Aphrdesiac
Chapter 1
Katelyn Todd stared at the wall, unseeing. Her first day at NCIS had been, well, less then satisfactory. Things had started badly, and stayed that way. She missed the Secret Service already, missed the demeanor, the ease, everything. She'd known these NCIS agents were crazy since she'd met them, but today had proved how much he'd underestimated their insanity. It certainly didn't help that she was trying to recover from so many losses at once. Her job, her lover, her cousin, and her optimism. With the Secret Service, she'd never had to deal with the constant tide of death, deception, and torture that flowed through the hallways of NCIS headquarters in the form of case files, evidence, bodies, and suspects. Her new partner was an insensitive asshole to whom women were playthings, and her boss was a disturbing combination of mystery and power. Just being in the same room with Special Agent Leroy Jethro Gibbs you could feel the unquestioned authority he had. He inspired awe and fear, but also, it seemed, an unfaltering loyalty between himself and his associates. The man was confidence incarnate, but there was something underneath the cold exterior that frightened Kate beyond belief. She drew a deep, shuddering breath, feeling her body lift off her bed as if attached to marionette strings. Her movements were made without thinking, ingrained in her by frequency, she had a hard time handling emotional trauma. Physical pain was not a difficulty, but emotions tended to take control of her body in frightening ways. She floated over to a massive cherry wood chest, engraved with beautiful frescoes, and shimmering in the darkness. The chest had been in her family for years, left to her by an aunt who had practically raised her. Her fingers closed around the elaborate cross hanging around her neck. The cool metal felt like water against her skin. Her hands reached behind her neck, unclasping the chain. She fitted the end of the cross into a lock in the chest, turning it, feeling the tumblers clatter into place. She lifted the heavy lid, gazing down at the black velvet lining the bottom. Glinting silver against it was another heirloom, entrusted to her along with the chest that held it. She ran her fingers along it, fingering the jewels and metal working. She sighed, not sadly this time, but as if she hadn't realized the weight she was carrying until she felt it melt away. Her fingers twined around the handle, and her ritual began.
*****
Kate and Abby were down in the lab together, working on something, Kate wasn't quite sure what, for Gibbs while he and Tony did the field work. Kate didn't actually mind all that much because she enjoyed Abby's company far more then that of her male coworkers. Kate waved her hand around at the lab. "Abby, how did you get into this? Forensics I mean."
"Well, it started with going to the car wreckage places near my house. Not for the gore, just to see what happened and why. What about you?"
Kate laughed. "I actually wanted to be a lawyer. I even spent a year at law school, but it felt like ten years in prison."
"With really boring inmates?" joked Abby. Both women laughed and Abby continued. "Admit it, you just like strapping on a gun." she teased.
"More than one." Kate teased back.
Abby looked impressed. "You packing more heat then meets the eye?"
Kate smiled wickedly. "Are those your only tattoos?" was her only reply.
"Nice!" Abby held her hand up or a high five and Kate slapped her hand, exposing her bare palm for the first time. Abby noticed a strip of skin toned gauze across the middle. "What happened to your hand?" she asked curiously.
"Oh, I cut it last night while I was making dinner." replied Kate nonchalantly, Abby saw a coldness enter her eyes that contradicted Kate's easy-going manner.
Something's up there, she thought, but she didn't press, knowing that everyone has secrets. "I hate it when that happens." she said sympathetically, going back to her tests.
Kate gave a small smile and moved over to the computer screen, watching fingerprints flash past on the screen.
*****
Kate fell back on her bed, releasing a frustrated scream, muffling it slightly by shoving her pillow over her face. "My name is not Katie, or Secret Service Chick, or Katie-girl, or anything except Kate or Katelyn!" she screamed into her pillow. "Where does that bastard get off using nicknames I didn't give him leave to use?" she demanded to her empty room. Her screams turned to full-bodied sobs as she threw the pillow across the room. She pushed herself up on her elbows, icey coolness settling in after her rage. It always happened this way. So much oppression was needed to keep her family happy. This led to her being skilled at separating her mind from reality. She would hold in an emotion as long as she could, then she would find somewhere private and release it. The resulting emptiness sucked her spirit farther into the darkness, the cold prison she had built for it at an early age. The result was a calm, cool, analytical woman, no emotions, no personal detail. She became whatever she was needed to be at the moment, lover, friend, enemy, or professional. A bitter laugh spilled from her lips. The perfect Christian daughter, the perfect employee. Her gaze slid to the chest against the wall, and her head fell back so that she could see the wall behind her. A cold smile flitted across her face. The pattern had begun. How long would she last this time?
