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It happened all too fast for him to understand what was going on while it was happening. One moment he was laying on the floor of Ziva’s apartment, trying to fight off a clearly intoxicated Michael Rivkin while she was nowhere to be seen. As it turned out, he could pack quite the punch despite whatever substances he decided to use that evening. Damn Israeli. Not even a full minute later, however, the dead body of said officer was falling on him, unexpectedly shot to death by forementioned Mossad Liaison Officer Ziva David. 
Talk about an unexpected turn of events…
He groaned, too stunned to talk, and tried unsuccessfully to move the man on top of him to at least try to sit up.
“Are you hurt?”, the woman behind him asked, her voice barely audible despite a silence that felt extremely loud. 
She was still holding her gun, shoulder tense and back straight, pointing it to where Rivkin stood. Everything unfolded so fast that he did not even hear her entering the room, too preoccupied for his own safety.
“Shoulder”, Tony grunted, successfully managing to distract her from whatever dark thought was clouding her mind, “Fuck he’s heavy. Did you feed him stones or what?”.
Unexpectedly, she chuckled. A hoarse dry chuckle that felt so out of place that he, too, grinned widely despite the pain that was starting to cloud his vision. 
“We need to call Gibbs”, she whispered, before closing her eyes to block the image of her dead boyfriend laying on top of the Senior Field Agent.
Could she really call him boyfriend, though? Or was he just the umpteenth pawn in her father’s game of chess? Why did she allow herself to fall for a man so sure of himself that even self confident Ziva David felt small and shy when approached by him? Why did it feel so wrong and, at the same time, so beautifully liberating to shoot him? What was wrong with her?
“What about some help, Zee-Vah ?”, the Special Agent asked, before turning his face just in time not to vomit all over himself. 
The pain was becoming unbearable, his vision blurrier by the second, he felt himself shaking like a dry leaf. Alarmed by the man’s antics, the Israeli moved quickly, pulling the body away from her coworker and helping him sit up, while looking worriedly at his shoulder.
“Tony…”, she licked her lips, uncertain as to what to tell him, “What…”.
He shook his head, silently, before murmuring: “We really should call Gibbs”.
She took her phone and, with trembling fingers, selected the right phone number.
“Gibbs, it’s Ziva. We need your help…”.

It took the former Marine exactly thirty seven minutes to reach the apartment, two to climb the stairs and not even a handful of seconds to look at his two agents and start feeling pure dread pool in his stomach.
“What the hell happened? Why was Rivkin here? Ziva…”.
The woman closed her eyes and barely registered Tony taking a step forward and successfully covering her frame. Despite everything that had happened, he still had her back. Despite the angry words they exchanged not even that long ago, he was ready to come to her rescue like nothing had happened. Did she even deserve that kind of loyalty?
“I came to make sure that she was okay, he attacked me, she shot”, he explained, trying to give his colleague time to regain some sort of presence, “I would be dead, if it weren’t for Ziva”.
It was a lie. He had almost successfully reached for his gun, when Ziva entered the room. He almost had the bastard. He just hadn’t been quick enough and his partner had to take matters in her own hands. The bitter taste of disappointment mixed with guilt was almost as disgusting as whatever he had vomited not even an hour prior.
“We need to call an ambulance”, he heard the Israeli murmur, “Tony is hurt and I could not help much”.
These words too were a lie: she could have helped him fix his arm but she couldn’t bear to look at him. She would have seen the pain and the worry in his eyes and once again realised how much of a mess she had made. 
“Called Ducky on the way here”, Gibbs notified them, “I’ll call Vance once DiNozzo is taken care of”.
The woman nodded, before taking a step forward and successfully capturing the former Marine’s attention.
“We will need to notify Mossad as well”, she murmured, “An investigation will likely be conducted”.
The older man nodded, tightlipped, before sighing: “You okay, Ziver?”.
She sighed, before nodding slowly.
“I am okay”.
Another lie: she was shattered, disgusted, mad at herself and at Tony. She felt nothing if not pure disappointment: in herself, once again, but also in her father and, to an extent, in the country she swore to protect and fight for. They played her and put her in front of a choice she did not even have. She stupidly thought that she was done being used as a marionette, that there was nothing worse than shooting a brother she dearly loved. She should have known better.
The shuffling of feet climbing the stairs made the three agents turn around.
“Well Jethro, I surely hope this is important”, Ducky lightly scolded the former Marine, before taking in what happened and murmuring: “Oh my… talk about interesting…”.

“Sit”.
The door of a conference room opened with a small “thud” and Gibbs nodded towards one of the chairs. Without saying a word, Ziva went inside and motioned to sit, her hands folded neatly on her lap.
