I have absolutely no clue what-so-ever where this came from, but it happened and I am very sorry for it. Or I would be if apologies were not a sign of weakness. The summary says it all.
There are three chapters in this in total, all written up already. And this time I promise that when it ends it ends.
Addicted
The cream paper envelope felt heavy as she ran fingers across its smooth surface, the curved lettering of his name. And metaphorically what it contained was very heavy. The words themselves were powerful, more so than her fists – which provided good competition for the struggle of power – but even she had to admit that these words that she had written could cause earth-shattering damage. It was not an easy thing for her to do, but she had decided that a letter would be easier than explaining it face to face with him. More personal in a way that a shouting match across the squad room could never be. And that would be the only place they could talk. He had not turned up at her apartment last night like he was supposed to again. She would have explained it then if he had shown.
It was not an easy decision to make, hours of staring at his face, at pictures of the whole team together. But she realised that it was the only thing that could be done. She was continually thinking about him, or thinking about thinking about him, which lead to thinking about him anyway.
Her attention was split.
She could not focus on what she was doing.
She had no way to satisfy her cravings.
He clouded her mind 24/7 with his intoxicating smile.
She could not do her job if he was always on her mind, it would put herself, him and the rest of the team – her family – in danger. And it had done.
Every thought trail always led back to him. Whatever she was thinking, it always took a detour – a joke he had told, a movie referenced or a mistake made – back to him. It was so painful to watch him, to try every day to make him see her, actually see her – not the Mossad officer or the colleague, but her – for the first time. She had suddenly noticed she was spending more and more time at the office, getting there increasingly earlier and leaving later so she could be the first and last face he would see at NCIS every day. It had not occurred to her that she had less paperwork to do, only that she was never disappointed when he walked in and gave her his biggest smile, whatever his mood. It had crossed her mind that she was by far not the only woman to have received that smile, but she could not care less as he beamed at her. His smile was the worst part though. It was that which was the hardest thing to think about letting go of. She would have to go without her morning dose, a thought that brought another stab of pain to her chest. But it would be better that she let him continue smiling – even if not to her – than being so distracted that something went wrong and leaving the world devoid of his breath-taking, heart-breaking grins, was it not? She fingered the black ink of his name again and bit her lip before turning it over and removing the reams of paper from it's unsealed paper covering. Her eyes flickered over the pages for the hundredth time. It contained no lies. Not like the one she had given to Jenny. It omitted nothing. Not like the ones she had written for the others.
It contained the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth.
She slid the paper back in the envelope and hid it where she knew he would look first when he noticed she was not at her desk – tucked behind the photos of all the people Gibbs had helped, saved and befriended, if that was the right word for it. He had refused to remove them when their boss left, said they were a reminder of the man they had all looked up to and all the good he had put into the world. They had spent evenings in the office, just the two of them, wondering who each of the people were, what Gibbs had done to help them and what they had done to deserve a place on Gibbs' partitioning wall. Nobody else would even dare go near the photos, even if they could see the letter and were tempted, the photos were off limits. She let a lone tear slip down her face as she moved back to stand in front of his desk, like he made everyone but her do when reporting evidence. It did not take long to place the few items she wanted to keep in her bag and she looked around the silent, dark room. Memories flickered through her mind, lingering on some and skipping others as she reminisced about her year at NCIS.
She reached out and flicked the lamp on her desk out for the last time.
She walked to the elevator for the last time, guided only by the green glow of the emergency exit light.
She rode the elevator in silence for the last time.
She hit the stop button for the last time and collapsed against the cold metal wall as her body shuddered with silent tears.
He was like a drug.
A bad habit.
And she had to break that habit before it destroyed her.
She had to quit.
Because she was addicted.
And the only thing to do was quit.
She had to quit Anthony DiNozzo, before it was too late.
For my reference: 14th NCIS fic.