The letter lay on the large wooden desk of the study that resided in the red headed Director's home, the house that the silver haired agent had inherited from her.

He sat down on the leather chair after pulling it out from its place beneath the desk. His blue eyes began to scan the elegant script that covered the paper. He recognised the paper, it was the same paper she had written her goodbye letter upon when she left him in Paris.

Dear Jethro,

I know that by the time you read this letter it will be too late and for that I am so sorry but I needed to write this before I left. I know that the chances are that I will not return, at least not alive. I know how you feel about apologies, you even made a rule against them and so I hope you'll forgive me because I have a lot of things to apologise for.

I'm sorry that I didn't tell you what was really going on, I know that by now you would have probably found out everything about the case. I know that you wouldn't rest without knowing everything about what happened. I couldn't let them kill you Jethro, I knew they wanted me and I knew that if I didn't go then they would kill you. It would break my heart if anything happened to you, especially if I knew that it was my fault.

We pissed off many people in Europe when we were working there, and it turns out that our cover was blown because the people we were after in Serbia found me. They are after blood. Mine.

I was sick Jethro, very sick and a few months ago I was told that I only had a year to live at the most. I know that you will be angry that I didn't tell you and that I kept it a secret from you but please understand that I wanted to protect you.

I'm sorry that I never told you about my illness, I'm sorry that I never told you that the Serbians were after me and most of all I'm sorry for lying to you.

I need you to know that I love you Jethro, I have always loved you and I could never apologise enough for leaving you in Paris. I left the man I love in the most romantic city in the world for one reason. You think it was because of my career. My own selfish needs. That isn't true. Well the selfish needs part is true. I was scared. Scared that your love for me was only part of our undercover identities when I knew that I had fallen in love with you. You Jethro, not the covers we had but you. I left to protect myself. I was terrified that the mission was coming to an end and that you would say that it was just that… a mission… a job. I ran because I needed to walk away before you did. My heart simply would not have withstood the torture of not being able to be with you.

Every day since, I have missed you and yes I know that since my return to NCIS as the Director, that you have been here. Physically. That wasn't what I wanted though.. I missed everything about you, and will till the day I die. I miss waking up in your arms, I miss the way your blue eyes looked into mine and the gentle tone you always used when you spoke to me.

I never told you what I should have said, I just held it in. After all the things we've been through, I still find myself wishing I could tell you how much I love you, and be able to show you…

I never should have walked away, I know that you will never love me like I love you and I could never apologise enough for what I did. Leaving you was the biggest mistake that I have ever made but I can do this. I can end this. I can stop them from getting to you. I can stop them hurting you. I can stop them hurting the man I love.

Please forgive me Jethro, please forgive me because I do love you.

With all of my heart and soul, yours forever and always,

Jen

xxx

P.S I love you

By the time he finished reading the tear stained letter, his blue eyes were filled with salty tears and some had escaped down his aging face, "I love you too Jen", he whispered to the empty house.

Being in the house made him feel closer to the woman he loved. The woman he had loved for years. The woman he had wished he had with him. The woman he wished he had been able to tell before her death. The fact that she was gone was still hitting him and he was struggling with it. The glass of bourbon was empty again, it always seemed to empty too fast for his liking.

He didn't want a letter. He didn't want the house. He didn't want any of the inheritance. He didn't want to be the sole beneficiary to her estate. He didn't want the expensive bourbon that resided in the bottle beside him on the desk. He wanted one thing. He wanted her.