A/N: I guess I've been inspired lately. This draws on several things that have been suggested or revealed as of late. Enjoy! (and review!)
Disclaimer: I don't own them. I just play with them from time to time.
It was coming up on the seventh anniversary when Gibbs finally decided to sit his most capable agent down for a talk. He had always imagined that eventually, Tony and Ziva would get their lives in order and wake up and smell the chemistry, but ever since his mysterious visions of the what ifs of life, the things he had seen had been nagging at him.
At NCIS, May and June seemingly signalled the time every year when major, life changing events would happen. Some never picked up on it, but over time, the MCRT had become increasingly aware of the fact. It was now late April, and everyone was on edge.
This year, however, Tony seemed worse than the rest of them. He wasn't picking on McGee as much as usual, even calling him Tim rather than Probie or McGee. He seemed to fluctuate between attitudes of annoyance or complete ignorance toward Ziva, and earlier that week, he had yelled at Abby. Of course, that earned him quite the headslap, and he spent the next several hours apologizing to the unsettled goth.
Gibbs was prepared for the night. Late April. Friday night after a long case. Everyone on edge, and Ziva was at a loss of how to deal with him anymore. Any moment, now, Tony would come stumbling down the stairs of the basement, either already drunk, or looking for the bourbon hidden on the wooden shelves down there.
Right on cue, at about midnight, Gibbs heard the front door slam shut.
"Boss?" A sad, defeated voice called.
"Down here, DiNozzo."
Tony clambered down the stairs and took a seat at the bottom. For once, Gibbs smelled no alcohol on his agent, and Tony didn't seem to be in search of any from him.
"What's different, DiNozzo?" Gibbs asked as he put down the sanding block beside the chair he was making.
Tony just sat there in silence, staring at his shoes.
Gibbs could wait as long as it took.
Several minutes passed as Gibbs stared down at his surrogate son, when Tony finally spoke.
"Seven years, Boss. Seven. She's gone. There's been so much since then, so why does it still mess with me? Every damn year."
Gibbs decided to test the waters. "Because of things left unsaid?"
He knew he had hit a nerve when Tony abruptly stared up at him in shock. "What? What do you mean? All we ever did was talk? What was there left to say, Gibbs?"
"Look, Tony, I may have ignored it back then, but there was more, wasn't there? Two of you were always so quick with the brother-sister relationship explanation."
Tony, for possibly the first time ever, was speechless. "…h-how?..."
"Just answer one thing for me, DiNozzo. If-if things had gone differently, if she were still alive…"
"…I probably would've married her, boss. Well, I'd have tried, anyways. She never would've let that happen. She was too good for me. She was…she was Kate…"
With a tear in his eye, Gibbs nudged Tony over on the stair and sat down beside him.
"I wouldn't be so sure of that, Tony. Maybe you would've had it all…the whole package."
A sad smile graced Tony's lips. "Maybe…but then…" he trailed off.
"But then there would never have been Ziva."
Tony sputtered, "R-rule 12, Boss!..."
Gibbs looked down at the dusty floor and smiled gently to himself. "Rule 51, Tony, Sometimes, you're wrong."
Tony looked hopefully up at his mentor.
"Someday, Tony, you'll tell her. And it damn well be before it's too late, this time."
With that, Gibbs patted Tony on the back, and went back to sanding the chair.
Tony rose from his place on the steps, and ascended the stairs, all while pulling out his phone. Standing in Gibbs' living room, he dialled.
"Hello?"
"Hey, it's me. We need to talk. About Paris. About everything. I…I need to see you. I…I need you, Ziva."
"Alright, Tony. I am ready."
And as he hung up, he realized, so was he.