A/N: Hello all my dear reader friends! Again I must apologize for my extended absence, but I've been caught up in writing part of my next story and there hasn't been time for much else with RL intruding. For your patience, here is something new. I hadn't planned to tag this episode, but I received a request so here it is. This is for ladybugsmomma. Enjoy. ~Aliyah

Wearily Tony leaned against the busted up front door of Leon and Jackie Vance's house. Ziva's desperate, mournful cries echoed through the shadows and emptiness and reverberated in Tony's mind until he couldn't take any more. Without even a glance around to see if Gibbs and McGee were still there, the senior field agent walked back into the destroyed livingroom. The closer he got to Ziva the more he just wanted to block out the entire picture because it was too painful. Ziva sat crumpled on the floor cradling her father's dead body to her chest while his blood soaked through her shirt and jeans and turned her tan skin crimson. Slowly the wails died off and her incoherent Hebrew mumbling ceased until she was only a broken shell of the partner he knew and cared for deeply.

Once he was at her side, Tony knelt beside her and placed his hands overtop hers. Ziva didn't even register his touch because it was as familiar as her own name. Gently Tony loosened her grip on Eli, letting the body rest back against the wall before he wrapped his arms around Ziva's shaking form and drew her close. The tears that had begun at her first glimpse of Eli continued to flow silently down her cheeks as Ziva leaned into him on instinct. A damp patch grew on his chest but Tony could've cared less. All that mattered in this moment was a way to bring the smallest amount of comfort to his partner's shattered heart.

Finally, what seemed like hours later, Ziva lifted a hand to wipe her face. "He died thinking I hate him," she said in a quiet voice. "The last moment we spent together was filled with my anger, there is nothing good to hold onto." In a motion so quick he didn't see it coming, Ziva pushed away from him and surged to her feet, pacing and gesturing wildly. "I am Mossad! I should have seen this coming, I should have sensed something. But instead I let my guard down, let myself feel safe. Stupid, stupid, stupid!"

Tony grabbed her arms and shook her slightly to snap her out of it. "No, it's not stupid. You're safe here Ziva, DC is home now. You're NCIS, you're human. This wasn't your fault."

She stared stonily at Eli's body and crossed her arms, pulling away. "Tell that to him," she said bitterly. