Note: This is sad. I will be returning to the fun, the loving, the happy, the sexy. But not today. No spoilers, usual disclaimer. I wouldn't want it.
Seriously, Why Not?
The parties were over, his desk emptied nearly a week ago. The apartment was packed, cleaned, and all but forgotten. The basement however...
Tony swallowed the lump in his throat as he quietly sipped a ritual bourbon with Gibbs, fairly certain he wouldn't be coming back here. They'd said almost nothing, but not in their older, comfortable sense. Before he turned for the stairs, Tony made a decision and faced Gibbs squarely. He took a deep, paralyzing breath and willed Gibbs to look him in the eyes.
"It could have been different between you and me, Boss."
Gibbs pressed his lips together before replying, "Different how? You mean better? Did okay, DiNozzo."
"Better. More."
Gibbs gave him a long, searching look, a cautious look that made Tony's heart sink. If Gibbs had reacted with confusion, even derision, Tony could have drawn a line under it. Now he was kicking himself for thinking he'd wanted to hear whatever was coming, for thinking there was nothing to lose.
"Wouldn't have wanted that to be why you stayed all this time," Gibbs said after a moment.
Hurt flared up in Tony, hot then cold. "Why not?" he blurted.
"What?"
"Why not? What would have been so bad about that?" Tony shook his head. "It would have mattered why I stayed? I don't even know what to say to that, Gibbs. You chose me, I stayed. It's a fact. You not giving me the time of day in ages, that's on you. You didn't even ask me why I left."
"New York office."
"That's the where, not the why. Don't be dense."
"Didn't mean to piss you off, DiNozzo."
"Whatever you meant," Tony grimaced, "you're full of shit."
"What about you? You brought it up."
True, but Gibbs' words, so negating of everything, had forced Tony to fast-forward past all that might have been, to see how long this moment had been in the making. He could ask, but Gibbs wouldn't tell. Still, Tony gave the only the answer he had.
"Giving you the best years of my life? Has been a privilege, Leroy Jethro Gibbs. And a choice. So again, why not?"
Gibbs glanced away, and Tony did something he'd never done in private with Gibbs, something he rarely did without co-conspirators, without people who were willing to help him play the fool.
"What would you do if I sang out of tune...?"
"DiNozzo..."
"Would you stand up and walk out on me? Lend me your ear and I'll sing you a song..."
"Don't..."
"Would you believe in a love at first sight...?"
"I said don't. Tony, please...don't do this."
"Why not? This is it, Gibbs. This is goodbye. So I wanted you to know. Now, are you going to come clean, or am I going to get a letter in five years?"
"Didn't expect you to stay so long," Gibbs finally whispered. "Didn't think I could keep you here."
Anger flickered through Tony's body, brisk as new snow. An old, dull ache in his heart travelled up toward his eyes. Memory poured through him and flowed helplessly away. He looked, and looked, and looked again before he spoke.
"Why not?"