(Disclaimer: I'm not even cool enough to sit on the back row of my school bus, I think owning NCIS is way out of the question.

The idea of this came to me when I was left behind when the rest of my year went to a pantomime with school and I spent two and a half hours in the science labs by myself. So if you hate it, blame my year head P. But please review, tell me what you think.

Also, this is dedicated to Beth (I stole her name). Feliz Navidad chica.

Here goes nada...)

She had always loved cinnamon.

As a little girl, she would watch her older sister get ready to go out, usually with one nice young man or another. Little Kate Todd would watch in awe as her sister rushed around like a talkative tornado as she got ready. She would hold hair out of the way, pass perfume and hairspray and goodness knows what else as her sister preened herself in front of the large mirror in her bedroom. Though her sister was a perfectionist, no less when she was getting ready for one of her hallowed dates, and had a tendency to snap at Kate for the slightest thing; she loved helping her. She probably enjoyed helping and watching her sister get ready more than her sister did.

She liked the smell of the perfume and sprays and the way the powdery sweet scent tickled her nostrils. She liked playing around with the makeup as she passed it to her sister, smudging a little lipstick and dabbing a little eye shadow while the older girl's back was turned. Kate would usually wipe or smear the powders and other makeup and often end up looking like a clown by the time they had both finished, but that wasn't her favourite part. Once her sister had finished perfecting her makeup down to the last eyelash, she would take out a tiny pot of cinnamon and dab a little on her finger before pressing it to her lips. Kate remembered the first time she watched this.

'What's that?' she had asked, peering over her sisters shoulder.

'Cinnamon' she had replied, pressing her lips together and checking the lipstick was intact. 'It's a sweet spice. Boys like the way it tastes'

'But why will the boys taste it? Do you put it on their lips too?' Kate had asked, ever curious.

Her sister had rolled her outlined eyes, but ruffled the little girl's hair and smiled. 'No, silly. One day you'll understand'

Kate had pouted at the patronizing comment, which made her sister laugh. Turning Kate around, she dipped her finger in the cinnamon and pressed it down on Kate's down turned lip. 'There. Nice, isn't it?'

Kate licked her lips experimentally. The strange, sweet taste made her wrinkle her nose, but her frown disappeared. She mimicked pressing her lips together as her sister had, and then smiled, her little faced upturned expectantly. 'Can I come out with you now?'

Her sister laughed, and steered Kate towards the bedroom door. 'Dream on, frog face'

But even so, from that day forward Caitlin Todd always loved the taste of cinnamon.

If anyone ever needed to get round Kate, a cinnamon muffin would almost always get them in her good books. Kate was never one to be bribed easily, but the sweet taste was something she could never resist. Kate was conscious of healthy food and never overindulged on sweet things - but cinnamon was her one indulgence. Whenever she went for coffee, she never thought the drink tasted right without a sprinkling of cinnamon added while it was still hot. It became an idiosyncrasy of hers to never leave home without a tiny jar of cinnamon in her purse, something she got teased for by her friends but she did naturally. And when she got old enough to start dating herself, the cinnamon on the lips was a must-have. Her sister was right, the guys really did like the taste - but so did she.

And, probably because of this, he liked it too.

The first time Tony DiNozzo met Kate, he could smell cinnamon on her. Not too much, just a pleasant, sweet aroma - and he liked it. It stuck in his mind; the memory of her face and the strange, delicious scent. Ever since then, he couldn't smell or eat cinnamon without thinking of her. And when that happened, it always made him smile.

One day, they were leaving work at the same time and caught the elevator down from the bullpen together. As Kate stepped into the elevator and pressed the button, she turned her back on him and he could smell cinnamon on her hair. He breathed in the pungent scent, and the whistle of his breath made Kate turn round.

'What?' she asked, caught between sharpness and curiosity.

'Your hair smells like cinnamon' he said, without thinking. Embarrassed, he blushed slightly. She smiled, her cheeks too turning a little pink at the comment.

'Cinnamon shampoo. Do - do you like it?' she asked, not sure if he was complimenting her.

'Sure I do' he replied, flashing the smile that always made her heart skip a beat as they stepped out of the elevator together.

She was never sure if he heard her say thank you, but ever since then she washed her hair with cinnamon shampoo every day - just in case he noticed.

Some time later, he finally got up the courage to ask her for a coffee after work. A first date of sorts - even though it was only the coffee shop around the corner from where they worked, and neither of them called it a date at the time. They sat down at a table together, a little shy outside their comfort zone of work. A smiling waitress came and took their order. Without so much as looking her up and down, Tony placed his order.

