a/n: You might notice I tweaked the lyrics just a tiny bit, don't be alarmed. And no I don't own the song, the band, or NCIS.
The world has come between us
Our lives have come between us
…
And I said what about breakfast at Tiffany's
She said I think I remember the film and as I recall I think we both kinda liked it
And I said well that's the one thing we've got
They had their moments. It wasn't often but sometimes they smiled at each other and shared a stolen glance filled with memories and laughter and hope and joy. And they'd remember what had passed. But sometimes they looked at each other and knew that what they had was never coming back and all those happy feelings were lost with a pang of regret and an ache of longing. And still other times when they looked at each other all they saw was a deep loathing and clenched jaws and secrets and frustrated glares. Their lives had finally come between them irrevocably after years of fighting tooth and nail to keep them together.
And though they wouldn't call themselves victims of circumstance they both knew that they'd never had the right cards to win the game. Now they were just strangers bound by a shared past. He'd been shaped by loss and guilt and bourbon and rules while she'd been molded by revenge and loss and anger and blind determination. And they'd ended up in different places. It wasn't a surprise, just tragically inevitable.
But then one day, one of those rare days when he would sit in her office and they'd share a meal, she looked at him. She'd stolen the asparagus off his plate because she knew he hated them and he'd taken her potatoes because he knew she despised them—a sort of ritual of theirs. And she just stared at him. He swallowed his food and met her gaze curiously. In her eyes he saw old memories of when they used to do this routinely in foreign cities with foreign versions of the same people. And she'd given him a painful smile before settling back in her chair, her appetite gone.
It was clear to both of them that they would never be the people they were no matter how they tried to hold on. But they would always have those shared memories of days long past. Of days tangled together in a mess of sheets and warm skin. Times spent laughing and talking and opening themselves up to the ineffable joy of love. Days spent trusting each other with their lives and whispering sweet nothings and kissing old wounds. They would always have the bitter sweet days of times gone by. They'd always have Paris.