“Talk”.
The former Marine stood in front of her, his arms crossed and his voice way firmer than it ever had been with her. 
“Michael flew here to visit”, the Israeli started, “We were seeing each other”.
She closed her eyes, trying to centre herself, before opening them again and looking at the older man.
“He did it again, right?”, the Israeli asked, her voice stable despite the inner turmoil that she was feeling, “My father used me like a fucking chess piece”.
Gibbs nodded wordlessly, seemingly unfazed from her swearing.
“Something you wanna tell me, before Mossad starts sniffing around?”.
Ziva nodded, before reaching for one of the small water bottles that were left on the table.
“After you asked me about him I called his control officer to remove him from whatever assignment he was on”, she explained, recalling the frantic call with Hadar, “He knocked at my door the very same evening”.
The noncommittal “mh” she received as an answer made her wince softly. Nonetheless she continued talking.
“Tony started checking on me, spying on my phone calls, probably tracking my cellphone as well”, despite the seriousness of the situation, the woman could not refrain from scoffing a little, “I was driving home and I saw his car double parked in front of the building”.
Gibbs nodded.
“Do you think that Rivkin attacked him?”, he then proceeded to ask her.
Ziva took a sip of water, before closing the bottle and putting it away.
“I think that Tony loves to put his foot in his mouth”, she murmured, tired and suddenly defeated, “I also know that it is not important because Tony did not pull the trigger. I did”.
“Why?”.
Gibbs’ questions were merciless, ruthless, dry. There was no trace of the usual poorly disguised affection he felt for the Israeli, only bitterness and disappointment. At Ziva, at Tony and, to an extent, even at himself.
“I think you know the answer, Gibbs”, she murmured, before pointing out: “I think you and I know the answer”.
Unimpressed, the former Marine scoffed: “You shot the man you slept with, Ziva. Your career might never ever recover. I need more than a bullshit answer”.
Ziva looked at him, a steady fiery gaze that reminded Gibbs of the young wild Israeli that used to hang out with their former Director before being assigned to NCIS. Of the young lady DiNozzo called “ninja”, without knowing half of the things she had to do to please her father. Of the woman who had no other choice but to shoot her own brother, hidden behind the door of his basement. He could still hear her murmuring Kaddisch, if he spent enough time looking at the spot where Ari stood.
“Because it was the right thing to do”, she eventually told him, assertive and to the point.
The older man nodded, then sat in front of her and took her hand.
“I need to know what Mossad was doing”, he murmured, a twinge of softness in his voice, “I need to know what they know before they think about coming here”.
The woman took a deep breath, then nodded.
“Very well”, she murmured, “But you might not like it”.

When she finally made it to the hospital, Ziva could not suppress a small yet affectionate smile. Tony was desperately trying to charm a nurse into discharging him sooner rather than later. Wildly gesticulating, he was probably attempting to downplay the hate he had for hospital rooms, disinfectant smell and those bright overhead lights that one could never really switch off. Unfortunately for him, said medical provider was an unimpressed older lady that could have given Gibbs a run for his money. Oh, Tony…
“You don’t understand, I need to go home Dolores”, he smiled through his teeth, trying to conceal his desperation behind a bright smile that never fully reached his eyes.
“And you seem not to understand that I can’t just let you go, Anthony ”, the woman sighed, before turning around to fetch a file, “Not until someone comes to pick you up”.
The Israeli moved quickly, reaching the counter before the Special Agent could start arguing again.
“That would be me”, she smiled apologetically at the nurse, “I am sorry it took me so long”.
Tony turned around, clearly surprised to see her there. He looked at her for a whole thirty seconds, waiting for an explanation that she was not ready to give him yet.
“You need to make sure that he wakes up every four hours for his painkillers”, the nurse was completely unaware of the man’s internal turmoil and started explaining to Ziva whatever was needed of her to make sure that Tony would not end up in the Emergency Room once again, “He needs to drink some fluids and rest. No moving heavy things, no carrying stuff around”.
The Mossad Officer nodded, unfazed.
“Of course”.
The older lady took a good look at Tony, critically going over every inch of his face, then murmured: “Are you sure you wanna do that to yourself, sweetheart?”.
The Israeli chuckled, before answering: “I will be fine, he knows how to behave”.
Ignoring Tony’s outraged expression, Ziva took his hand and nodded towards the end of the corridor, where the elevators stood.
“Come on”, she tried to encourage him softly, “Let’s get you home”.
They walked silently, exchanging odd glances at each other and not even trying to hide it. Once inside the elevator, the Special Agent went to push the emergency button only to be stopped by his colleague brushing her fingers against his wrist.
