Hey, It's Charlie. I understand that most of you want to rip my face off, and I can't say I blame you. Well, as I promised I have begun to rewrite The Point of No Return. This would have come later if not for captainmorgan101 so you have him/her to thank. She/he has been so helpful the last couple months… well, I think it has almost been a year at this point. She/he has encouraged me to continue. This is simply the first chapter, I have no clue when the second will be posted. Into the Darkness is my baby, and my main priority. It will always come first. I just decided to type this up to let you all know there is still some hope of me finishing it. When Calleigh has my note book with Into the Darkness in it I will work on this story. Well, enjoy.

Warnings: McAbby, and Tiva romance. Sexual situations, swearing, and…. *insert evil laughter here*… torture!

Disclaimer: If I owned NCIS Ziva wouldn't have put Tony in the friendzone.

Tony watched quietly as the moving truck pulled away from the curb. Already the sounds of music blasting through the window pane reached his ears, and the corners of his mouth twitched upward, but he could not bring himself to fully smile. Obviously Abby was driving, and had full control over the radio. McGee would have to deal with bleeding eardrums the whole way home. The two had spent the whole day helping Tony and Ziva move into their new house, they had even rented the moving truck for them, which was hardly necessary because he and Ziva had few personal items, and the house they were moving into was already fully furnished. The corners of his mouth dropped and he lost the twinkle of amusement in his emerald green eyes. No, don't think about it. Unconsciously he tightened his grip on the six pack of beer hanging by his side. Don't think that's all he had to do. If he didn't think it wouldn't hurt. It was as simple as that, or so he tried to convince himself sometimes.

Blinking his eyes as if he had just snapped out of a trance, Tony let one corner of his mouth quark upward again, even if he didn't have anything to be happy about. He turned on his heel and walked briskly toward his new home dragging the case of beer beside him. Over the shrubs one of his new neighbors watched and gave a silent wave, and he nodded with the awkward half smile-half grimace that had settled on his handsome face. Tony knew that the old man peeking over the bushes had his eyes on the beer, but he decided to ignore that fact. He had just moved into a lovely new home, he was entitled to celebration. Wasn't he? Sure he was. The old man was simply a worried grandparent, Tony decided. He probably just fretted that Tony would be throwing wild parties all night every night. His mouth creased into a thin line, and he tried to recall a time when that sounded fun to him.

Reaching the front door he quietly pushed it open, and he felt his heart skip a beat when it opened without him having to use his key. It was unlocked, as always. Mentally he slapped himself. Of course it was unlocked, he and Ziva were both home. Silently he shut the door behind him, hoping not to attract her attention wherever she may have been in the house at that point and time. Tony almost turned around and locked the door, but he didn't. It just didn't seem right. The door had been locked for so many months, and it was finally open again. That's the way things should have been the whole time. Moving away from the door he slid into the dining room, which held his piano instead of a dining set. The previous owner had never been one for eating in the assigned room, so Tony felt it was only right to uphold that tradition.

The light in the kitchen was dim when he walked in. The over head lights were not on, but the dying rays on the sun slipped past the bluish-green curtains and lit little the small comfortable kitchen to the best of their ability. With one hand on the fridge and the other on his pack of beer, he thought he was finally home free, but it seemed fate had a wicked sense of humor, for when he popped the fridge open the ceiling light flicked on simultaneously. Swearing quietly under his breath, Tony turned quickly and plastered the closest thing he could manage to a smile on his face, while trying to hide the Budweiser behind his back. Ziva stood there with her arms crossed over her chest and a suspicious glint in her eyes. She wore a brown camisole with a sleeveless vest over it, and a pair of beat up shorts. Simple clothes, yet Tony could not even begin to imagine how she made them look so wonderful and seductive. Her hair was tied back in a loose ponytail, but still a few strands of stray hair fell into her face. Tony felt himself fighting off the overwhelming desire to tuck the tuffs or hair behind her ear, and he would have, if he wasn't knee deep in chicken shit.

