Hey guys! This is a little confusing to read at first, and pretty vague. I suggest re-reading the italics (her letter), and then the actually story. Lol. I haven't written in such a long time and I'm exhausted from the week long dance camp I was at. This is for Soph because I know you wish to kill me for not writing when I said I would. :)
(I FOUND MY PASSWORD!)
Disclaimer: I don't own this. Nope. Nada. Not even a little.
Please review!
-Alivia
(I reposted this because the original had so many spelling mistakes my perfectionist part shrieked in horror.)
(Dear Jethro,)
A look-
thrown from across the minimal attic space. Lustful. Longing. Unavoidable.
Filled with so much emotion that moving that small distance is second nature.
His lips parted; his silver hair tousled in her hands. Sweat beaded upon the back of her tongues, battling for dominance.
Harsh nail marks streaked down his back as his grip left a bruise on her hip.
Uneven breathing. Worn wood, uncomfortable, as she's pushed up against it. The short mattress creaks noisily with every move he makes.
Crazed, in the sanest way.
(I'm not entirely positive on the protocol of starting on of these letters. I never thought I'd have to write one.)
A smile-
He would have never taken Diane here. And she was his wife.
Relatively small things sometimes have the largest meaning.
The candles are perfect. The steak is delicious.
He hadn't realized she enjoyed asparagus so much.
She likes how he looks in his suit, and how his hand rests on her thigh from underneath the table. He moves his hand subtly. Grazed a little higher. The breath is taken from her lungs.
She lets out a shaky breath, and grins at him cheekily.
They skip the dessert.
(I've learned so much from you.)
A drag-
Her hair smelled like strawberries and cigarette smoke.
He'd been the one to suggest this stupid, stupid idea. Wasn't this the leading cause of cancer?
But she'd seen his blue eyes-his smile-and resisting wasn't an option. It had been just one cigarette. The warm summer air soaked into her skin. Midnight's moon bleached them both.
The white roll was stoic, in the peace.
Petite fingers held the offending silent-killer daintily.
He smirked. She placed the object between her pretty pink lips and inhaled.
Jethro attempted not to laugh as she spluttered and coughed for a few seconds. Finally, he pulled the cigarette from her grasp and took a drag calmly. Jenny glared.
They spent the rest of the night in bed.
Positano changed things in the strangest ways.
(The reason I'm doing this isn't because of you, Jethro. You've been a damn good partner.)
A question-
on the tip of his proverbial tongue. Jethro looked at her, icy eyes tightened around the edges.
'This doesn't feel right.' She wouldn't stop saying it.
Jethro wanted her to stop saying it.
A part of him, the agent, thought Jenny was being antsy. They hadn't been stilled in one place for nearly a month. She shook her head and frowned a lot, too. He didn't like that either.
Another part of him believed her. Trusted her. Relied upon her instincts, because they were damn good. Jenny's emerald eyes were tight as she strode across the space to hand their contact the vital information.
She flinched as a child shrieked a hundred yards away.
Jenny met him back up at the hotel room a little later, and he kept kissing her neck.
In between kisses, he asked her if she was okay.
'You're safe, Jenny,' he wouldn't stop saying it.
She wanted him to stop saying it, because she hated liars.
(What we've had has been everything to me. If it wasn't for you, I wouldn't be alive right now.)
A scream-
rips through the air seconds behind a loud bang and a sickening gasp for air. Her body had hit the floor with such a loud thud. The blood wouldn't stop coming.
Jethro pressed down, ignoring her screams, biting the inside of his mouth so hard he bled.
He didn't want to cause her pain.
Her eyes were shut tightly. She was pale. He knew she only had a few more minutes before it was too late-
but he wouldn't think about that. Could not think that she would die.
That was the moment he realized this had never been just sex.
Her blood was hot and red and covered everything. There sure was a lot of it, too.
(But even in the beginning, we knew it was going to end, didn't we?)
A moan-
released for the umpteenth time in the past two days.
