AN: Not the epilogue because Sebby insisted on writing this. Such a long gap because he got writer's block in the middle of it.


There was something almost comforting to him in finding Gibbs' door unlocked after half a year of it being otherwise. Tony strode in and momentarily contemplated changing his mind. He hadn't seen or spoken to his former boss in six months and he wasn't sure what he was going to say.

After an animated internal debate, his remaining sense of loyalty won out and he crossed the house to descend to the basement. Much to his surprise, Gibbs wasn't working on the lumber before him. Instead he sat on a stool, reading over a file. There were two mason jars of whiskey already poured.

"You expecting company? Cause I can come back later." He was almost hoping for an excuse to postpone this conversation.

"Looks like I've got it, don't I? You gonna come in or just stand there halfway down the stairs, DiNozzo?" Gibbs had closed the file and shoved it to the side and was now watching him expectantly.

Tony suppressed a sigh and completed his entrance, crossing to the stool across from Gibbs. He lingered next to it rather than sitting. "So, is there a point in me even asking where you were or what you were doing?"

Gibbs took a swig from his jar. "Maybe. But that's not why you're here tonight."

"Why do you think I'm here?" He shifted from foot to foot nervously.

"Sit down Tony." The older man stared at him for a moment until he complied then nudged the second mason jar toward him.

Tony accepted the drink and took a large swig, the burn steeling his resolve. "I'm not coming back."

He'd expected Gibbs to go off on him, but he simply nodded. "Okay."

Tony sat in shock for a moment before continuing. "I can't do it anymore and I'm finally not ashamed to say so. For the first time in a long time I feel like my life is going where I want it to go."

"Whatever you do, don't put the job first again. You've got something real with her and nothing is more important than that."

He was surprised, not that Gibbs knew. Ziva had warned him of that. What shocked him was the man's willing discussion of personal and emotional matters, and that he seemed to be okay with his decision to leave NCIS permanently. "I know. I'm not letting her go, for anyone or anything."

They lapsed into an uncomfortable silence and both used the opportunity to drain their remaining whiskey from the glass jar before them. After two long, quiet minutes, Tony stood, but Gibbs' voice stopped him. "I'm sorry, Tony."

Curious, he lowered himself back onto the stool. "For what, Boss?"

"For making you feel like you owed me more than you did yourself. Ziver too. You guys both deserve more than that. You deserve happiness, and I'm glad you've found it." Gibbs wasn't looking at him, instead intently focused on the empty jar in his hands.

Once again silence fell and, once again, when it became too heavy Tony stood and started for the stairs. When he reached the bottom he stopped and turned. "Sunday is Family Dinner and it's our turn to host this week. Foods up at 1800 hours but we all start just kind of hanging out an hour or two before that. We'll set a place for you." Without waiting for a reply he jogged up the stairs.


Tony glanced at the clock on the microwave as he set the bottles of wine down on the counter. It was 1750 and, at this point, he was pretty sure Gibbs was a no show. He was disappointed, but forced a smile on his face as Ziva entered the kitchen. "Hey, I think everything else is ready to go if the Cholent is."

"I'm sure it is." She moved to the oven and opened it, using the oven mitts she retrieved from the counter to extract the dish from the oven. She set it on the stove and lifted the lid, smiling as the scent of the meal hit her nose.

Tony could smell it from where he stood as well and moved to stand behind her, wrapping his arms around her and pulling her back against him so he could lean over her shoulder. "That definitely smells done."

"I'll take this in to the dining room. You grab the wine." She wriggled free of him and he returned to open the wine he had left sitting on the counter.

By the time he had the bottles open, Ziva had disappeared through the doorway into the dining room. He gathered the bottles and followed her. He was passing the wine around when there was a rap on the door.

Greeley shoved back from the table. "Looks like Rhodes made it in time for dinner after all. I'll get it."

Everyone was talking, passing dishes and bottles of wine and generally settling in at the table. Tony heard two sets of footsteps behind him and suddenly all noise and movement in the room ceased. He turned around and was surprised to see Gibbs trailing in behind Greeley.

"Sorry I'm late. Had a meeting that ran long." He was looking as uncomfortable as Tony had ever seen him, fidgeting with the bottle of wine in his hands.

Tony took a deep breath and a hard swallow. "We didn't think you were coming."

"Rule 5, Dinozzo. Ziver's cholent definitely qualifies."

Tony nodded and accepted the bottle, motioning the man to the open space between McGee and Breena. Greeley slid back into his seat and intercepted the cholent on its way by. "What's rule 5?"

Tony smiled and reached over to squeeze Ziva's hand. "You don't waste good."


AN: NOW we swear it's done but for the epilogue.