a murderer on our hands somewhere. I set her back down onto the toilet seat gently, and offer her the gun. "Liars can't pale on cue."
She struggles to control her breathing, and I shake the gun, urging her to take it. I can't stand to see a woman cry, especially, for some reason, Caitlin Todd. She holsters her gun, and looks up with still just a hint of distrust. "You're still a bastard." She says, the fire beginning to return to her eyes.
I nod, knowing that I can't deny it. She shakes her head as if to clear her thoughts, realizing that there is still a terrorist out for the President. I have to admire her strength as I tell her the theory that we've come up with.
I watch as Kate remembers back to the other day, the last moments that she spent with her lover. She gets choked up again, and there's nothing that I want to do more than to take her in my arms and comfort her again, but I know that wouldn't be right. It wouldn't be professional, and right now, I have to be professional.
We begin to piece together this puzzle that has thrown us together, and before I know it, we're out of the bathroom, heading off to protect our President. But for just a little bit, a brief second, I remember back to the feel of her against me. There isn't time for that though, as I go off to play hero.