Love ain't nothin' but a four-letter word.

Ziva David had never been much for romance. Unsurprisingly, being trained to kill and being used to loosing people she cared about, love just never seemed like a good feeling to have. Of course, caring for someone, wanting to be close to them – that whole issue snuck up on her every now and again. For the most part, however, Ziva managed to stay out of that territory as well as possible.

Dead man walking was one of those issues. She did like him and she often wondered what might have been, but overall, she wasn't sure she had actually loved him. Then again, they had only known each other for a very short time before he died, so there simply wasn't a chance to get to know each other better. Roy Sanders – nice, honorable, dead before his time.

CI-Ray really doesn't count anymore at this point. He hurt her. Of course, he only had the ability to hurt her, because she had let her guard down. She let him into her life and she cared for him somewhat deeply. Was that love? Could it ever be called that? She did like him, but love just didn't seem like the most fitting word for it.

Michael, of course she cared about him as well, but there was always something about him that she didn't fully trust. In this case, love still wasn't the most fitting word. It was a deep friendship, one that reminded her more of where she came from than where she wanted to be. Tony ended that one, and not in the best way possible. Then again, it felt more like mourning a close friend than a lover.

Tony. She couldn't even recall how many people had assumed a relationship between the two of them. He was like a brother to her – her big brother – defending her, helping her out. Well, maybe he was more of a cousin sometimes – he did have a slight crush on her, she figured, but it never amounted to anything.

She hated thinking about those things – feelings – as it made her feel like she had missed out on something big. Nobody is getting any younger here, so why had she never actually been in love? Crushes – sure. Close friendships – of course. Love? - not yet.

Her current boyfriend had somehow gotten it into his mind to pick the worst time ever to tell her he loved her. Then again, was there even a good time to hear that someone is not ready to say it back? He's a nice guy and all – stable, non-law enforcement job; caring attitude; etc – but still she couldn't be sure if this was love. She cared for him, she liked spending time with him, but what was the difference between that and love?
Either way, she ran. She'd gotten out of his apartment as soon as she could, mumbling something about forgotten bits of paperwork and Gibbs having her ass if she didn't do it now. Going home might have been an option, work was as well, but somehow her car simply found its way to her boss' house. Yes, a late night boat sanding session with Gibbs would be helpful right now. It always helped her get some perspective on things.

Zibbs Zibbs Zibbs

The basement would have been entirely quiet if it hadn't been for the sound of sandpaper carefully sliding over wood. The smell of sawdust filled her mind as she stepped down the wooden stairs and she couldn't help but smile to herself. Home. Not her home, but a different kind of home. Gibbs' mere presence had always made her feel comfortable and the smells of sawdust, coffee, bourbon, or any combination of them, would always be able to calm her.

'Bourbon, Ziver?'

She shook her head as she approached him. Alcohol wouldn't be helpful now. Instead she took the sanding paper from the silver haired man's hands and went to continue where he had started.

'John told me he loved me. I could not say it back...'

With Gibbs, if you want to talk about feelings or really anything personal, you had to be straight to the point – no long-winded explanations, and no sugar-coating anything.

'Why?'

'Because I am not fully sure what love is. Or maybe I am unable to feel it at all, yes?'

Gibbs slowly made his way towards his agent. She almost seemed lost in thought and had stopped sanding a moment earlier, but she kept on staring at the wood, the paper, her hands, and seemed to be lost for anything else to say.

He laid a hand on her shoulder, reassuring her to some degree, 'When you feel it, you'll know. If you don't feel it with him, maybe you don't love him. You could go back and say it anyway, if the feelings you do have seem enough for you, or you could tell him that it's not enough for you. I can't help you with either of that, Ziver'

'How did you know? How did you know that you loved Shannon?'

As his hand left her shoulder, she realized that she might have crossed a line, but what more harm could it do to wait for an answer?

He took a deep breath and closed his eyes for a second. Maybe this was the time to finally talk about this with someone who would understand.

'I didn't... I didn't know. I knew I felt more for her than for anyone I had previously known and I knew I wanted to spend my life with her. Love... Love has never been easy for me either, Ziver. The ex-wives could probably tell you that... Shannon was the woman I loved most, I guess, and grieving for her made every other woman seem sub-par somehow.', he took another deep breath, 'Maybe I was wrong in saying you'll know. Maybe no one ever really knows. But you'll find someone who makes you happy someday. Maybe you won't consciously know that you love them, but you will be able to tell them. Yeah, that's it. If you love someone, maybe the words just slip out.'