*****
Months. She had lasted three months so far. Her need was becoming less frequent, and her scars were beginning to heal, finally being given enough days in between times. But then Susanne had happened. Susanne McNeil. She had trusted the woman. Protected her, taken care of her, cheered her on, and what had she received in return? Her coworkers, her friends, her family, had been put in danger by the bomb the woman had set off. Kate stood in the women's room at NCIS Headquarters, standing over the sink, gazing at the image reflected back at her. She reached out a hand and touched the mirror, sure that the woman there couldn't be her. Broken, racked with pain both physical and emotional, cut, bruised, burned. The shadows under her eyes showed either a severe hangover or lack of sleep, or in this case, both. Her fingers moved back to her own face and the woman in the glass matched her movement. She turned her hand in front of her eyes, staring at the gauze that hid her slit palm, the wound that never healed. She peeled back the gauze, feeling as if her body was being controlled by someone else's mind, and for the moment, it was. Emotion had her in its grip. The red, puckered skin showed a cut, just deep enough to draw blood, that was beginning to heal over. She slid her thumb over the angry line, pressing her manicured nail deep into it. She gasped as the seam split and blood bubbled out. Nothing. She felt nothing from the injury. Her head fell forward, and her body shook with suppressed sobs. Her hands pressed flat against the counter was the only thing that held her up. Finally she drew a shaky breath and left the restroom, unaware of the bloody smudges she'd left on the tiles. She nearly ran into Abby on her way out. "Hey Abbs.I was just going to come down and say goodbye. I'm going home for the night." Abby nodded.
"Get some sleep Kate, you need it after the day you've had." Kate smiled and left. Abby waltzed into the bathroom, wondering what was wrong with her friend. As she stood admiring her reflection in the mirror, she noticed the blood on the counter. Suddenly, all the clues ell into place. The eternally cut skin, the blood on the counter, the cold flash Kate sometimes got in her eyes, the way she seemed so frosty after any of her outbursts. "Kate," whispered Abby, touching the smear gently. "What are you doing to yourself?" She whirled around and ran to the bullpen. She marched straight up to Gibbs' desk. "Gibbs! Gibbs!" she cried.
"What Abby?" he asked impatiently.
"It's Kate, something's wrong. I only just figured it out, which is really bad 'cause I'm a forensics scientist, and I should've known..."
"Abby!" he yelled.
Abby took a deep breath. "She's cutting herself Gibbs. Probably regularly. At least since she started working here."
"Shit. That stops working after a while." muttered Gibbs. "That'll make her desperate. Any clue where she might have gone?"
"She said home, but I'm pretty sure she was lying."
"Can you get coordinates off her car?" he demanded.
Abby nodded. "Go get her, I'll send you the information as I get it."
Gibbs nodded and raced out to his car, gunning the engine. His cell rang. "Where, Abbs?"
"She's at Main and fifth."
"I'm staying on the line. Tell me if she turns and where." He kept driving, following Abby's instructions as she traced Kate's car.
"She's stopped. It's residential, 137 NW 5th..."
"I know where it is." growled Gibbs, speeding up, if that was possible.
"You do?" asked Abby, surprised.
"Yeah. It's a goddamn whore house." Gibbs hung up the phone, rifling through his glovebox as he sped along the road. He pulled out a team photo Abby had taken recently and shoved it in his pocket, squeeling to a stop outside his destination. The street was packed with cars. It could be worse, he thought. If she's out getting laid, she's safer than if she were trying to hurt herself more. He got out and walked up to the door.
