Gibbs had resolved to wait for Mariella to submit her report before asking her out. Tony knew this. And Gibbs knew that Tony knew this. But unlike Gibbs, Tony had not felt constrained by protocol and had taken Mariella out for coffee. More than once. And Gibbs knew it because Tony made sure he knew it.

It took Mariella Fillacci two weeks to finish and submit her report. And in that time a small crack opened up between Gibbs and his Senior Agent. Opened up, creaked, grew, expanded. It became a fissure, and then a crevasse.

Tony had been uncharacteristically silent - other than when speaking loudly about having coffee with Mariella. He had been distracted and preoccupied - unless the conversation turned to Mariella's report. Once when Tony was waiting for the elevator and the doors opened to reveal Gibbs, Tony had visibly started and then hesitated before entering the elevator, only to stand stiff and silent at Gibbs' side.

Gibbs was at a loss to work out exactly what his senior agent was playing at. He didn't see any reason why he shouldn't ask Mariella out, notwithstanding her previous marriage to Tony's father. But Tony's increasingly strained behaviour was starting to make him wonder about the possible repercussions of doing so.

As it turned out, when the day finally came he didn't have to do the asking. She phoned him.

Gibbs was impressed - and relieved. As soon as he spoke to her, his doubts vanished. All the reasons why he had been so attracted to her came back to him threefold. Smart, funny, intriguing. She charmed him. And when she asked him to have dinner she did it in such a natural and easy way that accepting was a no-brainer. His confidence restored and with a steady buzz of anticipation in his gut, Gibbs found it easier to ignore the stiff posture and deepening silence on the other side of the bullpen.

The team spent most of the day of the date in the office tying up the loose ends on a drug case. In the mid afternoon, Gibbs rose from his chair to go to autopsy to see Ducky, and was surprised to see Tony also rise. As Tony stepped into the elevator behind him, Gibbs braced himself for whatever might be coming.

He wasn't surprised when Tony hit the Emergency Stop button.

The two men faced each other and Gibbs waited. Tony drew a deep breath and opened his mouth. Then he closed it, looked down and rubbed his hand over his chin. Gibbs waited. Tony looked up, swallowed and tried again.

"Um, Boss, look, I mean.."

Gibbs rolled his eyes. "Spit it out, DiNozzo," he demanded. "Just say it." He squared his shoulders.

"It's about Mariella."

"No kidding."

Tony's eyes narrowed.

Gibbs frowned. Was DiNozzo going to warn him off? Surely he wasn't interested in her romantically....?

"She's already had one bastard in her life. She doesn't need another."

Gibbs started. It took a second for the words to sink in. And then to burn. "What the hell does that mean, DiNozzo?" he snarled.

Tony stepped closer to him. "The Second B, remember?" They stood nose to nose, Tony returning Gibbs' glare. "Just don't hurt her Boss." He didn't blink, but a muscle in his jaw twitched.

In that second Gibbs realized two things. First, Tony was motivated by a genuine, albeit misguided, protective instinct towards Mariella. Second, the strange behaviour he had seen over the past fortnight had been his Senior Agent steeling himself for this conversation.

Gibbs' fire turned to smoke. His eyes softened and he resisted the urge to smile. Instead, he rested a gentle hand on Tony's arm.

"I'm not always a bastard, Tony," he said quietly. "And I'll be doing my damnedest not to be one with her. I give you my word."

Tony studied Gibbs' face for a moment, looking deep into his eyes. Then he ducked his head. Gibbs held his breath. Finally one corner of Tony's mouth twitched and, head still bowed, he looked up at Gibbs from under his brows.

"You'd better, Boss." The tone was stern, but there was no mistaking the teasing half smile.

Gibbs relaxed and gave a wry smile of his own. "I will Tony, I promise." Then he smiled a little more broadly. "So I have your blessing?" he asked, half serious.

"Well, that depends," Tony shot back, his head coming up. "What am I blessing?"

Gibbs gave a shout of laughter. "Are you asking me what my intentions are?"

Tony grinned. "Don't think I want quite that much information, Boss." He reached over and released the Emergency Stop button.

"Where are you taking her?" he asked conversationally.

"Rossilini's".

"Good choice."

"Her choice."

Tony smiled and gave him a sideways glance. "You know that if she pays, you have to put out."

Gibbs rolled his eyes. The elevator doors opened and he stepped forward, but Tony kept talking, even as the doors began to close between them.

"Wear that purple shirt," he called out, "but no tie. And for god's sake no undershirt."

Gibbs' retreating back hid his grin from Tony's view.

****

Gibbs wore his black dress trousers and the purple shirt, with no tie or undershirt.

He was early, not out of nervousness, but because he didn't like to leave a lady sitting alone in a restaurant.

Habit made him scan the restaurant, but as soon as she walked in he stopped looking anywhere else.

She wore a dark blue knee length dress of a soft jersey fabric that swung as she walked, and heavy, matte silver jewellery. The restaurant's dim lights caught the colour of her hair, and for a brief ridiculous moment Gibbs thought she glowed.

