A/N: This is a sad little oneshot I wrote for a winner of the NFA Hangman puzzle.
Disclaimer: Considering how much crap I put the NCIS characters through, it's probably a good thing that I don't have any ownership.
The Look
How do you describe a look, a moment that passes in less than a minute? It seems like it should be profound or somehow life changing when you see what happens next. And yet, those moments just pass by, we never appreciate the looks, the binding of two souls until it's too late to go back. We'd go back, if we could, go back and tell our past selves to take the opportunity when it comes. But we can't, one look is what we have and that's what we have to take with us.
The elevator opened onto the bullpen and its lone occupant stepped into the room, making a beeline for his desk. He sat down and began to work, or at least pretended to work. It wouldn't due for anyone to see him slacking off in the middle of the work day... more importantly, not in the middle of a case. The dinging of the elevator easily caught his attention and he looked up as another member of NCIS stepped off.
"Is he here yet?" she asked, cautiously.
"Not yet. You have time."
"Good." She sighed in relief and then checked herself as she saw his eyebrows raise at her reaction.
"Nervous, are you?"
"I don't get nervous, thank you very much. That's not in my job description." She took another step, and somehow lost the entire file she had held in her hands, papers flying everywhere. Immediately, she began to frantically reassemble each piece of data, worried that it would all be out of order. Her colleague was on his feet in an instant and knelt beside her to help.
"You don't have to do this, you know. I can handle it."
"I know."
Then, came the look. Light eyes stared into dark and for a moment, for the briefest moment, their eyes met and a connection was forged. It lasted maybe five seconds, but in those five seconds, their eyes locked and there was nothing else in the world but those two solitary occupants of the bullpen.
"You will not tell him about this, right?" she said. It was not really a question, more of a threat.
"I wouldn't dream of it," he responded, although he wasn't sure what this was exactly. Was it her moment of clumsiness? Her nerves? Or was it that almost unconscious moment of unity? They stood together and for one more moment, they locked eyes again. Then, they turned away and continued their day without referring the event ever again.
It was years later before the moment came to his conscious memory and sadly, it was when he stood at her grave and looked down at the mound of earth covering her body. A look was all they had and all he would ever have to remember.
The End