Ashleigh Anpilova


Ducky's eyes are normally warm, until one day.

An established relationship story.

Written: October 2007. Word count: 457.



Duck talks in two ways: with his mouth and with his eyes.


The former he can control. The latter he can't.


He can say one thing with words. Another with his eyes.


Still don't know why the kids, why anyone, why everyone, didn't find out about us before they did.


His gaze is usually soft, gentle, loving, friendly, warm, caring, trusting, forgiving, understanding, polite, positive.


Oh, I've seen him angry, more than once, and then the light blue tends to blaze and become darker, like it was when we first met.


I've seen him at the heights of passion too, many, many, many times, and then . . . Well, that's for me to know - and no one else.


What I've never seen before in Ducky's gaze is pure ice. Harsh, cold, steely, hard, unloving, unfriendly, uncaring, untrusting, unforgiving, devoid of understanding, impolite, negative. Simply put: ice cold hatred.


And I never thought I'd live to see it.


But I did.


I saw it today.


And I never want to see it again.


The only good thing is, it wasn't directed at me.


I walked into Autopsy and saw them.


Ducky and Hollis.


"Get out," He said, as he looked at her. His tone matched his eyes. It was freezing, beyond being chilled. Flat. Empty. I shivered as I heard it.


His face was drained of color. It blended in with his white coat.


Her face was red. "How dare you?" She spat the words at him.


He said nothing. He simply continued to stare at her with his frozen gaze.


She looked at me.


I looked at him.


He didn't look at me.


She waited.


I said nothing.


He said nothing.


She said nothing.


Finally, she stormed past me.




Came back.


"We're over."


She left.


I let her go.


"Duck?" I dared to venture, taking one pace towards him.


He turned to face me, and under my gaze, I saw the ice begin to melt.


I watched as the thaw set in.


 I watched as my Ducky reappeared.


"Jethro my dear," he said, his voice like his eyes no longer frozen. He smiled.


I never did find out what happened in Autopsy.


I never did find out what turned my warm, gentle, loving, caring, friendly Ducky into the cold, hard, unloving, uncaring, unfriendly man I saw.


I asked.


He didn't answer.


I asked again.


He changed the subject.


I asked for a third time.


And then I stopped asking.


Stopped, because suddenly I feared that if I went on asking, went on pushing, went on demanding, that I might see the frozen gaze again.


But this time it would be directed at me.


And that is one thing I never want to see again. 



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