Summary: An AU ending tag to 'Devil's Triangle.' Because she doesn't call him Jethro.

Author's Note: This first chapter is the [somewhat] family friendly version. Smut-lite if you will. Chapter two will be the more adult ending. Choose wisely [Read both]!

'But the only woman you'll ever love is Shannon. You were my Shannon, Leroy.' Diane said, placing the pocket watch in his hands before walking away.

Gibbs watched in stunned silence as she left him with that revelation.

"Damn it Diane," he growled softly, as he shook himself out of his stunned reverie. He placed the pocket watch carefully on the bench and raced up the steps of his beloved basement, reaching the ground floor just as she grasped the handle of his front door.

"You can't spring that on me and then expect to leave," he said coming up behind her and firmly shutting the door, his hand closing on hers. Diane rested her forehead on the glass and pressed herself against the door, shrinking away from his unexpected closeness.

"I didn't think you would let me," she murmured. Taking a deep breath, she turned to face him, leaving her hand resting loosely in his.

"What do you want from me Leroy?" she asked, looking into his baby blues. She could feel his breath tickling her face as he scrutinised her. Warmth radiated from him and it took everything in her not to pull him closer and lose herself in his heady scent of bourbon and sawdust.

"I don't know. I…" He trailed off, his eyes drawing down her sharp cheekbones and coming to rest on her painted lips, he let out a throaty laugh. Before she could register, he captured her lips in a kiss that left her drowning in sensation.

She threw caution to the wind, and drew him closer. Tugging him forward by the belt loops on his jeans, until his solid warmth pressed against her, and she had trouble remembering how to breathe. He pulled away, and she followed, until the back of his knees hit the sofa and he stumbled onto it.

She pulled her skirt to mid thigh and climbed onto his lap. She rested there, leaning her forehead against his. She felt giddier than a schoolgirl on prom night, his hands resting just above her ass.

She brought her hands to his face, her thumbs brushing the barely there stubble on his cheeks. She kissed him lightly, pulling back playfully every time he drew her closer. He growled in frustration, but she laughed in response.

Finally deciding enough was enough; he moved his right hand and pulled her blouse out of her skirt, sliding his hand to rest on her bare back, just below her bra. His other hand made its way up her skirt and rested on her upper thigh, his thumb tracing circles in the soft skin. Her breath hitched, and suddenly it was far too hot in his sparse living room.

'If we do this," he growled, "you can't take it back."

She realised he was giving her an out, an opportunity to turn back from where ever this may lead them. To go back to safety and normalcy - to Victor. Her heart sank. Victor. He sensed her uncertainty, and stopped his movements.

"Victor," she whispered, "Shit, Leroy."

She drew herself up and off his lap suddenly and adjusted her skirt.

"I… I can't."

She only spared him the most fleeting of backwards glances and she fled. He received a text later, when he had dragged himself back downstairs, and poured himself several shots of bourbon - relishing the cool of the basement against his too hot skin, and the burn of the bourbon down his throat.

I'm sorry.