DISCLAIMER: NCIS and its characters are the property of CBS, no infringement intended.
AUTHOR'S NOTE: Darker than I anticipated... but, hey, with the Ari kick I seem to be on, it can't really be helped... This is kind of pushing the limits of the Abby/Kate pairing. Abby is in there, as per the rules of fanfic100, but it's mostly a piece about Kate and Ari's very peculiar little relationship (what can I say? I watched Reveille tonight and my mind went to work).
ARCHIVING: Only with the permission of the author.
SPOILERS: Bete Noire, Reveille, Twilight
I would be lying if I said it hadn't crossed my mind since. The scalpel in my hand, the length of his neck just begging to be sliced open. But at the moment, looking into his eyes, I couldn't bring myself to do it. I didn't see kindness or compassion or even daring there. I saw hatred. Contempt. Not for me, not for Ducky or even the United States in general.
He was telling me it was all right. Telling me to do it.
Why him? Of all the agents they could have sent, why Ari Haswari? Because he was their most talented, their most ruthless, their most heartless? Or because he didn't care if he died? The man sealed himself in a body bag and was delivered to a morgue. Perhaps that was the only peace he'd felt in ages. Torn between his Israeli and Arabic sides all his life, used as a pawn in his father's political ambitions...
He was a victim. And I couldn't bring myself to victimize him further.
Not even after he kidnapped me, held me against my will. He had been a perfect gentleman and had let me go without harm. He had kept his every word. When he released me, on his way to a clandestine face-to-face meeting with Gibbs, I had hesitated before leaving the car. I'd told him something.
"You and Gibbs are much more alike than either of you care to admit. Maybe next time we could do this without the games... without the bloodshed."
"We shall see, Caitlin," he had said. "We shall see."
The only person I revealed that to was Abby. My confidant, my sole supporter. She alone, I thought, could understand my reasons for sympathizing with him. It was Abby who raised the question that had been eating at me: How can I sympathize with a man who terrifies me?
I wasn't sure. Maybe it was like DiNozzo said. Maybe it is like love. I've loved plenty of people I couldn't stand. Maybe...
I do not love him. He's a maniac, a killer, he terrifies me. Love? Not an option.
I pity him.
Even as the cement beneath my head is warmed by my own blood, even as my body grows colder and colder.
Even with the bullet he put through my head settling several hundred yards away.
I pity him.
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