'I'll have a medium cappuccino. Kate?'

'Cinnamon latte, please' she said. The waitress left, and their eyes met.

'You really like cinnamon, don't you?' he said.

'Yeah' she replied. He smiled, tentatively inching his hand towards hers across the tabletop.

'I'll remember that' he said, as he laced his fingers with hers.

And he did.

Inevitably, within a week Kate was getting ready for her first serious date with Tony. She had never been so nervously excited before a date in her life - her hands were shaking so much she had to remove and reapply her lipstick three times to get it right. After three hours of meticulously agonizing over what to wear, how to act, what to do and what to say; she heard her doorbell ring. Grabbing her handbag, she was about to leave and answer the door when she spotted the pot of cinnamon on her dressing table. Smiling mischievously, she dipped her index finger into the little jar and dabbed a bit on her lips, pressing them together carefully before rushing to the door, where Tony was waiting.

Needless to say, he never forgot the taste of cinnamon after that.

But all too soon, it was over. He couldn't stop himself punching the walls, tearing himself up inside about the time they could have had; how he should have protected her, watched out for her, saved her. A single shot to snuff out the life of the beautiful woman who had lit up his life - it seemed so unfair. He knew everyone was suffering, but her death was like losing a part of himself. Sometimes, he would use the spare key to his apartment that she had given him and sit in her flat, tears streaming down his face as he sat alone in the echoing silence, breathing in the scent of cinnamon and wishing Kate alive again.

Weeks turned into months after he dropped a rose into her casket and told her he loved her one last time before she was laid to rest. Everyone began to heal in their own way; coping with their grief with only the small comfort that Gibbs had made the bastard who murdered Kate suffer for what he had done to her, to all of them. It was an achievement for Tony to be able to go into work and not feel a wrench of agony when he saw that Kate wasn't at her desk, smiling at him - and remembered that she never would be. And when he closed his eyes and imagined her there, it was her smiling face and the smell of cinnamon on her that came to mind.

Once every week, Tony visited Kate's grave and laid fresh flowers there for her. After her death, he had visited daily but had forced himself to come only once a week. Seeing Kate's headstone, a cold grey slab for a woman who had brought more colour to the world than anyone else ever had, underneath which her body was turning to bones or dust; brought him too much pain to look at every day. He trod the familiar steps to her grave, a bunch of red and white roses in his arms. They always had been her favourite flowers. He stopped by her headstone; remembering her lying so still and beautiful but so cold in her casket on the day of her funeral. It seemed like a lifetime ago - a lifetime without Kate. Hands shaking, he laid the flowers carefully on the ground before the stone slab. He saw a carefully wrapped bouquet of black roses and guessed that Abby must have visited, today or the day before. Kneeling on the ground in front of the flowers, he closed his eyes to prevent the hot tears which always threatened to fall slipping down his cheeks. His voice shook as he whispered:

'I love you, Kate. More than life itself. And I would give anything you asked just to have you and your cinnamon back...'

His shoulders were shaking as he stood up. A warm hand touched his shoulder, and the contact made him sit up, blinking away the tears which clouded his eyes. He managed to smile as the pale, dark-haired face came back into focus.
'It's alright, Daddy. We'll see Mummy again in Heaven, won't we?'
Tony half-laughed as he hugged his daughter, holding her close just to feel the living, breathing warmth of her small form in his arms.
'You bet we will, Bethanne. Mummy's up there right now making the sun shine for us'
He kissed Bethanne on the forehead as he stood up. Her little face tilted up to his, her dark eyes warm and wide. How like Kate she was…

'Say goodbye to Mummy' he said softly.

He watched as Bethanne laid her single white rose beside his bouquet, and promised her mother to visit again soon. Taking her small hand in his, they began walking slowly away from Kate's grave. Tony glanced back as they left, her gaze lingering on the headstone one last time.

I'll miss you until the day I die, Kate. But I'll carry on...for her.

He turned back around, and lifted Bethanne into his arms. It was a long day for a little girl like her, and she was tired by now. He looked at her head on his shoulder, soft dark hair so like her mother's that it made him ache. Mother and daughter. Different but the same...

She was the past, and their daughter was the future. It was a twisted joke that Tony could never bring the two together.

He sighed and carried on walking, his mind so full of memories of Kate it was a wonder he could walk in a straight line. And he was sure he was just imagining the smell of cinnamon.

(What did you think...dare I ask...Hit the blue button and tell us! Muchas gracias.)