It's cold when he wakes up underneath his boat for the 5th morning in a row but it's not his phone that has woken him up, nor is it the headache that's starting to come on due to all the bourbon he consumed just hours earlier before he passed out, or the coldness that's seeping throughout his house and down to the the basement. No it's neither of those things, it's her. It's her red hair, her green eyes, her smile what woke him up. He knows that she'll be up early, maybe before him actually to see the sun rise on what will be a winter's morning and if he knows her, which he does, she'll be wearing on of his hoodies that she never gave back to him after she fled Paris, leggings and her Ugg boots with a sugary coffee in her hands, waiting for the snow to fall, so she can relive that last perfect winters morning that they shared in Paris just weeks before she destroyed everything for the both of them. He groans as he sits up, his mind taking him back to that perfect morning before she destroyed everything they'd built around them.
Flashback, Paris, 1999.
He watches as she leans against the balcony railing of the hotel room, dressed in his long sleeved NCIS t-shirt. He walks up behind her, pausing to admire her beauty in the early winter morning sunlight, and hands her ridiculously sugary coffee, his now free hand automatically snaking around her waist, pulling her closer to him. He jumps when he feels just how cold she is.
"Jesus, Jen, you're freezing" he says, as he pulls her even closer to him, trying to warm her up. He hates it when she's cold and can't get warm. He hears scoff and most likely is rolling her eyes at the obvious statement he's just told her.
"It is winter, Jethro." she sarcastically quips back to him before sipping her coffee as she leans against his t-shirt clad chest. He chuckles in her ear and smiles as she shivers as his warm breath
"Yes, but it's not helping that you're only dressed in my t-shirt." He retorts, a smile slipping onto his face as he watches her sip her coffee. He's never seen a more beautiful woman wear his clothes, except Shannon and Kelly, but they're a story for another day.
"Can we stay like this forever?" She asks him in a whisper, he can hear the tears in her voice and brushes his lips against her red hair. "If that's what you want." He whispers: he'd do anything to make her happy, including staying like this forever.
"It's what I want." She tells him softly, he watches as she puts her empty coffee cup on the table beside them. He feels her wrapping both her arms around his waist, almost as if she's stealing his warmth, which doesn't bother him as his empty coffee cup joins hers, he uses his still warm hands to pull her closer to him. He looks at her and knows that she's thinking about something.
"What's going on in that pretty head of yours?" He asks her, his chin resting on her shoulder as she sighs.
"Nothing, I'm fine." She lies to him as they both look into the distance, her wrapped in his arms.
"Whatever you say, Jen, whatever you say." He says, as he turns her in his arms so that his blue eyes staring into her green eyes, he knows not to push her to talk because she'll stonewall him for days, sometimes weeks if she feels like it. Suddenly his lips are in a heated kiss. Sensing that she's about to fall to the balcony floor and bring him with her, he hooks her legs around his waist, supporting her as their kiss deepens, but before they can go any further, they're interrupted by something falling around them from the sky. He pulls away from her and they share confused looks as they both look to the sky and see little drops of snow falling down on them. He hears her beautiful laugh as she tilts her head back, her tongue hanging out of her mouth as drops of snow fall onto it, some of the white flakes landing in her red hair.
"Come on you, let's get you inside and warmed up before you either freeze or turn into a snowman." He says as she carries her inside the warm bedroom, ignoring her protests about wanting to stay outside. He drops her onto the warm bed and goes back outside to receive their empty coffee cups, closing the balcony door behind him. He climbs onto the bed, wrapping his arms around her and pulls the comforter around them. He leans his head atop of hers as they both watch the snow falling from the sky and land on their balcony.
"This has been the perfect Parisian morning." she tells him, he can't help but nod his head in agreement with her.
"It has, it really has." He whispers into her hair.
It's been perfect and he wouldn't change it for anything.
He comes out of the perfect morning feeling even more cold than before, he sighs as he sips his cold coffee.
He hasn't had a perfect morning like the one he shared with her since she left him in bed asleep, and he doubts he'll have another one like it ever again.
He doubts he'll have another warm afternoon in bed like that one in Paris again.
He doubts he'll ever be happy like that morning when he was with her again.
Not while she still holds his cold heart in the palm of her warm, tiny hands.
He wants those warm hands to carry his cold heart back to him and start melting the frozen ice from it that has been gathering there for the last 6 years.
He'd do anything, give up anything for her if it meant having her wrapped in his arms, a cup of coffee in one hand and his heart back inside him.
