This is just a little something that popped out of my head sitting around at work. It's based on the song "More Than a Memory" by Garth Brooks.

I apologize if I have anything wrong in it. I haven't seen the beginning of Season 7 in a while, so I may have a few tings wrong.

I own nothing belonging to NCIS. I can guarantee that.

Tony jerked awake, sweat pouring down his face. It only took him a second to gather his surroundings. Untangling himself from the mess of blankets on his bed, Tony slipped from the bed and headed towards the bathroom. Turning the faucet on, Tony splashed some on his face, trying to clear his mind.

It was the same as every other night for the past month. Every night just as he hit a deep sleep, Tony found himself reliving the last week before Ziva left. He kept seeing he and Rivkin's fight, Ziva's look of hatred fear and confusion, and the last view of Ziva he'd seen before they left her in Israel. Even now, he could recall vividly the hatred in her eyes, in her voice, and he knew he was to blame for it. If only he hadn't of gone to her apartment that night, if only, he kept telling himself.

Drying his face off, Tony walked slowly from the bathroom and out the bedroom door. The clock showed it was only an hour after he went to bed, but he knew there was no way he'd be able to go back to sleep anytime soon. Walking down the hall towards his living room, Tony figured maybe a movie would help him sleep. Flipping through the channels, Tony swore under his breath. Of all the 500 channels he bought, not one of them had a movie on that he had not either watched with Ziva or reminded him of her in some way.

Turning the tv off, Tony threw the remote onto the couch next to him and reached for the telephone. Instinctively, Tony typed in 2 on the speed dial, and Ziva's number popped up. His thumb hovered over the send button, yet he could not get himself to press it.

Then he cleared the screen and typed in another number. He found himself doing this more and more lately. A month ago he would have laughed at the thought, yet here he was.

"McGee," he heard a groggy voice say from the phone.

"Don't tell me you were already asleep at midnight on a Friday night, McSnooze," Tony exclaimed, faking a jovial mood like he found himself doing a lot lately.

"Tony, we've been going nonstop the past three days on a case, I'm exhausted," McGee sighed. "What do you want?"

"Can't a guy call his friend for no reason?" Tony asked, feigning shock.

"Not you, Tony," McGee answered honestly. There was a short pause before McGee added, "I haven't heard from her. I promise that when I do I will tell you."

"What about Abs?" Tony asked, throwing his head back against the couch.

"Tony, you saw her after I did," McGee sighed. "Listen, when she's ready to talk to someone, she'll call. Give her time."

"Yeah," was all Tony said.

"Get some sleep, Tony," McGee yawned. "Don't forget we are on call this weekend."

"Right, night, Tim," Tony replied, hanging up. "I need a beer," he grumbled to the unusual quietness in his apartment. Opening the refrigerator, Tony found nothing but empty shelves. Cursing under his breath, Tony slammed the door shut and grabbed his keys. He needed to get out of here for a while.

Originally Tony had planned on driving to the local bar and having a few drinks. Yet he found himself driving past the bar, no destination in mind. He'd done this only a few times before, back when the whole La Grenouille/Jeanne situation blew up in his face and back when he screwed up the protection detail for Director Shepherd.

Pulling up to the stop sign, Tony looked around and recognized where he was. Just ahead was what was left of Ziva's apartment building. He noticed the cranes and trucks surrounding the building had already torn down a good chunk of the debris. It would be gone by next week, he decided. How had he ended up all the way across town? There was not a clear path from his apartment to Ziva's, yet somehow he'd taken the right streets to get there.

This was where he screwed up, he told himself, as he pulled over across from the burnt building. Gibbs had told him to follow his gut, yet he didn't want to believe what it was telling him. When Ducky had told him about Ziva's undercover op in Morocco, he felt his heart sink. Watching the footage of it, Tony had recognized Rivkin. At some point his gut had told him that there was something more going on. Something had not felt right. Then, when Abby traced the laptop back to Ziva's apartment, Tony's gut went on a rampage. He knew all of the evidence was against Ziva. She'd willingly withheld information pertaining to an NCIS investigation, she'd harbored Rivkin, even though he'd been ordered to leave the U.S., and now the suspect's laptop had been at her apartment. If only he'd gone to Gibbs and explained what they found. Yet, he knew Gibbs was with Vance. There would have been no way for him to have told Gibbs without Vance knowing. That's how he found himself, parked in this same spot a month ago. Perhaps it should have entered his mind that Rivkin would have been at the apartment, but it didn't. Tony realized, thinking back, that he'd half-hoped that Rivkin had listened to the orders and went back to Israel. Putting the car back into gear, Tony decided if he had the chance to do it over, he would have probably done the same thing again. That's just the way he was.

Ten minutes of aimless driving later, Tony found himself walking up to Gibbs' house and knocking on the door. Why he bothered to knock, he had no idea. The door was unlocked, like always. Tony realized, he'd hoped his boss wouldn't be awake, or at home. About the time he decided to go back to his car and pretend like he'd never came there, he heard the door open and Gibbs glared at him.

"DiNozzo, do you have any idea what time it is?" Gibbs asked, moving aside to let the younger agent in.

"Yeah," Tony replied, there was no need to stretch out an answer.

Gibbs closed the door behind Tony. As the younger agent shuffled his feet aimlessly, Gibbs made his way towards the kitchen and pulled two beers out.

"You know, I've been thinking," Tony began, staring at the empty fire place. "Maybe I should resign. That would solve a helluva lot of problems around NCIS."

Gibbs raised a quick, curious eyebrow at the senior field agent before returning to his nondescript, composed face. "And why is that?"

"Boss, face it," Tony exclaimed, turning around to face Gibbs. "I screwed up the La Grenouille case, I did not follow protocol and Jenny died, which caused the team to be broken up, and now I broke it up again. If I resign, then Ziva can come back and you'll have a team that is actually halfway decent."

"Tony, you resigning is not going to bring Ziva back. She made her decision when she made me decide between the two of you," Gibbs explained. "She was not a NCIS agent, she is a Mossad officer. Juggling two allegiances is not an easy thing to do. When it came time for her to pick one, she chose her home."

"That is not her home," Tony exploded. "Home is not a place where your own father uses you for his own means. A father should give a shit about his daughter, who happens to be the only child he has left. Her home is right here. Right where people actually care about her, and not what she can do for us."

"She knows that," Gibbs replied.

"If she does, then why did she go?" Tony yelled.

"She went because she needed time to think. Tony, use your brain," Gibbs yelled back. "Stop feeling sorry for yourself, and move on. If she ever wants to contact any of us, she will. Until then, all you can do is move on. It's no different than any other time you've had to change partners," Gibbs pointed out.

"It's plenty different," Tony said, quietly.

Gibbs walked up to the younger agent, "That's why I have Rule 12. It never turns out good for either side." Tony looked at the team leader and nodded his head. He understood all that, but it still did not make it any easier.

The two sat in the two arm chairs in Gibbs sparse living room, drinking their beers in silence. Tony finished his off before breaking the silence, "Hey Boss, do you think she is okay?"

"I'm not sure," Gibbs answered honestly. He recalled the feeling he got when he looked at Eli David over Ziva's shoulder on the Tel-Aviv tarmac.

"I'm giving her two more weeks, and then I'm calling," Tony declared before tossing his bottle into the trash and heading towards the door. "Thanks for the drink," he called after him before heading back to his apartment.