AN: So this story is a bit different. It is already complete. We had debated a bit as to how to upload it and the final decision was made by JenJen. Each chapter shall be uploaded Weekly on Sunday. As it sits right now, it is 5 Chapters, but we are considering adding an epilogue. We will make sure to let you know when we post Chapter 5 if there will be one. Other than that, I shall turn things over to the obnoxious voice in my brain!

MN: This is an idea that has been kicking around in our mind since at least October, and we've been working on it about that long. Hope you all enjoy it!

Disclaimer: I don't own NCIS, the Song "Who Says You Can't Go Home", Bon Jovi, or anything else of value.

Dedication: For those who still believe that happy endings really do exist.

It hadn't been a good day. Actually, it hadn't been a good week and it had been 47 hours since he'd last left home. The previous night had seen a single hour long nap, taken at his desk while waiting on the information he requested to come back.

Justice had, however, prevailed and they had closed their case that evening. As usual, once they had a rather small amount of physical evidence, Gibbs made the guilty party sing like a songbird in interrogation. The trio of men along with their new probie had opted to stay and finish up their paperwork, allowing them to avoid the office for the weekend unless a new case came their way.

To no one's surprise, Bishop had been the first one finished and had quietly excused herself. Gibbs was the next to go, leaving with a mumble at his remaining agents to hurry up and leave. Ten minutes later the pair had exited the office together.

With a jolt, Tony realized that he had nearly nodded off in the elevator. His eyes opened just as the doors did and he shuffled down the hall. Each step took a measured effort and all of the focus he could muster. His keys were still in his hand, saving him the energy of digging them from his pocket as he approached the door to his apartment.

Once the locks slid open, he relaxed a little. From here to his bed he could run on autopilot. As he stepped through the door he reached through the darkness to drop his keys in the dish.

He was once again immediately alert as the keys hit wood instead of tinkling in the dish. A quick glance told him the bowl was out of place. It was only an inch off, something most people wouldn't notice even in their own homes, but he wasn't most people.

He pulled his gun from its holster and disengaged the safety. He scanned the living room by moonlight as he deposited his backpack on the floor and slid his shoes off so he could move more quietly. His bedroom door was closed, but the glass paneled doors leading to his kitchen stood open. Both of those things were exactly how he had left them.

Experience told him that the open door was more of a security risk so he crept toward it. It only took him a few moments to clear the room, but there was a glass in the sink that he didn't remember leaving there.

He padded back through the living room to his bedroom door. He held his breath as he slowly turned the knob. He pushed the door open slowly, suddenly glad he had managed to get the hinges oiled the previous weekend.

The light was off and the late hour coupled with the tightly closed blinds had left the room in total darkness and there wasn't enough light shining into the living room to filter beyond the threshold. Instinct told him there was someone in his bed so he stepped through the door, his gun leveled at the bed as he used his free hand to flip on the light switch.

A lump under the covers confirmed his guess that the intruder was sleeping in his new bed. The item had been a Christmas gift from his father, a simple yet elegant queen that replaced his twin sized bed. Whoever had infringed on his privacy was curled up square in the middle, buried under his comforter all the way to their head. As silently as possible, Tony moved to the foot of the bed. He used his free hand to grab the comforter and gave it a sharp yank, exposing the interloper to his gaze.

He was so harshly startled that he nearly dropped his gun, but he managed to keep his grip as he lowered the weapon to his side. His surprise guest was blinking harshly against the light, giving him time to regain his composure.

When he was sure he could speak coherently, he did so softly. "What are you doing here, Ziva?"