Notes: Written for the NFA Long-Winded Title Challenge. This has a spoiler for Season 13 involving Tony and Zoe, so a forewarning. The title of this fic comes from the poem "Song of Myself" by Walt Whitman.

The apartment door slowly opened, and Tony stepped through. He dropped his bag in its usual spot, and closed the door behind him. He kicked off his boots and immediately went to his fish tank. He fed Kate and Ziva, who attacked the food as soon as it hit the water's surface. He smiled and left them to their dinner.

He crossed the room to his liquor cabinet, and opened it wide. From it he took out his usual bottle of Jack Daniels, and a glass. He took both of them over to the couch and sat down. He pulled his tie off and tossed it on the coffee table, then poured himself a couple fingers of whiskey. After the day he'd had, he'd probably drink more than that, but it was a start.

The day had started out with a murder - the team spent all morning processing a crime scene in Rock Creek Park. Gibbs was on the warpath – a sign that he hadn't time to stop for his usual morning cup of coffee – and was ragging on Tony extra hard that morning. Everyone was miserable by the time they got back to the office.

The phone call from Zoe to meet for lunch was the escape he needed. They met at a café near the Yard, and ordered sandwiches. Tony was talking endlessly about whatever subject he could come up with – and he surprisingly had a lot to talk about.

She said it, and he shut his mouth.

She got a job offer – in New York – and she took it – and she didn't want a long distance relationship. It hadn't worked the last time they tried it, and it wouldn't work this time either.

Tony found himself surprisingly calm about the whole thing. He actually agreed with her about the long distance thing... it hadn't worked for them in the past.

He paid for lunch, and she walked away. It was the last time he'd see her.

Tony poured himself another glass of whiskey and took a big gulp. He hadn't planned on coming home and drinking a hole in his stomach, like he'd done all of the other times he'd lost someone. He'd actually planned to attend his Men's Group tonight, try to work it out that way.

I'll never find The One. It's my destiny to be perpetually single.

He looked down at the whiskey glass in his hand. What was it that always brought him here, to this state of mind? Every time he'd been dumped by someone he cared about, he'd go somewhere and drink himself into a stupor, and do some dumbass thing that he regretted in the morning.

I can't keep doing this. I'm too old for this shit.

Decision made, he set down the whiskey glass, grabbed his car keys and left the apartment. If he was going to get through this sober, he didn't want to do it alone.

A half hour later, he found himself walking through Gibbs' front door. He made his way to the basement, and descended the steps.

Gibbs was working on his boat – he was sanding tonight, something he knew always relaxed Gibbs. He didn't acknowledge that Tony was there for a good few minutes. Tony sat down on the steps and waited.

"Helluva day," Gibbs finally said after a minute or two of silence between them.

"That's putting it lightly," Tony replied shortly.

Gibbs noticed the change in his tone of voice. He put down the sandpaper and turned to face Tony.

"What's going on, Tony?"

"Zoe broke up with me today. Over lunch."

All the pieces clicked together for Gibbs. Tony had been miserable at the crime scene, but when he got back from lunch, miserable was no longer an adequate description for Tony's state of mind.

"I don't understand... what is it about me that sends women running in the opposite direction?"

"It takes a special kind of woman to be a cop's wife," Gibbs said. "Every day there's that chance she might open the door, and someone is going to tell her that her husband isn't coming home. A lot of women don't want to put themselves through that."

"Zoe knows the job... she knew the risks, and she accepted it. I thought she was it... that she came back into my life for a reason."

"Maybe she did."

Tony rubbed the back of his neck. He was itching for a drink, hell, several drinks. He'd come here to stop himself from drinking a hole in his stomach and passing out on his living room floor.

"This is usually the part where I drink myself stupid," Tony confessed. "Every time I lose someone, that's what I do... I go home and pull out a bottle, any bottle, and drink until I pass out."

"You don't want to do that this time around."

Tony nodded.

"I almost did... I had the whiskey out on the coffee table and everything."

"What stopped you?"

"I thought about all the times in the past that I tried to drink it away. The pain was still there the next day."

"I'm not the best person to be handing out relationship advice, but if she just up and left, just like that, then it's her loss. She's beneath your notice."

"I don't know if I can write her off, Boss. Zoe and I were friends for a long time."

"I'm not telling you to write her off. Just don't let her leaving stop you from finding someone else."

Tony cracked a small smile,

"Kind of like you and your ex-wives?"

Gibbs raised an eyebrow, but he didn't tell Tony to shut up, as he normally would.

"Yeah, I guess you could compare it to that. I cared for all of them... but I didn't let the end of one relationship stop me from starting a new one."

Tony finally got up from the steps, and leaned on the beam near the stairs.

"I guess you're right."

"You feeling any better?"

"A little."

"I could use some help sanding the boat, if you want to stay for a while."

Tony smiled genuinely, and crossed the room to the boat. Gibbs handed him a piece of sandpaper, and together they sanded in companionable silence.

FINIS