He stood as she approached and moved around the table to greet her. She gave him what could have been an appreciative glance and he hoped he wasn't imagining it. She greeted him with a kiss on each check and he hoped it wasn't just because she was European. She smiled at him and he just hoped she would keep doing it.

"That colour suits you," she commented as she settled in her chair.

"My fashion consultant recommended it."

She smiled and did not need to ask more.

The waiter descended and poured them each a glass from the bottle of champagne that Gibbs had ordered on arriving.

He raised his glass. "To Sec Nav," he proposed.

She clinked her glass against his and added, "And his fondness for special projects."

Gibbs smiled.

As she lowered her glass she gave him a teasing smile. "There is one question," she began, "that I couldn't ask you before because it had absolutely nothing to do with the project. But I really need to know. You don't have to answer if you don't want to...."

"Ask away," Gibbs said his tone more wary than his words.

She leaned forwards and looked him in the eye. He mimicked her movement and returned her gaze.

"Leroy? Jethro?"

He laughed. They started talking. Childhood, school days, parents and best friends, pranks and presents. She told him about her daughters, 18 and 20, one studying in Europe, the other out west. It was easy. She was funny. And so was he – or at least he thought he was - she laughed at the right times.

They barely touched on work, but there was one question he wanted to ask and he waited until the end of the evening, when they were enjoying coffees. He drew a breath and she looked at him, her head tilted.

"Ask away," she said, reading his silence and echoing his words.

He hesitated. His question was not as easy as her had been, but he asked anyway.

"Why were you so sorry about leaving Tony when you left his father?"

She glanced down, her smile fading. She paused and he knew that she was considering her answer.

Finally she spoke. "When I first met Tony, he was 11. His mother had died about a year before." She licked her lips, and her brow furrowed. "He was just so... lonely. He had no-one. His father was distant, pre-occupied with work. And with me."

She looked up and paused.

"I was with his father for about 18 months. During that time, I saw Tony change so much. He became happier, friendlier. Funny as a fit. Bright, clever. And sweet." She shrugged. "And then I left. I knew how it would feel to him – another abandonment. But I convinced myself that he'd be okay, that he had overcome his grief, that he'd continue to be happy. That he and his father would..."

She looked down at her coffee and turned the spoon over in her hands. "When I started studying psychology I found myself thinking about him again. Wondering if what I had thought was neglect was more. Worse. I never convinced myself either way, but it worried me for such a long time..."

"Do you have an answer now?" Gibbs asked quietly.

She nodded and looked up. "I do," she affirmed.

"And you're not going to tell me."

"It's not my place."

"I understand." He nodded, and then shot her a glance. "He's happy now, isn't he?"

"Very," she confirmed with a smile.

Gibbs smiled, relieved. That was enough of an answer, for now.

Then his smile widened. "He gave me a good talking to earlier today. About you. Stopped just short of asking my intentions."

She shouted with laughter and then covered her mouth with a hand. "Oh that is so sweet!" she exclaimed. "And so typical."

Gibbs shook his head. Obviously, Mariella's view of what was "typical" for Tony was different from his.

"Well, it was a new experience for me," he retorted. He smiled at her and glanced at her hand, still fiddling with the spoon. Moving slowly so as to give her time to evade him, he reached his hand across the table towards her. To his delight, she abandoned the spoon and her hand met his in the middle of the table. He turned her hand over and rubbed his thumb across her palm.

"So did he give you his blessing?" she asked, a small smile tugging at her lips.

"He did," Gibbs responded solemnly.

Her smile broadened. "Well then," she asked, "what are you waiting for?"

He called for the cheque.

*****

Gibbs whistled the next morning as he walked from his car to the lift. But when he caught sight of his reflection in the back of the mirrored doors of the elevator, he started. Okay, that wouldn't do. He had to get that look off his face. He thought about something that annoyed him. Meetings with the NSA. Long meetings. With power point presentations. Yep, that did it.

He didn't miss Tony's quick glance as he passed him, or the second, longer look after he was settled at his desk. He ignored both, but was conscious of it when the scrutiny finally lifted. He managed not to sigh with relief. Or to smirk. Smirking, he knew, would be very bad.

Fortunately they caught a case. Fortunate, because it gave him and Tony something to focus on and a framework within which they could interact normally. It didn't take long for the ease of long familiarity to wipe away any lingering trace of awkwardness between them.

Gibbs did manage to find a few minutes to himself that afternoon to make a quick phone call. It went to Mariella's voice mail and he left a short message, simply saying that he had enjoyed last night and that he looked forward to seeing her again. He paused at the end of the message, trying to say more, and hoping she could read his silence for what it was.

They had dinner again later that week. She cooked. He brought wine, and flowers.

They organised to have lunch later in the week and on the day she walked into the bullpen right on time at 12.30pm. Gibbs rose from his chair to greet her, noticing that Tony mirrored his movement. To Gibbs surprise, Mariella stopped at Tony's desk. Reaching into her handbag, she extracted a computer disk and handed it to him.