Ziva turned to her boss – he seemed to have gotten through the worst part of that explanation rather well – and smiled through sad eyes. 'So, love is just there at some point? It does not build up over time for you? And the words just slide out?'

'Slip out, yeah... See, Ziva, as far as I've heard, love is different for everyone and it feels different for everyone. My experience might not be the same as yours, but if you are unsure about being in love with the guy, listen to your gut. If your gut tells you it might still build up, stick with him, if your gut tells you it will never be love, cut him lose.'

He turned then, away from her and towards the work bench. Why did this conversation get to him so much? The talk about Shannon was done with and really he had been beginning to get over her anyway. But whenever a picture of Ziva's boyfriend appeared in his mind, he seemed to get a little uneasy. Last time he felt like this was back in Stillwater, when Shannon was dating some guy and telling a friend about the whole thing. He had overheard their conversation and even though he hadn't even known Shannon – never talked to her, only ever walked past her and looked after her and such – the idea of her having a boyfriend had annoyed him to hell.

Damn. Jealousy hadn't been part of his life in so long. Real jealousy, not the whole Damnit Fornell, you're marrying my ex-wive?! . This was different and he wasn't quite sure why Shannon and Ziva were evoking the same reaction from him here. It's been decades since he decided that he would never fall in love again – that he would never love anyone like he loved Shannon.

Ziva wasn't sure of what to say. Gibbs seemed like he was putting up a wall that hadn't been there between them at all, at least not when they were alone. They had always been rather honest with each other, because they each knew that the other would be able to find out anyway – hiding something really didn't make much sense for them.

As she walked over to him, she considered that, maybe, he was the one who needed comforting now. Talking about his family sometimes made him a little more emotional than he liked to show, but somehow, Ziva felt like it might be about something else.

When he felt Ziva's hand on his back, he couldn't help but draw a long breath, not to brace himself for a difficult topic, but to stop himself from actually saying something he might regret. She leaned into him, her head resting against the side of his shoulder, as her hand slowly ran up and down his back. 'I am sorry. This conversation made you uncomfortable, yes?', she whispered quietly.

'It's fine, Ziver. It's not... It's not about that.'

Of course, Gibbs had never been one to get straight to the point when it came to stuff like this. Then again, maybe it was because he actually rarely wanted to talk about anything personal himself.

When her hand kept moving carefully up and down his back, and her head didn't move away either, Gibbs decided to turn around and face her – couldn't possibly be worse than feeling her touch while he was already unsure about how that jealousy had crept in there.

'You sure you don't want any bourbon?' - Of course, Jethro, alcohol helps in those situations. Great idea!

She smiled at him, a bit of bourbon actually wouldn't hurt at this point. She wasn't going anywhere anyway.

As he poured them their drinks, he noticed he had to steady his own breathing. Ziva hadn't moved away as much as she could have and being this close to her made him nervous in all the right ways. - Rule 12, Jethro. All the wrong ways!

Handing her a mason jar with a few sips of liquor, he caught her eyes for a moment and let out a breath he hadn't known he was holding. She was so beautiful. He rarely allowed himself to even think that, as it would just send him to the nearest cold shower and make him feel older than he even was. Moments like these – looking into her eyes and imagining all the things he would like to do with her, all the conversations he would like to have with her and all the years he would like to spend with her – he realized that maybe love wasn't as hard as he had always figured. Maybe love was just something that cannot be controlled by rules, by age, by anything.

'Maybe I was wrong... Maybe I already know what love is like, I was just looking at the wrong man...', she said, finishing his reverie – he never quite knows how she can read him so well, or maybe they're just on the same page a lot – and putting down both their jars. 'You would not mind if I broke Rule 12 right now, would you?', she added, with an almost seductive tone in her voice.

'There's always Rule 51...', he whispered, drawing her closer than ever before.

When you feel it, you'll know – he had said and he had never been more right about anything.

THE END.

A/N: Ooookay, so my arm might not be better yet, but I found the perfect position on my couch, where I can rest my upper arm while still typing and not hurting my shoulder in the process.

I hope you liked this story^^ Feel free to leave a review, they're greatly appreciated :D