"Don’t you want to be happy, Gibbs?" she’d asked with all the innocence of a child; as if happiness was simply a matter of choice, not a matter of destiny or luck, as he’d believed since he was about twelve years old.
It had been about then, that little Jethro Gibbs had looked at his sorry lot in life and began to wonder whether some people had all the luck in the world and others none at all. Happiness, for him was not a choice, was not even an option; and ever since, he’d wondered whether it was something he was even entirely capable of.
Kate seemed convinced of hers and everyone’s perfect right to happiness. Gibbs was not so sure of his. He judged the world by an implacable standard that few found easy to live up to - including himself.
He was more of an idealist than people credited him with being. But he was a disillusioned idealist; only happiness that was hard-won could have any true value. If it came easily, it wasn’t to be cherished and was more likely to go easily. And if it was hard to come by, then it must be hard to loose.
Gibbs had clung tenaciously to the very last scraps of imperfect happiness that he’d experienced in his life. He’d fought till his heart simply gave out, as it slipped gradually and irrevocably through his fingers, only realizing too late the mistakes he’d made, the mistakes he condemned himself for everyday, the mistakes he felt he would and should live with, as penance, for the rest of his life.

"Let’s break the pattern," she’d said. Crazy talk - talk like that was the sort that had Jethro Gibbs, even at his age, running for the closest door. If he’d been able to ditch her right then and there he probably would’ve.
But one of the hardest things to do, he was learning about Caitlin Todd, was to escape her. She was on his scent, like the profiler he’d hired her to be, and nothing he did seemed to put her off. And he’d tried. He’d been trying for a long time now, but she just kept on liking him-- what was that about??
Of course, he liked her too - very much - but he was careful to keep her from ever knowing or relying on that fact. He didn’t really know why….Habit? Self-preservation? Power? A little of each probably.
Kate didn’t seem to mind. She was pretty secure in her likeability - he’d never met someone so hard to put off. The very idea that she assumed that with a simple request, he would drop his guard and share his feelings, breaking the habit of a lifetime, was proof of her naïveté. And…well, he had to admit it…her bravery.
The conversation was all too familiar to him; the pattern was familiar to him and he’d stuck to it as he had with three wives and numerous girlfriends. He met her openness and concern with ridicule and dubiousness. She really had no idea what she was up against, no idea who she was dealing with here. He was as bottled-up as they come - and rather proud of the fact. It had taken him nearly 40 years to achieve this level of self-sufficiency - one word from Katie Todd, however cute or understanding she may look, did not undo that much effort.
But if he was as much of an island as he tried to tell himself he was, then why did he
continue to guard against her attempts to befriend him, know him, like him? Surely there was no real harm in that. He had to remain her boss, but there was no harm in friendship right?
He was friends with Abby - she was one of his favorite people in the world. Her brashness had long since conquered his walls, and he cherished their bond as something quite unique and special - she was family, she was the daughter he never had, she was…just Abby.
But Kate was more than ‘just Kate’ and something inside him, he dared not identify what, wanted more than just friendship, wanted more than just an amicable working relationship with her. Something in him wanted everything that he guessed she would give him in a heartbeat if she ever suspected just how head over heels he could become for her.
And admitting to her that he was worried for that lug, Dinozzo, which he was, was just a step from admitting other things - like how much he cared for all the members of his team, with a special tenderness reserved for the brunette who sat across from him everyday.

"You don’t look happy," she’d pointed out, before he cut her down. Of course he didn’t look happy. She could not know, with her charmed existence, with all her 30 years how life can rip out your insides, batter them within an inch of annihilation, then stuff them back into your body without hope of care or healing. She knew nothing of how that felt, or what he’d experienced.
She could not know because he would not tell her. And one day, she would stop asking. One day she’d stop trying, stop caring, stop searching. She would no longer risk lowering her own guard around him, she would no longer wish to know why he did the things he did. Or didn’t do others.
Kate was resilient; she kept putting herself out there, expecting him to meet her halfway. He never did. And no one was resilient enough to continue reaching out to a lost cause. She was smart enough to know when to give up. But he still dreaded the day when she would.


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Her head was down, her hair shining in the lamplight, when he approached her desk. He didn’t know what he was doing, but he knew what he wanted, and he suspected it would take very little to get it. He couldn’t resist any longer. He’d deal with all the messy emotions later, right now; her words swirled round his brain:

"…break the pattern…I’m happy…don’t you want to be happy?...."

-- and he knew just how to get rid of them. She looked up, surprised, her fringe falling in her eyes, when he leaned down, planting both hands on her desk. He leaned in, towering over her and pinning her with his gaze. Her eyes held his as he noticed her hands try to cover what she’d been working on. A sketch, he noted from the periphery of his vision, thinking that he recognized his own likeness. The guilt in her eyes confirmed this suspicion. If he wasn’t quite so scared of what he was about to do, he might needle her about that. But he had a plan and plans were good - so he stuck to it. His plan was a simple one, not foolproof by any means, but it was the best he could do at short notice. He was coming at her with all the honesty and need he could summon up; he was gonna give her exactly what she wanted:
"I’m not happy," he said, frankly, in a low voice.
He watched as she recalled the conversation they’d had and recovered her bearings.
"Oh," she said firstly, somewhat thrown by his intensity and honesty: "You said you were," she pointed out.
"I’m not," he replied, stoically: "I lied."
"I see," she mumbled, looking down for a moment. When she looked up again, her eyes held friendly concern: "Is there anything I can do?"
She was thinking along the lines of feeding his dog while he took a vacation, being a comforting shoulder to cry on as he recounted his childhood trauma, putting him in touch with an excellent therapist or taking him out to dinner. Okay, the last one didn’t sound so bad but he had something far more interesting in mind, if she would just quit looking up at him with her Joan-of-Arc eyes and get a damn clue. Anything she could do…? He tried to inject his voice with equal amounts of confidence and desire:
"Yes," he said and left it at that.
If Caitlin Todd wanted this as much as he did then she would get the message. He watched her closely. He could actually see the moment it dawned on her -- and what a stunning sunrise it was.
He’d didn’t have a dog, he didn’t need a therapist, a vacation or anyone’s sympathy. All he wanted, all he needed, was right there in front of him.
She rose, slowly, her eyes steady on his, her cheeks stained with a wicked flush. She spoke and her voice was breathy:
"Wanna get out of here?"
Message received loud and clear.
"Yes," he said again, anticipation already building in his chest. She stepped around her desk and he took her hand in his briefly, his thumb skimming over the pale skin of her wrist, as she dropped her head and moved closer to him. He reached around her, enjoying the intimate interplay of their bodies, now that he didn’t have to ignore the pull that had always existed between them. He picked up her coat and held it out for her. She turned slowly, slipping one then the other arm into it, her face turning to each side hoping to keep him within her sight. Her hair bunched in the collar of the coat as he fitted it over her shoulders, so he slipped his hands beneath, fingers brushing the nape of her neck, making her shiver, and he lifted her hair, smoothing it out over her shoulders and back.
"Your place or mine?" she said in that same breathy voice and a feeling in his stomach swelled as she turned, her lips curving up in a soft smile. This, he thought; this is the start of happiness. Right here, right now, happiness begins…

"Profile report," she said, her voice not so breathy anymore: "…Gibbs?"
"Ssshhh! Don’t wake him!" he heard Tony say in an urgent whisper followed by some scuffling…..

In the elevator, he slung his arm around Kate Todd’s waist as her lips reached up and caressed his throat….

"He said he wanted it ASAP," came her voice again, followed by Tony’s, noting that if she wanted to wake the bear then, it would be her own funeral.

In the car, her eyes gleamed at him and her hand lay not-so-innocently on his thigh, stroking the material of his trousers…..

"Tony, will you give it to him? I have to go," Kate pleaded.
"So, I see. Who’s the jock?"
"Shut up."

He couldn’t wait till they got inside to kiss her, so he turned her towards him on the doorstep, and was leaning down to taste her beautiful mouth for the first time….

When he woke up. Kate was standing at his desk, folder in hand, staring down at him.
"Sweet dreams?" she asked, humour tainting her tone.
He roused himself, sitting up in his chair and unfolding his arms. He blinked a few times and felt his stomach turn over. No happiness had survived his trip back to reality.
Kate moved a coffee cup closer to him, helpfully and smiled down at him, oblivious.
"Profile report," she said again, handing the folder across. He stared up at her warily, accepting the thing slowly and looking her over.
She’d changed her clothes; her work wear had been replaced with a little black dress, which seemed to do everything and nothing at the same time. Her lips were painted darker than usual and she’d put her hair up. He wished he could say he’d never seen her look so amazing, but truth was, Kate looked more stunning to him in her daily dress than all the trappings of the dating world that she occasionally still visited. She didn’t need it; and he pitied the poor guys that could not see her more natural beauty, like he did.
Coming to his senses, he decided to pity himself, as he realized he could see her everyday, he could dream about her every night, he could plan and wonder all he wanted, but in the end, Kate was still not his, and in reality, he didn’t think he had the guts to change that fact.
She was bobbing up and down in her heels like a child reporting to the teacher before they were allowed out for playtime. He couldn’t resist holding her there a moment longer. He set the report down.
"You look nice," he said, giving her a critical once-over. ‘Nice’ wasn’t much of a compliment for a woman and he knew it. Kate glowed slightly though, so content with the little he could give.
"Thanks," she mumbled, straightening her dress a bit and glancing over his head towards the elevator.
He paused, making her wait for his approval, then he reached for her report and put on his glasses: "Go," he muttered, waving his hand: "go."
"Thanks Gibbs," she said, delighted, grabbing her coat and bag from her desk and heading for the elevator. Gibbs rose, stretching his sore muscles and beginning to pace between Tony’s desk and his own as the younger agent began to report what he’d found with the phone records. Distracted, Gibbs watched Kate stride up to a man waiting at the elevator, a smile on her face. He took her coat and held it out for her.
Gibbs turned on his heel, continuing to pace, as Kate turned her back on her date, facing the bullpen and allowing the other man to wrap her up in her coat. When Gibbs turned back, so had she, and he watched as she moved closer to her date and whispered in his ear. The elevator doors opened and he guided her in. Gibbs watched, letting out a low groan on a breath, as Tony finally realized he was not being listened to and fell silent. Gibbs leaned an elbow on the filing cabinet next to Tony’s desk and squeezed his eyes shut, pushing his thumb and forefinger into the corners.
"Anything I can do, Boss?" he asked tentatively.
Gibbs looked at him and rubbed his forehead. He had to laugh at himself. Tony looked scared and confused as the older man chuckled, somberly.
"No, Dinozzo, nothing." He returned to his desk: "You were saying?"
Tony resumed his report, and Gibbs stood at his desk, shuffling papers as he listened with half his brain. The other half was still possessed with Caitlin Todd and the mess of emotions she’d already created in him, without even coming near his private life.
He turned once again in desperation to the mantras that held him together, kept him sane;
He was an island, he didn’t need anyone.
He was happy, just as he was.
Never date a co-worker.
Romance between agents never works.
Oh, and last but not least -- Love sucks.
Yep, he thought resentfully, feeling his pattern give way a little more -- and the day he started believing all that, would be the day he stopped dreaming about Caitlin Todd and got a decent nights sleep. Unfortunately for him, that day was most definitely not today.

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