Most of the hospital floor is asleep and the quiet that comes with it has filled the hallways. It's a loud quiet and it makes Jen feel like her head is wrapped in thick cotton. It drowns out the soft sounds from the wall-mounted TV as a news reporter talks about the flames behind her. She doesn't need to hear what's being said to know what's going on. The crawl at the bottom of the screen tells her everything. Her townhouse in Georgetown is burning.
Maybe it's just the morphine; maybe it's just the exhaustion, but even as she watches what's left of her life go up in orange flames and black smoke, she can't cry. Or maybe it's just that even now, sitting here alone in the dim light in a California hospital, she can't let herself. She refuses to feel sorry for herself. She has to put up a brave face and soldier on like always, but for who? It used to be for professional reasons. Now it's because she doesn't know how to do anything else.
She's not feeling much of anything right now. The doctors fixed her shoulder, put the bones in her arm back together, cracked her chest. Apparently her funeral is tomorrow. Jen remembers coming in on a funeral note. Now she's left on one as well.
The CNN reporter continues to talk, but Jen still isn't hearing the words. She's never felt more alone in her life. Her eyes flick to the doorway, but no one is there. She's not sure if she's expecting or wishing. But she knows she wants him. She wants to see he's okay. She wants him to see that she's okay. Jenny knows the fire is his doing and she knows why he did it. They're covering up her mistake. As they should. It died with her. Officially.
When she gets released a week later, he's there with a rental car. She doesn't ask how he knew; she doesn't want to know. He's just there and he has coffee. She hates that she needs his help getting the seatbelt around, but with one arm strapped down, she's limited. He knows and does it without saying anything. Dropping into the driver's seat beside her, he looks over at her. A moment passes where he just seems to be taking her in. She raises her eyebrows and one corner of her mouth curls up in a slight smirk, "What, Jethro?"
He turns back to the road and starts the car forward. "You shoulda ducked, Jen," he answers with a big smile.
They drive in silence out of the city and she's fallen asleep by the time they cross the California border. With California behind them and miles of Nevada desert in front of them, he pulls the car to a screaming stop on the empty stretch of road. The sudden deceleration wakes Jen and she looks over at him. So far, she's not worried. He's know for abrupt changes in direction.
"What is it?" she asks.
He doesn't answer, just opens the car door and walks around the front. She follows him, watching as he opens her door next. He still doesn't answer. Now she's starting to wonder what's going through his mind. He pops her seatbelt.
"Are you ever going to say anything?" she asks, getting out of the car gingerly.
"What the hell were you thinking, Jen? You were nearly killed." Should have been killed.
Apparently he's been brooding while she was sleeping. She lifts her chin slightly and fixes him with a look that says she's not going to take his shit. She's almost surprised how easily the feeling of being in control comes back to her, even as damaged as she is.
"You should have called me. I don't care if you blew off DiNozzo and Ziva. You know better." He doesn't have to tell her he knows she'd decided the ending from the start. She can see it in his eyes. And when he pulls her into a clinging hug, she can feel it in him even before he says, "I'm not willing to lose you, too."
She stands there stiffly, wrapped up in his arms. And as she thinks about the conversation in the diner about regrets and choices, she realizes this is the time. With her old life gone and an uncertain future in front of her, she has everything to lose and everything to gain. Her posture softens and her unhindered arm wraps around his neck. Now she allows herself to cry. She lets go of everything she was holding onto and cries into the shoulder of this man she's still very much in love with. Maybe she is breakable and maybe she is human.