MERRY CHRISTMAS HAY!!! After the blood sweat and tears put into this i shoudl hope you bloody well like it :P Merry christmas! And stop shaking, seriously :P I hope you like it... :S

Disclaimer: I own nothing. Unfortunately.


Christmas music was playing softly in the background, but she wasn't listening. There was just one thing on her mind, and that was the stupid, idiotic, and most likely pointless thing that she was about to do. A feeling of anticipation built up in a tight knot in the pit of her stomach, as she drew closer to her destination.

She brushed a tear away, angry at herself. She didn't know why she was doing this, why she was putting herself through this. She guessed she was tired of not knowing, tired of leaving him alone, wondering, dreaming what might happen, if...

That was probably why. If she didn't do it now she would forever more be asking herself 'what if'. Even… even if she got hurt, even if the pain was unbearable at least there would be no questions. Not an inkling of reasonable doubt would be left. At least, that was what she told herself.

She couldn't bring herself to get out of her car, not quite yet. She breathed very deeply, trying to keep her nerves and her heart rate under control. She failed.

She wiped yet another tear away, cursing herself, and more importantly him. She inhaled the sharp crisp air which hit her face as she opened the car door, soft chilling snowflakes fell on her, and she smiled.

She didn't bother knocking, the door would be open. She tried not to think about exactly it was that she was doing, and walked in. She realized, sadly that it was like being home. She didn't even come here much, but she could feel him, here. She knew automatically where he would be, just as every other member of the time would if they were here.

This didn't feel real, it shouldn't be happening. She shouldn't be here. They were so different now, both of them... it was… surreal.

The door that led to the steps down to the basement creaked open, and he looked up. It was Christmas Eve; he didn't get visitors on Christmas Eve...


Of course.

Who else would come on Christmas Eve?

He looked up at her; emotions flickered in his eyes as he watched her silently walk down, towards him. When she got to the bottom, she stopped. Stood still, frozen to the spot. Her striking red hair was sprinkled with a light layer of swiftly melting snow, her arms wrapped tightly around her body for warmth.

"Hello Jethro," she said softly, shivering a little – yet not from the cold.

His blue eyes pierced hers, questioning, "Hi Jen," He replied, watching her carefully. "You could have knocked." he said,

"What's the point if I know the doors open?"

"I would know you were there."

"So you could ignore me?" she replied, smiling, "I don't think so,"

"Why are you here, Jen?" He asked, eyes piercing her again.

That was something that had always got to her, his eyes. A bright blue that could always, always see straight through her. She never could manage hide anything from him, and she'd seen him look at her with those eyes in ways that no one had ever before...

Christmas Eve in Paris, and it had been snowing. She remembered because they had been walking outside back to their hotel and the snowflakes were falling, sparkling like diamonds in the wonderfully lit up street. They had just finished dinner and Jenny was smiling and laughing, throwing her red curls around as she span around in the snow, he had grabbed her hand and kissed her. The memory still made her shiver. The love, the passion in that kiss on the streets of Paris in the snow... It was beautiful. It was magic. They had walked on, but then he'd stopped and turned to her, gently brushing a stray curl away from her face, trailing his hand down her cheek. "Jen," he'd said softly, quietly, "I love you."

She had stared at him, disbelieving for a little while, searching his eyes carefully, for a sign, any sign that he was merely joking around. But he was deadly serious, and there was that intense look in his eyes, later, she had realized that it was love. And there, in the Paris lights, and the freezing cold snow, she had wrapped her arms around him, and trying to put all the emotions into it, kissed him slowly. They broke apart, her face close to his, the air around them crisp and icy, and she replied whispering so softly, "I love you too."

"Jen," He said, as he watched her eyes glaze over. He knew that look, that was her Paris look, "What are you thinking Jen?"

She didn't blush, she just looked sad as he jolted her back to reality. He glanced at his clock. Ten o'clock Christmas Eve, he knew what she was thinking of.

She still looked just as beautiful as she had that snowy night a lifetime ago, except the sparkle in her eyes was gone, the carefree smile. Her hair had been long, flowing, enhancing; complimenting her carefree smile. Her hair was shorter now, but still with the curls, there was no sparkle in her gorgeous green eyes, just sadness, and she wasn't smiling. He missed that smile so much.

"Nothing," she said quietly, walking towards him. She wasn't sure why she bothered to lie, when he knew the truth already. Their eyes met again and she knew… she knew that it was the right decision, to come here, to talk to him.

"Why are you here?" He asked again, and she recognized a glimmer of hurt in his eyes, it was just there for a second, but it was unmistakable. Maybe she wasn't the only one who was finding this painful. So many memories were blurred into one each other, overflowing in her mind.

"Jen?" He asked, impatience creeping into his tone.

"I don't know," She said, swallowing and looking up, "I have no idea," she whispered.

"Are you sure? Or would you rather not admit it?"

"I don't know, Jethro."

"What were you remembering, Jen?" he asked, pushing her, even though he knew the answer.


"Why are you lying to me?"

"Because it hurts less than telling the truth." Jen's eyes met his with a sudden determination overcastting the regret that had occupied them.

"That doesn't make it right."

"No, but it makes it less painful," she said, unscrewing a jar, and tipping its contents out, pouring the bourbon into it.

He stared at her for a long time, "You were thinking about Paris, but you won't admit it."

"Paris. It covers a wide range of topics." She said, looking into her glass.

He laughed, but the sound was humourless, "You know what I mean,"

"I want to stop pretending," she said quietly, her head down.

"Pretending what, Jen?"

"Pretending that I'm ok," she said roughly, "Pretending that I don't still have the feelings I had for you that night, all those years ago in Paris," she said, her face twisting in pain, her words bitter and angry. Hating herself for letting it consume her, take away such a big part of her.

"All these years later Jen," he said, taking a step closer to her, "And you choose now?"

"I can't help it if the feeling is still there," she said quietly, sipping her bourbon in the silence that filled the room.

"You, are the one who left me, Jen." He said bitterly.

She looked up at him, her eyes full of tears, and regret.

"If, if I could take it back, I would."

"Yeah, except it's a bit late now," bitterness still tainted his tone.

"I know, I know you don't like apologies, or whatever, but I am sorry, I am sorry for what I did to you. For what I did to myself, but I can't take it back now! It is too late..." she trailed off, turning her head away from him in a vain effort to hide her tears. Years of pent up emotion, years of holding back the tears... it was a relief. But it also hurt.

Something... something shifted as he saw her tears, and he was cast back to the first night he had seen her cry. She had been unknowing, but he had watched as she broke down on their hotel bed. The stress of the mission, and him being shot taking its toll. The urge to comfort her was the same as it had been then, he stretched out a hand, and it brushed against hers. So many memories...

She looked up, her pretty face stained with tear streaks, his eyes concerned, so stunning, she could get lost in them.

She didn't want to think, she didn't want to hurt anymore. She was sick of it, sick and tired. His eyes, the brief but electric skin on skin contact, tipped her over the edge.

She wanted the pain, the regret to go away.

She wanted to feel. Suddenly, like something inside her had shifted she stepped towards him, flung her arms round him, and crushed her lips to his, kissing him with a passion that released the years of regret, frustration.

When they eventually broke apart, he said softly, "Feel better now Jen?"

"Much," she whispered breathily, smiling. Perhaps this Christmas wouldn't be so bad after all.

It's done! In time and everything! Hay. . . ?????? :S