"What is that?" Ziva asked in a low voice, gesturing toward whatever Tony had concealed behind his back.

"What is what?" He replied innocently.

"Behind your back. What is that you have?"

Tony glanced behind him briefly and turned to face Ziva again. "That's the refrigerator, come on I know they have those in Israel."

She merely scowled. "You know that is not what I am talking about, Tony."

"It's nothing to worry about, Zee." He said, smoothly. "Just give me a minute and I will be out to help you dig out the family pictures."

Pinching the bridge of her nose Ziva nodded and turned to leave. Tony closed his eyes and breathed a sigh of relief, well, that was easier than he thought it would be. Then it hit him, easy, Ziva was never easy. His eyes snapped open to see a smaller more lithe body flying in his direction, as though it had been flung. He attempted to duck out of the way, but there was no time. Ziva crashed into him and the both toppled to the floor like a ton of bricks. The carton of Budweiser slipped from his grasp, also falling to the floor. Beer cans rolled out onto the linoleum and Tony laughed uneasily as he picked himself up and offered a helping hand to Ziva, who refused. Instead she remained on her knees and picked up one of the shaken cans. Steadily climbing to her feet she shoved it accusingly in Tony's face, and he knew, in that moment he was as good as dead.

"What the hell is this?" She demanded. "Isn't it too early to be drinking?"

Tony jokingly checked his watch, trying to buy some time to let her blow off some steam. "It's past five o'clock."

"That is a thing in America, is it not?" She snarled, and Tony was not sure if he should answer. Lucky for him she continued before he had a chance to make a fool of himself. "It is five o'clock somewhere? Eh? Tony, this is an unhealthy habit."

"It's only a six pack."

"Yes, it is. A six pack a day." Ziva retorted.

"Zee-,"

"Do not even attempt to make excuses. This is disgusting, I will not tolerate it. If it does not stop I will walk right out that door," She gestured toward the general direction the front door was in. "I do not care if we just moved in together. I will leave. Do not doubt me."

Tony remained silent, thinking over her words.

Ziva's face softened and she caressed his cheek, ignoring the brown stubble that had grown there. "Tony, I love you, and I cannot bear to see you destroy yourself in such a way. I cannot stand by silently as you drink yourself to death. Now, tell me," She held up the can of beer clutched in her hand. "What is the occasion?"

He averted his eyes, no longer able to look a Ziva. "One year," He mumbled with a voice full of emotion. "One year today."

"Oh, Tony…" she breathed. "I did not realize…"

"It's okay," He attempted to smile, but it did not work out as he had hoped. So he simply leaned in and planted his lips on her forehead, then whispered: "I didn't want to remember it either."

Tony wound his arms around Ziva's thin body and leaned on her slightly for support. Like wise she snuggled her face close to his chest and listed to the steady rhythm of his heart. They stood their like that for awhile, neither wanting to break the normal moment in their messed up lives. It felt like they were wrapped in each other's embrace for forever, and they may have been. The world could have collapsed around them and they would not have cared. They had each other, and they liked to believe it was enough to get them through hard times, but sometimes that was not the case. Sometimes, even when they had each other it was not enough. Like in that moment, they had each other, but that was not enough to fill the big gapping hole in both of their hearts. But they pretended it was.

Ziva was the first to pull away, and she instantly regretted it. Tony had become a master at hiding his emotions, but his eyes were open doors, and she could clearly see that he was not ready to let go, in any sense of the meaning. Bending down wordlessly she scooped up another can of beer and tossed it to Tony, who was so surprised he nearly didn't catch it. Staring at it as though it were a foreign object, he looked up a Ziva and raised a questioning eyebrow. She nodded slightly in encouragement, and he just frowned at her, unable to decode what she was implying. With an over exaggerated sigh she popped the tab on her beer, and quickly took a sip. Finally getting her point Tony followed suit and popped his own tab. His mouth was salivating as the slightly warm beer bubbled over the aluminum top, and he was having trouble not gulping the whole thing down in one breath.

