A/N: Let's shake DiNozzo up a little bit, shall we?

DISCLAIMER: If I made any profit off of this, then I wouldn't be so freaking behind.

XI.

"You start to wonder why you're here, not there." Stop and Stare, OneRepublic

After he and Ziva decide where to meet the following morning, he heads home to clean himself up and grab a bite of lunch before he has to be at his three o'clock appointment. He takes his time showering, standing as long as he can under the spray, letting the hot water beat against his bruised skin and sore muscles until he absolutely cannot take any more.

It takes him twenty minutes to get downtown where he needs to be and when he finally finds a place to park, he is in desperate need of caffeine. Fortunately, there is a Starbucks on the corner and he has a few minutes until his appointment to stop in and get an espresso.

The place is busy, but not overly crowded. A young girl is working the register while an older guy with an earring takes care of the orders. There are two women in line ahead of him and he waits patiently while they specify the amount of whipped cream and foam they want, and when it's finally his turn, he steps up to the counter and gives the barista a warm smile. "I promise I won't order anything special."

And she returns his smile with her own, mouthing her thanks. "What can I get you?" she asks kindly and he tells her what his usual is.

It's going to take a minute to get his drink to him because one of the women from before is causing a mild commotion about the foam in her latte after she asked for none. The guy with the earring is trying to smooth everything over while he makes her another, free of charge, if only, Tony thinks, to get her to shut up.

He sits down at the empty table by the door –perhaps the only empty table in the place- and glances around curiously, already tuning out the argument at the counter. The hipster next to him is scrolling through Reddit, while the woman in the corner booth gestures wildly while speaking in rapid fire Spanish. She's smiling, though, so he assumes the conversation is a good one.

"Agent DiNozzo?"

And he startles, tensing up and immediately regretting it as his back spasms in protest. He glances up at the man standing uncertainly before him and tries to place the face with a name while getting his breathing under control because, damn, his back hurts.

"I'm so sorry," the stranger says concernedly, grey eyes surprised behind thick black frames. And then Tony remembers.

"Mr. Rodriguez," he says in recognition, and the other man nods.

"Mike, please."

"Mike," Tony concedes, nodding to the chair across from him Mike sits down gratefully, placing a steaming cup of what smells suspiciously like hot chocolate before him. And the Tony is hit with the realization that he now has to navigate his way through what could possibly amount to an emotional landmine because, hello, Michael Rodriguez lost his lover only a handful of days ago. After a flailing silence on Tony's part, he finally comes up with an earnest, "How're you holding up?"

Mike shrugs, wrapping his hands around his disposable coffee cup. He seems to give this question consideration, as if weighing what words would convey his grief accurately without completely overwhelming Tony, a virtual stranger. "I've been better," he says after a pause, lifting his gaze to Tony. "I just got back from seeing Ned's sister over in Bethesda –she's devastated. We, uh, we're having his . . . his funeral on Thursday, next week. His sister, Noelle, and I are taking him back home to Ohio . . ."

"I went to school in Ohio," Tony says lamely, utterly at loss as to what to say to this man. "Class of '93."

Mike smiles, "Kent State, class of '04 . . . It's where I met Ned."

"Yeah? I didn't know he graduated from Kent."

"Yeah," Mike says softly.

Tony debates on rather or not he should ask the question suddenly on the tip of his tongue, but he decides that Mike seems to want to talk about Dorneget, and Tony won't deny him that comfort –after all, he's been there. "How long were you guys together?"

Mike smiles absently to himself, watching the traffic outside the window, just beyond Tony's shoulder.

"We were together all throughout college," he says after a pause. "He was incredible; brilliant, funny, loved dogs. I don't know about him, but it was love at first sight . . . which is why I've been asking myself why I let us take that break. I joined the Peace Corps shortly after we graduated, and he had just started working toward his Masters, and we tried the long distance thing, but after a year, we decided to take a break. We parted civilly, you know, but it was still bad . . ." Mike's voice fades as he considers something. "Actually," he says decisively, "it was stupid. We were stupid. We had this awesome thing and we messed it up. I didn't hear from him for almost three years, and then I one day I walk into a coffee house to get a latte and there's Ned. I couldn't believe it: I mean, how many people get handed a second chance? How lucky were we? And you know, it was like nothing ever changed. It was seamless . . . I know I probably sound crazy, Agent DiNozzo, but I wouldn't trade the seven years I had with him for anything, even knowing how it ends. I loved the guy," he says softly.

Tony's still caught up in the part about second chances when he realizes that Mike's stopped talking. It takes his brain a few seconds to process the end of the story before he finds himself standing suddenly.

"You don't," he tells him seriously and at Mike's confused expression, he clarifies: "You don't sound crazy. About the second chance thing. I know where you're coming from." How many people get handed a second chance? Hell, Tony thinks, I'm on my fifth, at least.

"You got somebody, Agent DiNozzo?" Mike asks empathetically, recognizing the far off look in the older man's eyes.

"Yeah," Tony breaths. "Yeah, I do."

"Good," Mike says with a smile before his face falls a bit. "Do me a favor, though? Don't waste a single second of your time together; don't lose those three years Ned and I did. My biggest regret in life is those three years. Don't have that regret."

And Tony looks at Michael Rodriguez, at the man who lost the love of his life, and he does the only thing he can think of: He excuses himself and bolts.

And he gets halfway down the street when he realizes he forgot his espresso.