“Not here, please”, she whispered, closing her eyes for a quick second, “Please, Tony”.
He nodded, then sighed tiredly.
“I hope you are up for a sleepover then, Zee-vah ”.
They made it to the parking lot, where the Mini had been parked in a rush to get to him. The woman opened the door and waited for him to sit, before trying to help buckle him up.
“I can do it myself”, Tony took the belt from her hand and started pulling, before jamming it in and wincing with as much dignity as he could muster, “Not a word”.
Silently, Ziva closed the door and went to occupy the driver seat. 
“I can call Palmer if you prefer”, the Israeli broke the silence with measured words, “Gibbs and McGee are stuck on investigating what happened”.
“So I get to choose between a corpse aficionado and an assassin? Well fuck…”, Tony grumbled, before realising the current implication of the word he used to describe his colleague and gasping: “Fuck, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it the way it came out. Sorry, Ziva”.
The non committal “mh” he received as an answer was the only sound they exchanged for the rest of the drive.

“Welcome to casa DiNozzo ”, Tony murmured, right before Ziva opened the door, “You might want to keep an open mind about the decor”.
The woman nodded, without saying a word, before entering and starting to look for a place to put her bag. 
“You can leave it on the sofa”, the Special Agent told her, nodding towards the piece of furniture.
“You have another hour and a half before your medication is due”, the Officer’s voice was almost a drawl, her stance too tense not to look painful, “You can take a nap, I’ll wake you up when it’s time”.
He sighed, before trying to take his jacket off and starting fumbling, comically moving from left to right. After a few minutes of trying, he shot her a dejected look then mumbled: “Could you help, please?”.
Without saying a word, the Israeli helped him take the piece of clothing off and put it on the sofa next to her own bag.
“I am really sorry about what happened before, I just…”.
Ziva interrupted the other one, before he could finish his sentence: “You did not answer my question”.
Tony sighed, then he nodded towards another room and murmured: “I could use your help, actually”.
She followed him, expecting them to enter the man’s bedroom. Instead he brought her in the kitchen and started fumbling with his electric kettle. 
“Could you take two mugs, please? They are in that cupboard”, he instructed her, before opening a drawer and taking out two bags of tea for her to inspect: “Is this one still your favourite?”.
He had learned about it almost three years prior, when Gibbs had decided to leave them to go build hot tubs in Mexico. He had gone to visit her to rant about the fatal error McGee had made that day, which turned out to be a small typing mistake and very little else. She had opened her door, listened to him rant and offered him a glass of wine to go with the dinner she had ended up sharing. He had left the day after, shortly before the sun would have risen, after having spent hours discovering the soft curves of a body he had loved to ogle since way before she had joined the team. He had come back a couple of days after that and made a routine out of it, while learning small details about her. Her favourite author, David Grossman, her favourite painter, Degas, and even her favourite tea, lavender with a touch of chamomile. 
The woman took a look at it, before nodding. She could not find in herself the strength to smile and hoped that her colleague would understand.
“Thank you, Tony”.
The other one nodded as well, before taking the mugs she was offering him. He filled them with water and a teabag each, before moving to the living room again and waiting for Ziva to join him.
“I’m going to change, be right back”, he murmured, then disappeared.
With a sigh, the Israeli put both drinks on the coffee table in front of her, sat on the sofa and closed her eyes for a second. She had promised the nurse that she would have made sure to wake up Tony every few hours but, truth be told, after her chat with Gibbs she felt nothing but pure exhaustion. Her limbs felt heavy and she knew for a fact that Tony had noticed her moving slower. She always noticed. Maybe she could take advantage of him fetching clothes to close her eyes for a second. Just a quick second…

The sun was so bright that she could barely keep her eyes open. The loud crashing of the waves was almost deafening and her skin felt too hot and dry.
“You should not be here”.
She turned around abruptly only to see her own mother standing a few meters to her right, her dark eyes inspecting her every move.
“Ima”, she murmured and took a step forward, only for Rivka to take one back.
“You should not have come, motek”, the older woman told her, her voice softer and her stance less tense, “There is nothing for you here”.
“Abba…”, Ziva started, unsure about what to say but desperately needing the quiet wisdom of the other one.
"Your father has wronged you deeply, my child. You were always bound to become the sharp end of his spear and he forgot with time about the little girl he used to bring flowers to. I should have protected you, motek, but I was taken away from this word before you could actually understand it”.
Suddenly, the wind started blowing and sand obscured her vision.
“Let it go, neshomele. There is nothing for you here”, Rivka told her, her voice suddenly distant while she started fading away.
