ALWAYS ON MY MIND
By
Ashleigh Anpilova
Ducky is on Jethro's mind.
An established relationship story.
Warning: Major character death.
Written: June 2008. Word count: 655.
It's like he's on vacation – but to the worst place imaginable. To a place he knows he'll never be able to return from.
People are around him, but he doesn't see them. He doesn't hear them. He doesn't acknowledge them. He doesn't interact with them.
He goes to work; he does his job. He goes home; he drinks steadily each evening.
But it isn't him. Because he isn't here. He's away. He's missing. He's on a retreat. He's escaped.
But he hasn't.
He is here. He isn't missing. He isn't on retreat. He hasn't escaped.
He just wants to.
There's a block of ice where his heart used to be.
A coldness so deep, so insidious, so cloying that he's never warm.
It's been three months to the day and he hasn't once been warm.
It's been three months to the day and he's grown colder and colder each day.
It's been three months to the day and the ice has gotten thicker and thicker.
It's been three months to the day and not for one single waking moment has he forgotten. Stopped thinking. Stopped remembering. Stopped wanting. Stopped wishing.
It's been three months to the day and Ducky is still on his mind. He always is. He always was. He always will be.
It's been three months to the day when Ducky was taken from him.
Three months to the day when Ducky had taken his hand and made him promise.
Three months to the day when he'd promised 'not to do anything foolish'.
Three months to the day when with a final 'I will always love you, my dearest, dearest Jethro,' Ducky's eyes had closed for the final time.
Three months to the day when the ice began to form.
Three months to the day when he died inside.
Three months to the day when he went away.
Three months to the day when he stood in front of the crying kids and told them Ducky had died.
Three months to the day when he arrived home to find every one of his weapons removed.
Three months to the day when Tobias had sat up with him all night matching him drink for drink.
Three months to the day when he stopped crying. Stopped living. Stopped caring. Stopped being.
He's had three months to think about it.
He's had three months and nothing has changed; at least not for the better.
He's had three months and he's only gotten colder, more alone, more frozen.
He's had three months and finally he knows what he has to do.
He's had three months and finally he knows what he'll say to Ducky.
He promised Ducky 'not to do anything foolish'.
He promised Ducky that because Ducky had asked.
Well, he's already broken the promise.
He's broken it because he is still alive.
Because being alive is being foolish.
Because he wasn't alive; not in the real sense of the word.
You can't be alive when your heart is a block of ice.
You can't be alive when you're missing.
As his car races off the edge and begins to plummet down the sheer face of cliff he smiles.
He smiles for the first time in three months.
He smiles because the ice begins to melt.
He smiles because Ducky won't just be on his mind any longer; Ducky will be with him.
He smiles because there waiting for him is Ducky.
He smiles because the look on Ducky's face isn't one of disappointment, of anger, of sadness, but of contentment, love, tenderness and understanding.
He smiles as the last bit of the block of ice melts from his heart.
He smiles as Ducky take his hand.
He smiles as he realizes he now is on vacation – to the most wonderful place imaginable. To a place he knows he'll never be able to return from. To a place he knows he'll never want to return from.
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