Making Exceptions

Alas, school resumes tomorrow. I get to spend the rest of the week teaching small children to read decimals and take standardized tests. Forgive me if updates are more intermittent. But I hope you like this one! Think we'll make it to 200 review with this chapter? I always love to hear your feedback!

"What are you trying to do to yourself, DiNozzo?"

Tony turned blearily toward the voice saying his name. Gibbs slid in and out of focus. "Boss?"

Gibbs nodded to the bartender. "He's ready to pay his tab." The man nodded back gratefully and went to run Tony's credit card.

"How'd you know I was here?" Tony slurred.

Gibbs snorted. "You called me, Tony."

"Did?"

"Sign for your drinks," Gibbs ordered impatiently.

Tony managed to write his name and shoved his credit card back in his pocket. "I think I need a ride home, Boss."

With a shake of his head, Gibbs led the way toward the door. "You're just lucky I can drive again, DiNozzo. Nearly sent McGee or Ziva after you."

"Ziva..." Tony stopped in his tracks, remembering what he'd been trying to drown in tequila for the last few hours.

Gibbs turned to look at him with a hint of sympathy. "Come on, Tony. We can talk about it at home."

Tony followed him docilely out to the car and buckled his seat-belt, let the motion of the car lull him into a half-sleep.

"We're here," Gibbs announced after a few minutes, pulling into his driveway. He circled the car and hoisted Tony out. "Let's get you inside." He herded his agent up the front steps, unlocked the door, and let him sprawl on the couch.

"New lock?" Tony mumbled.

"Yeah."

"Oh, no." Moving faster than Gibbs would have thought possible, Tony darted for the downstairs bathroom. Retching sounds filtered back to the living room. Flinching, Gibbs headed upstairs for toothpaste.

On his return, he offered it to DiNozzo and went to get him water while he cleaned himself up.

Back on the couch, the men sat in silence a moment, Tony sipping at his water.

"Hell, just last night you were taking Ziva on a date," Gibbs finally said.

Tony nodded disconsolately. "I screwed it up."

"How's that?"

He sighed heavily. "Got mad that she was flirting with Werth, that she stood there in front of the truck and risked getting hit. Told her...told her how much I love her."

Gibbs frowned. "What did she say?"

Tony thought back. "That she needed time to think."

Now Gibbs rolled his eyes. "Well, anyone would, DiNozzo."

"But--" Tony turned to him, expression brightening. "Do you think so?"

"You know what I said to Ziva, when you got back from Paris?"

"Yeah?" Tony flinched a little at the knowledge that their mutual father figure had instigated their relationship.

"That when you have the chance to avoid regrets, to say the things you want to say, you should do it."

Tony's eyes cleared. "Makes sense."

Gibbs nodded. "I don't know what she's thinking, DiNozzo, and maybe you said it too soon, but one thing I've learned in this line of work is that it's better to say it than not to." He glanced away. "Still have things I wished I said."

"To Jenny?" Tony asked softly.

Gibbs looked back to him, not acknowledging the question. "Sleep it off, Tony. And let her think. You haven't screwed it up yet."

"Yet." Tony looked gloomy again.

Gibbs smiled faintly. "Wasn't what I meant. Get some rest." He pulled a blanket off the back of an armchair and tossed it to Tony. The younger man took a sip of his water and laid his head down on the couch pillow, his face still thoughtful.

"Goodnight." Gibbs flicked off the light-switch and headed upstairs.

"'Night, Gibbs." Laying the dark, vertigo swirling his thoughts, Tony remembered the better moments of the past week—the kisses, Ziva's smile. He had no regrets.

*

Ziva ran. With every step, pounding the pavement, she replayed the moments since Somalia. Couldn't live without you I guess. It was no longer one of Tony's offhand mutterings. He had finally made it clear that it was the whole truth. It changed everything.

Every conversation they'd had, every time she'd caught him watching her—it all took on new meaning. The probie jokes, his delight that she'd joined the team. His worry when she wouldn't talk about Somalia. And this conversation tonight...she almost resented Tony at that moment, for forcing her hand. For making all the choices she'd ever make again about him, about what he needed from her. From their supposed first date the night before, he'd leapt straight to the end of the relationship, asking for a greater commitment of love from her than most marriages demanded. Her indignance sped her footsteps.

She couldn't help but worry, too. What Tony had said was so overwhelming that it made her wonder if her feelings compared. Was it fair to continue this if she wasn't sure she felt—or even had the capacity to feel—the same way?

She jogged toward a intersection, lost in thought, only to rear back in panic as a car ran the red light. Ziva nearly screamed after the car, but instead a laugh emerged from her lips. It was alright, she thought. This was what she wanted. She wouldn't be living for him, but for herself.

As Ziva turned back toward her home, panting in the cold air, there was something inside her that was changing, glowing like an ember Tony had blown on and brought back to life. The knowledge was spreading through her that this man, whom she respected and adored, who knew her completely, had found her worthy of a kind of love she'd never taken the time to imagine. Just knowing it warmed her in the winter night.