“Ima don’t go! I am alone, I need you”, the younger woman pleaded and suddenly the weight of her own words was impossible to miss. She was alone.
Unexpectedly another voice, deep and concerned, rang in her ears.
“Ziva! Come on sweetcheeks…”.

“Ziva”.
She woke up with a gasp, not even realising that she grabbed Tony’s injured arm while launching herself forward. 
“Wow, easy there”.
The man’s green eyes were full of concern and unspoken questions, his teeth currently chewing on his lower lip.
“You are okay”, he murmured, before covering the hand that was still clutching his arm with his own hand, “You dozed off while I was trying to change”, he explained to her and nodded towards the loose sweatpants he was wearing.
Ziva looked at him for a moment, before realising that she was still hanging to his arm and letting it go abruptly.
“I am sorry, Tony”, she murmured, unsure about how much of her dream he witnessed, “I closed my eyes for a second and must have fallen asleep”.
The man nodded, before nodding to the mugs they previously brought with them: “Let’s have some tea while I wait for my nurse to do her job”, he grinned openly at her raised eyebrows, “She is quite feisty you know?”.
She scoffed, before taking a mug and offering him the other one. 
“Try not to spill it all over yourself, Anthony” , she murmured, trying to sound sultry yet threatening.  Her tone, however, fell flat.
They sat quietly for a few seconds, before the Israeli noticed that Tony was still wearing his dress shirt and half of the buttons were open.
“Here, let me help”, she offered with a sigh and immediately stopped his protests with a resolute: “It is not the first time that I undress you, just try not to fidget too much”.
Suddenly, the weight of the woman’s words filled up the room making the air hard to breathe. The Special Agent gulped and closed his eyes for a second. He immediately he saw her. Naked, her eyes semi-closed and her face almost completely hidden by her mane of curls. He saw the pastel bed sheets and the clothes discarded somewhere on the way to the bedroom. He remembered the smell of her, an intoxicating mix of patchouli and desire. He was reminded of embraces that felt like home, of movie nights that somehow all ended somewhere else way before the credits rolled.
“Fuck”, he quietly swore, before looking at her and asking: “What happened to us, Ziva?”.
Incapable of finding a word good enough to properly answer his question, Ziva looked at his bandaged shoulder, once again unable to meet his eyes, and whispered: “A lot”.
“Did you mean it?”.
The question came suddenly, Tony unable to keep his doubts for himself any longer than he already had. 
Noticing her puzzled look, he reformulated his question.
“Did you actually mean it, when you said that you were tired of pretending?”.
It was a simple question, almost straight to the point, a yes or no query. Nonetheless, it wasn’t as straightforward as the man would have wanted it to be. There were variables to consider, there was a whole lot of past experiences between them to be mindful of. It was not that simple, it never had been.
“Tony…”, the tired answer he got was immediately interrupted by a scoff.
“Just humour me Ziva, for old time’s sake”.
The Israeli closed her eyes and all she could see was him. Elated when he saw her in Cartagena, heartbroken after Jenny’s sudden death, trying to juggle two whole separate lives without losing himself in the process while undercover. She saw him naked, behind her, fucking her in front of a mirror she didn’t even remember buying, kissing his way up to her breasts after he made her come once more. She saw him patching her wounds after she was framed, bringing her matzo ball soup when she got sick for the first time in years, holding her hand the moment she realised another year had passed after Tali’s death. It was not that simple and, somehow, it was almost banal. 
“I do”, she heard herself murmur, then realised what she actually uttered and tried to correct herself: “I did, yes. However…”.
Tony did not let her finish once again, he scooted closer and kissed her forehead.
“Then we’ll take it from here, sweetcheeks”.

“Where is my daughter, Leon?”.
The grainy image of Eli David suddenly appeared on the screen in MTAC, his displeased tone enough to make Gibbs sigh.
“Here we go”, the former Marine muttered to himself.
“Officer David is…”.
Vance’s answer was interrupted by the door opening and Tony entering the room, looking at the screen with his signature smile.
“Home”, he then added, “She is home which, thank God, is not the apartment that exploded three hours ago. That would have been dreadful, don’t you think?”.
The Special Agent quickly came down the stairs and took place next to Gibbs, who could barely contain a knowing grin, and continued: “I apologise for being late, I am not as quick as I thought I would be with this thing”, he indicated the sling he was currently wearing with a nod of the head.
“Officer David is…”.
Once again, DiNozzo interrupted Eli David with a charming smile and a few cutting words.
“Not an officer of Mossad anymore. I am sure you were informed…”.
