Disclaimer: I own nothing! Nothing! Well besides this laptop and a brain as well. And a love for Trent Kort.
Author's Note: I am a Trent Kort lover, he is definitely one of my all time favorite characters. And soon after learning that Trent Kort doesn't approve of Torture this idea popped into my head. We don't know much about Kort, which is why it's so fun to play around with him. But what we do know can definitely be played around with. I wanted to know why Trent was so opposed to torture. If something happened to him so I decided I'd write this. Now, I am writing this as a friendship, or Frenemy fic. So there is no slash. I actually JUST re-found this in my documents, I wrote this months ago and never posted it. Any suggestions leave it in a review. :) Anything that you think would be cool to happen or interesting leave it in a review. :)
So that leads me to this-PLEASE REVIEW.
The night sky was pitch black, as if God had accidentally poured ink all over the evening's blue canvas. The wind whistled through the empty air, caressing itself it howled in agony at the loss of something to love, something to touch, to hold, to carry away. It's reality depended on another's. A bitter laugh tore through the night air, ripping a hole in the deafening silence that had enveloped it. Sitting in a rumbling car at the top of a cliff was Trent Kort, a bottle of scotch pressed to his lips. He looked out into the darkness resentment and bitterness etched in every line of his face, his eyes seeing terrible things in the night sky; things he'd never forget. A distant look of pain flashed in the back of his dark eyes as he took another swig of the scotch that burned his throat and lit a fire in his stomach. He felt the gas pedal under his foot gently stepping on it.
He could do it, it wouldn't exactly be a quick death but it was one that would hide his secrets. If he blew out his brains they'd know he killed himself, they'd dig and dig until they finally found the reason why. And nobody could know that, nobody could ever know. All he had to do was to back up a bit and step on the pedal and it would be over. He wouldn't have to wake up everyday hoping to get shot, or struggling to just pull the trigger himself. He wouldn't ever hear their screams again, he'd no longer wake up at the same time every night from the same nightmare; he wouldn't have to lie anymore. All his fake lives would be over, he would know who he was again. He was nobody, that was easy to remember, and when you're nobody it's so easy to make yourself into something that you're not. You give yourself an identity, you tell yourself this is your job, this is your temperament and this is your social class. Before you know it you have a whole new personality, motives and perspective. He was everything to everyone, he could make himself into anything anyone needed him to be. Which is why he never dated, because he knew he could make himself into the perfect man for any girl that may be interested but if you played a role too long you assimilate, you lose yourself and become what you're pretending.
If you can deceive yourself, you can deceive the world. It wasn't so hard, it was a lot easier then the media portrayed it; you just lie, about the small things and the big things, you keep lying until one day you look back and you don't know what really happened, you lie so much that truth is nothing more than another lie. And when you realize you can no longer tell what's real and what's not, that's when you start thinking that you may be crazy. Lying comes natural to you, in fact it's your first response when someone asks you a question even a simple one like "How are you?" Yet people like you, or at least, they like the lies. You begin to wonder if you're considered normal by people, then how many liars like you are out there? You start doubting everything, investigating someone's story, reading body language. You become paranoid until you can't even believe when someone tells you that they love you. You live in a lie, you live a lie, and your whole being is a lie. And you just build on the lie more everyday you survive.
But he couldn't go one lying anymore, not because someone found out, but because he saw someone who already knew. Someone who knew him long before he put his mask up, before any more then innocent lies, some for attention others to cover up mistakes, could get a hold on him. Someone who knew his deepest darkest secrets; knew them because he had the starring role in the living and dreaming nightmare that was his life. Suddenly screams pierced the night and Kort jerked out of his reverie, twisting his head around, looking back and forth trying to see where they had come from, the screaming got louder and louder, pleas for mercy raising up from the valley below him. He gripped the steering wheel as he heard them begging for him to stop, for them to stop. He could hear his own voice pleading with the insane professor, getting louder and louder until they filled the valley and were flooding into his car. Dropping the scotch he clutched at his head, leaning forward he rested his head against the steering wheel and hit his palms on the dashboard. Screaming at them to stop, for everyone to shut up, looking up slightly he watched as a rain drop hit the windshield, he breathed in deeply, trying to block out the deafening screams that were fading into the background. He focused on the sound of the raindrops hitting the car, the gentle metallic pitter patter of water trying to breach the steel defenses of his car.
