MY BLUE EYED MEDIC
By
Ashleigh Anpilova
A sequel to My Blue Eyed Marine.
Gibbs did leave his lighter with Ducky on purpose, as he did want to see him again. But was it the right thing to do?
An established relationship story.
Written: April 2008. Word count: 2,110.
At the first sight of you
I knew that you were special
Oh you left me warm but confused
The morning after I walked out of his hotel room, I didn't know if I'd done the right thing or not. But it was a bit late to worry about that. I'd done it. I had to live with what I'd done.
And the truth is: I wanted to see him again. I really did.
There was something about him that touched me, and I don't just mean in the physical sense – although there was that too.
But it was more than that. Far, far more.
From the moment I saw him I knew. I knew that this was a man I wanted to get to know better.
I didn't expect to end up in his bed, least not consciously, although given how easily I did, maybe . . . But in that first glance I took in the way his eyes held mine, the way they looked, the way they seemed to know so much. They were blue, lighter than mine, more like the daytime sky.
I saw him and something told me he'd be around for a long time. I saw him and I saw a friend. Someone I wanted to be my friend. Someone who could be, who was, special. Some who was going to play an important part in my life.
I hadn't got many friends, no one I was really close to.
I know that sounds weird, I'm a Marine, we'd willingly die for our fellow Marines, we'd get drunk with them, clean them up if they got too drunk, cover up for them, but we weren't really friends.
But in that man, that blue-eyed medic, I saw a man I could have as a friend. So when he invited me to dinner, I said yes, more than willingly. I even said yes when he invited me to go to his room for a drink.
Had I known, maybe sub-consciously, what was going to happen? Had I seen something in him? I don't know. If I had, it didn't bother me – couldn't have done.
I admit he surprised me when he kissed me, that's for sure. For a split second my instinct was to deck him, but something stopped me.
Instead I kissed him back.
Know I hurt him a bit at first; reckon I did that deliberately. I also know I scared him for a moment. I know he must have feared what I might do, what I could do.
I could have seriously hurt him – and he wouldn't have reported me if I had have done. After all he came on to me, he kissed me, he'd have accepted it as his fault.
Told you he was special.
Then we went to bed and he thought I wanted to fuck him. Reckon I did at first, I'd heard it was good with a gay bloke.
But again something in him, in those blue eyes, in his being, his manner, his whole person, made me stop. Made me stop and realize this wasn't a man you just fucked and walked away from. This wasn't a man you just fucked at all. This was a man you made love to.
So I did.
Don't know who was more surprised to be honest, him or me. After all I'd never touched a bloke like that before. Oh, I'd seen more men naked than most other non-service men; seen 'em aroused too, but I'd never touched another man. Course I jerked off, what bloke doesn't? But that's different to touching someone else, and he was different.
But it felt right. It felt the right thing to do. The only thing to do. I made love to him. And I can still remember how he felt and tasted and smelled under my hands and mouth and lips, can still . . .
I never did fuck him. Oh, I did him, but that was making love too. Because that's the kind of man he was. He wasn't the one-night stand kind of man. He was special.
My blue-eyed medic was special.
And he made me feel special. He made me feel warm. He made me feel cared for. He made me feel loved.
Guess that's why I was so surprised when, in the morning, he didn't say anything to me - anything about seeing me again, about wanting to see me again. I was sure he would, but he didn't.
He let me use his shower, and offered me a cup of coffee, said it was a nice day and then . . . And then he just touched by hair, brushing his hand over my head and ear and gave me a half smile.
Must have looked like a right fool standing there, waiting for him to say something else, expecting him to say something else.
But he didn't. Instead he just turned away.
I stood there for another minute or two, before I muttered something about
having to go and then I went.
Would have gone without hesitation had I not suddenly caught sight of his face in the mirror. It told me a lot; it told me a hell of a lot. His eyes were full of pain, maybe even tears; I couldn't quite see.
And that's when I knew. I knew he couldn't ask me to stay. He couldn't tell me he wanted to see me again, because he was afraid I'd tell him to get lost; that it was a one night fling, that kind of thing.
So I did the only thing I could do; I left my lighter behind.
I don't smoke, but most Marines carrying Zippos, and mine has special meaning to me. It was the last thing my dad gave me before he did what he'd been wanting to do for ten years: join Mom. Reckon he simply hung on until I'd finished school and signed on with the Marines, then he just died.
The lighter's important to me, and that's why I left it. I knew he'd know I wouldn't leave it behind permanently - least I hope he'd know. Not that I'd told him about Dad, but I'd told him it was a Marine thing.
I hope he'd realize what I was saying and would know I wanted to see him again.
