Atonement

Get in. Do the job. Get out. The routine was always the same. Even if how to accomplish it changed, the pattern never did.

It should have been just another job, and it was. Right up until he was getting ready to get out. He killed the two gaurds on watch outside and used one of their key cards to keep the alarm from sounding as he entered. He crept through the house carefully checking for the last gaurd. There were supposed to be three, but the last one was no where to be seen. Not good, he thought to himself.

Cautiously he made his way through house. He made it to the targets without encountering anyone else. Entering the bedroom he disbatched both targets. He figured he'd make a thorough pass through the house and try to find the last gaurd. He searched the rooms one by one. When he reached the door at the end of the hall the door opened slowly on it's own. Kort raised his gun and prepared to kill the final gaurd. He froze before he could get the shot off.

Stunned, he stared at the five year old standing in front of him. She was NOT supposed to be here. He specifically timed this hit when she was supposed to be visiting relatives. If at all possible Kort planned jobs to keep involvement of children to a minimum. Any time a child got caught up in any job he did the guilt gnawed at him. The faces of all the children who's deaths he'd been responsible for haunted his dreams.

He should shoot her. He knew he should. He had no idea what he would have done if he hadn't heard the slight noise behind him. Instantly he dove into the room snagging the girl. Curling himself around her protectively he kicked the door shut as they hit the ground. Finally startled out of her own shock, the girl began to struggle against him. Kort effortlessly held her with one arm as he stood and aimed his gun at the door. He backed towards the window on the side of the room trying to come up with a plan.

As the door slammed open Kort dropped and twisted to move the girl behind him and sheild her as much as possible. The gunman came around the corner firing wildly. Kort returned fire. He felt one of the shots hit his upper arm just before his own shot hit the man. As the man went down Kort fired another shot into his head. Turning back to check on the child as fast as he could he stopped dead the instant he saw her.

Kort knew he could kill someone driving right now. For that a little guilt threatened to get in. Almost. He also knew he could kill himself driving right now. He couldn't bring himself to care about that except for the reprieve it would bring. Some how he managed make it to his destination without killing himself or anyone else. He wasn't sure if he was relieved or saddened by that. He stared at the house trying to remember why he had thought this was a good idea.

He should have gone to the hospital afterward. Instead, he'd bandaged his arm, changed clothes and found a bar. He wasn't sure how much he drank at the bar, but eventually the bartender had cut him off. Kort wanted to shoot the man but he just drove to a liquer store and picked up a bottle of vodka. That's when the idea hit him and grabbed a bottle of bourbon before leaving.

Good idea or bad, he was here now. Right now Kort couldn't take the fact that he was responsible for another child dying. He tried drowning himself in alcohol but it hadn't worked. Not knowing what else to do, he turned to the one person he felt understood him the best. He grabbed the bottles of alcohol and got out of the car. It wasn't until he finally stumbled to the door that he reallized Gibbs might kill him just for showing up. Especially at this hour.

Kort shrugged and almost fell off the poarch as the motion unbalanced him. Catching himself on the railling he stumbled towards the door. He banged on the door a few times and waited. Propping one arm on the door to steady himself he banged on the door again still slumped against it. As he got ready to bang a third time the door opened and Kort fell forward into the house.

A loud banging noise suddenly had Gibbs wide awake. He grabbed his gun and stood, blinking the last vestiges of sleep away. Someone banged on his door again. Crossing the living room he cautiously peered through the peephole in the door. He couldn't see much of the man leaning against his door but he did recognized him.

Gibbs lowered his weapon and opened the door. He had to step backwards to avoid Kort falling into him. Kort pulled a bag close to himself and wrapped his arms around it. He twisted slightly as he fell and ended up on his side with the bag pressed securely between his chest and his arms. Gibs was a little curious why Kort was here, but since it was three in the morning, the anger was winning out.

Kort groaned and slowly raised the bag upward. Gibbs stared at it and thought twice about shooting Kort here and now. Since he didn't feel like dealing with the headach of explaining to the local LEO's, his agency and Kort's agency why he shot the man, he merely grabbed the bag and waited. Kort rolled over and used the open door to help stand himself up. When he was up right he clamped a hand over his left arm and made his way to the couch.