"I suppose one more day will not hurt you," Ziva said, raising her can. "but this one is mine."

"You don't like beer," Tony pointed out.

"True," She said, taking another sip. "I like wine,"

"French,"

"Finely aged,"

Tony took a sip of his own beer. "You didn't let me finish."

Ziva grinned up at him, and stood on her toes to kiss the tip of his nose. "I think I will get the bed and bath ready, and we can finish unpacking tomorrow."

"Bed and bath?" Tony mused. "Is it my lucky night?"

She swatted at him. "You know what I mean. You do not want to go to bed dirty do you?"

"'Course not," He said teasingly. "I like being dirty in bed."

"What am I going to do with you?" Ziva groaned.

"I'm not sure, but I know what I'm going to do with you."

She raised her hands in defeat. "Fine, I give up. I am leaving now, please come to bed at a reasonable hour. I have to go to work in the morning and I will not be in the best of moods if you wake me at three in the morning, again."

"If I come to bed early, do I get a prize?"

Ziva groaned and walked off, her beer still in hand. Once Tony could no longer hear her footstep he chugged the rest of his beer, and reached for another. Folding up his shirt into a pouch similar to a kangaroo's, Tony stacked the remaining beer cans in it, and started for the living room. He wasn't dressed in his best attire, he wore a plain white t-shirt and brown pants, but it could be worse. All of his satin suits sat in a box somewhere, and he would probably never unpack them, for he had no where in particular to wear them to. His face could have also used a good shave, but Ziva said she liked his stubble, and he honestly didn't feel like shaving, so he found no reason to shave anytime soon. Some would say he let himself go, but Tony didn't think that. He was in perfectly good shape. He just didn't give a damn on what he look like anymore. Was there anything wrong with that? He thought not.

The beers clinked together as they bounced around his cupped shirt, and he quietly set them down on the coffee table, and eased himself onto the worn couch. The living room was practically the same as the previous owner had left it. The only exception was that the dinky television from before had been replaced with Tony's forty-two inch plasma screen that had all the necessary setting for watching any type of movie. Grabbing the remote he turned the TV on and played The Guilt Trip. God, he loved Barbara. No matter how old she was, she still had it. As he watched he downed a few more beers, and just as the end credits rolled he finished his last one. He hadn't meant to drink them all, it had just happened. Oh, well, there was nothing he could do about it at that point.

Completely forgetting to turn the television off, Tony teetered towards the stair, and tried to walk in a straight line. In fact, he made a game of trying to walk in between the lines on the floor boards, which wouldn't have even worked if he had been sober, his feet were entirely too big to not step on any cracks. But maybe… Maybe Ziva's feet were small enough. That is when Tony got the bright idea to go see if she wanted to play. He didn't even notice that just outside of the window the sun had already set. Almost hysterical giggles burst from his mouth at the concept of Ziva playing his game. She'd love it! Watching the world turn topsy-turvy like some amusement park ride, Tony giggled some more. Was it his game that did that? Or did he have one too many beers? It didn't matter he was far too focused on telling Ziva all about his game to even think about that. Stay on track, he reminded himself, stay on track.

Clutching onto the railing as if his life depended on it, Tony slowly made his way up the stairs. He was actually quite curious to see the upstairs. He had only seen it one or two times, but that was only when he was visiting the house when the previous owner lived there, and that was to use the bathroom. Normally he stuck to the basement. He giggle at that, but he wasn't sure why. It wasn't funny. It was actually kind of sad. Anger swelled within Tony, he wasn't supposed to know that was sad. He must not have drunk enough booze. Damn Ziva for taking the sixth beer. That might have been the difference between being sad, and being so drunk that he pissed his pants. He actually preferred the latter of the two. Unfortunately there was no more alcohol in the house… At least, not that he knew of. Maybe he would search later.

