A/N: I have to finish this little piece about Obsession before I can move on. Here is Tony's POV…

Disclaimer: Not mine

The bourbon makes his tongue thick and his eyes watery. The jar is long empty, his last refill two hours prior.

Gibbs had offered up the couch but Tony declined, opting to keep vigil over the latest project taking shape in the basement.

And so he waited.

In solitude. Gibbs having left him alone with the chatter in his mind and a partial bottle of bourbon.

Not ready to go his home and not sure he is welcome in hers, he waits in the home of Gibbs.

He imagines graceful arms around his neck, delicate fingers gently holding his head against her cheek. His chest hurts and his ears buzz and he wonders what exactly it would take to get her out of his system.

And just as quickly he realizes that he does not actually want her out of his system.

He's tired and he's alone and wonders just what he was thinking when he ended up in the wrong bed. And he wonders what she was thinking when she realized what he had done. He didn't have to wonder if he had hurt her, though. Of that, he had no doubt.

And just as easily, she had retaliated. Summed up the whole of his fears, the depth of his inadequacy. A question so simply and casually tossed out, yet cutting with icy precision just the same.

She knew how to hurt him as just easily as he knew how to hurt her.

And so he hurts her some more, because that is what they do. He finds another someone, another possible bed to fill. Only this one doesn't live long enough to even become a one night stand.

He hates himself for being who he is and he hates her for knowing who he is and the endless cycle of running and pushing may just kill him because he's tired, so tired, and yeah - she's tired, too.

So he gets too involved with another woman, another Jeanne, another somebody too perfect on the outside. And maybe a little too perfect on the inside, too, because the Jeannes and the Danas of the world never get to see the things he lets her see.

And she sees everything.

And he wonders how he ever walked away from her in the first place, how she could have walked away from him.

A summer, just a summer. A summer spent together that was never supposed to mean more than a fling, a fleeting escape from the harshness that was becoming their shared reality. Except somehow it ended up meaning everything.

Gibbs left, Jeanne happened, and Jenny died.

She was sent home and he was sent afloat.

And it just deteriorated.

And suddenly he wants nothing more in this world than to fix it. Fix them.

He knows that he is a jerk and he knows that once again he's let her down and he wishes he was someone else.

Someone less damaged.

He wants to be close to her. He wants to hold her, soothe her hurt because God knows she's known so little kindness in her young life. And he hates himself even more.

Because she still loved him. Still loves him enough to try and save him, even when he hurts her.

He feels overheated and twitchy and suddenly he wants to be anywhere but in the stifling darkness of the basement.

His shame and disappointment swirling around in his stomach.

He was ashamed of himself and disappointed in her and really, he just wanted to undo the damage. For both of them. Because she was damaged, too.

So he heads home.

Because in the end, he knew what he saw in her. Just as he knew what she once saw in him.

And maybe he could fix it.

A/N: Yup, Angst - o - rama. My muses are feeling a little moody right now. I'm considering a third chapter, taking place when Tony gets home and finds Ziva in his apartment but this may be a good place to stop. Feel free to let me know if you think I should continue…

Thanks for reading!