*****
About thirty minutes earlier, Kate had walked through the the front door of the house, flashing a badge. Not her gleaming government issue, but one that was as dingy as the rooms she walked through. She walked up to the man bar and signed in. She was shown into a room upstairs. There she waited for a few moments, until a client asked to be shown up. The manager had only been at his desk for a half second when one of the men meandering the house asked for some time with Kitty. He'd handed the man a key and gone back to work. Kate was one of the best he had, when she showed up. She was the best, not because she was the most beautiful, exotic, or sensual, but simply because she took orders, no matter what they were, and never complained. She took the men, and occasionally women, but usually it was men, that his other girls refused to help, The ones that hit, that hurt, that took pleasure in having the power of life and death over their toy. That made her popular. Upstairs, Kate kept her eyes closed as the door opened, shut, and was locked. She was kneeling on the bed, head down, hands resting demurely in her lap. The man shoved her backwards, shackling her wrists and ankles to the bed posts, spreading her body out before him. What happened was what usually happened. The man treated her like a toy, an inanimate object. Hitting, pinching, and generally hurting. He fucked her past pleasure and into pain, so that she would scream in pain if he so much as brushed his fingers along any part of her body. When she screamed, he would laugh and dig his thumb into one of her bruises. Finally, he grew bored, getting dressed and leaving his discarded plaything still chained to the bed, ready for the next person to have. Kate felt the pain radiate through her whole body. Pain, hatred, desperation, and fear. These were the things she felt whenever she came here. It wasn't pleasant, but at least she could still feel. That had to mean something, right?
*****
It took Gibbs about five minutes to find the main desk, and when he did, he showed the manager the photo. "Is she here?" he demanded.
"Kitty. Yes, why? Is she in trouble?"
"You'd better believe it." growled Gibbs, protectively. "Where is she?"
"Room A-3. Check her key box." Gibbs walked over to the box on the wall. "Kitty's" box was empty. He went back to the manager who was talking to another man. When he turned to Gibbs, the older man was furious, he shoved his badge in the man's face, but he didn't flinch.
"I ought to arrest you for running a prostitution business." he rumbled.
The man gazed back at him. "I'm afraid that's not possible sir. I don't run a business. I don't get paid, nor do the women. They all volunteered themselves for this."
"Volunteered?" sputtered Gibbs. Kate, his, well not his, but still, beautiful, fragile Kate had volunteered to be a prostitute? It was impossible. "Take me to that room, right now." he demanded.
"I'm afraid I can't do that. If the key is gone, that means she's busy, and if she's busy, I can't just let you in. Besides, there's only one key per room."
"I don't need a goddamn key to get in!" thundered Gibbs. "I've got a gun to blow out the locks, and a damn good kick to break the door down."
The manager was still unfazed. "I'm afraid I can't help you. You'll just have to wait until her key becomes available." Gibbs relented, realizing that he had no choice. He settled himself against the wall next to the key box, waiting for the chance to get KAte out of this hell hole. The men around the house backed down instantly from his glare, not trying to approach the box. After what seemed like a lifetime, a man came and dropped a key into "Kitty's" box. Gibbs wanted nothing more than to kill the man with his bare hands, but his fear for Kate's well-being made him grab the key and race up the stairs. He got o room A-3 and paused, not sure he wanted to see what was inside. He forced himself to open the door, and then froze. Kate was spread-eagled across the bed, delicate wrists and ankles chafing and turning red from being hand-cuffed. Her eyes were closed, head fallen back on the pillow. The shallow rise and fall of her chest assured him that she was still alive, but clearly in pain. The bruising shadows covering her snowy skin confirmed that fact. The bastard was dead.