By the time he reached the top of the steps, Tony had forgotten what he had even come up there for. Didn't matter, one thing was for sure. He had to piss really damn bad. Moving clumsily forward, he trudged toward the bathroom door directly in front of him, which was closed. He didn't have a second thought as he rattled the door knob, and let himself in. The shear humidity hit him in the face like a punch. Wispy tendrils of water vapor twisted into the air like the smoke from a cigarette. The mirror was misted over, and water was beating off the floor of the shower. However, he did not notice any of that. He made his way straight to the toilet. There was a green fluffy towel sitting on the closed lid, which was kind of annoying, but he brushed it off of the seat and onto the floor. There, problem solved. Lifting the seat, and unzipping his pant, Tony went about his business.

"Oh, my darlin'," He sang. "Oh, my darlin', oh, my darlin' Clementine…"

"Tony?" A voice asked.

He immediately looked up. "God?"

"No, Tony. It is me."

Looking to his side, Tony found Ziva peering at him past the shower curtain. She was all wet. He gave her a lopsided grin. "Ziva, you sound just like God."

"That's nice to know," She said slowly. "I am almost finished, why don't you go to bed. I just put sheets on it."

"Don't I get to come in?"

"Not tonight," She said rolling her eyes. "Now shoo, go to bed."

"I'm not finished," He said gesturing downward, and then he paused. "oh, maybe I am."

Zipping his pants back up, he stumbled out of the bathroom and hooked right into the bedroom. It was a nice size, with a wooden floor just like the rest of the house. It was pretty empty, but that was mostly because he and Ziva were not finished unpacking. The bed stood to the right. It was fairly large, maybe a queen, he estimated. It had nothing more than neutral green sheets on it, true to Ziva's word. That was okay though. It was July, the fourth to be exact. The hottest month of summer in his opinion, they didn't need anything more than sheets. Directly across from it stood a tall oak dresser that was in desperate need of a dusting. Lumbering toward it, he pulled open the top drawer and found himself face to face with a USMC t-shirt. Swallowing thickly, he closed the drawer. Apparently Ziva hadn't bothered to empty the drawers yet.

Tony pulled his shirt over his head, and let his pants drop to his ankles. Sleeping in his underwear would probably be his best option. Kicking the clothes into a corner, Tony silently hoped that Ziva wouldn't get mad at him for not picking them up. He loved her, but sometimes she could be pretty scary. Almost tripping over his own feet, Tony finally made his way to bed, and slipped between the sheets. Once his head hit the pillow he was out, though it was a short lived rest. The second Ziva entered the room his eyes snapped open, and he found himself face to her and her fuzzy pink bathrobe that he had gotten her for her birthday. Silently she slipped it off, and pulled her wet hair back from her face. Tony was left to look at her bare body, and he could not help shivering with pleasure.

Ziva turned toward a cardboard box, and bent over to retrieve her night clothes. This action left her rounded breasts hanging limply in the air, and Tony could no longer contain himself. Pulling the sheets off of himself, he crawled out of bed and quietly moved to Ziva. She had to know he was there, she just had to. Otherwise she would have probably attacked him. Moving behind her, Tony ran his hands down her sides, and she moaned slightly before standing up straight, and leaned her head into his shoulder. Her eyes were closed, and he looked down on her beautiful face. Tilting his head down his lips met hers, and he gently nibbled on her bottom lip, while one of her hands came up to stroke his stubbly cheek. Tony bit down a little harder, and his hands moved up to her chest, where he gave her breasts a tight squeeze and pushed them back flat against her body.

In an instant Ziva turned around and smashed her lips against his. Her kisses were hard, and her nibbles were more like bites. She liked it rough, but Tony had expected nothing less from her. She liked being in control, she liked being the one in charge. It was a change up for Tony, but he couldn't say that he didn't like. Her body pressed against his as he pulled her closer, and her hardened nipples rubbing against his chest caused gooseflesh to appear. Before he knew it, Ziva had pulled him to the bed, where she forced him onto his back, and climbed on top of him. Lowering her head to his waist, Ziva gripped the elastic waist band of Tony's boxers between her teeth, and worked on removing them. Tony's body was practically vibrating with excitement when her long, slightly wet hair brushed across his exposed flesh. Closing his eyes, he moaned as Ziva laid down on top of him and traced her pointer finger around his nipple.

