Ashleigh Anpilova


Finally Jenny is happy. Then she receives an offer she has spent her whole life working towards and has to make a decision.

An established relationship story.

Written: August 2012. Word count: 600.



Jenny lay on her side watching the girl in the bed next to her sleep. Her hand rested on Ziva's chest and she took pleasure in feeling the strong, steady heartbeat beneath her fingers.


Before she had met the dark-haired, dark-eyed Mossad assassin she had believed she was happy and fulfilled. But once Ziva had swept into her life and into her bad she'd realized she hadn't even been content, let alone happy.


And now with the most beautiful, most skilled, most caring lover she had ever known, a young woman who'd taught her not only how to love another woman but also how to be at ease with her own body and unashamed of her desires and needs, Jenny was happier than she believed it possible for a person to be. She was happy; she was fulfilled; she was alive; she was in love; she loved and she was loved in return.


Beneath her hand she felt Ziva begin to stir; a moment later she saw long, dark eyelashes flutter and then the deep, dark brown eyes looked up at her. "Go to sleep, Jenny," Ziva said as she put her hand on Jenny's cheek and stroked it. "Unless you'd rather . . ." and Ziva smiled the smile which always made Jenny shiver with desire.




Dressed in nothing but a silken robe, her hair still wet from the shower, her body still tingling from Ziva's hands and mouths, Jenny hurried into her study to answer the phone.


Ten minutes later she was still sitting at her desk, her heart was still beating faster than it normally did and she noticed her hand was trembling slightly as she finally took it away from the phone.


"Jenny?" Ziva's honey-sweet voice cut through her thoughts. "Are you all right?" she asked, coming into Jenny's study a mug of coffee in each hand. When Jenny just stared at her, Ziva hurried to the desk, put both mugs down and dropped down to her knees in front of Jenny and took her hand. "Jenny, was it bad news?"


Jenny shook herself and gazed down at the beautiful young woman whom she loved. She brushed Ziva's long damp hair back from her face. "No, Ziva. It's actually very good news," at least she thought it was. "I've been offered the position of Director of NCIS." She put her hands either side of Ziva's face, bent down and kissed Ziva's lips, gently pulling her bottom lip into her mouth.


"I am very happy for you, Jenny," Ziva said when the kiss ended. "It is what you always wanted, is it not?"


Jenny nodded. "Yes, it's what I've spent my entire adult life working towards." And that is exactly what she had done; every single thing she had done since leaving high school had been done with one thing in mind: becoming director of a Federal agency. So why wasn't she dancing with joy? She had finally achieved her desire. She should be happier than she had ever been.


But she wasn't. Because she suddenly knew what the cost of accepting the position would be: she would have to give up Ziva. She would have to give up happiness, love and fulfillment. Yes, NCIS would fulfill her in other ways, but . . .


"And," she said, knowing she was doing the right thing. "I am not going to accept it." And before Ziva could reply, she stood up, pulled Ziva to her feet and into her arms and plundered Ziva's mouth with her own. This was happiness; this was what she wanted; this was what she was; this was her future.



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