Slamming the door shut Gibbs stalked over and stood by the arm of the couch. If Kort didn't explain himself soon Gibbs wasn't sure even the paperwork would stop him from shooting Kort. He watched Kort pull his gun out and tensed. Gibbs watched Kort stare at the gun for a while before shaking his head and holding it up as well. Frowning Gibbs took the gun and narrowed his eyes as he watched the other man.

Taking his gun out Kort stared at it. He could do it, he knew he could. It just didn't seem right that he should get to die swiftly, without paying for the things he'd done. Honestly he didn't care if he died. Well, almost didn't. He did love his job... Usually... He raised the gun for Gibbs to take and keep him from being temped again.
"Bourbon's yours," he muttered as lay down and curled up on the couch.
Images of the little girl that died tonight crept into his mind. Allysa, he reminded himself. She had a name. He placed his hands over his face. If I'd been faster. Smarter. I could have saved her. I should have saved her, he thought to himself.

Gibbs watched briefly unsure of what to make of Kort or his actions. Opening the bag he noted the two bottles. Recognizing the bottle of bourbon he normally drank he lifted the other bottle out instead. Vodka, he noted, and frowned. He wasn't quite sure what was going on but he was pretty sure Kort didn't really need more alcohol.

" 'S Mine." Kort muttered at him.

"I think you've had enough already." Gibbs replied cooly.

"Not yet." There was a brief pause as Kort shuddered slightly. "Not by a long shot."

Gibbs walked over and put the the bottles on the dining room table. Walking back he sat down and watched Kort. One hand was still over his eyes, the other was clamped over his upper arm again. Gibbs frowned.

"What did you do to yourself now, Kort." Gibbs tried to keep his tone level. Something was going on here. He couldn't decipher what it was yet. Kort muttered something and Gibbs leaned forward straining to hear it. "What was that?"

"Allysa." Kort moved his hand and uncovered his eyes. "Dead."

God, he didn't want to do this. He wasn't even sure why he was here anymore. He just wanted this to be over. He knew he couldn't take this much longer. The memories of them, the dreams that haunted his sleep. How much longer could this go on?

"Who was she?"

Gibbs' voice was soft but he still couldn't stop from flinching when he heard it. He closed his eyes as images of her ran through his mind again. Allysa, standing in the doorway, shocked. Allysa in his arms as he kicked the door shut. Allysa, dead. He did try to protect her, he tried to tell himself. Yea, well you didn't do a very good job did you?

"Kort."

"It's my fault." He opened his eyes and struggled to sit up. It took a few minutes but he finally managed. "I wasn't quick enough, or good enough, or something." He looked down as he spoke. He couldn't look into those piercing blue eyes and say any of this. Gibbs would be pissed, he loved children. Another CIA agent would shrug off what Kort was saying. He couldn't tell any of this to them, though. They wouldn't understand why he'd be so upset about it. Gibbs would understand, though. He'd understand and be pissed.

"Kort. Tell me what happened." Gibbs voice was still soft but Kort wasn't decieved.

"I took a mission. It was an easy one, but she wasn't supposed to be there." He finally looked up at Gibbs. He needed Gibbs to believe this part at the very least. "I made sure she wasn't supposed to be there, I did. I checked and double checked. I waited longer to do the mission than my director wanted, because I wanted her out of the house. God dammit!"

Suddenly he felt too open, too vulnerable, too sober. He looked around and spied the bag on the table. Standing he stumbled over to it and pulled out the vodka. Stumbling his way back he dropped back onto Gibbs' couch and grimaced. He looked down at it, taking it in for the first time.

"You need better furniture," he mumbled.

"Focus Kort."

He opened the bottle and took a long drink before continuing. "I waited five days longer than the director gave me because she was supposed to be out of town. Supposed to be visiting relatives. I couldn't find someone. I went looking and I came across her, Allysa, instead. She wasn't supposed to be there. You have to believe that much Gibbs."

Gibbs watched him for a moment before he nodded. Kort took a breath. He hadn't reallized he was holding it until he finally saw that nod. Kort nodded back and took another long drink. He stared at the ground before speaking this time.

