Disclaimer: See Intro
Warning: None
Summary: "Because the heart beats under a covering of hair, of fur, feathers, or wings, is it, for that reason, to be of no account?"- Jean Paul
A/N: Drabble with 300 words starting after the quote.
"Friendships that have stood the test of time and chance are surely best. Brows may wrinkle, hair grow gray. Friendship never knows decay."
-Anonymous
Old friends are like old habits, they die hard. How could I even think that I could hide something like this from Jethro? He doesn't know specifics, but he knows something. He knows me well enough to know something is worrying with me. I don't know how he does but he knows. I haven't really told anyone.
But he keeps asking if I'm ok. He asks if I'm feeling well. I say I'm fine. But because he knows me, he knows I'm lying. I don't want to tell him. I don't want to tell him anything. It'll just make it harder in the end. When I die.
Maybe it's my hair. It's not as bright anymore. Even I've noticed that. And there were a few more strands in my brush the other morning. I'm paler than usual. Perhaps he noticed that. Perhaps he noticed the changes in my eating habits. Who knows?
I don't know what this disease and medicine will ultimately do to me. From my last round of tests, the score is Disease 3, Medicine 0. I can't go on much longer. I hurt, I feel nauseous all the time. My thoughts are foggy. I pray that I can keep doing my job so no one notices. I have my resignation letter ready for when my doctor says I need it. I might have to turn it in sooner.
I'm quietly tying up loose ends so no one knows. I don't want anyone's pity disguised as care and sympathy. I just don't. Oh, but what about Ziva? We've protected each other; she's like the daughter I never got to have. And Jethro? How do I tell one of my oldest friends that I'm about to die? How do I tell him that I'm still in love? I can't.