Ducky shook his head sadly, after reading the article. "Why wouldn't he have told us?" he asked quietly, to no one in particular.

No one in particular had an answer. Sure, they all had thoughts, but they didn't feel as though they should voice their assumptions.

"Do you think this is why he's been so...off?" McGee asked quietly. "I mean...do you think this really would cause him to be acting the way he's been?"

"I'm not certain, Timothy," Ducky replied. "But it seems the timing would be right in line with when he began to show signs of strange behavior."

"What's wrong?" Ziva asked as she reentered the bullpen once finishing in the bathroom.

They all looked over at her for a moment. Then Gibbs spoke. "McGee, you an' Ziva go over to Tony's apartment," he said, taking his keys out to give them the spare to the senior agent's home. "See if there's a reason he doesn't wanna go back there, before we jump to any conclusions." He turned specifically to Tim. "You can fill her in on the way."

11 00 11 00 11

"Are you sure you don't want me to stay?" Jimmy asked his friend who'd decidedly begun to prepare the fireplace.

"I'm fine, Palmer," he insisted, a bit aggravated. "It's bad enough I'm being forced away from work. I don't need a babysitter to make my day complete."

"We're just worried about you, ya know?"

"Why is it that when I do a better job at everything, people get worried?" he said, turning to face the younger man. "I can't win, ya know? I can't be 'the class clown', as Ziva so delicately put it, without getting annoyed glances or looks of accusation that I'm not even doing my work. But I get down to business and stop goofing off, and suddenly...suddenly there's something horribly wrong with DiNozzo?" he scoffed and stalked off toward the back patio to get some firewood.

A bit taken back by the outburst, Jimmy was frozen for a moment before going after him. "I- I'm sorry, Tony. I...didn't mean to make you angry..."

Tony paused in place where he went to grab some wood from the pile. He let out a breath and closed his eyes for a moment. "No...don't be sorry. I'm not pissed at you. Not pissed at all, really. Just...a little frustrated." He picked up the pile and turned around to meet his eyes. "Didn't mean to snap at you. But I'm fine here by myself. I'll see ya later, okay?" He tried to summon a small smile to reassure him.

Jimmy returned the grin. "Okay. If you need anything...if your headache comes back, just call me, okay?"

"Yeah... Thanks again, Jimmy."

The younger man nodded and turned to head back toward the front door. Tony followed slowly behind until splitting off toward the fireplace and dropping the wood down in front of it. He crouched down and put one of the logs in.

When he heard the door close, he closed his eyes again and took a deep breath, letting it out slowly in an attempt to force himself to think of something...anything but what was trying to force its way front and center...

11 00 11 00 11

McGee unlocked the door to Tony's apartment and let himself and Ziva inside. It was clear as soon as they set foot inside that something was very wrong.

"What the hell happened?" Tim asked out loud, though Ziva wouldn't have an answer that was anything more than an assumption.

"It looks as though someone robbed the place, perhaps," she said as they walked in.

There was a Christmas tree in the corner that had been knocked over; ornaments broken on the floor all around it. His home phone was shattered on the floor across the room; a small dent in the wall indicating he'd thrown it.

Ziva picked up the phone with her gloved hands and attempted to access the caller I.D. "I believe it is broken," she said with an annoyed raise of her brows.

"Let me see," Tim said, taking it from her and looking it over for a moment before deciding that there was probably no way to retrieve that information. "I can probably at least get the last number answered on this line. I just need to make a call." He pulled out his own phone as Ziva continued through the apartment.

Tony's bedroom was spotless; bed made and towels set out. The bathroom was neat as well. She was a bit surprised that her partner was so clean. But that aside, there seemed to be nothing out of the ordinary.

She left the room, closing the door behind her, and headed toward the kitchen, keeping quiet as Tim talked to someone on the phone.

The counter was completely cleared, but it seemed it was so because whatever had been up there was now on the floor. Among the wreckage looked to be about a hundred homemade Christmas cookies and a few broken plates that they'd most likely been on. There was also a bottle of wine, though it hadn't broken. She picked it up and examined it for a moment before setting it back up on the counter and going to the fridge.

McGee came into the kitchen to see Ziva looking through the contents of the refrigerator. "It looks like everything one would need to make one of your traditional Christmas dinners," Ziva told him. "A turkey, several pies..." She thought it pointless to continue the list as she closed the door and turned toward McGee.

"Last number to call here," McGee told her, "Was the NYPD..."

Tbc...