A/N: Just some stuff to say before I start this. No, this is not the full story. It is a teaser of sorts, because I wanted to post something and I didn't was to direct my attention from Fifty Firsts if people didn't like this. If anyone wants to know the back story for this, please tell me, I will write it if you want me to. I might even write it if you don't want me to. ;) I apprecaite everyone's opinion. :)
For people reading Fifty Firsts: I swear guys, I tried so hard to work on it, but then this plot bunny popped up, and every stinking time I thought of NCIS I could only think of this, and not Fifty Firsts! After a month I just gave up trying, gave in, and wrote this teaser, thinking if I write something about it maybe I could think of Fifty Firsts again. And it did work! I got a wonderful idea the day I finished typing this, and I'm going to get started right away. Thanks for your patience guys.
Onto the half-mini-oneshot-thing!
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Damp eyes. Trail of tears. "Was any of it real?"
Blank face. Broken soul. "No. It was all a lie."
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Jeanne,
It's been a month. One month, three weeks, two days, fifteen hours, five minutes, and... seven seconds. Now it's eight. Nine. Ten. Tick tock, tick tock.
I'm procrastinating, I know. I have a bad habit of doing that. I have lots of bad habits, actually. The shields aren't just there for you. Plus, if the average sane man has a choice between listening to me talk for an hour and leaping off a cliff, I'd have them praying for the cliff in less than fifteen minutes. That's just who I am. I enjoy ticking people off. Pushing their buttons until they snap.
Not with you.
Have you ever gotten a cut and then, a few days later, you're going about your daily life and somehow lemon juice or salt get into it? I stings like hell, especially with no water to flush it out with. I know because I'm feeling that right now. My heart's bleeding out, and every second without you is just more salt rubbed into the wound. And I can't find any cool water to soothe the burn.
I think those last two sentences revealed more than they should have.
Whatever. I'm not deleting them now. I owe you at least that much.
Plus, saying that may have, possibly, helped the burning, just a little bit. Guess the damned shrinks can be right after all. There goes my fifty bucks. Ziva better not use it to buy McGee superglue; he's already bad enough as it is. Well, he learns from the best, after all.
Sorry, procrastinating, again. And ranting, too.
...
I'm a coward. I should have sent this to you a month ago. But I didn't. Too much procrastinating, too much self-pity, too many lies. I even lie to myself sometimes, Jeanne. In that case you aren't so unique.
In every other way you are.
I can't start that right now, though, or this letter will continue forever. Some things just need to be said in person anyway.
...
I met a child at work today. Her name is Ester. Her father had gone missing, poor girl, and at six she can hardly understand he's gone, never mind how or why. She's a little angel. Her eyes reminded me of yours. Emerald green and glazed in tears.
I haven't been able to escape you. You follow me every where. Even now your fingers trail down my hand, your eyes laugh with me, chasing away the shadows. I yearn for you. Yearn. I actually had to look up the feeling, because it was so foreign I had no word for it. Pathetic, huh.
I don't really know what to say about this. I know that I lied and that lying is wrong. But, at the same time, I'm not sorry I lied, if you get that. If you were who the agency thought you were, were involved the way they thought you were... my lies could have saved lives. You understand that... right? You're a doctor. Saving lives is what you do.
I'm sorry I hurt you and took advantage of you. I'm sorry that I was forced to pick between my job and my morals, and that I picked my job. I'm sorry I got in to deep, to the point that I was as much DiNardo as DiNozzo. And I'm sorry I lied again to try to spare you pain. It's obvious I failed.
But I'm not sorry I fell for you. I wouldn't trade it for the world.
There, I said it. No more procrastination.
Do you feel better? 'Cause I sure don't. Ha! I was right you stupid shrinks! I want my twenty bucks back!
If you're willing to give me another chance, meet me at the Mexican restaurant on Main Street at 9:00 pm tomorrow. Come hell or high water I'll be there. And I promise, no secrets this time, no matter what.
Got to go now. The Boss is giving me strange looks. He just keeps staring... and staring... and staring... Crap! He's coming over!
Miss you,
Tony
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"Look... I'm sorry about the lie."
"Which one?"
"The one from the last time we spoke."
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The cursor blinked at the end of the text. I just sat there and stared at it for a while. A big burden had been placed on that paper. The question was what to do with it. Actually, that wasn't the real question at all. The real question was much simpler.
DiNozzo or DiNardo?
I hit save.
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Please review guys, they mean everything to me. I really need to know if I should bother with this or not. Ta-ta for now!
(P.S. Almost forgot! No, I don't own NCIS.)
