Making Rules

Disclaimer: I am too sleepy to spell-check well right now. Also, and I probably don't say this often enough, I don't own NCIS.

Credit for today's rule goes to LittleCatt. A lot of you suggested a few of the same major themes for rules, but they were bigger ones and I'm working up to them. Don't hesitate to leave me more ideas if you're inspired!

"Haven't seen you two glaring at each other lately," Gibbs said lightly as the car tore out of the Navy Yard parking lot, heading toward the crime scene where a petty officer had recently been found being gnawed on by a foot-long DC rat.

Ziva shrugged, a coy smile tugging at her lips.

Gibbs glanced over in time to catch it. "Something you want to tell me?"

She picked imaginary lint off the knee of her cargo pants. "We went to see his therapist again together." She looked over at him nervously.

"Good." Gibbs nodded in approval. "Is it helping?"

Ziva cocked her head pensively. "I think so. We are getting better at talking and saying what we actually mean."

"Right place to start."

"She told us to make our own rules," Ziva added nervously, wondering how Gibbs would feel about them telling a psychiatrist about his personal code.

His face was transformed by a surprisingly wistful smile as he stopped abruptly at a light. "Did I ever tell you where the rules came from, Ziver?"

She looked at him, startled. "No."

Gibbs glanced at her for a second, his eyes bright. "When I was eighteen, I met Shannon. And she told me she could sit with me as long as I wasn't a lumberjack. Because one of her rules was never to date a lumberjack." He slammed on the gas quickly enough to miss the sympathy in Ziva's eyes.

"You made yours because of her," she concluded.

He nodded jerkily, eyes on the road. "After she died."

A chill of fear laced through Ziva's belly. The pain in Gibbs' voice nearly twenty years later spoke more frighteningly to why she'd avoided committing to Tony all this time than anything he could have said.

"But you're doing it together," Gibbs continued. "That's better."

Ziva gazed at him in surprise for the second time in as many minutes. She nodded hesitantly.

Gibbs glanced over at her as he parked the car, picked up at once on the hint of fear in her eyes. "Ziver," he said firmly. "We had fifteen years. No matter what, you wish there was more time. Don't run away from it."

He seemed to be waiting for something, so Ziva nodded stiffly, awed at the length of his speech and its emotional depth.

Gibbs got out of the car, slammed the door. It took Ziva a second to realize she was supposed to join him.

*

One crime scene later, the team made it back to the Navy Yard and Tony and Gibbs headed down to Abby with the evidence they'd collected.

"I hear you're making rules," Gibbs said in amusement, glancing at Tony over the top of the box of evidence the younger agent was carrying for him.

Tony froze, eyes wide. "We...yeah. She told you that?"

Gibbs squinted sideways at him. "She did."

Tony nodded, frowning to himself. "Well, we are," he said shortly.

"She seems nervous," Gibbs added.

Fuming, Tony walked quickly out of the elevator as soon as the doors opened.

*

"Ziva," Tony said seriously, cornering her in the empty evidence garage where she was dusting the victim's car for fingerprints. He tried to keep his voice from sounding angry but knew he was failing.

She whirled at once. "Tony!" Her smile evaporated when she met his eyes.

"You told Gibbs about the rules? About therapy?" His jaw clenched.

Ziva's face fell in abashment. "I always talk to Gibbs. He told me about--"

"But this isn't about your relationship with him," Tony growled. "He shouldn't be the one telling me how you feel about what's between us!"

Her brow wrinkled. "Are you jealous of Gibbs?"

Tony opened his mouth to defend himself, then closed it, trying to figure out exactly why he was angry. He held out his hands, trying to explain. "We don't have a lot of friends, and let's not dwell on what that says about us. But you don't get to have him. People take sides in relationships and I get that he's sort of your father. But he's sort of mine, too."

"Relationships?" Ziva questioned, a hint of a tease in her voice.

Tony glared. "Don't miss the point."

Ziva nodded resolutely. "I have not, Tony. But I am used to talking to Gibbs. He helps me to clarify things, sometimes, when they need clarifying."

"And I'm not saying don't talk to him," Tony emphasized. "But not about me. Not about us. Talk to me first."

She sighed. "Alright. Gibbs is not part of this relationship."

Tony grinned. "Now that sounds like a rule."