It had been a last minute maneuver to gain some time and figure out their next move. They were sitting on Tony’s admittedly uncomfortable bed, simply enjoying each other’s silent presence, when Gibbs called and told them that Mossad had requested a meeting. NCIS had been granted permission to do an autopsy and Ducky would take care of it the day after, shortly before their call with Tel Aviv.
“They will want to open an investigation”, Ziva had murmured. “Then I will probably be reassigned or dealt with”.
Her flat tone, together with the resigned stance she showed, had made Tony’s skin crawl. How could she be so calm despite the prospect of being “dealt with”? How could she be so peaceful when her own father was probably planning to send her on a mission so dangerous that even Ziva freaking David would not stand a chance?
“Can’t you just leave?”, he had asked, incapable of imagining a word she wasn’t a part of.
That seemingly innocent question would have turned out to be the first necessary step for a long journey in the right direction.
“I need to talk to my daughter, Leon”.
Eli David didn’t seem to enjoy Tony’s antics, despite the younger man’s bright smile. For someone working in politics, the Special Agent realised, he definitely needed to work on his poker face.
“I will make sure to inform Miss David”, Gibbs finally intervened, before deciding that it was high time to get back to business, “Now let’s start with the matter at hand”.

When he came back to his apartment a couple of hours later, Ziva was still sleeping. After a night spent planning a plausible voie d’issue , she fell asleep shortly before DiNozzo was due to leave for the office. He had left her a note that he quickly took to put it in the bin when her voice interrupted him.
“Leave it there”, Ziva opened her eyes and looked at him with a curious yet uncertain smile.
How did he manage to dress himself without her waking up? Was it a new suit, or did he already wear it to work? How did he manage to look somewhat presentable despite the almost painful lack of sleep?
“Morning, Zee-vah ”, he sat next to her, trying to fight the urge to kiss her temple, “You will be pleased to know that our master plan managed to royally piss off Eli David”, he grinned at her, hopeful to see her smile. 
Her lips twitched just a little and, because he was Anthony DiNozzo Jr and not some probie, he replied with a huge smile and a quiet giggle.
“Hadar called”, the silence was quickly interrupted by Ziva’s calculated voice, “I am to contact Mossad immediately”.
Tony nodded, unsure about what to say, before taking a phone out of his pockets.
“Gibbs sends you this”, he explained, noticing her confused look after she had been presented with an old flip phone, “Wife number two stopped calling a while back and only the team has this number. For emergencies”.
The Israeli scoffed.
“Am I supposed to go into hiding, now?”, she asked him, annoyance clear in her tone, then immediately regretted it and continued: “I am sorry, Tony”.
The man quickly shook his head.
“We are even now”, he smiled, trying to reassure her, “we are even for yesterday, okay?”.
She nodded, before deciding it was high time to get up and get moving.
“Did you have breakfast?”, Ziva asked, desperate to find some normalcy in a situation that was anything but, “I could whip up something”.
Tony sighed, before standing up as well.
“Remember the house rule, sweetcheeks ?”, he asked her, only half joking: “Don’t judge. It may apply to the pantry and to the fridge as well…”.
The cheeky smile she blessed him with was short lived, but her tone made something in him stir slowly. It was hope, maybe even a little love. Whatever it was, it felt warm and comforting and oh so precious.
“Maybe I’ll surprise you, my little hairy butt ”, she told him, while opening the fridge to make a small inventory of its contents: “Oh well, I do like a challenge…”.

It was way after midday, when Ziva’s new cell phone rang.
“We have arranged a call with Mossad for tomorrow at eight sharp”, Gibbs forewent all pleasantries to inform her about what happened while she was trying to get some rest at Tony’s, “Bring DiNozzo as well, he did a good job with your folks today”.
The woman sighed, looking at the Special Agent currently napping on the sofa.
“Of course”, she murmured, trying to keep her voice down so as not to wake him up, “We will see you tomorrow”.
After hanging up, the Israeli stood up from the loveseat she previously occupied. She felt antsy, fidgety, on edge despite the quiet reassurance that Tony had tried to offer her. Her body had always been wired to move, after all. Her brain worked best under pressure and the waiting game she was currently submitting to did not help her state of mind.
“You okay?”, Tony mumbled, without even opening his eyes.
Ziva nodded, before realising that he could not see her.
“Yes”, she murmured, “I am not used to sitting still, that is all”.
The Special Agent opened his eyes, studying her features while trying to sit up. He took in her posture, impossibly straight and almost painfully tense. Her eyes were dark yet her gaze was distant and he could only imagine what kind of thoughts were occupying her mind as of late.