Serbia was such a beautiful place. Glowing with the sun as it cast down upon field upon field of green. Her hair was short and she'd dyed it. He didn't like it.
She was still recuperating after she'd taken a round to the thigh.
A maturity was here now, as Jethro sucked that sweet spot on her neck and she squeezed his bicep tightly. Jenny arched beneath his touch.
They fought, silently, as they both realized too much had changed in the past two years.
Countless hours of conversing. Making love. There were still secrets.
There would always be secrets.
(I didn't tell you because I knew you'd ask me to stay. And I can't stay.)
A stain-
In the pocket of her beige coat, there was a letter. Jenny wrote it in the silence of morning, and cried over it when she was in some bar in Cairo. She thought about it when they were apart and regretted it when she kissed other men. They were never the same after him.
She thought maybe if he had come after her things would have been different.
A part of her waited for him for so long. Hope was cheap.
(There's this job offer, and I'm taking it. We both knew this would have to end sometime.)
A plane ticket-
crumpled in the back of her oak drawer in her study. She never liked it when her hand would brush it as she reached inside to grab a paper, so she ended up trashing it.
She hated the way her eyes got glazed and her cheeks flushed when she thought of him, or the horror of seeing his personnel file on accident.
Married. Again.
There was a picture, so she knew the woman was very pretty.
Jenny ignored the part of her that was jealous when she saw the location.
She guessed it was a mistake to think Europe was their place.
(It was never my intentions to stay a field agent. This is my chance, and I have to move on.)
A crack-
Jenny had never been the type for cliches. She'd wanted to be a lawyer when she was a child. She was always 'Daddy's Girl'. But then he'd killed himself, and a little piece of her soul was gone.
Getting pieces taken away was easy to identify. It was quick. Numbing.
Like ripping off a band aid.
This feeling was different. Drawn out. Piercing.
Jethro was everything and nothing. Dark and light. Tranquility and chaos.
He'd also put a nice rip through her proverbial 'heart'.
Because she still attempted to believe it was just a muscle.
(For what it's worth, I'm sorry.)
A rule-
was broken. Although it hadn't been established until after she'd punched him in the gut and given him some ink to concentrate on.
Kate asked if he was speaking from experience.
He couldn't find it within himself to give her a straight answer.
(Not that I'm taking the job. I'm sorry if I've caused you any pain.)
A look-
He was tired, and worn, and didn't want to speak to anyone. Didn't want to think about Kate or the people he loved and had to protect. Didn't want to think about how he could loose-
Then there's her. All smirking and soothing voice and tranquility and warmth. Poised, beautiful.
Their eyes met for what seemed like forever. They crossed the distance. Jethroanswered her question and forgot the blood that had splattered all over his face after Kate had been shot for just a moment in time.
She still smelled like strawberries.
(You're a good man, Jethro. I wish you the best.)
A smile-
He finally came back. Jenny had waited, had wished. Had hoped. Again. She didn't want him to just suffer on some beach in Mexico. And then he did come back, and even though it was because only because of Ziva, she took solace.
There was some longing. Some lust. Some unmarked land in this new territory unsurely named 'Europe and Things Jethro Can Kind of Remember'.
Then there's Hollis, and Jenny faded a little bit. She died her hair blonde. She started wearing the shade of lipstick Jethro had always adored back in Paris.
She wore perfume. So much that the scent of strawberries and sunshine and Jenny was practically gone.
Then, one day; he said something. She smiled, because he was Jethro, just being Jethro.
He smiled back. And things got back to normal, in a way.
(I'll miss you. I hope you can forgive me, someday. I take comfort in knowing we'll always have Paris.)
A touch-
There was no happy ending. Peace, maybe.
He didn't stay that night, or the night after, but sometime around three the next night (or morning) he knocked on her door. She was still up, reading.
He stroked Jenny's cheek. Words were unattainable.
Jethro embraced her tightly and she rested her head upon his shoulder and sighed.
He said he loved her.
And then he left.
(Jenny)