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Chapter 6: Agradabilissimo

Morning doesn't take long to come. McGee wakes up to the protest of muscles that have not been used for a long time. He tries to move and is surprised to feel the sting of scratches on his back and a very soft round form of a breast pushing against his forearms. Those little things wake him up immediately. He looks to the side and is surprised to find a head full of brownish curls lying by his side and a small hand lying on top of his bare chest.

The events of the previous night come to him like a sledgehammer, making he groan mentally as he lays his head back on the pillow wondering how he managed to get his sorry ass into this kind of uncomfortable situation. He silent maneuvers her hand away from his chest so he can get out of bed and observes as she rolls over and hugs his pillow against her naked breasts. He silently gets his shirt and briefs from the floor and leaves the room.

NCIS NCIS NCIS

Jethro softly whines to his master who is staring at the burning bacon in the pan with a confused expression. He doesn't hear the first time, so Jethro barks.

"What?"

Jethro licks his chops staring at McGee. He finally engages his brain, gets one of the burning slices and set it aside to cool for the dog.

"I don't want you having a heart attack on me."

He puts the remaining bacon slices on a plate and runs to the eggs that are starting to burn. He pours the fresh made coffee and two tall glasses of orange juice on glasses on the breakfast tray, stops and hold firmly on the corner of the kitchen counter.

The exact same counter he had made love to Joy in the previous evening. He closes his eyes when he feels his body responding to the sensorial memory and mentally headslaps himself for being such an ass.

She has scars, Tim. Many more than the ones you can see.

He stands straight again, ordering his own body to behave as he throws the now cool bacon to Jethro and takes the breakfast tray to the bedroom to wake up his night guest.

He puts the breakfast tray on the bedside table at the corner and looks at the snoring woman. She has her back turned at him and is sleeping in fetal position, hugging his favorite pillow between her breasts. In the faint morning light, he finally can see clearly faint lines crisscrossing the skin of her back. He silently sits down on the edge of the bed and leans over to get a better look.

There are marks of severe beatings, probably with a belt or some kind of whip, which left deep cuts and done permanent damage all over the soft skin on her back. They are whitish against the tan; some are over each other, meaning that she was subjected over and over to punishment until she had been forever damaged. And they were old. Very old. But the most distinctive ones were the lines from the middle to her lower back that obviously hadn't been made by a belt but by some kind of sharp instrument which clearly spelt a word.

Servant.

She exhales and he starts a little, aware that he is staring and invading her privacy. It must have taken great courage for someone who protected her privacy so much like her to show her scars to anyone. He looks at the floor and tries to gather his thoughts. He then looks at the breakfast tray cooling by the table and seems to reach a decision. He takes his shoes off, moves the duvet and silently lay beside her, spooning her body and bringing her against his chest. He moves her hair away from his face and start dotting her neck with soft kisses, trying to wake her up.

She relaxes a little in his arms, but suddenly tenses when she fully regains consciousness. He tightens his hold on her, afraid she will bolt, but after some tense seconds she wiggles a little in his embrace, enough so she can look at his face.

"Hi."

"Hi."

"Sleep well?"

"The best sleep I had in months."

He smiles thinly, seeing her frank stare focused on him.

"I made you breakfast." He points with his head to the breakfast tray sitting on his bedside table.

Her eyes are fixed in his face, studying his features with care. He endures her scrutiny without comment.

"Maybe we should eat."

"Maybe we should."

Her eyes stop on his lips and he feels himself leaning over.

"Maybe we should…"

Whatever she would say was interrupted by his lips, which firmly settled on hers. They stay like that until the need to breathe became first and foremost and they had to stop.

"Timothy?" she murmurs.

"Uhm?" he answers against her lips, before moving his face so he can gently bite her earlobe and kiss her neck.

She moves over to the side and pulls his hard body on top of hers. He obeys silently her demand.

"I'm hungry."

The bacon and eggs get cold.

NCIS NCIS NCIS NCIS

After they eat a cold breakfast, they take a shower and silently put their clothes on. They make a canvass search for Joy's knickers, finding it behind some pillows in the corner of his is already running in circles, impatient to leave for his morning walk.

McGee takes Jethro's leash in his hand and is soon ready to leave with the dog and his new friend. They silently take the elevator and go down the street in the direction of the bar, which actually was just a couple of blocks away from McGee's place, to collect his car. She insists on walking with them and she is enchanted with the antics of the goofy German shepherd as they go down the road.

They don't exchange words or empty promises of seeing each other again. McGee imagines that Joy was the kind of person who was used to silence and was quite comfortable with it. Whatever you needed to know, you could ascertain it from her face and her eyes which were without a doubt the most expressive feature in her whole face.

They arrive at the parking lot close to the bar where McGee had left his car. He stops and takes the keys in his hands.

"So, this is it."

"Yeah."

"We could you know…"

"No"

"No?"

"No. It is better this way."

He looks at her with a frown, unhappy that she doesn't want to explore this… this… whatever this is… will be… can be.

"Why?"

"Because I prefer a good mystery." She answers smiling.

He grins back, defeated by her logic.

"Well, you know where I live. If you, someday, are lonely…" She smirks at him. He blushes once he realizes what he had just said, rushing to fix it. "…Or you're just in need to talk, you know where to find me."

"I will remember that."

"Good."

Another long silence falls over them. They are looking at each other, trying to tell with their eyes what their words can't.

After a long moment of hesitation, she turns and starts to walk towards the street.

"Hey Joy," he calls her.

She turns and looks at him, finding him nervously twisting the leash of his dog in his hands.

"Are you going to be okay?"

She carefully considers his question before answering with a sincere smile.

"I'm always okay, Tim."

He seems unsure of that. She decides to give him something more, just to ease his mind.

"We are all damaged. Some people are just better in hiding it than others."

He keeps staring at her, drinking of her image, unwilling to let her go out of his life forever. She looks at the floor trying to find something else to say but she can't find the words to appease him. She hears approaching footsteps and when she looks up there he is.

They kiss again, eagerly and wantonly, trying desperately to put all the emotion that permeated their short encounter in that one single kiss. There is tenderness in his touch when he moves her hair out of the way and when they finally separate they are both smiling.

"Don't wait another four years to … you know."

She smirks, "Okay. I won't."

She turns her back to him and walks out of the parking lot and hails a passing cab on the street. It stops, she opens the door but, before entering, she turns so she can once again look at him. He is standing in the same spot, staring at her with his loyal German shepherd lying at his feet. She smiles, waves at him and enters the cab.

He waves back and watches the cab drive away taking her out of his life forever.

"So, Jethro, it's only you and me again."

The dog whines and nudges his master's leg with its head.

He looks at the direction the cab went, disappearing in the city traffic and from his life.

It's over.

Or so he thought.

a/n: I'm editing and reposting all stories. This is the third of the Buchanan series. Cheers!

Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.