A/N: Yay! People are still following this! Hang in there, guys. We're in the home stretch.

Disclaimer: Not mine.

With a heavy heart and weight on his shoulders, Tony stepped into the elevator with Gibbs and started thinking of names they could put on the possible suspect list. His head spun at just how long the list could be, but if they focused in the first instance on cases that could be related back to gunnery sergeants, it should narrow the search to something more manageable.

Gibbs hit the button for the bullpen, and as the elevator rose he decided that now was a good time to check on his agent's state of mind.

"How did this morning go?" he asked.

Tony stared straight ahead as a ghost of a smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. "I have competing issues with women," he announced. "While I crave their attention, company and approval, I am quick to turn away from them before they can hurt me. It probably has something to do with my mother dying when I was 13."

Although Gibbs didn't doubt a single word, he had to smirk at Tony's matter-of-fact delivery. He'd probably been told the same thing by every counsellor, therapist and psychologist that he'd crossed paths with in the last 25 years. Gibbs thought it was interesting that after all that time, it was only now that Tony was taking steps to address the issue.

"And what does that have to do with last night?" Gibbs asked.

Tony had meant to deflect the original question with an obvious answer. Stupid Gibbs. He rolled his neck and gave an honest answer. "Because I'm yet to turn from Ziva."

There was a beat of silence, and then Gibbs leaned forward and flipped the emergency switch. Tony swallowed hard and winced to himself, but kept his eyes forward. Oh boy, this was going to get awkward.

"Has the thought of turning from her crossed your mind?" Gibbs doubted it, but if Tony could be a damn good actor at times.

As expected, Tony shook his head. "No. But that's kind of what's screwing me up."

Gibbs watched him carefully. The damn kid was near tears, but it obviously wasn't just the last 24 hours that was beating him down. He wondered how long Tony had been struggling without Gibbs noticing.

"She's your best friend, Tony," Gibbs said. "Why are you feeling guilty?"

Tony broke gaze with the door and shot a trademark smirk at Gibbs. "Wait, did you seriously just ask me about my feelings? Don't we need icecream for this?"

Gibbs ignored the comment. Tony wasn't getting off the hook that easily. And Tony knew it. The smile dropped and he returned his eyes to the doors again.

"I don't feel guilty over what happened," he recited. "I couldn't have predicted it, and we didn't get any warning."

Gibbs took half a step towards him. "I wasn't talking about last night, Tony."

Of course Tony knew that, but he was hoping to deflect just a little longer. His fight or flight response was telling him to get the hell out of this conversation, but he was trapped and Gibbs would not flip that emergency switch until he got an answer he was satisfied with.

He cleared his throat before replying. "I feel guilty that she is my best friend, but I can't be straight with her."

"About?"

Tony gave a little shake of his head. He couldn't say it to Gibbs. He couldn't be that honest right now.

Gibbs felt guilt of his own. Obviously it was his rules that were responsible for the weight on Tony's mind. Gently, he said, "You're showing more loyalty to me than to Ziva, Tony. She's your partner."

Tony resisted the sudden urge to scream, and instead controlled his voice. "If it were the other way around, you would kick us both off the team," he replied, then looked Gibbs in the eye. "And I guess I have a lot of father issues to go along with the one about Mom."

They held gazes for a few long moments before Tony finally looked away. Gibbs was acutely aware of Tony's father issues—with his real father and with Gibbs. Tony had spent most of his childhood trying to be the perfect son. When he finally worked out that nothing he did would secure his father's approval, he gave up. Until Gibbs came along, and the cycle started all over again. Tony had spent their entire working relationship blindly loyal to Gibbs, and once again trying to be the perfect son and protégé. All he wanted in return was Gibbs' approval.

Things would have been fine. But then, along came Ziva. Ziva gave Tony a reason to break the rules. She pulled Tony in one direction while Gibbs tried to pull him in the other. And Tony, deeply loyal to both of them, could no longer withstand the tug-of-war. His internal battle over following Gibbs' rules and following his heart to Ziva was wearing him down.

