"You take care of yourself and your family, DiNozzo."

"Copy that, Boss," said Tony as he took a moment to savour a few seconds of Gibbs' affection and the gentle ruffling of the hair before pulling out of the embrace.

Tony paused to take a final look around the basement which had been the scene of so many conversations between him and Gibbs. He remembered times of drawing close and then, over the years, times when they had seemed at loggerheads as their intuitive understanding of each other had stalled. Perhaps, Tony mused, it had always been unlikely that they should become friends and therefore inevitable that the universe should right itself and get rid of the anomaly of a bond between grizzled ex-sniper and smooth talking frat boy.

Tony shook his head, determined to hold on to what had been good about their relationship. The bond had been firm and real and good, something to believe in. And Gibbs' last embrace had been firm and real and good, perhaps not everything was lost. Tony sensed Gibbs' silent amusement at his hesitation and he found himself blinking away unexpected tears.

"Hey, Boss."

"Not your Boss, DiNozzo," came Gibbs' bland reply.

"Humour me," said Tony, "It's been a lot of years. It'll take me a while to get used to the concept."

"OK," shrugged Gibbs. "Go on."

"Kate told me once, that you …"

"I what?" asked Gibbs as Tony ground to a halt.

"She said you and she were in a church. And that you lit a couple of candles."

"So?"

"And she asked who they were for. And you didn't answer … no surprise there."

"And you want to know now? What, ten years later?" asked Gibbs with a return to the irritability Tony had come to expect recently.

"No, Boss. I guess I know now who they were for," said Tony.

"Then why ask? If you know?" demanded Gibbs.

"I just wondered if it was the kind of thing you did. Sort of makes sense."

"How so?"

"Lighting a candle's like a prayer without words. Right up your alley," said Tony.

"A protest against the darkness," said Gibbs softly. "That's what my mom used to say."

"I wondered …" began Tony.

"Go on," said Gibbs.

"If it's the sort of thing you do … maybe, sometimes, you could light one for me … or rather for Tali and me. I don't expect you to light one for me but you might for Tali. I think I'd like that."

Gibbs blinked as he looked at Tony and then gave him the familiar half-smile which had become less familiar to Tony. "I could do that," he said. "For Tali … and for you."

"Thanks, Boss. That means a lot," said Tony before turning and finally running lightly up the stairs. Gibbs half expected him to pause at the top but he didn't, Tony was done.

NCISNCIS

"We go now?" asked Tali as she tugged on her father's hand.

"Soon, Tali," said Tony. "Come here." He drew her towards the votive candle stand in one of the side chapels of the Notre Dame cathedral in Paris. Tali's eyes widened as she gazed at the flickering candles before her and she stretched out her free hand. "No, Tali," said Tony, "You'll hurt yourself." Tali's lower lip trembled at being thwarted and Tony hastened to appease her. He had become reasonably used to tantrums in public places but quailed at the thought of one in one of the oldest cathedrals in Paris. "We'll light a candle too."

Tali tilted her head as she considered this new idea. "Me?" she asked.

"Together," said Tony firmly. "You choose one."

Tony never knew if Tali was going to be slow or quick. This time turned out to be slow as she agonised over which of the identical candles to pick. Tony let his daughter take her time as he soaked up the peaceful atmosphere.

"Here!" announced Tali at last.

"Good choice," praised Tony. He took the candle and placed it in a space on the stand. He lit a taper and allowed Tali to hold it with him as they lit their candle. As Tony stared at the candle he wondered if Gibbs had ever lit one for them. He thought of Kate, of Paula, of Ziva, of Jeanne, of EJ, of Zoe, of Wendy – of all the people he had lost, of his team, of Gibbs and of times past and opportunities missed. He drew Tali into a hug as he encouraged her to look at the light too while he thought of times to come and opportunities waiting to be grasped, "Light against the dark, Bella," he whispered in her ear.

Tali wriggled so she could look at her father, "Dada sad?" she asked.

"No, Bella. Not with you, ever," said Tony. "This is good."

Tali looked at him curiously for a moment or two but then decided everything was OK and turned back to look at the candle. Father and daughter stayed as they were for a few more seconds causing some bystanders to sigh happily at the sight. Then Tali got bored,

"Go!" she demanded.

Tony sighed as he realised the moment had passed. "Semper fi," he whispered before allowing himself to be drawn away towards the streets of Paris.

NCISNCIS

"You coming, Boss?" asked McGee from the church door. Not getting a reply, Tim turned back and stopped as he saw Gibbs standing in front of a candle stand. As he watched he saw his Boss light two candles.

"Fair winds and following seas," he heard Gibbs say.

"Boss?" asked Tim after allowing a decent interval to pass. "We need to go, Director's waiting for an update."

"Heard you the first ten times," said Gibbs inaccurately. "I'm coming. Go on."

Tim hesitated and then turned to leave.

"Semper fi … DiNozzo," said Gibbs quietly as an image of Tony and Tali lighting their own candle flashed into his mind. "Semper fi!"