A/N: Hello there. How is everyone liking this so far? So the last chapter stirred up a lot of "Awwws" and thank you to everyone who reviewed and favorite this story. Writing those letters was actually one of the harder things to write, but I loved doing it.

Disclaimer: Despite the fact that I haven't actually remembered to put this in for pretty much the entire length of the story, I don't own NCIS. Yet.

"Tony, answer the phone," Ziva coaxed as she paced across the floor of her apartment. She needed to see him. She needed to talk to him. The ringing stopped and his voicemail message played. "Tony, you are an idiot. You cannot just drop that on a person…" Ziva searched for a reason to make him see her. "If you do not call me back, I will leave NCIS,"

Three days later, he still hadn't called. No matter how many times she tried, he wouldn't answer his dang phone.

"Gah!" Ziva slammed her hands on her keyboard in frustration. She needed to punch something…

"There a problem, David?" Gibbs asked, suddenly beside the wall of the bullpen.

Ziva looked up at him, and Gibbs stared down at her knowingly. The look in her eyes was the same look he saw in his when Shannon died all those years before. Lost; searching; defeated.

Gibbs sighed, and threw his empty coffee cup in her trash before storming out of the squadroom, up the stairs, down the hall, and straight into Vance's office.

"Why did you transfer DiNozzo?" Gibbs demanded. Vance stood, meeting his icy stare.

"He's been under you for eight years. He needs his own team," Gibbs stared at him carefully for a moment.

"That's not why, Leon, and you and I both know it," Vance sighed.

"He asked me to,"

"And why would he do a stupid thing like that?"

"I think you know," Vance's eyes shifted towards the door; towards Ziva.

"You let him go. You didn't have to do that. You should have sent him to me!"

"He wanted to be kept private, and I don't appreciate your tone," Gibbs laughed.

"The last time the Director of NCIS kept something private between themselves and an agent, five people ended up dead,"

"That was her choice,"

"And this was yours," Gibbs stared at him, but Vance didn't budge. "Where is DiNozzo?"

"He never left DC. All you had to do was ask,"

"What did I tell you about always being reachable?" A familiar voice sounded behind the lone man at the bar.

"How'd you find me?" Tony asked, not turning around. A glass sat before him, but he couldn't bring himself to touch it.

Gibbs shrugged. "Vance said you were still here. Figured you weren't far,"

Tony nodded, a small smile on the corner of his mouth. Typical Gibbs.

"You blame yourself," Gibbs said.

"Is that a question or a statement?"

"Both," He replied.

"Wouldn't you?"

Gibbs shrugged and was silent for several more minutes. "Why'd ya leave?"

Tony stared down into his drink. "I suck at my job,"

"No you don't,"

"I messed up my undercover mission, my protection detail, and I couldn't even protect my partner,"

"Punishing yourself won't help,"

"Yeah, well maybe I'll think twice next time," Tony ran a hand through his light brown hair. The familiar bar was unusually quiet, something Tony was particularly grateful for; he could barely deal with himself, much less other people.

"You're not giving yourself the chance,"

"I don't deserve it," Tony flinched under Gibbs' watchful eye. "I failed, Gibbs, okay? I obviously suck at this job. I could even protect—"

"The woman you love?" Gibbs finished for him. Tony looked up, startled. "Yeah, I know,"

"Well then you should be glad I'm leaving, rule twelve and all. You have your rules for a reason, right Boss? I'm guessing you know from experience," Tony suggested. "With Jenny," He dared to add. He almost expected a headslap, but he saw none coming.

Gibbs shrugged and looked around. "Nah, I wouldn't say that…"

"Well what would you say?" Tony asked, confused, his drink forgotten and pushed to the side.

"Yeah, I learned from experience. But I learned that you can't wait for things like this," Gibbs said. "You can't wait," He whispered again, regretfully. "I'd say you've made a lot of mistakes, DiNozzo,"

"Yeah, thanks," Tony's eyes shifted downward.

"Don't make this another,"

"You mean…?"

Gibbs stood and headed toward the door, but stopped for a moment and turned to Tony. "My team was torn apart once. You leave and it's all over," Tony nodded, taking in all Gibbs had just said. He was surprised and confused, unsure of what to do next. "You should check your voicemail," Gibbs said, heading out the door.

Ziva leaned against the door of her apartment, an aching feeling in her gut. She knew she wasn't sick; she had felt this pain before, when she killed Ari. It was a feeling of guilt, of frustration, of regret. There was so much she needed to tell him, and he was just out of reach.

Ziva looked across her apartment, her eyes landing on a photo on the wall. Michael. Michael had never been anyone truly special to her. When she was sent back to Israel the previous summer, she had found in him companionship; someone who understood the job. Michael Rivkin was also Mossad. Handsome, yes, and Jewish. But he… he wasn't Tony.

Oh, how she needed to talk to him. She needed to tell him. There were so many things he needed to know. And now he never would.