Gibbs POV

I heard the front door creak open and shut again. Anyone else would probably check to see who was entering their house at 2230 hours, but not me. I had never locked my home up – not since my wife and daughter died, anyway. Some would probably say it's my way of giving up – that I did not care if an intruder were to come into my home and possibly harm me. I, personally, would say that if it were an intruder, I would kick their ass. But I had not had an intruder to date – and I didn't think that was going to change tonight.

Footsteps crossed the room above me, then came down the stairs. I had been getting late night visits from him for almost 15 years now… I could recognise who it was from the way he walked – the distinct way he kicked his foot along the ground every few steps.

"Hey boss." He said when he reached the bottom step.

"DiNozzo." I acknowledged without turning to face him. I didn't have to see his face to see something was hurting him. Honestly, I had expected this conversation to happen months ago.

"I'm just gonna cut to the chase, Boss."

"Just the way I like it, DiNozzo." I turned to face him, passing him a small jar with a shot of whiskey. He took it, but didn't drink it. I sipped on mine, although I knew I would probably need it to get through the possibilities this conversation could hold. There was so much going through my finest agent's mind, this talk could really be about anything.

"What happened in Somalia?"

Of all things, that was not what I expected. Tony had Ziva had done a good job so far of leaving us all in the dark in regards to what was going on in their personal life. All I knew was what I had heard from Abby – that Tony was starting to remember things from their relationship. It was clear that there was still a lot that had to come to him, but I had figured that this – being one of the major events that pulled them together – would have been one of the things he remembered.

I just stared at him, choosing my words carefully. How the heck was I meant to answer that?

"I wouldn't know where to begin." It was the truth. It was a long story – confusing and disturbing. And to top it off, I didn't even know the full story. I highly doubt I know even half of it. Ziva was not the same person for a long time afterwards. She was broken. She would never fully heal.

"Why not from the start?"

"Because I don't know where it starts, DiNozzo. It's not something that just happened. It was one big mess that lead to another big mess – it almost destroyed every one of us!"

"I need to know what happened."

I could hear the desperation in his voice. I had kept up a good charade over the years, but Tony was like the son I never had. Seeing him like this didn't just break my heart – it shattered it into a million pieces. I swallowed hard, trying to get rid of the dry lump in my throat, and shot the rest of my whiskey. His eyes were glassy, face full of emotion.

"Sit, drink. You're going to need it."

He sat and drank the whiskey in one gulp, closing his eyes to take in the bitterness.

"After Director Sheppard…" I paused, wondering if Tony even remembered Jen. I looked into his eye, and he quickly looked away. Avoiding eye contact – he remembered her. I continued "Ziva's Liaison position ended and she was sent back to work for Mossad. It was only temporary, but while she was there she got involved with another Mossad operative."

"Michael?" I nodded confirming. "I remember him." I could see him searching his memory for any information. He seemed surprised for a moment. "I killed him."

"You followed your gut – you didn't trust him."

"Because I was jealous?" he was questioning his own motives, something I had never done. While he may have been jealous of Ziva and Michael's relationship, I never had any doubt that his mistrust was because of that.

"Your gut was right, DiNozzo – does it matter what fuelled it? Ziva went back to Mossad, they sent her on a mission, the mission went wrong and she ended up being held captive in Somalia. The only person on this Earth that knows any more detail than that is Ziva David. You want more answers, ask her."

"Boss, I'm worried about this case." Now I was confused. Was this way of processing what I had just told him?

I looked at him – my eyes burning directly into his. If he was going to offer up an explanation he was going to have to do so himself. I wasn't interested in tiptoeing around something.

"I have connections to the Navy – my job, being an agent afloat – and Ziva, I don't want her to get hurt. She fits this guy's type perfectly."

"Except for one thing, DiNozzo." I poured another Whiskey and took a mouthful. I had become almost immune to the burn in my mouth. Looking back at DiNozzo, I saw him pull something out of his pocket. It looked like paper, folded up. He handed it to me and I unfolded it, still looking at him.

"No, Boss."

I looked down. Clear as day, staring back at me was two little DiNozzo's… two mini David's.