March 1946
United States

Tony had the table set and the kitchen smelling pretty good when Gibbs returned. He didn't bother to knock. He just let himself in. Tony turned at the sound of the door and motioned the older man in.

"Have a seat, Sheriff. Lunch will be ready shortly."

"Smells good, DiNozzo, but you didn't have to."

Tony put the last plate on the table and sat down as Gibbs joined him, "Yes, sir. I did. I need to do this and a ton more."

Jethro filled his plate as did Tony. He was happy to see the boy dig into a plate of food. He suspected it had been some time since he had eaten because it tasted good rather than to keep from throwing up the alcohol.

"So," Tony said between bites, "You have something else we need to discuss?"

Gibbs swallowed and then wiped his mouth before saying, "Yeah. Just a couple of things."

Tony had a feeling, from the look on the older man's face, he might not like what was about to transpire. But, after everything he'd been through in the last 24 hours, Tony figured he could handle it.

"You told me last night you keep your promises."

"I didn't agree on much with my father but that's one thing he drilled into me. He always made sure that if I promised it, I delivered. Regardless of the situations. Now, I stand by that, right or wrong."

"Then make me a promise, DiNozzo?"

"Do I get to hear it first?"

"You and me, we can't stop with one drink. For us, it has to be all or nothing at all. So promise me, that as long as you live, you'll never take another drink of alcohol."

"You have my word, sir."

Gibbs nodded, satisfied.

"Now, what else do we need to talk about?"

Tony had a mouth full of water when Gibbs replied, "My daughter."

He spit it out quickly, choking as he did so.

"Uh, yes sir?"

"I guess I just need to tell you straight out, Tony. She's loved you since she was fourteen years old."

Tony shook his head, "I just don't remember…"

"Do you remember the skinny little freckle-faced girl with long pony tails that used to hang around the jail?"

Anthony thought back to his youth and the times spent in a cell with the Sheriff lecturing him. In his mind's eye, he saw a young girl peeking at him from around a corner. Jethro knew instantly when the light dawned.

"You always winked at her, Tony. Pulled her pony tails when you left. Cali says you even used to talk to her in McGee's store."

"My god. That was Cali?"

"Yes, that was Cali."

He had always thought she was a cute kid. He liked to tug on her pony tails because of the faces she would make. But, he remembered, he always winked at her when he saw her. It was something he had really only done with the little red head. Tony looked at the Sheriff. "I think you should know, the other night, when she worked late. I was the one that worked with her, not Abby." Tony swallowed the lump in his throat, knowing the next words he said might very well be his last. "I…uh…I kissed your daughter, sir. And not just a peck on the cheek, I'm afraid."

"I know. I saw you."

"And you didn't…I mean, you still…I'm really confused, sir."

"For pete's sake, Tony, I think you can call me Jethro. And I have my own reasons for doing what I did."

"Can I hear them, please?"

"You're going to have to make a decision as to what Cali Gibbs means to you. Mr. Copeland whipped me into shape, literally, before he let Angela anywhere around me. I had to, at the very least, do the same for my daughter."

Tony nodded. She had loved him all this time and he didn't know it. Was he that blind and stupid?

"If I wanted to start something serious with your daughter, would you let me?"

"Thank you for asking. And, yes, I would. Because I would never hear the end of it if I didn't."

Tony smiled as Gibbs continued, "There's one more thing," he paused.

"Yes?"

"Your feelings for Ziva."

Tony sat there. He could understand the father wanting to make sure the daughter didn't have to compete with a ghost. But, Tony suspected, this was the last of the healing that Gibbs thought he needed.

"She is, was, and always will be, my first true love, Jethro. I won't change that." Gibbs nodded as the soldier went on, "But, I will always deal with the guilt of being that close and not being able to get to her."

"Tony, I don't think that's what Ziva would want. You gave her hope. She'd already told you that was a powerful weapon in the face of what she would confront. What's the last living image you have of her?"

"Standing outside the farm house, her hair tied with the yellow scarf I gave her. She was waving good bye."

"Then, cling to that image, Anthony. I think that's the one she would want you to remember. The way you liked her best, smiling and hopeful, wearing something she cherished. Stay focused on that and it'll be a whole lot easier for you to keep the promise you've made me."

Tony was thoughtful. Hesitantly, he began, "I'm going to make a mess of this but I…"

Gibbs looked closely at Tony. He could see him struggling to put words together and he knew that whatever was coming next was extremely serious for the soldier.

"I was rude to you, the day I got here. You tried to, even then, be a shoulder for me to lean on and I rejected it. You called me 'son'."

"I remember."

"I'm sorry for the tone of those words. And, I know, unfortunately, my own father would have never been able to do for me what you did last night."

"It's alright, Tony. A man that I came to think of as a father did the same for me."

"Thank you, sir."

"Anytime, son."