"This time you have to choose."
"I don't want to choose."
"You can either choose to tell the truth, or keep living a lie."
"Is there a third option?"
"I can suffocate you in your sleep."
"I'll take that one."
"You would rather die, than tell the truth?"
"We dance around the truth so much, that I'm not always certain that we're on the same page."
"How will you know, if you never take the chance?"
"Why now?"
"I think five years is long enough."
"What if I make the wrong choice, and I ruin everything?"
"What if I hadn't shot my brother? What if I had believed him, and let him kill Gibbs?"
"I hate when you argue."
"Why?"
"Because you're always right."
"I am not always right."
"You were right about those hotdogs on Wednesday."
"I am trying to have serious conversations, and you are trying to change the subject?"
"I'm good at that. I'm not good at confronting things."
"There are a lot of things you're not good at, but you do them anyway."
"Like what?"
"Photographing crime scenes. You just randomly snap the camera, getting whatever you get."
"I'm sorry that I am not a good photographer. We can't all be good at everything."
"Are you trying to imply something?"
"Yes, little miss perfect, I am."
"I am not perfect."
"You're pretty close."
"Why do you do this? Why do you always move on to something else?"
"You're not the only one, who is afraid to let someone in too close."
"No, I'm not."
"So what do you think about Jimmy, getting married?"
"Stop changing the subject."
"I'm not going to have this conversation."
"Now, or ever?"
"I don't know. It's not even three o'clock in the morning. I'm not thinking straight."
"When do you ever think straight?"
"Maybe after a couple of cups of coffee, and a jelly doughnut, or two."
"No, that is a sugary haze, of unconnected ramblings, that make sense, only to you."
"They make sense to you, too."
"That's the problem."
"Problem? It's not a problem. It's a good thing. The tension, the weight of things unsaid, it's what makes us such good partners."
"We'll you're about to lose yours."
"You're not going anywhere. You can't leave me."
"I would not attempt to tell me what I can't do. It will end badly."
"A lot of things end badly. Undercover operations."
"Do you always have to bring that up? Get over it."
"I'm talking about mine."
"I know."
"Although, in all fairness yours almost got you killed, too."
"This is obviously going nowhere."
He listens as her footsteps move away from him, towards the door. She stops in the doorway.
"Make up your mind. You have until the end of tomorrow."
"And then what?"
"If you do not decide, I am done."
"You don't mean that."
"Yes, I do. I already have the paperwork filled out."
"I'll see you in the morning."
She leaves the room. She walks through the living room, past the kitchen, to the door. She lets herself out.
He rolls onto his back, and stares up at the ceiling. What was his problem? Why did he have to say that? "I'll see you in the morning."? Why couldn't he ever just say what he meant? "Stay,"? One word. It was simple. He was just so used to her reading between the lines. He expected her to know things, even when he didn't tell her. How could he make this right? It would kill him, to watch her walk away. She wouldn't show it, but it would eat at her insides, too. Why did they always have to make things so complicated? It could be so easy. Neither of them knew anything about easy, it was just a word, with no relevance to their lives.
She gets in her car, and drives towards her apartment. She turns off the radio. She listens to the voice in her head, instead of trying to drown it out, for once. She knew what he meant. She could hear what his heart was saying, "Stay.". That's what he meant. She knew that. She could read between the lines. It took a long time for her to understand, but now it came effortlessly. He could read her, by the look in her eyes. She could tell what he was thinking, by reading between the lines.
She wanted something more. Something that was real. Something that wasn't unsaid. Things that were never said, they had no meaning. She needed meaning. He would wait forever, if she never prompted him. Without her pushing him, he would never go anywhere. He had no motivation to.
He looks at the alarm clock. He would be up for work in just a few hours. She would be up earlier. She always got up between 0500, and 0530. She'd go for a run, and then hit the shower. She'd come into work. Sometimes stopping for coffee, on her way. Although she preferred tea.
The excessive coffee made her feel like she was turning into Gibbs. Maybe a nice cup of tea would makes things right. He could stop, and get her a cup of Jasmine tea, on his way to work, it was her favorite. Who was he kidding? All the tea in the world wasn't going to fix what was broken, between them. It would like be putting a band-aid on a pothole large enough to eat a car. It was something to do, but it didn't help. It didn't make things worse, but it essentially changed nothing.
She peels off her clothes. She stands in front of the dresser, but decides that she's too tired to bother with pajamas. She heads to bed, in only undergarments. He would lose it, if he knew that. Why did she always have to think about him? Every single night, before she went to bed, he was the last face that she saw. She used to have nightmares, about the past. Lately, though, all of her dreams, they were about him. He was always on her mind.
He couldn't let her go. He would be lost without her. Was that a good enough reason? No, the real reason, that was a good enough reason. He needed her. Not just to be his partner, either. He needed her to be in his life, forever. He wanted her to be in his life, forever. For some reason his mind goes to the lyrics of a song. Usually they would go to a scene in a movie, but not tonight. Tonight it was simple.
The lyrics play in his head: If I made you feel second best, girl I'm sorry I was blind, you were always on my mind, you were always on my mind. Maybe I didn't hold you, all those lonely times, and I guess I never told you, I'm so happy, that you're mine.
She was his. He needed her to be his. He just wanted her to be his, forever. He didn't want her to belong to anyone else. There had to be a way. There had to be a way, to make her see. He was no good at telling her how he felt. Maybe he would just have to show her. Yes, he could do that. He could show her how he felt.