A/N: I just found this on my computer. I must have written it a couple of months ago and for some reason I didn't post it. I guess I meant to write more to it, but now I kinda like it this way. It's Jibbs, it's angst, and it's a bit dark. Hope you like! Please review!
Shadows
She feels the tears burn behind her eyelids, threatening to fall and stain her cheeks. The fire in the fireplace has faded. Alone in the darkness. And barely able to breathe. Suffocating on her own emotions and the darkness that is now taking over her study. What is wrong with her? Why this sudden outburst of emotions? Damned does she know. She inhales deeply as the first tear rolls down her cheek.
There was a man, and once he had been hers. He was a mysterious man, not much for talking about feelings. He had always been more for showing, his even back then slightly calloused hands had had the power to touch her always so softly, even the gentlest butterfly touch had been filled with so much love, it made her skin tingle just thinking about it. He'd treated her as if she'd been made of glass, so fragile, but oh so beautiful. Once there had been a man, and he had loved her.
Her fingers absentmindedly traces small circles on the back of her hand, she stops when she realizes that what was he had used to do. He'd always trace delicate circles over her hands and up her arms, causing her to shiver and in those moments she knew she would give up everything that was the world just to be with him. Pale streetlights filtered through the sheer curtains, the only source of light she could see.
She shuts her eyes, catches her lip between her teeth and bites down until a small trickle of blood runs down her pale throat. She curls up in the corner of the couch, like a little girl afraid of the darkness. But in this case, it is about a woman being afraid of the shadows in her life, shadows that threatens to devour her if she slips too close to the edge. It is not a place to expect the director of an armed federal agency to be. But regardless of her position, she is still a woman, a woman with more shadows buried inside of her than she can handle.
She will only let herself break down on occasion, when the tension in her body has build up until it stands up to her throat, making her almost choke on her emotions. It build up until at last, it takes only one more drop to make her explode in a teary breakdown, the final drop usually being an argument with one certain special agent. A special agent that had once loved her.
She breathes in; the air feels like ice in her chest, sending numbing shivers through her body that paralyzes her. Panic. She pulls the blanket tighter around her body, shaking as she waits for the suffocating numbness to subside, it would always go away, after a little while. She has learnt the best way is to just wait it out.
There is no sound, no light. Nothing heard except for her raspy, shallow breathing. In, out. In out. The sickening loud beating of her heart is pounding in her ears, making her think she's going crazy. The bourbon stands untouched on the table before her, the liquor barely visible in the faint light.
She doesn't even flinch at the sound of movement coming from the doorway, doesn't respond as a voice calls her name. Doesn't want to acknowledge that he is here, doesn't want to know what he is doing here.
He finds her in the darkness; it pains him to see her like this. So lost, her usual strength is like gone with the wind, swept away around the corner, and she is left behind, wondering how she'll be able to retrieve it, as she is left weakened on the ground.
She feels it when he sits down beside her; hear his low sigh as he does so. With practiced skill she avoids his eyes; still, she feels them burning her skin as they're sweeping over her, taking in her appearance. She wishes he would stop; he's making this even harder for her as she is drawn to him at the same time as tries to stay away from him. She knows from experience which feeling will eventually overpower her, but she is always indecisive as to what she should be doing, what she should be feeling.
He watches her in the faint light, the glow from the fading fire giving just enough light that he can distinguish the fiery red hair, and the heat radiating from her body, making him realize he is playing with fire, and if he's not careful, he will get burned.
But he's been burned and scarred by her before, so he's not afraid when he whispers her name. The only thing that frightens him right now is that he won't be able to save her from her shadows.
"Jen," he says again, a little louder this time, but careful not to startle her.
She knows he's there, though she does not say anything. Still staring out into nothingness, she feels his hand hesitantly slipping over hers, beginning to trace small circles on her skin. It somewhat rouses her from her shadowy corner. She tries to hide it from him that he made her react.
He notices a change in her eyes, knowing his actions are waking her up, he places her hand gently in his, using his other to continue to trace circles on her skin, he feels her pulse at her wrist.
"Jethro, please," her voice is weak and hoarse, yet it manages to warm him up as he finally gets a response.
"Jen, Jenny," he says her name, relived. He drops her hand and brings his to her face, turning her toward him.
"Talk to me," he says, caressing her cheek with his thumb, frowns as he notices the small trickle of blood on her chin.
"No," she replies, her face slipping from his hands as she pulls back. His fingers are heated, he got burned after all.
"Jen," he is not going to give up; will not let her go back into the shadows. Either he's going with her, or he's pulling her from it, because there is no way he'll leave her alone. Not again. That mistake had already been made. He should have hold on to her tighter, but he'd let her slip. He will not let that happen again.
She hears the plea in his voice, wondering why he is so stubborn, so determined to reach her. She dare not hope it, dare not think it, that he is not just trying to save her from the darkness, but is trying to bring her back to him. Dare not hope it, dare not believe it, that he still loves her. Because she does. Her heart is breaking apart just at the thought that he is no longer hers. Her heart is bleeding as she knows she chose to leave him. Her heart beats just as little faster as he closes his hand around her wrist. She dares take a glance at him.
Her pulse has quickened slightly under his fingers, he tightens his grip around her wrist as he pulls her closer to him. He hides his surprise as she with ease follows his pull. She too is surprised as she finds herself landing in his embrace. She struggles to escape, but as he has expected her to do just that, his arms are holding her in a firm grip.
"Jethro," she cries, her tears falling to wet his shirt. She doesn't know what she should be doing, a part of her just wants to run, get as far away from him as she can get. But he won't let her, not when she's so obviously scared and all he can think of doing is to caress her hair and whisper in her ear. He whispers her name, over and over again, that she is safe with him and that he's gonna make everything ok. Over and over he whispers it, until he has her convinced.
Her breathing relaxes, the icy feeling in her chest dissolves and she feels her tears dry up, leaving salty stains on her cheeks and his shirt. She becomes aware of him in a way she hasn't been before. She is free of the shadows, for the moment being. But she knows how to ban them from her for forever.
He is about to say something, ask her if there's anything he can do for her, he tilts her head up, she willingly follows his move, watches his lips. He opens his mouth to speak, and she seizes the moment.
Much has happened tonight, much had surprised him tonight and yet she kept taking him completely by surprise, when he'd thought there was nothing more she could do.
Her lips are burning against his as she is kissing him like there would not be a tomorrow. He's forgotten the force in her kisses, the way her tongue slips over his lips, or the way she lets it explore his mouth, not missing an inch of it. She kisses him with a passion so intense he is blinded. He cannot take control over the kiss, but lets her lead it, lets her tongue wrestle his, lets it win. She leaves him breathless as she pulls away before she would pass out from lack of oxygen. She doesn't move far away, her lips hovers inches from his, he feels her breath hot on his face.
She wills him to stay, she wills that he loves her too. She needs him here, needs him to keep the shadows at a distance, and she knows only he can help her. She stares into his eyes, needing him to understand.
He buries his hand in her hair, pulls her tight against him. Leaving her? Hell no. No force on earth could make him relinquish his grip on her. And he'll damned let her know that.
He inhales her flowery scent, his nose nudging her neck and suddenly his lips are on her skin, kissing their way around to the base of her throat. He feels her swallow against his lips, and he smiles slightly against her skin as he hears her low moan.
In the following second, less time than it took her to blink an eye, he has her pinned against the couch underneath him. In the dim light, she sees all she needs to know in his eyes.
The End