Honestly, Gibbs didn't know whether he could or should hold that one troublesome rule over Tony's head anymore. He hadn't held Abby and McGee to it. When they started dating, Gibbs told himself he'd allow it because Abby was like the daughter he never had, and he wouldn't be the one to stand in the way of what made her happy. But shouldn't he provide the same grace to Tony, the man he thought of as a son?

Gibbs heaved a heavy sigh, and prepared himself to let Tony go. "I thought I'd taught you to be your own man, Tony."

Tony smirked sadly. "Sure you have. But only on the condition that I become you."

The comment hurt to hear, but Gibbs knew it was the truth. And now he understood that it wouldn't work. Tony needed people around him to love and perform for. A future spent in a basement with a boat and some bourbon would kill him. So instead, Gibbs would give him his approval.

"Just be you, Tony," he said. "Be what you want. Don't be an imitation of me."

He clapped Tony on the shoulder, then flicked the emergency switch. As the elevator rose again, Tony felt the weight on his shoulders get a little lighter. He wasn't sure, but he thought Gibbs may have just given him a green light.

"Thank you, boss."

When Ziva's home phone finally rang, it was after 3pm and her kitchen was a mess. She'd beat out her frustration with a spatula rather than her fists for a change, and now she'd probably cooked enough meals to keep the entire team fed for a week. They'd all had a hand in helping her last night, and this was the least she could do to repay them.

She carried her carving knife into the living room to check caller ID. She didn't recognise the number, that that didn't mean much. She called Tony's cell 10 times a day, but she didn't have a clue what his actual number was. She couldn't even say with any certainty what her own desk phone number was. She was lost without her damn cell phone.

She let the call go through to the answering machine on the off chance it was the people who had taken her last night calling to make threats. But it was Tony's tired and stressed voice that echoed through her apartment.

"So, either you're angry that you were sent home and are avoiding me, or you're unconscious in a box buried underground again," he began. "For the love of God, Ziva, please don't screen my calls today."

She snatched up the phone. "I'm here. I was just in the other room."

She heard him sigh. "How are you doing?"

"I am fine," she stressed. "What have you found about the people who took me?"

Tony gave her a recap of the conversation the team had in Abby's lab, covering the phone calls, the video surveillance, the SUV and Gibbs' theory about the sniper.

"Me and Gibbs are running through past cases and pulling out any where someone may hold a grudge, or where family members might have sniper training."

Ziva raised an eyebrow. "I suspect that is a long list."

"You suspect right," Tony said.

"You would get through it faster if you had another pair of eyes," she pointed out.

Tony was ready for that. "Yes, we would. And that's why Agent Simons is down here helping us."

Ziva wrinkled her nose. She did not like weaselly Agent Simons. "Have you asked her where she was last night?"

"Here at the Navy Yard," Tony replied, sounding vaguely amused. "I'm almost positive she wasn't involved."

Ziva rolled her eyes and played with the carving knife. "Fine. Thank you for sending over my clothes this morning."

"No problem. Sorry I couldn't pick you up."

"Yes, Abby told me about the mandatory counselling. How did it go?"

"Great!" Tony said sarcastically. "I never knew I had so many problems."

She smiled. "I got a notice from Vance as well."

"I thought you might."

"I deleted it."

Chuckle. "I thought you might."

"It's not necessary," she told him. "I was Mossad. Consider the situations I found myself in back then."

"I would actually very much not like to consider that," Tony replied. "But even still, it's not every day you wake up in a box down the bottom of a hole."

Ziva frowned. "A box in a hole? You mean a coffin in a grave."

She heard Tony's intake a breath. "Yeah, but we're saying box in a hole."

"Why?"

"Because it's easier for the rest of us to cope with," he said. "Less of a death connotation."

Ziva let him have it. "I see."

"I'll call you tonight with more updates," he promised. "Hopefully we'll have some crazy people in custody."

"Make sure you let me know."

Yay for long weekends! Chapter 11 is up now.