His thoughts suddenly became crowded as they fought for space in the dank air of his basement. Unlike the chaotic quiet of his solitude before, it was suddenly, eerily, still, as deafening thoughts and emotions swirled through the air. He wasn't alone. But he didn't care to look. "Jethro, this isn't healthy." The voice spoke as it cut through the silence so abruptly that he couldn't help but flinch. He downed the rest of his bourbon slowly, before setting the mason jar down on the icy concrete next to him. A hand, seemingly out of nowhere, pressed itself against his forehead and his eyes closed.
Hands so soft. Fingertips barely touching him there and a cool breeze blowing through their hair. Red and green filled his vision. Soft laughter. Sun kissed skin under airy clothes. Lips so soft and tender.
"You're flushed." His eyes opened and his vision filled with a worried Ducky. He looked much older than he was. He let his palms soak in the cold of the concrete below him as air blew forcefully out his nose. He didn't answer. "Come on, get up." He spoke; using his own knee to push himself up off the ground with a groan. He watched silently. Ducky held out his hand but he didn't take it. Instead, he fixated his sparkling eyes at his half completed boat and opened his mouth with an almost inaudible smack.
"Should'a been there." He croaked hoarsely as a wave of emotion hit him like a freight train. Ducky watched carefully as he reached up onto the counter and slowly brought down his bottle of jack before emptying the remains of it into his mason jar and taking a large swig, discarding the empty bottle. Breaking the ever growing silence, the bottle rolled across the concrete floor until it hit the skeleton of his boat. Sighing, Ducky sat down on a nearby horse.
"You can't change the past. You can only live with it." Ducky spoke softly as Gibbs blinked rapidly and took a deep breath. Ducky stood up and began walking back to the stairs. Mixed with his footsteps were different ones though. They were more feminine, softer, and clicked on his floor. As Ducky made it to the middle of the stairs somebody came from the kitchen and walked down. The woman's hair glowed like fire. Ducky spoke, "Her funeral is tomorrow…" His voice faded and was replaced by a lighter, familiar, and softer one. "I hope you'll be there." She said as she continued down the stairs. All he could do was stare, as a sudden calm came over him and the room seemed to brighten. Her heels clicked on his wooden stairs and her hair swung gently as she walked. She was his probie. It was her the very first day they worked together. She walked up to him with a bright smile that lit up her face and put a sparkle in her eye. She was happy. So, he was happy. Her gaze pierced his as she knelt down next to him. He picked up his glass so she could sit and looked back up expectantly but the room was dark. His ears rang painfully in the silence. And he was back, in the chaotic quiet of his solitude, once more.
a/n: I'm pretty much a die hard Jenny fan so this was difficult for me to write. And I just want to get this out there: because I'm a die hard Jenny fan I try to avoid writing about JD so this topic is slightly new to me, from a writing perspective anyway.
Also, yes I'm still alive and yes I'm still working on my other stories. Slowly but surely. (foreshadowing alert: Lighter topics are on the way)