A/N: Today I heard the P!NK song, "The One That Got Away" and this kinda random idea popped into my head. Stand alone one-shot. Reviews would be nice.

Summary: It is 2013, and Ziva's wedding day. Everyone's happy for her. Except Tony, who can't help but remember what happened in Paris all those years ago...

Disclaimer: I don't own the characters or the show, but I do enjoy borrowing them for my own personal entertainment.

Married. She still couldn't believe it. She was getting married today.

"You look beautiful, you really do, Ziva," Abby told her, playing with the veil.

Ziva tried as hard as she could to look calm, but her heart was pounding hard. There was no denying that.

Abby embraced her friend tightly. "I can't believe you're getting married!"

Ziva gently patted the Goth's arm, a signal for her to release her grip. "Believe me, Abby, neither can I."

"You're doing the right thing, you know."

Ziva smiled. "I know."

"And Max is a really good guy. He loves you so much."

"I know," Ziva repeated.

Ziva had met Max a year ago at a coffee shop. He asked her out; she said yes, things grew from there. He actually worked at the FBI so he understood their work conditions and demands. He was very handsome, with dark brown hair and deep blue eyes and was just an absolute sweetheart. That was why she loved him.

It had been extremely out of character for her to even consider marriage. When she was younger she had never wanted to be tied down by anything, but now, she was not so sure. Settling down would be a good thing for her, always having someone to come home to, someone who would be there. It wasn't as if Ziva didn't have that in her life, but having knowing that unconditional love was the boundary made things a little more comforting.

And now, here she was, about to marry the man she loved.

"Knock knock," said a male voice through the door. Abby rushed to open it, finding Tony standing there.

"Are you supposed to be here, Tony?" she asked.

"I was invited," Tony replied, a little confused.

"Not here as in the wedding, here as in this room."

"I just wanted to have a quick word with the bride if that's OK, Abs."

Abby turned to Ziva, who gave her an approving nod, and she stepped out to give the two a little privacy.

Tony looked at Ziva. She was so beautiful, especially today. The sleeveless white wedding dress she wore hugged her body, perfectly complimenting her olive skin. Her curls were thick and smooth, with white flowers clinging to them.

He was happy for her. Max was truly a good man and deserved Ziva. But he could never fully want what they wanted; because he only wished he had told her how he felt about her. How much he loved her. And even though he had a feeling that deep down she knew that, it still wasn't him marrying Ziva.

Tony remembered Paris. How could he not? It was the one night he and Ziva had spent together. Really together. He only wished she could remember it too.

It was late. The stars twinkled aimlessly in the Parisian sky, looking like glitter. The night air was warm with a cool breeze blowing Ziva's curls in the wind as the two partners stood side by side on their balcony.

"It truly is beautiful," she said, breaking the silence between them.

They looked at each other, and both knew they should have said something to stop it, but they didn't. And he kissed her.

It started soft, gentle, and it grew. They gripped each other tightly. Tony pulled away.

"I...I'm so sorry, Ziva," he said, walking back into the hotel room and sitting on the bed. His expression was of fear and confusion, two things he did not usually express.

"Tony, stop apologising. I initiated that as much as you did, and if we're being honest"—she sat down next to him and touched his hand—"I enjoyed it."

He looked down at their hands, and Ziva tightened her grip.

"This is Paris," she whispered to him. "We can just have tonight. Please, please, Tony."

Her delicate hands held his neck as she kissed him again, and he held her by the waist, slowly pushing her back onto their hotel bed.

Tony wondered if she ever thought about it. He did, every day. And it was then that he realised something; today was exactly four years since it happened.

"Four years," he whispered to himself.

Ziva walked over to him, the delicate fabric of her dress swishing elegantly with every step. "I know," she said solemnly.

"What?" he said, pretending he didn't know what she was talking about.

"Four years since Paris today."

Tony said nothing, and tried best to hide his feelings.

"Tony, after Paris, I didn't see anyone for a while. I kept wondering if you would want something to happen between us. But slowly, we both started seeing other people."

And as she had done once before, she kissed him tenderly on the cheek—a kiss that said a thousand words. "It would not have worked between us. We fight, we have to work together, and then there's Gibbs..."

As much as it hurt to hear it, she was probably right.

"Tony, you are very important to me," she continued. "And I will always love you, remember that."

"I love you too," he said, barely whispering. "And...you look beautiful."

She smiled. "We'll always have Paris, Tony."

"All ready?" a gruff voice asked from the door. It was Gibbs. "Did I interrupt something?"

"No, Boss—uh, Jethro," Tony said. Gibbs had retired at the end of 2012, this time for real. But of course, he came to DC from Mexico for Ziva's wedding (and to walk her down the aisle).

All eyes were one Ziva as she made her entrance. She smiled shyly at the people on either side of the aisle, throwing Tony an extra-special glance, as he was sitting right at the front, next to McGee. Ziva's words rang in his head.

"I will always love you..."

A/N: and there you have it, folks. Short, sweet, whatever. Reviews are very much appreciated.