She's all he can think about these days, ever since she was introduced to him as the Director of NCIS, she's all he can think about: the way her eyes lit up when she him after six years, the smile on her lips as she said his name, she's all he can think about and it's driving him crazy because ever since he gave her his heart and she run away with it on a Parisian morning six years ago, she's all he can think about.
He has a thousand questions for her running in his head: is she happy? Has she gotten everything she's wanted? Does she regret Paris and all the other countries that they're mission took them to? Does she regret becoming his Probie? Does she regret falling in love with him? Did she truly love him? Does she still hold his heart in her tiny, warm hands? But the biggest question he wants to ask her is why did she leave without an explanation other than that damned 'dear John' letter that was left on her pillow for him to find?
He remembers the night she had a nightmare, to this day he still doesn't know what it was about, and he had to wrap his arms around her to keep her from rolling off the bed in her sleep. It tore at his heart to hear her screams and watch as tears streamed down her face, her head thrashing on the pillow as she fought against her nightmare. It had taken him half an hour to get his voice to register in her mind and out of the nightmare, then she sobbed into his chest for two whole hours, and he felt helpless as he held her as her body shook with the force of her sobs in his arms. As the sun was slowly rising, her sobs had subsided and they both watched the light fill the sky.
Flashback, Paris, 1999.
He wakes up to her screams cutting through the fog his mind is in but as soon as he hears his love screams beside him, his gun is immediately in his possession and pointing straight at.. nothing? He blinks in confusion: he was sure he heard Jen scream, a horrible scream and she never screams so raw, so realistic unless she's in danger. Jen screams again and it hits him: she's having a nightmare. Slightly relieved that no one is in their hotel room, he puts his SIG away and turns his attention to Jen who is screaming again, her head thrashing side to side, tears streaming down her face as she dreams about something awful. He can't watch this much longer. He has to wake her up. He pulls her into his arms, holding her as close as possible, gently shaking her shoulder, his lips at her ear.
"Jen, wake up, you're having a nightmare, it's not real, you're having a nightmare, just wake up." He pleads, shaking her gently again.
Jen bolts awake, her green eyes full of fear and tears. "J.. Jethro?!" She asks, tears pouring down her face as she twists in his arms. Her voice is thick with tears. He watches as she looks into his blue eyes, her hand lifting to cup his cheek to assure herself he's real. Her hand is tiny and warm. He leans into her touch to help reassure her.
"I'm here, Jen, I'm here, it was just a nightmare." He says softly, pulling closer to him. He can see another wave of tears start to roll down her cheeks as she buries her face in his chest and starts sobbing, her entire body shaking with the force of them. He starts stroking her hair in an attempt to comfort her, his lips spilling comforting words into her hair, he doesn't mind that she's not acknowledging the comfort he's providing for her. She needs to cry everything out.
After two hours of holding her shaking body, her shakes die down along with her sobs as the sun rises in the sky. They don't say anything as she turns to face the balcony doors to watch the sun rise, they're happy in one another's arms.
"I love you, Jethro." He hears her say quietly, he smiles before kissing her red hair in response.
"I love you, Jen." He replies, his voice soft before both of them return back to being silent.
They don't need many words to communicate with each other, they know being in each other's arms, both their love for the other one speaks more than words.
Jethro comes out of the memory with his cell phone in his hands, his fingers ready at the keypad, ready to dial her number on autopilot. He's had her number memorized for the last 8 years. Suddenly, he closes his phone, shaking his head. He doesn't have a right to call her at this time of night, actually he doesn't have a right to call her outside of office hours at all, he was stripped of that right six years ago.
For the past six, no for the past 8 years, he hasn't owned his heart because from the second he had laid his blue eyes on her green ones, his heart had flown out of his chest and into her tiny warm hands and he hasn't gotten it back, though maybe he doesn't want it back, not after all this time it's been hers. Maybe she should keep his heart as its only belonged to two other women in his life before her and they'd left and never come but, she had and that's telling him something, even if it to be his boss.
Maybe someday, he wants to feel her wrapped in his arms, safe, happy and protected.
Maybe someday, she'll relinquish her grip on his heart but it's not likely.
Maybe someday, she'll walk in her front door carrying his heart, and herself, back to him.
Maybe someday, his life will have meaning again,
Maybe someday.