A/N: SO I FOUND THIS ENTIRE STORY. If you recall, ff deleted it for reasons unknown. May delete it again, don't really know. May have to up the rating but the thing is I could only find three chapters of it. Well, in moving computers, I found the whole thing, so I'm going to repost all of it!

Now that we're getting into this, you know what Tony was thinking. Freaking story has a beginning, middle and end. And it's not like one of those cliché chick flicks, so don't expect Tony to wax poetic. Nope, the DiNozzo man tells it like it is.

Stop searching for the little clues, because they aren't so much little as they are neon, glaring signs. Big freaking neon signs that Tony didn't see.

And don't expect Tony to tell you this story of beginning, middle and end wrapped up in a neat little bow and allowed Tony to file it away in his memories. It'd be nice to think that it could work that way, but really, everyone has those memories from long ago that assault them randomly.

Everyone feels that stab of shame, guilt, whatever the hell it is from time to time.

Judgment being what it is, there's enough blame to go around. But don't place it on the most obvious source, that's a sissy move. Remember, those who enable are as bad as those who commit. Yeah. Chew on that.

(~~~)

He wasn't completely oblivious. He knew Ziva was getting into it with her dad, that shining example to which all fathers aspire to, again. He hadn't missed the long, drawn out conversations in Hebrew (no, he didn't speak it, but Ziva's tone left little to the imagination). He saw the dark circles under her eyes, and he noted how McGeek had been slipping down to Abby's lab much more frequently than normal.

With that said, old Tony would have at least had the courtesy to mock Ziva for her appearance, and come up with a few cursory McNames.

And that bothered him more than a little. Sure, they'd caught a few guys, dirtbags were safely in jail.

But Tony couldn't entirely chalk it up to paranoia anymore when Gibbs' sharp blue eyes were carefully scrutinizing him as he panted and puffed his way up another hill. The "go home, DiNozzo"'s had also gotten more frequent. Ducky again. Tony had already established that this was nothing to write home about, so why was everyone still on his case?

(~~~)

"Why don't you invite some of your friends for dinner?" Shayla suggested one night.

Tony's head snapped up from the paper he was pretending to read. "Huh?"

"You've been complaining about how you never see your friends anymore…why don't you have them over?"

And Tony's not really sure what to say, because while Shayla did fantastically well when he brought her to the bullpen all those months ago, he's not really sure about bringing them onto a decidedly less neutral ground.

And yet…

"Sure," he hears himself say, and then it's too late to back out.

Later that night, post-dinner, post-cleanup, post-sex, post-bed, during what by all accounts should be post-awake, Tony lay in bed and stared at the ceiling, hoping that the calm breathing of the beautiful woman next to him would lull him into sleep. No such avail (don't give him that look, Tony is not that much of a girl. Really).

He did discover, however, why people hate to lie awake at night. His thoughts ran through his head at an uncontrollable pace, flashing before his eyes like an 80's flick, and Tony was powerless to stop them.

All at once, however, the images shifted. Gone were the images of the crime scenes, of severed fingers and gutted women, of bosses drowning in cars and of partners being tortured in dusty African nowheres.

No, these were somehow, for some reason that he could not even begin to comprehend, worse. Yelling. Screaming. Taunts. Torture.

Be a man, DiNozzo

My god, why didn't your father just slap you?

What the hell is wrong with you that you can't keep track of one fucking phone bill?

Useless…sure don't appreciate me enough

I have to do everything, no wonder you were alone.

Lucky I'm here.

Goddamn coward…if you really loved me you would grow the hell up…

Oh, they could have been random. Said a thousand times, to a thousand different people. Yet it was him.

And suddenly Tony couldn't breathe. His chest constricted painfully, his breath came in short gasps. He clutched at his throat, so tightly his nails drew blood.

Have to get out, his mind shouted frantically, and then he was running on tiptoes for the living room. He flopped down in the seat, stuffing his fist in his mouth to muffle the sobs.

And that voice, that goddamn voice in his head, the voice that he knew but maybe he wasn't ready to face it just yet, that voice taunted him still.

Still a man DiNozzo? Stop being a fucking girl.

The sobs wouldn't stop, and Tony's body heaved frantically. He pressed his lips together tightly and wrapping his arms tightly around himself.

Oh, god. Oh, god. No. No. Nonononononoo…

You can all guess how that ended. Embarassing enough as it is, and that night kind of spun off itself. Long story short, it ended with Tony finally calming down enough to slip back into bed, relief that he had not woke Shayla palpable. Interpret from that what you will.

(~~~)

"Quite a wonderful salad, my dear," Ducky commented. "Do you cook often, because you may be quite an asset in my lab."

Shayla laughed. "I only pull out all the stops for the people I really like, Ducky."

"Well then, I do consider myself fortunate," the older man smiled.

Tony turned to Ziva, who sat silently at the end of the table, her face unreadable. She and Ducky were the only ones who could make this dinner, although Abby had planned on it before the nuns had switched their bowling date (they need me, Tony. I'm the only one who can bowl 10 pin without bumpers, and Sister Rosita's arthritis has been acting up).

Tony was surprised that Ziva had shown up, and while she was perfectly polite to Shayla, her shoulders had remained tense the entire dinner.

"Something going on, Ziva?"

Her head snapped toward him, face smoothing into a smile. "Of course not, Tony."

He snorted. "Face of doom doesn't lie, Ziva. I know when something's going on with you."

A shadow fell across his partner's face as she closed herself off completely to him. "How?" she bit out.

(~~~)

Yes, he hadn't been paying attention. At all, really. And God knows Ziva had been brushed off enough in her life.

Looking back on that, Tony can only ever see it as one more way he screwed up, not that there aren't enough of those.

In the end, though, it didn't matter. Slow road there, and no road back.