“Come sit here”, he patted the space next to him, “Please”, he added, noticing how guarded she was despite everything.
The Israeli nodded, before moving towards the sofa and stopping right in front of the other one. Tony took her hand, caressing her knuckles with his thumb and mapping all her small scars.
“Did I tell you what Hadar told me?”, her voice made him stop, “He heard about me resigning and wanted to talk”.
The Special Agent tugged gently on her hand and she finally sat next to him. They were close enough that their thighs were touching and his hand never let hers go.
“I called him, you know?”, the woman murmured, looking at her own hands as if they could give her some peace, maybe even some absolution, “I asked him to remove Michael from the mission he was on, he did not do it”.
The other one nodded, trying to school his features in an expression of quiet understanding. Truth be told, he felt the burning bitterness of jealousy starting to pool at the bottom of his stomach. What did he expect, he silently asked himself, she was seeing another man despite clearly feeling something for him? Why was everything so frustratingly difficult, when it came to Ziva David? Why could they not have the kind of soft love McGee or Jimmy used to go for?
“I am sorry, I did not mean to upset you”, he heard her whisper and silently cursed himself.
Goddamnit, DiNozzo.
“No need to apologise, sweetcheeks ”, he smiled kindly at her, “What did he tell you?”.
The Israeli sighed, before closing her eyes and instinctively grasping his hand.
“That it was my fault if things went wrong”, she murmured, “And that I should be willing to make amends, instead of leaving. That I should think about my Aliyah, about going back to Israel”.
Tony snorted, clearly unimpressed with the older man's rhetoric, before tightening his grip on her hand.
“Bastard”, he spitefully murmured, “They do not deserve you”.
The incredulous guffaw she let out only made him add vehemently: “It’s true! You are loyal, care about your people and work way too hard…”.
Ziva shrugged, before deciding that she had waited enough and murmuring: “My apartment exploded, I heard the news while I waited for you. You could have told me”.
There was no accusation in her tone, just the quiet acceptance that he too thought that she was too broken to properly function otherwise. That even her Tony thought of her as a collectible piece of China: pretty but useless.
“You were asleep”, the Special Agent shrugged, “It looked like you could use it. I wanted you to rest, sweetcheeks. That is all”.
The non committal “mh” he received as an answer made him sigh. It was like walking on eggshells while carrying a weight way too heavy for him to properly hold it in place. Suddenly he felt like eight year old Tony, attending his father's Rotary Club meeting without even understanding what was actually happening.
“What did Gibbs tell you?”, he decided to ask, feeling like a change of subject was needed.
“We have to be in MTAC tomorrow, at eight sharp”, Ziva answered, automatically tightening the grasp on his hand, before looking at him with curiosity in her eyes: “Apparently you did a good job today”.
Tony smiled, then took the hand that was currently holding his and kissed a small scar on her ring finger. Was it from a splinter? What was the story behind it?
“I learned a lot from Jenny doing politics, two years ago”, he confessed then with a mischievous grin, his voice was playful and he looked quite proud of himself.
“Jenny hated this kind of meeting, Tony”, she heard herself reminding him.
The man’s grin only became wider and his eyes were filled with pure jolliness. He was so handsome…
“Don’t you think that I know that, Zee-vah ?”.
The small laugh she could not contain felt like a victory. A tiny but somehow vital victory.

“Ready?”. 
Tony was standing behind her, present and steady without touching or overcrowding her. She nodded absently, before crossing her arms to keep her hands from fidgeting. 
They entered MTAC and Ziva immediately noticed Gibbs: he was sitting next to the technician, drinking his signature coffee.
“Ziver”, he welcomed her with a nod, then pointed at the big screen on the wall: “Ready?”.
She nodded once more, before taking a deep breath and taking place in front of it, next to Leon Vance and close enough to Tony that she could smell his cologne.
The screen started to flicker and, soon, the figure of her father sitting at his desk appeared. Behind him, Malachi Ben Gidon stood still, looking almost as uncomfortable as she herself felt at the poor sight.
“Shalom , Ziva”, Eli David looked displeased and tired at the same time, like an overworked king that is too concerned with the discipline of his knights to actually get stuff done, “I am glad you could join us to discuss the murder of Michael Rivkin, hashalom alav ”.
Trying to ignore Tony’s strangled guffaw at the mention of murder, she simply nodded once more.
“I suppose you have questions that could not be answered by reading the report I am certain you already received”, Ziva told her father, her tone even despite the older man’s words.
She was curious to know why Malachi was standing next to him in the first place. As far as she knew, he was way too young and eager to please to successfully complete more difficult missions. Just like Michael had been when she first met him. Was he the next chess piece that Memuneh was willing to sacrifice after a Kidon officer and his own daughter?