The rain soon drowned out the sound of any past misery that had risen up in the dark night, guilt engulfing him he could hear his old professors voice whispering clearly to him as if he was sitting right next to him, "You weakling. You killed them all. Killed them! Now what use are they to us, you took the easy way out, now they all must suffer. Now you must suffer. Murderer." He breathed in and took a quick glance over to the passenger seat; it was empty. He closed his eyes tightly, searching for the bottle of scotch in the dark, fumbling he turned on all the lights. He bent down retrieving the bottle, as he brought it to his lips he glanced outdoors and shouted. Standing in front of his car was his old professor grinning menacingly with a hand on the hood, without a second thought Trent put the car in reverse and hit the gas, Shifting it into drive he hit the gas again, as he reached the professor he screamed, taking out his gun and shooting through the windshield. Blind anger and despair tearing his sanity to pieces, the image of the professor flickered and disappeared, Trent blinked and before he could hit the brakes he went flying off the edge of the cliff. He opened his mouth to scream but nothing came out, his car nose dived into the valley, the wind howling as the ground rushed to meet him, but all he could hear were the cries of the children and the screams of agony from within their souls.
He screamed one more plea for silence before his car collided head on with the ground, jerking him forward in his seat, his head bashing off the steering wheel, he wheezed as the breath was knocked out of him, the seat belt digging into him, burning his chest. He winced as it caused him pain his head spinning. He flipped open his phone, and pressed speed dial, cringing he listened to it wringing, the static on the phone sounded strangely like whispering.
"Gibbs." He heard a distant voice say irritably over the phone.
"Gibbs…." He said voice laced with pain and alcohol. His arm broken through the windshield, head bleeding, left ankle broken, neck killing him. Broken glass embedded in him all over, he couldn't move or see out of his right eye.
"Kort is that you?" Gibbs asked
"Crashed. Tried hitting professor, but…he wasn't really there…head hurts…..the screaming….they won't stop screaming Gibbs…" He gasped out.
"Kort where are you?" Ignoring the gibberish.
"I don't know." He slurred, his vision swimming, "Gibbs, I'm sorry, tell them, tell them all I'm sorry."
"Tell who Kort?" Gibbs said, snapping at McGee to get the GPS location of his cell.
"The children, Gibbs, the children. Tell them I'm sorry. I didn't mean, I never meant, never would have…I was somebody else. I couldn't save them, I tried, I tried so hard to save them….I had to kill them, I had to kill them all." He muttered his mind spinning, seeing their faces flash before his eyes, each of them lying broken on the floor, blood every where's, their unseeing eyes staring lifelessly at the ceiling, naked and abused.
"No…NO! Gibbs, you gotta save them, leave me and save them, before he gets them, before he takes them!" He shouted over the phone.
"Kort what are you talking about? I'm coming, we got your coordinates, stay where you are, we're on our way!" Gibbs shouted over the phone.
"But the children…..save the children…" He whimpered over the phone as more of their bodies appeared in front of him, without eyes, just empty sockets with blood pouring out of them, they pointed their fingers and whispered their torture to him, making him relive every moment, blaming him for everything.
He felt around for his gun, ready to blast them away. He nearly panicked when he couldn't find it, before he realized he tossed it aside after shooting out the window, grimacing he grabbed it and began shooting, he blinked as the bullets seemed to go through them, in the background he could hear shouts, could hear the footsteps coming down the hill but he kept shooting regardless. He could feel the gun burning him, the pain shooting up his arm, he saw someone's hand grabbing the gun from his hands, he could feel them unbuckling him but he couldn't tear his eyes away from the little three year old girl with honey colored hair and no eyes that was handing him flowers and telling him to stick these on her grave for her. He went limp as he felt hands pulling him out of the vehicle, he was soon staring up at Gibbs and Ducky, who had a flashlight in his hands.
"I'm alright Dr. Mallard, my head just hit the steering wheel is all. Got a few broken bones. Can't move right eye" He responded in a monotone. His vision clearing up, and the pounding in his head becoming more pronounced. He sucked in air, as he came back to the present, his senses tingling and going into overdrive, the cold, the wet, the pain in his skull, the ache in his upper torso and throughout his body, and the misery that was drowning him inside.
"Gibbs I still don't like you." He said blatantly.
"Same here Kort, same here." Gibbs said as he hoisted him up as Ducky gave the ok. Gibbs supported him up the incline and into his car, ignoring Dinozzo's questions and Ziva's look he got behind the wheel and sped off at a slower the normal Gibbs-rate.
"Someone push you off the road Kort? Perhaps one of those enemies of yours?" Gibbs asked lightly, smirking.
"Yeah you can say that. But it's a mutual thing really. Turns out he wasn't really there." Kort said shivering.