"I heard something, grabbed her and got us back in her room before anything could happen. I was trying to find away out but there were only windows. It would have taken too long to get them open. I wasn't sure if she'd be safe if I let her go. I didn't want her to run into the middle of a gunfight. There was nothing close enough to hide her behind. I couldn't think fast enough."

He paused to take another drink. "He came in shooting and I tried to keep her out of the line of fire, I... I failed, she's dead..." He trailed off. Slowly he lifted his eyes to meet Gibbs' eyes. "She was five, Gibbs."

Gibbs remained perfectly still trying to take it all in. A five year old was dead. Kort tried to save her. Kort had come to him for... Why did Kort come here? Why did Kort have to tell him about this? Like he needed to hear about another child dying? Didn't he already have enough to deal with? Didn't he already have his wife and his own daughter to grieve for? Suddenly Gibbs needed a drink.

He stalked to the table and grabbed the bourbon. Staring at it and reallizing it came from Kort, the reason he needed a drink to start with, he stopped short of opening it. Some part of him knew that Kort couldn't have known about them. It wasn't enough to banish the anger he felt about Kort bringing all this to him.

He stalked back to the couch and stared at Kort.

"Why me?" he demanded.

"Because," Kort said, "You're the person that hates me the least."

For a minute Gibbs couldn't move. Finally Kort's words started to sink in. Kort came here soley because he had no where else. 'He' was the closest thing to a friend Kort had? Not someone from the CIA, or anyone he knew from outside of work?

"Depressing, isn't it?" Kort said as he looked away. "Sorry. I just... I think I had too much too drink. Sorry for, uh, everything. I think I can find my way out."

Kort put a hand on the couch and started to push himself up before hissing and dropping back onto the couch. Grabbing his left arm again Kort winced. Gibbs watched and reallized there was something Kort hadn't told him.

"You got shot, didn't you?"

Kort turned and looked at Gibbs. Gibbs' expression was bland and Kort couldn't tell if Gibbs was worried, happy or curious about it. He'd seen how pissed Gibbs had been earlier. He figured it was because he had gotten a child killed, but something had felt wrong about that. He debated a sarcastic remark but thought better of it. Kort put his right hand up and gave a half shrug before using his right hand to push himself off the couch.

"How bad is it?"

Kort swayed a little as he thought about how to respond. Finally he just gave another half shrug again.

"What did the doctor say about it?"

Kort frowned and tried to figure out why Gibbs was asking about it. He got shot sometimes, it happened. Occupational hazzard. He didn't think Gibbs was going to let him get out of this with another shrug and for some reason he didn't feel right lying about it.

"It's fine, I'll live," Kort stated simply.

"That the doctor's prognosis or yours Kort?"

"Forget about it Gibbs, I'm fine. Let it go."

Kort turned abruptly intent of leaving but the turn had been to fast. The room swam and he started to lose he balance.

Gibbs watched at Kort turned and started fall. Fuck. He moved in and caught Kort before he could hit the ground or the coffee table. There was no way he could let Kort drive like this. He'd kill someone, probably himself. Gibbs guided Kort back onto the couch as the thought hit him. Kort wanted to kill himself. That's why he'd handed his gun over.

He turned to Kort and held his head gently. He waited patiently until Kort looked up.

"You want to die. That's why you don't care about driving right now, that's why you gave me your gun and that's why you haven't seen a doctor yet." He stared at Kort who refused to answer. Kort's eyes slowly closed. Kort's weight shifted and Gibbs adjusted his hold to help him lay back down.

"I'm sorry. I tried, I did. I just..."

Gibbs ran his hand down Kort's back a few times. He wasn't sure what to do. He wanted to hate him right now, but he'd never seen Kort this... broken. It was the only word that fit. Finally he settled for comforting Kort for a while. Even if he wanted to hurt Kort for bringing up painful memories Kort wouldn't feel it right now. Gibbs slowly shook his head. Best to wait and decide what to do when he could think more straight.

Another thought occured Gibbs. Kort had to be shot recently. Since when did the CIA make hits on people on U.S. soil? He turned back, intent on asking, but Kort was no longer awake. Sighing Gibbs stood and retrieved a small blanket. Throwing it over Kort he went to get is phone. He needed to make a few phone calls.