“Why was Agent DiNozzo at your apartment, the night of the murder?”, the Director of Mossad asked her, ignoring her jab, before sitting back and folding his hands on the desk, “Why weren’t you there? Where were you?”.
“I stayed behind to make a phone call”, the woman answered, her words steady and calm, “Tony must have not noticed it and drove to my apartment. He was concerned for my safety, after a colleague of the Los Angeles division was shot shortly after meeting with Michael Rivkin”.
The sly smile that her father could not suppress made her skin crawl. Somehow she felt like a mouse being trapped by a giant hungry cat. What kind of sick game was her father playing? 
“Am I supposed to believe that an American Agent whose training barely covers an Israeli cadet warmup was concerned for the safety of a trained agent like yourself?”, he asked her, not bothering to conceal a dry laugh.
“What the fuck..?”.
Ignoring Tony’s antics once again, Ziva stood straight and spoke clearly: “Anthony DiNozzo is much more trained and skilled than any man sitting behind a desk and playing politics, HaMemuneh . He has great knowledge and the right spirit, he is loyal to his team and an asset for his agency. He was aware of a risk and took action, which is why he came to my apartment”.
Before Eli David could reply to the not so subtle criticism of his daughter, the door opened revealing an over-excited Abigail Sciuto. 
“This is it, Gibbs”, she proclaimed merrily, skipping down the flight of stairs to show the object she was currently holding, “This made Ziva’s apartment go boom ”.
Ziva looked at it for a split second, before realising what it was and suddenly turning to face the screen once again. The fury in her eyes made Tony take a step forward, before gently caressing her elbow to offer her some grounding.
“Ya ben zonà” , her words made the man flinch but, before he could even think about admonishing his own daughter, Ziva continued: “Special Agent Gibbs has received a full statement from myself and from Special Agent DiNozzo. If this is not enough I will make sure to record a statement for Mossad as well. As for now, our conversation is over, Eliezer ”.
Calling her own father by his birth name, she noticed with a twinge of satisfaction, made his features harden even more. She moved her arm slightly and grasped Tony’s hand, desperate for the calming effect he had on her. Immediately, she noticed Eli David registering her movement and Tony’s reaction. Before the older man could say anything, however, Gibbs signaled to the technician to close the conversation.
“ Shalom, Abba ”, she murmured, before turning around and looking at the former Marine.
The man’s eyes were already on her but, instead of disappointment for the diplomatic disaster she caused, she could only see apprehension and quiet regret.
“Tell me what happened”, his voice was firm yet gentle, when he asked for an explanation.
Ziva moved slightly away from Tony but never let his hand go: she was able to stand on her own two feet but chose to hold on to the comfort of his gentle hold for a little longer.
“The device Abby showed you was planted by Mossad. Historically it was used on numerous occasions because it can often be mistaken for a normal pipe”, the Israeli explained, trying to conceal her anger, her pain and the bitter disappointment she felt pooling at the bottom of her stomach, “Given the timing, it is plausible that possible casualties were taken into account as collateral damage”. 
Her voice remained steady all along, yet her tone carried so much pain that, once again, Tony took a step forward and tightened the grip he had on her hand. The Special Agent exchanged looks with his boss, before nodding briefly and moving towards the exit while almost dragging Ziva with him.
“Come on, we all need some fresh air after this”, he told her, then looked at Gibbs once more and murmured: “We will see you later, Boss”.

They were walking aimlessly along the Navy Yard when Ziva broke that tense silence.
“Do you remember the night I first told you about Tali?”, she asked, before turning slightly to face the other one.
Tony nodded, thinking about the soft smile she hadn’t been able to conceal while talking about her sister that night. They were drinking espresso and munching on pizza, sharing tales about their own heartbreak. Had the context been different, the Special Agent realised, that would have been the most perfect first date.
“I had a brother as well, my father had a relationship with his mother before marrying my Ima ”, she told him and DiNozzo could not help but inhale deeply at the raw pain his partner was displaying, “I lost him four years ago almost to this day”.
The Special Agent grabbed her hand, then looked at her. She looked conflicted, slightly on edge, but the glint in her eyes told a different story: her gaze was determined, almost stubbornly so. She took a deep breath and closed her eyes for a second before starting to speak again.
“Ari Haswari was my ach, my brother”, she told him, “And Mossad gave me orders to kill him to gain Gibbs’ trust. He became collateral damage and needed to be dealt with.”.
Suddenly he let go of her hand and, before she could register his movement, he took her in his arms and held her tight.
