Disclaimer: All I own is my pride and my sword. I am in no way affiliated with NCIS and am not making any fiscal profit from this story.
Author's Note: Please do not reproduce any of this story without my permission.
Selfish
No one needs to know. To know such a thing would only be damaging. To them, to me. To him. Of course, he will be angry. Once he finds out I knew, he will blame me. And of all people, he will most likely believe I should have chosen him to tell, if anyone.
Perhaps he will read this one day and lash out in anger. That is the easiest scenario for me to imagine. I cannot stand the thought of him--crying... over me. He will believe he has a right to know. "You're my partner." Yes, that is true. But before it was about you protecting me. It was about you helping me. (It was about you needing me to need you too.) But now... There are some things that no one can fight. Some things you cannot protect another person from. Some you cannot even protect yourself from.
You cannot help me. Not with this. So I will pretend that I am well, that nothing out of the ordinary--at least, ordinary for me--is going on. Just let me have this.
I want to keep what I have. And no, that is not any ability, or physical object, or tangible thing, nor is it any thing others could possibly perceive (except, perhaps, Gibbs). I want to keep the way you look at me. That green sparkle with flecks of mischief and reflections of thinly veiled secrets. I want you still to look at me that way. With a rare, daunting sort of passion that makes me simultaneously want to dive into you or look away. (Run away.) I need to see the laughter in the wrinkles around the corners of your eyes. Your protectiveness, your oddly unjust possession. And yes, even your jealousy. It makes me feel wanted, even though I cannot have you.
I want to catch you staring, with your guard down and to see the minute flash when my eyes meet yours. That flash--sometimes I like to think it is desire. Our glances hold so much more than we would ever allow ourselves to say. More than we may ever allow ourselves to have for so many reasons. So many excuses.
I have seen the way people change once someone around them falls ill. Their eyes dim, hold worry, and pity and fear. I have seen the looks given to those who love someone whose only destiny is to die. It is a gaze you have directed toward me on occasion. I cannot stand the thought of you looking at me like a doomed person, an inevitable death too soon before me.
I cannot imagine what you might do if you knew. If I were more selfish, I would not deny myself what I really want. I would take everything you are so willing to give. Rules be damned. It could be rapturous. But then, I would die. And I cannot give all of myself to you, only to rip it away so soon after. It is not fair. I am not that selfish. Better to stay away, distance myself just enough. Just so I do not break.
It will be quick. Sudden. That is what makes this all the more difficult. A week, a month, a year... tonight. There is no way to know when, only that it will. I cannot live with you looking at me as if it is the last time you will ever see me, as if I will cease to exist at any moment. I want you to look at me as you are now.
I want to die knowing that the last time I met your eyes, I believed that you love me too.
I am selfish enough for that.