Author Notes: This is my first fanfic about NCIS so I am very curious about what you think. Read and enjoy, and tell me what you think. :)
Dear Jethro,
I hope you never have to read this, because it would mean that I left you with another Dear John letter. It would mean that I was a coward. Again… And I hope against hope that this time I will do right by you, as I fear I won't have another chance for that; but still I have a feeling, that things may not turn out as I plan.
You must be cursing me already, and I have only written a few lines, but I can imagine your forehead creasing and a familiar frown put in place. Good God, how I wish to see that face, I would even take the anger behind those lovely blue eyes, because then it would mean that I am alive. Alive to see you pace a hole through my floor, alive to listen to you yell at me for how I keep screwing up everything. I know Jethro… I know I screwed up, again and again.. And I really hope that you are not gripping this letter tightly enough so your knuckles turn white and damning me to hell and back.
Okay, I will stop. I am stalling; trying to delay the inevitable, but for good reason, so do not be irritated just yet. It is hard to say goodbye in a letter Jethro. Maybe it is easier than in person, I'll give you that, but still, it is not that easy. Because this is goodbye Jethro, you know that... This time for forever. I won't be coming back after six years to make your life miserable.
The truth is I have no idea how to say goodbye to you. Should I give you platitudes or ask for forgiveness, give you an apology? Because, at least, I know you would hate that, me breaking your beloved rules even in death. Maybe I will do just that to show you that I can annoy you even from the grave. Or I will just toss this letter to the trash like I have done it to the previous hundred that I have tried to write. That should tell me something, no? Not being able to write a decent letter to you. Maybe I should just skip this part and tell you in person after all. But…
I am scared Jethro. I am so scared. I don't want to die. I don't want to die like this. I always thought that with our job, I would go out with guns blazing and now it seems that fate denies me that as well. I am afraid of the pain, of the hopelessness, of dying alone. But most of all, I am afraid of telling you. If I tell you about my sickness then it will be real Jethro. The way you look at me will change. Not that it hasn't changed already… no teasing glances, no spark when you would try to flirt your way back into my pants, no flirting period… no love, or if there is, then maybe I am too afraid to look for it after everything. I have lost too much of your looks in the past years to be able to afford anymore. Because as much as I have hurt you in the past Jethro, I know that learning of my imminent death will pain you. Let it be your macho chauvinism of not being able to stop another death in your surroundings or maybe I am still grasping on desperately for a fickle of hope that you still feel something for me besides indifference or hatred, that is.
I am sorry, Jethro. I am sorry for screwing up. For not letting you in. For hurting you. For betraying your trust. For ceasing to be the Jen you knew and cared for. For leaving... I have so many things left to say to you, which I will likely never say. And if you reading this letter is any indication then I sure as hell was not brave enough to lay myself bare in front of you again. I did that once, in Paris, and in the end I remained alone with a broken heart. And you can think that it is my fault but I truly believe that the blame is on both of us. We both had our demons Jethro, and opening up is not something we do or did. If I had told you about my father, than maybe I would not have ended up in this mess that my life is now, or if you have told me about them then maybe I would have understood it better, understood you better. But we will never know.
But what I do know is that while I have many regrets in this life Jethro, loving you was never one of them, even if it wrecked me more than my father's death ever did. I would like to believe that you have loved me as well, as much as you could, and I wish that it was enough but I was never the sharing kind, and even though she is long dead, she was the one for you. Not me... And while I have accepted that, it put a stop to any fantasy I've ever had of you and I reconciling or a happy ending. Maybe that's why I will never tell you in person that you are the love of my life, because even if you said you loved me too, it wouldn't be enough.
So I guess this is me letting go again. But I hope that somewhere, sometime in another life, without our demons, without guilt or shame or regret we will meet again, and you will be mine and I will be yours and we will love each other like we did in Paris till we grow old, have redheaded blue-eyed children, and live happily ever after. It may be silly and girlish, but that's my only wish and maybe in our next life it won't be too much to ask…
Take care, Jethro. See you again in that other life. But for now… Au revoir.
Love,
Jen