My blue-eyed medic.
He confused the hell out of me, but I . . .
I loved you so that I
Could not breathe
Because in us I believe
That was eighteen months ago.
I did see him again.
Called him the next day and told him I must have dropped my lighter.
He told me I had.
And he invited me to collect it. So I did.
He met me in the lobby of his hotel.
And as he held out his hand to offer me the lighter I thought I'd got it wrong. Reckoned I'd screwed up. Read everything wrongly.
Him.
Me.
His feelings.
My feelings.
I was sure I had.
Until I touched his hand to take the lighter.
Until I looked into his eyes.
Until I looked into the eyes of my blue-eyed medic.
And I knew.
I knew what he felt.
I knew what I felt.
As I stood there, my hand on his, my gaze locked with him, I realized I'd been holding my breath, that or . . . Whatever it was I found it hard to breathe.
And I knew then.
I knew . . .
Didn't admit it then, not the word, not even to myself. But I knew.
It might sound crazy after such a short time. After one night of passion and one
short meeting, but I knew.
And I knew we'd be together, somehow.
No matter what.
No matter how impossible it was.
No matter how wrong, to some people, it was.
No matter how careful we'd have to be.
No matter what it cost us.
It didn't matter.
Nothing did.
Because I . . .
And I believed in him.
I believed in me.
I believed in us.
I believed in us together.
Don't quite know how we got from the lobby to his room.
But one minute we were standing there with people milling around us; the next we were in his room. And he was in my arms, my mouth was on his, my arousal was pressed against his. And my world straightened; rightened. Tilted on its axis, tilted to how it should be.
We didn't make love, least not in the way we had done the night before. We just lay on the bed, mostly clothed, kissing, touching, stroking and talking. I told him about the lighter; told him how important it was to me; told him why. I'd never told anyone that; never thought I would.
I told him because it was right.
We were right.
My blue-eyed medic.
I believed in him and I . . .
When we are apart
I still can feel you with me
I can trace every line in my mind
You are etched all over the heart of me
Because in us I believe
Course all 'honeymoons' have to end and before long I was back at sea. Apart from him.
That was tough, harder than I'd thought it would be.
Standing with him at the docks, surrounded by other Marines saying goodbye to the people they loved – yeah, finally got around to admitting it was love – least to myself.
Didn't say it to him until the second I was leaving. Then I just bent my head, put my lips to his ears – no one was paying us any attention – and told him. I told my blue-eyed medic I loved him.
And each subsequent parting didn't get any easier.
I can feel him with me. It helps. It helps with the long days and the even longer nights.
Oh, I have plenty to keep me busy; the Corps is good at that. Doubt anyone would notice anything different about me.
But I know.
In everything I do I can feel him; I can see him with me; I can hear his voice. I can recall him face, his body, his hands perfectly. And not just sexually, but as him, as a person, as my blue-eyed medic. Because he is mine; know that. He told me so.
He's inside me, in a way I never thought anyone would be.
In a way I never wanted anyone to be.
I turn around and he's there.
I do something and I imagine what he'd do, say, think.
In the early days it scared me.
Yeah, me a tough, cock-sure Marine, who knew exactly how to kill and to do so without leaving any visible scars. Me, who'd made damn sure the school bullies knew who I was, that they knew not to mess with any of my friends.
Me. I was scared.
Scared of the hold he had over me.
Scared of the way I felt about him.
Scared of the way he felt about me.
Scared of the way he made me feel.
I even wrote to him, a 'Dear John' letter – never sent it. Destroyed it instead.
I couldn't send it.
I didn't send it.
Because scared or not, I trusted him.
I trusted him with what I was, what I could be and what we were.
I believed in him.
I believed in me.
I believed in us.
My blue-eyed medic.
He scared me, but I love him.
And we have all the time in the world
You and me
Not certain exactly what the future will hold for us.
I know we'll always be together.
I know we'll grow old together.
I know the day will come when we'll be able to be together properly.
Until then I'm not sure how things will work out. What'll happen.
I don't want to leave the Marines, and he understands. I don't think he wants me to either.
He's said we have to be careful.
And we are.
I don't think it's going to be roses round the door and white picket fences, least not for a few years.
But that doesn't matter.
Because I know. I know that no matter what happens, no matter how long it takes, we'll get there.
We have a lifetime to love one another.
We have a lifetime to be with one another.
It'll work out.
I know it.
It has to.
Because I'm his and he's mine.
My blue-eyed medic.
I believe in him; I love him.
Because in us I believe
Yes, in us I believe
Feedback is always
appreciated
Go to NCIS Gibbs/Ducky Fiction Page