Then it hit him.

They were in bed.

Together.

Completely naked.

Tony pushed her off of him as gently as he could, and scrambled out of bed. He reached down and pulled up his boxers, which had fallen to his ankles upon standing. Ziva looked up at him from her place on the bed, her face a mask of curiosity. A bit of hurt flashed in her dark eyes, and Tony had to look away. Quietly he mumbled apologies, and inched toward the door. But before he was able to get there, Ziva got herself out of bed and positioned herself right in front of him. Her soft hands found their way into his brown, and she pulled his face closer to hers. For a moment Tony thought she was going to kiss him, but she didn't. Ziva moved his face so their foreheads were touching, and he was forced to stare directly into her eyes that swam with a million questions.

"Tony, what is wrong?"

"N-nothing," he mumbled.

"You and I both know that is not true." She replied, softly. "Come now, you can tell me."

"It's just- just-," He hesitated, biting his lip.

"Just what, Tony?"

"He probably slept in that bed."

"It was his house." She pointed out. "Even if he preferred sleeping on the couch it is probable that he slept in this bed from time to time."

Tony shook his head, but Ziva's grip never wavered. "No, probably slept in that bed, with his wife. He probably made love to Shannon in that bed. Zee-," his voice broke. "- it just doesn't seem right…"

"Shh," She shushed him. "Everything will be alright. Trust me, Tony."

"I- I should have been here."

"What?" she pulled back slightly.

"That night he went missing…" Tony's eyes took on a far away look. "I blew him off for some blonde bimbo… I was supposed to be here, Ziva…"

"Tony," she said sternly. "There was nothing you could have done. If you had been here you might be gone now too."

"Maybe…"

She lifted her face to kiss him, but just before her lips met his, Tony's hand found the doorknob and he slipped out of the room. Ziva's hands fell to her sides, and she looked at him with an expression of utter disbelief. Tony averted his gaze and mumbled quietly. "You should probably get to bed… Vance will be angry if you are late for work."

Without waiting for a response Tony turned and almost sprinted down the stairs. When he reached the bottom he found that The Guilt Trip had begun to play again. His empty beer cans littered the coffee table. Jogging over, he shook the Budweiser cans over his mouth, draining each and every one of them, not leaving a single drop unattended to. Yet, that still was not enough for him. Dropping the can that was currently in his hand, Tony wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and made his way into the kitchen. He knew that there were no more booze in the fridge, but he proceeded to look anyway. Slamming the door shut with an exasperated sigh, he moved across the room and yanked the basement door open. But he hesitated as he gazed down into the darkened cellar. The darkness seemed to reach up to him, beckoning him to come and join it. It was like the deepest pit of Hell, and it wanted to claim his soul.

Flicking on the lights the basement became just what it was: a basement. Descending the stairs, Tony stopped dead in his tracks when he found a large, half finished boat crowding up most of the space. Taking the rest of the steps two at a time, he ran to the dusty boat, and brushed his fingers against it. It was nice and smooth, the wood work was done to perfection. On the bow in black letters 'The T' was written. Just that, it was unfinished. Tony's heart pounded in his chest. Could it have been The Tony? Probably not, he was just deluding himself. Running his hand along the inside it hit something that was not wood. Grabbing the object, Tony nearly fist pumped when he found it to be a nearly full bottle of bourbon. It was probably skunked, but he didn't care. Any alcohol would do at that point. Uncapping the lid, he stumbled over to the steps and sat down. Taking a swig, he stared at the boat intently, what was it going to be named, and how the hell was it supposed to be removed from the basement? Disbelieving laughter burst from his mouth. That was a secret that had been taken to the grave.

He raised the bottle as high as his arm would allow. "To Gibbs." Tony murmured to no one in particular.

"To Gibbs." The empty room echoed.

Umm… so review please. I know I'm not know for being the best NCIS author, but I really think my writing has improved. Uh, so review… please?