Ashleigh Anpilova


Ziva and Jeanne find they have something in common.

A pre-slash story.

Written: August 2012. Word count: 500.



I watch you both arrive; one as part of a group; the other alone.


I watch you as each of you realize the other is there. I watch you nod to one another. I watch you offer a half smile to one another; a half smile that is tinged with tears.


I watch you and I wonder which of you will shed actual tears first; the doctor or the NCIS agent? Two women who loved, who still love, the same man; the same man who in one way or another walked away from both of you. The same man who loved you both, but was afraid to love, afraid to reach out, afraid to take the love he was offered.


Dr. Jeanne Benoit and Special Agent Ziva David; I watch you both and I wait. I wait for the moment you will do more than just look and smile at one another. Funerals bring people together in ways they had not thought about; ways they had not considered.


I watch as somewhat hesitantly you, Dr. Benoit, move to join the NCIS personnel. I watch as first Special Agent Gibbs speaks to you, then Dr. Mallard, then the others. I watch as you finally turn to Agent David and say something to her. I am too far away to hear what you have to say to one another, but I believe I can guess.


I watch as you take a handkerchief from your pocket and wipe your eyes; I watch as the move is mirrored by Agent David. Two women whose sadness over the death of the man they love is palpable, even from this distance.


I watch you as neither of you try to stop the tears from falling as the funeral rites are spoken. I watch you move a little closer to one another; I am sure neither of you is aware you have moved. I watch you as your hands find one another's and fingers entwine together.


I watch you as you turn to look at one another and down at your joined hands. I watch realization flash across your faces. I watch you hastily look away from one another and back down at the coffin which holds the body of the man you both still love.


I watch you for another moment or two before I turn to go. It's time for me to go. It's time for me to leave this place. And yet I turn back for a moment and once more I look at you, at both of you, as you stand holding hands, tears on your cheeks and I know. I know that out of death you will both eventually find peace and find what you've both searched for for so long. You will both find love - you'll find it with one another.


My time is up; I must go. I must now leave both of you. Leave you to one another. Goodbye, Jeanne; goodbye, Ziva. Be happy together. Make my death worthwhile.



Too Soon? is the sequel to this story.


Feedback is always appreciated

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