*****
Kate heard the door open, and tried not to move. Moving not only hurt, but usually made her clients more violent. The door swung shut, and the click of the lock was the loudest sound she'd ever heard in her life. Fear thrilled through her body, making her limbs tremble a little, as she heard a noise that rarely accompanied anything but the most violent clients she had. Not only had the door been locked, but the dead-bolt was sliding home in the doorway, ensuring that there was no way on this earth that no one would get in until whoever had arrived was done with her. Her breathing quickened, fear twisting her stomach. She hadn't heard the steps across the room, but suddenly she felt the presence next to her. It was strong, dominant, and most definitely dangerous. She tried to hold in the quiet whimper, but failed. Then, she froze in shock. The man put a hand to her forehead, unusually gentle, and brushed her bangs out of her eyes. Th touch was almost reverent in its softness. She felt her arms and legs being released from their bindings, and drew them towards her body, shrinking her already small frame into a tiny ball. The bedsprings groaned as the man sat down on the bed. He pulled her towards his chest, enveloping her in his strong, protective arms. She took a deep breath to still her body's quaking and was filled with the scent of bourbon, old-spice, coffee, and sawdust. It was a familiar scent, one that had always relaxed and comforted her. But today the smell terrified her. Her eyes flew open and she saw those famous blueish-grey eyes gazing back at her.
"Oh, god!" she gasped, burying her head in her huddled figure.
Gibbs kept his arms around her, but kissed the top of her head gently. "It's okay, Kate, honey, I'm going to get you out of here." he said softly,
"I don't want...I just...God!" she sobbed. Gibbs got up, pulling her with him gently. He helped her dress, trying to protect her bruises. Kate noticed that there was nothing sexual about the action. It was more a fatherly behavior, the desire to protect and comfort the ones he loved. He draped his jacket over her shoulders, holding her close, to keep her on her feet. He guided her out of the house and to his car. He sat her down in the passenger seat and stroked her hair soothingly before getting into the driver's seat. He drove carefully for once, and it took longer than he was used to to reach his house. By this point, he had to practically carry her into the house. He led her into the bathroom, seating her on the toilet seat and running a bath. Again, he helped her with her clothes, and into the tub, closing the door softly behind him as he went to the hall closet, looking for some kind of cream for her bruises. He knew there was nothing he could do to make them stop hurting, but he could at least help them heal, and lessen the pain temporarily. He found what he was looking for and knocked on the door. When he heard the weak "Come in." he opened the door and sat down next to the bathtub.
"Are you okay, honey?" he asked quietly, the father in him coming out in her time of need.
Kate nodded, tears pouring down her cheeks. "I'm fine. I just...I..." she sank farther into the water. "I wish you hadn't seen me there." she whispered, pain in her voice. "It isn't an easy thing to explain, especially to you."
"You don't have to explain, hon." Gibbs replied, petting her head. "I already know. So does abby, at least she knows part of it. We're worried about you, Katie." he said. Kate tried to be angry that he had called her Katie, but somehow, the way he said it made her feel loved, safe, small. It didn't feel degrading, or disrespectful the way it did when Tony DiNozzo said it. It felt like she was a little girl again, curled up asleep in her aunt's lap. The same one who had given her the chest. Aunt Joslin. Kate's visits to her house had been the only times she felt truly safe, really able to be herself. Except now. Gibbs reached for a bottle of shampoo, pausing long enough to ask, "Do you mind, honey? You've gotten a little mussed up."
Kate nodded, wrapping her arms around her breasts, trying to hide what she could of her bruised and battered body. She needn't have worried, though. Gibbs never so much as glanced at her body, he just worked the shampoo through her hair. Gradually, she began to relax under his influence. Her head fell back a little and her eyes closed, her face falling into a neutral expression. Finally Gibbs poured water over her scalp, rinsing out her hair. When he finished, he pointed to a fluffy white towel and folded robe on the counter. "Go ahead and get out whenever you're ready. I'll be in the living room." he turned and left. Kate sighed, completely submerging her body in the water for a moment, savoring the weightless feeling it caused, before she stood up, wringing out her hair and stepping onto the bath mat on the floor. She dried off and slipped into the robe. It smelled just like him. Soft, warm, and familiar. She tied the sash around her waist, wincing as the cloth pinched a patch of bruised skin. She stepped out of the room, wandering down the hallway until she came to a partially open door. She peeked through it and saw a bed and dresser. Not the living room. She turned around and went the other way, this time ending up in a large, sparsely furnished room. Sitting on the couch, reading, was Gibbs. She walked up hesitantly and sat down next to him. "Thank you. For getting me out, I mean." she whispered, unable to look up, knowing she'd see revulsion or shame in his eyes. So she was surprised when she felt herself dragged gently into the safety of his embrace again. She looked up, a question in her eyes.