“Your father is a bastard and does not deserve all the things you did for your family and for Mossad”, Tony murmured, kissing her forehead and smiling sadly when she started trembling ever so slightly, “I always thought the ballistics were off, by the way. Even for sniper extraordinaire Leroy Jethro Gibbs”, he then confessed and winced at Ziva’s sudden fidgeting. 
She moved out of his embrace and looked at him with sad big eyes, her expression made him regret the words he just said.
“I had no choice, he would have killed Gibbs”, there was a twinge of panic in her words, the walls she so carefully created to conceal herself were crumbling, “I had to, I swear I…”.
Once again, the Special Agent took her in his arms and held tight, successfully stopping her flow of desperate pleas.
“I know, sweetcheeks”, he murmured slowly, wanting her to fully digest his words, “I know that, despite your training and your past, you are not the ruthless assassin they wanted you to become. I know you , Ziva”.
I love you, he would have wanted to tell her. I love you and I believe you and I trust you. The time to talk about them, however, had yet to come and, for once, Anthony DiNozzo decided to be patient rather than self-centered.
“What now?”, he heard her ask, “I have no family left, not even a place to stay. What will I do?”.
Tony held her tight, before smiling that contagious smile of his and replying: “Now, sweetcheeks, you start living. Not for Mossad, not even for NCIS but for yourself”.
Maybe a little for me too.
She scoffed, still unsure about a future that she never quite pictured like the one that was to unfold in front of her.
“Also, could I interest you in the new upgraded Special Bed I purchased while I could not sleep? I even promise to keep my limbs to myself”, the Special Agent took his phone out to show her pictures of the king size bed he recently settled on.
She smiled, before sniffing quietly and offering him a tentative smile.
“Thank you”, Ziva murmured, before kissing the corner of his lips, “I think I would like that very much”.

The first months after Rivkin’s passing had been difficult to say the least. They weren’t quite a couple, not in the traditional sense at least, despite often acting like one and cherishing each other like lovers instead of friends. They hugged and cuddled and sometimes even kissed, but the ghost of the dead Israeli prevented them from going any further. Despite the clear lust and the unfiltered want they often felt pooling at the bottom of their stomach, they decided to wait until it felt right.
Ziva applied to become a Special Agent shortly after Halloween and, despite the diplomatic nightmare he was left with, Leon Vance offered to help her become an American Citizen by pulling some strings. Tony made fun of her for a short few hours, giggling at her dirty looks, before coming back to the apartment with a shopping canva full of learning materials and a few DVDs. Apparently, “historical movies can only improve your knowledge, sweetcheeks”. They watched them over and over again, tucked under a light blue blanket and munching on popcorn. For her part, Ziva graciously refrained from pointing out all the historic inaccuracies she ended up spotting, quietly content while resting against the man’s shoulder.
It took a whole Christmas Party, a drunk secretary shamelessly flirting with Tony and one of Gibbs’ head slaps for them to go home and finally christen the new bed properly. In the months prior to the event, despite everyone at work thinking differently, they had only gone as far as making out before going to sleep, too afraid to take a step that felt like a leap.
“This is it”, Tony murmured in her hair, while she was lazily tracing patterns on his bare chest, “Now you can not run away anymore”.
Ziva looked at him, tender and so open, then kissed his chest.
“I suppose I will have to endure you, yes”, she murmured, before licking his nipple and sucking on it just enough to make him whimper slightly.
They got married two years after that, with a small ceremony in Gibbs’ backyard. Eli David didn’t show, despite the crispy invite they sent his way. She walked the aisle with Schmeil, who flew to witness a day he never saw coming for the wilde chaya he missed so dearly, back in Tel Aviv.
“We both made our choices, ahuvi ”, Ziva told Tony, before kissing him softly, “Besides, I have my whole family here”.
Tali was born shortly before their first wedding anniversary, a small bundle of joy that they did not see coming. The little girl was sleeping soundly in her mother’s arms when Tony entered the bedroom and sat next to his wife, offering her a bite of his sandwich.
“Do you ever think about what could have happened?”, he asked then, while she was trying so carefully to take a few crumbs out of her daughter’s hair, “If you did not resign from Mossad, I mean”.
Ziva nodded slowly, clearly pensive, before stealing another bite of the sandwich.
“Maybe this was inevitable”, she murmured, smiling softly at the grin he could not hide, “Who knows how long it would have taken us otherwise, mh?”.
Careful not to jostle Tali, she stretched just enough to reach and kiss him.
“I have to admit it, though: I quite like how things turned out”, she whispered, before kissing him again.
“You and I both, sweetcheeks. You and I both”.