"For you," she announced with a smile and a flourish.

"What? What is that?" Tony asked anxiously, turning the disk over in his hands.

"Just something I put together."

Tony stared at the object in his hands as if it might explode, and didn't notice Ziva stealthily moving towards him. Just as he opened his mouth to speak again she snatched the disk from his hand and retreated to her desk. Tony took one step away from his desk, but found the solid form of McGee blocking his way.

"Out of the way Probie!" Tony shouted as Ziva quickly loaded the disk into her computer.

"Tony, it's okay," Mariella interjected, touching him on the arm. She gave Ziva a calculating sideways glance. "Really, it's okay."

Tony hesitated as Ziva's hands flew over her keyboard. A couple of quick clicks and an image appeared on the plasma.

Tony turned and gasped. "No, stop," he begged, "please. I'm willing to offer cash incentives...."

Mariella laughed, but the rest of the team turned and gazed open mouthed at the image on the screen. It was a photo of young Tony, aged about 12. He sat on a piano stool, shirtless and with long red shorts hanging from narrow hips. He was tanned and his sandy hair tousled and spiked, as if he had just emerged from the water. His future height was evident in the long lines of his forearms, the bare feet dangling to the floor and his fingers, which rested on the keys. He was side on to the camera but turning to look at the lens, his mouth just starting to curve into a smile, as if he had someone he was pleased to see had just walked into the room.

The image changed and there he was again, still in his red shorts, this time glistening with water and sitting on the edge of a swimming pool. He was grinning; a skinny, golden, tousled-headed, bright-eyed kid wearing adult Tony's wide, joyous up-to-no-good grin.

"Do you remember when your father went to South America?" Mariella asked, glancing away from the screen and moving to stand by Tony's side.

Tony's expression softened and his eyes took on a dreamy quality. "Salina," he breathed.

Mariella turned back to Gibbs. "My friend Salina came and stayed with us for a week. She was a photography student. She loved Tony – thought he was a wonderful model."

"She was a goddess," Tony added awestruck, eyes still distant.

"She was rather," Mariella acknowledged with a smile.

The image changed again, but this time Tony was barely visible. Most of the photograph was taken up by a giant green wedge of watermelon, two small hands firmly gripping it from underneath. Tony's paler green eyes and shock of brown blonde hair were all that was visible above it, the rest of his face buried in the fruit. McGee snorted and Ziva gave a shout of laughter. Gibbs ducked his head to hide his smile.

"I liked watermelon!" Tony protested.

Tony was not alone in the next shot. Barefoot and wearing his ubiquitous red shorts, but topped with a white t-shirt, he and a younger Mariella stood facing each other. His hand on her waist, her's on his shoulder, their other hands clasped. They stood in silhouette, afternoon sun coming through picture windows behind them, caught in a dancing lesson, the moment before the music starts.

Now Ziva wasn't the only one staring at the screen. The light behind her made the young Mariella's summer dress almost see through, and Gibbs' breath caught in his chest. Her friend was a goddess? he thought incredulously. Then what the hell was she?

The images kept changing. Tony on a diving board. Tony playing checkers, doing a jigsaw, Tony in a kitchen with a round, laughing older woman, both of them rolling dough with floured hands. They were images of a healthy, happy, handsome boy. Loved, cared for, remembered.

He glanced towards Mariella, and noticed that she had moved to Tony and wrapped an arm around his waist. Tony draped his arm over her shoulders. As Gibbs watched, Tony pulled Mariella closer to him and dropped a soft kiss on her hair.

"Grazia," he whispered.

"Prego, bello ragazzo," was the quiet answer.

Gibbs realised that Tony was important to Mariella, and she was to him. It was part of the deal. In the past he had kept his relationships very separate from work and he had intended that he would always do so. But this time he did not have that option. Tony was involved, whether Gibbs liked it or not. Did he like it? No. Was she worth him learning to put up with it? Hell yes.

Gibbs moved to stand beside Mariella on the other side of Tony.

"C'mon," he said softly, gesturing with his head toward the lift. Mariella smiled and dropped her arm from around Tony's waist. She gave him an affectionate pat and then moved away to take Gibbs' proffered arm.

"Where you kids going?" Tony asked immediately. McGee and Ziva glanced momentarily away from the still changing screen.

"Lunch," Gibbs responded evenly, quashing the instinctive urge to snap out the answer or turn on The Glare.

Tony's eyes narrowed at Gibbs' deliberately neutral tone and expression. The moment stretched.

And then broke.

"Okay," Tony acquiesced cheerfully. "Have fun." He sat back at his desk.

Gibbs shook his head but Mariella smiled and tugged him gently towards the elevator.

"Don't be late," Tony called to their retreating backs. "Don't take drinks from strangers."

His voice followed them as they stepped in to the lift and the doors began to close. "And drive safely!"