"If he wasn't there how could he push you off the cliff?" Gibbs said.
"I drove off it, because of him, he played with my mind Gibbs, the guys some kind of voodoo god." He said seriously. Gibbs chuckled.
"Where are the children Trent?" Gibbs said suddenly, looking over at him seriously.
"I can't tell you that Jethro." He said silently, trying to not let the memories flood back again.
"Kort I swear to god if this has to do with some mission I'm goin-" Gibbs started heatedly
"It has nothing to do with the job! They're dead, all of them! Because I killed them! I KILLED THEM ALL!" He screamed, pounding the dashboard. Gibbs looked at him with rage in his eyes.
"How many kids did you kill Trent?" Gibbs seethed.
"Fifty. The oldest being ten. The youngest was a three month old." He said quietly, shaking as he imagined just letting Gibbs kill him.
"Why?" Gibbs said angrily, not really wanting an answer.
"Because I had to, it was the only way to free them, it was the only way they wouldn't suffer anymore." He said numbly.
"What was going on Kort?" Gibbs said softly, glancing at him.
"Professor Jerek, my instructor at Langley, the one Ducky knows as Mr Pain, and I were put on a mission together to draw out terrorists. Jerek and I kidnapped their children after spying on them for a few days, we'd take their kids, and their nieces and nephews and little cousins, their wives. Anything at all that would draw them out. We kept them in an old abandoned prison. I watched as he tortured the babies and raped the younger children, I waited in the darkness until he was gone and then I shot them. I didn't even try to help them escape, didn't try to help their injuries-they weren't life threatening. I just killed them. I killed them all." He said
"You've been drinking." Gibbs stated hoarsely. Keeping his eyes on the road.
"My memory isn't faulty, I remember, I can't forget. I know what happened Jethro." He spat viciously. "Kill me for what I've done."
"No." Gibbs said.
"No? What do you mean no?!" He shrieked.
"You did what you thought was right."
"I killed fifty children!"
"To save them from torture."
"What if one of those children had been Kelly? Would you be so understanding then?" He taunted cruelly.
Gibbs remained silent, but he could see the fury swirling in Gibbs' eyes. "Exactly. I didn't want to save those kids. None of them. I wanted them dead. You know what the plan was? Get the terrorists kill them, then kill the kids too. Make sure they don't grow up to be like their parents. We were gonna kill them all along." He started laughing hysterically.
It was then that the air seemed to get thinner, his lungs refused to cooperate with his brain, he clutched at the door handle and gasped, his breath coming out of his mouth like smoke-visible for all to see. "What? Who's here?" Trent said loudly, panic in his voice, he looked in the review mirror the three year old girl with the flowers sat in the backseat swinging her legs and grinning. She hummed the bridal song, with each note blood made it's way down her chin, dripping onto the seat in a steady rhythm. She wore an American dress, sleeveless, shiny silver satin top with sparkles, a waist band that was white and the bottom half of the dress was lacy and cotton, purple and bright green. She had no shoes on, her feet and face were dusty. Except for the blood that dripped from her mouth and her two empty eye sockets. His breath hitched in his chest causing him to choke slightly.
"You see her Gibbs?" He asked breathlessly, still trying to breathe.
"See who Kort? No one to see but us two." Gibbs spoke firmly.
"I'm going crazy. I'm seeing dead people Gibbs!" He said looking back at the little girl. "What was your name?"
"Lilith." She answered, her voice sounded like wine glasses clinking together.
"I kill you Lilith?"
"Yeah. You left our bodies there and ran. Maggots ate my eyes, my beautiful green eyes. You know some of us were still alive. Like Ardana. She was alive until the maggots came."
"Oh god." His stomach churned.
"Stop talking to her Kort!" Gibbs growled. "She's not there."
Closing his eyes he put his head between his knees. He let the silence rock him into calmness before straightening up. He was about to crack an inappropriate joke but when he looked over it wasn't Gibbs at the wheel but a dead body of a twenty year old girl. She looked like Lilith but older, she was slumped over the wheel. He grabbed her, ignoring her yelp, and grabbed the wheel swerving it to throw Lilith out of the seat.
"Kort what the fuck are you doing?!" He heard Gibbs shout but he didn't know where it was coming from he looked all around trying to find him, ignoring the road and Lilith as she pleaded for her life, looking down he saw the girl put her hands into her sockets and pull out her brains, he screamed. It echoed in the car and then onto the road. Then with the sound of shattering glass and cthe crunching and tearing of metal, silence reigned.