The Mess I Made by Parachute.
Should've kissed you there
I should've held your face
I should've watched those eyes
Instead of run in place
I should've called you out
I should've said your name
I should've turned around
I should've looked again
She should've done so many things, before she had walked away, before it had been too late, before she had gotten on that airplane that had taken her away from Jethro. She should've held his face in her hands, looked deep in his eyes, kissed his lips… She should've called to him, said his name one last time, she should've turned around to take one last look at the face that she wouldn't see for the next fifteen years. All these things that she should've, could've, would've done… but never did.
But oh, I'm staring at the mess I made
I'm staring at the mess I made
I'm staring at the mess I made
As you turn, you take your heart and walk away
There he stood. Nothing had changed. Those same icy blue eyes that made her knee go weak, that unruly mess of silver hair that just so suited him, if only slightly more silvery. The way his voice was still rough and forceful. The only thing that had changed was the way his heart was guarded – off limits – it kept them an arm's length away from each other. She stared as he turned his back on her, stared at the mess she had made by falling in love with a man who was maybe too complex even for her to handle. On those stairs, he had offered his heart to her again. But she didn't- couldn't- take it. So he turned and walked away. The same way she had, fifteen years ago, in Paris. A mockery of the mistake, the mess she had made.
Should've held my ground
I could've been redeemed
For every second chance
That changed its mind on me,
I should've spoken up
I should've proudly claimed
That oh my head's to blame
For all my heart's mistakes
Love could've redeemed her, could've saved her. It could have been a second chance for her, for them, if she had said yes. She should've said something more, should've spoken up. She should've confessed to him, told him that she didn't follow her heart the first time around– for both of their sakes. Sitting, alone, in her big comfy Director chair, she felt hollow, empty, and alone. She had traded the love of her life for ambition, for a career, and it was only now that she realized that that was the biggest mistake she had ever made.
But oh, I'm staring at the mess I made
I'm staring at the mess I made
I'm staring at the mess I made
As you turn, you take your heart and walk away
Mistakes create messes – a fact of life. Here Jenny was, looking at hers, untouchable and irreversible. He was gone. He'd moved on and had someone else now, she thought ruefully. How silly it had been to think he had never really gotten over her. With a pang of jealousy, Jenny enviously imagined the lucky woman, wrapped in his warm strong hug, feeling his kiss, staring into his clear blue eyes. What hurt the worst though was the thought that he had forgotten her, forgotten how they had felt about one another, forgotten everything that had happened between them; like he made it seem that they were nothing, insignificant. Resignedly, she shook her head, dispelling any thoughts about him. What a mess she was, loving someone else whose heart she had broken, and now loved someone else. If only she could right her wrong, maybe she could love him again. Maybe, he could love her again.
And it's you...
And it's you...
And it's you...
And it's you...
And it's falling down
As you walk away
And it's on me now
As you go...
It was getting so hard now, watching him walk away from her everyday. The world seemed to be made of glass; fragile, as if it could be shattered with simply a single breath. It was up to her now, to decide. To stand up to him, or let him walk away with her heart still clutched in his hands.
But oh, I'm staring at the mess I made
I'm staring at the mess I made
I'm staring at the mess I made
As you turn, you take your heart and walk away
Loving him from far away: it was painful, but the safest way to love – for both of them. She couldn't believe how a mistake she made so long ago could impact her life now, could still haunt her decades later. But now she was going to right her wrong; here she was, standing in front of him. She didn't say anything; she didn't know what to say to him. The rocks that separated them were too jagged to try to jump over; the only way was to be completely honest to him, lay her thoughts bare and wear her heart on her sleeve for him. But she was too late. He had to go; another murder case. He turned away; walked away. Without even a simple goodbye or glance backwards.
And it's falling down
As you walk away
And it's on me now
As you go...
"Jethro…" He looked up, meeting her gaze from up above on the catwalk. It was up to her now. This time, she was going to talk to him and she wasn't going to take no for an answer, she wouldn't back down until she had cleared up her mess. Seeing the determined gleam in her eye, he climbed the metal stairs.
"Yeah, Jen?" He offered her a sip of his black coffee. Even though she hated the taste, she took a sip. Then handing it back, she breathed in deeply, the smell of him overwhelming her senses with him so close – a heady mix of sawdust and coffee, with clingy traces of bourbon and whiskey.
"We need to talk." Jenny held his eyes, meeting them with the same levelness and confidence that got her to her position, although she didn't feel that way right now. At the present moment, she felt like a small child, wanting to hide herself in a corner far away from this problem, this mess she created.
"Somethin' on your mind, Director?" he answered, raising an eyebrow.
"Just need your help cleaning up a mess that I made, fifteen years ago in Paris." She replied, her voice even. He didn't say anything; just gave her a confused look over the rim of the coffee cup he was currently drinking.
"The Paris op was clean," he said, guardedly. He knew where this was headed, and he instinctively shielded himself from the upcoming pain he was anticipating.
She looked away, willing herself to not hide. Inhaling deeply to calm her jittering nerves, she looked him straight in the eyes. "I'm… sorry." Her voice cracked, but she instantly composed herself; it was something she had learnt to do so well it had become second nature – hiding her feelings. He looked over at her, surprised. Jenny didn't say sorry; she told people to build a bridge and get over it. He was quiet, but he looked at her. She held herself together pretty well, under his intense scrutiny.
Then, trying to sound as nonchalant as he could, he breezily said as he started down the stairs, "Nothin' to be sorry about, Jen." She silently breathed a sigh a relief, hearing a note of truth in his voice. He may have been angry at her for leaving him, but he knew the reasons, and he accepted them. Not to say that he had actually forgiven her; that particular mountain was going to be a bit harder to climb.
It wasn't fixed; nobody knew for certain if it ever would be. But it was a start, and with their stubbornness and headstrong attitudes they would somehow manage to overcome the obstacles that life was guaranteed to throw their way. And maybe, just maybe, one day they would clear her mess and have their own happy ending.
But oh, I'm staring at the mess I made
I'm staring at the mess I made
I'm staring at the mess I made
As you turn, you take your heart and walk away.