"I'm not mad, honey, I'm worried." he answered her thoughts. He took her hand in his, turning it over to show the freshly split skin. Kate turned her face away, ashamed. "You're hurting yourself. That's not okay, it's not safe."
"I know. It's the only way I can feel, though." she murmured. "The only way I know how to cope."
"I can think of lots of other ways."
Kate shook her head. "It's not like that. I hide everything so deep, sometimes I feel like I could be shot in the stomach and not feel anything. I need to be sure, I need to know I can still feel something."
Gibbs chuckled. "So go out and get laid, Kate."
"Isn't that what I just did?" she asked.
His eyes darkened, fury filling them. "No. You got yourself fucked. You let some stranger use your body as a toy, a prop. It's no the same at all, and that bastard's going to pay for what he did."
Kate shivered. This man was dangerous, even if only to those who hurt his friends. She felt her heart crack at the word friends. Everything about Gibbs, from his lithe body to his stonecold fury reminded her of a tiger. That's what he was, a beautiful, powerful, cunning, dangerous, and passionate tiger. When she had fallen for him, she didn't know, but she did know, that she couldn't picture a life without him in it. Maybe she would never be with him, but she would see him every day at work, earn his respect, learn from him. Tonight, when she'd recognized him in that dark, cold room, her personal hell, that plan had fallen to pieces. He would never respect her after this. He would never be able to look at her without remembering the way she had acted. She knew that his actions and words now meant nothing. It was just how he was. He would never kick her while she was down, but as soon as she got to her feet, the tirade would begin. Her head dropped into her lap, her fingers clasping behind her head, holding it there. What would she do with herself when he was gone from her life?
*****
Gibbs gazed down at the broken woman in front of him, wondering how he could have missed this much pain in one of his associates. Especially Kate. Kate was his...At least he wanted her to be. Then again, he'd never been able to read her very well. She was so in control, her feelings and thoughts shielded by barrier upon barrier. Even so, he'd thought he was a good judge o people, but he'd never thought Kate would try to hurt herself. His strong, beautiful, confident Kate. Could it be that she wasn't so strong as she looked? At any rate, he knew from her body language that she expected to be thoroughly thrashed for her behavior. If she had been Tony or anyone else, she would have been right. But Kate? Not only could he not bring himself to hurt her more, he was too consumed with the desire to torture the bastard who'd done this to her. He knew it was a lifetime's worth of work, but what had his fragile, tiny Kate lived through to cause this kind of pain? He pulled her closer to him, fighting the desire to kiss her full lips. She'd suffered so much today, he was afraid that if he so much as touched her, he would hurt her. But, damn, he wanted to kiss her, wanted to make her forget everything that had happened, wanted to make her so happy that she'd never again consider taking a knife to her porcelain skin. He saw her shoulders quivering, and knew that she was crying, even though no sound was present. At any rate, he knew what was hurting her right now, and adding a relationship to her life would not help her. Right now, he would do what he had to to keep her safe from herself, but his feelings would wait, the way they always did. He rubbed her arms, comfortingly. "Come on, sweetie, let's get you to bed. You should rest, then you'll feel better in the morning."
Story Notes:
I am a pre-christian era religious historian, and while some of the choices Kate makes do represent spirituality, they are also extremely dangerous when not performed with the proper caution. I absolutely DO NOT condone the use of these rituals at any time, let alone in times of strong emotion or stress.
Author's Chapter Notes:
Aphrodesiac- something that inspires love, usually a potion, object, or spell. Commonly used when pining from afar, from the Greek Goddess of love and female sex, Aphrodite. Kate begins work at NCIS and around the same time, she discovers that some things are better left untouched.
Chapter End Notes:
I am a pre-christian era religious historian, and while some of the choices Kate makes do represent spirituality, they are also extremely dangerous when not performed with the proper caution. I absolutely DO NOT condone the use of these rituals at any time, let alone in times of strong emotion or stress.