Jenny wasn't sure what time it was when she woke up, but despite the warm of her pj's and the weight of the blankets, she still missed the warmth of her husband. Oh, maybe she should've gone with him and Abby to church this morning. Somehow sitting here in this quiet house didn't hold much appeal now that she was awake.
Pushing aside the sleep warmed covers, Jenny swung her legs down to the floor. A nice hot shower, that's what I need, she thought, putting a hand to her throbbing head. But instead of standing under the nice warm water, Jenny ended up just listening to it running in the background. Once she'd gotten out of her pyjamas, she caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror. Pushing aside the red hair flowing over her shoulder, Jenny took a good long look at what her body looked like now. She winced, it wasn't pretty.
Her wrists and ankles bore the burns and bruises from where she'd strained against her bonds. There were many finger shaped bruises from when the man had grabbed her, commanding her to be still. Though she couldn't see it, she could still feel the place where he had slapped her cheek, hard. The bruise around her left eye was still dark, but tomorrow she knew it would fade to that ugly yellowish colour that accompanied healing bruises.
She didn't really look much at the area between her inner thighs, she could still feel the soreness attesting to what else had been done as she lay helpless on that bed. Shaking her head, she tried to clear those thoughts from her mind. Jenny turned back to the shower, relieved to still feel hot water, and let herself bask in the luxury of it's warmth. She took her time shampooing and conditioning her hair and combing it out with her fingers. She even shaved her legs, thinking that it would be nice just to feel human again.
It must've been a good half an hour before she finally turned the water off and watched as the steam rose to the ceiling, though it still clung stubbornly to the mirror. It gave her reflection an ethereal look, as if she wasn't quite there. Towelling her hair off, Jenny walked back into the bedroom and began searching through her drawers. She looked longingly at her favourite, worn in pair of jeans, but knew she couldn't tolerate the pressure they would put on delicate areas. Finally she settled for a pair of yoga pants, a long sleeved shirt and a too-small hoody of her husband's.
It was comforting to be in something of Jethro's, even if she didn't have him around. She glanced at the clock, church was over now but he and Abby probably had at least an hour to go before they were ready to part company after lunch. Back to the bathroom to brush out her hair. It was still wet but Jenny wound the mass of it into a bun at the back of her head, at least it would be out of her face. So many times she had considered cutting it to a more reasonable length, but she knew how much Jethro loved it long and she couldn't bear to see the disappointment on his face if she went short again.
Speaking of disappointment, Jenny wiped at the fogged up mirror and sighed. Jethro had been so kind, so understanding last night when she explained that their intimacy had to be on hold for awhile. Still, she knew he must be disappointed. Normally she loved when he touched her, the way he kissed her, how he could make her feel like no one else ever had. As his wife her body was for his pleasure, as his was for hers but she was about to deprive him of that for days if not weeks. Right now she couldn't imagine loving her husband like that, not after having the act used as a weapon against her and so cruelly too. She wondered what the next few weeks were going to look like for them.
Slipping on a pair of socks and an old pair of slippers from the closet, Jenny made her way down to the kitchen. She honestly didn't think she could stomach any food right now, though now that she thought about it, it had been more than two days since she ate something. Still, a cup of tea was probably the most her stomach would handle right now. If even that, and given the way it was churning, she couldn't tell whether the drink would stay down or not.
She set the kettle to boil and went about her tea making preparations. How Jethro always teased her about the amount of work that went into one single glass of tea!
"Geez Jen," he'd complain, "I could drink two cups of coffee in the time it takes you to get one mug of tea ready! It's going to be cold before you even get to drink it!"
Jenny smiled. Maybe she was silly but it was comforting, her tea routine. One perfectly shaped mug - it had to fit in her hand just right. One single packaged tea bag - because the ones that came in bulk just didn't taste the same. A bowl of sugar, the small carton of 5% cream out of the fridge. Finally all was ready. When the water boiled Jenny poured the steaming liquid into her mug and let it sit for about thirty seconds. She didn't like her tea very strong. Saving the teabag in a dish on the counter in case she decided on a refill, Jenny finished fixing her tea. The first sip was like heaven and she closed her eyes and smiled. Ahh, just right!
A little lost and unsure what to do with herself, Jenny contemplated going downstairs and sanding something on her husband's boat. But the basement just brought back memories of last night and that was not something she was prepared to face without Jethro by her side. This was the problem with living in two residences. While she kept a good deal of her things at Gibbs house for when they stayed there, many things that she could use to occupy her time were at her home, fifteen minutes away. She didn't feel like driving today anyways, but even if she'd considered going over there, she wouldn't leave before Jethro got home. He would just worry if he came back and she wasn't around.
Finally Jenny curled up in the living room, picking up a novel that was sitting on the coffee table. It was historical fiction, a story from World War II. Her husband had already started reading it and Jenny picked up where he left off. There was a battle going on and she felt that she could relate. She was still turning pages, her now-empty tea much sitting beside her on the couch, when her husband returned from lunch.