Not sure what possessed me to write this... but for my first fic with Jenny, I don't think it came out too terribly.

Of course, reviews are always appreciated.


It was only a matter of time.

The seconds ticked by on the clock before her, counting down the minutes till the night would bring another hour, another moment stolen away from her conscience and the pen in her fingers. The paper was thick and cool beneath her hand, simply begging to have the ball-point tip release its unvoiced sorrows that felt as if they reverberated aimlessly throughout the solitary room. The closed door of the study seemed to be far more threatening than having it open to the dark, unlit hall beyond. Somehow, it forced her to acknowledge the fact that she didn't know what lay after that barrier and that soon, she'd have to open it.

Green eyes turned back to the sheet she honestly didn't know what to do with. She took a deep breath, pursing her lipsticked lips in the steely resolve she'd developed over the years. Over her time with a certain Special Agent...

Dear Jethro

And the fingers stopped again, for some odd reason... there was enough to say after all. Was there a day that went by with him when their old missions didn't creep up on her mind in some form or other? It wasn't as if there weren't a past to acknowledge between them... as if there weren't secrets that ate at her like ravenous spirits tearing at the prisons of her soul... Yes. There were things he should have known.

But how to say them?

Time didn't tend to be kind to its victims. What was she going to say? I'm sorry? I didn't mean it? Any phrase was too weak to capture the thoughts running rampant in her head. And it was a lie. It was strange, even for her, to think of him now and see him as the same person she... utterly fell in love with so long ago. How could he possibly understand? But love itself had almost become a foreign concept... something one read in sappy romance novels or watched another couple enjoy. She'd put her career first for so long, believing it to be her chance for a fulfilled life, believing that other, less important things like "relationships" could be put on hold.

Look where it had brought her now.

Still, as much as she hated what she'd done... what she thought she'd had to do... had there been any other choice? Her blood ran cold as she recalled their last assignment together, the nightmare that had pursued her for years and regained its terrifying nature only now. Her senses prickled with remembrance... likely courtesy of the fact that there really was nothing else to do but think at a time like this. Besides drinking herself silly. A thought she was sure she'd picked up from him.

Did he think about those days? She was sure of it. Did he know she did? They'd shared many a secret smile those past few years... there was no doubt. It was those other things... the seas of disappointment that had been in his eyes... the questions that stayed etched in the surface yet never found their way to his tongue. It made her wonder how she could have changed her last...

But that was pointless. She had a job to do. And if it would be the one hovering over her in those final moments instead of a long ago lover, it was what she'd chosen. It was what she'd get. Because he'd lost too much to have one more thing stolen away... he'd already lost her years ago. The silence would keep it that way.

Her fingers twitched. Another second slipped by.

It wouldn't be long until she'd have to switch off the desk light and release the pen from her hands. Her own tension in the dim room was stifling, yearning for release...

But maybe she'd done enough damage already.

The object dropped onto the paper. There was no sense in telling him everything he already knew.

The light bulb went black before she could change her mind. If it hadn't already been said... it didn't matter anyway.

The sheet hungrily soaked in the words that hung in the air.

Because they had never been said... and she thought he was fine without them.

She rose, turning her back on the page that already said too much to be written in the confines of a hand's stroke. The rest of her thoughts would merely trail her body as it turned the knob and walked its first liberating step across the resonating hall. And if he needed to know them... she wouldn't worry in the least.

Jethro always solved everything; it was only a matter of time.

And time, if it was the last thing she did, would be something she made sure he had.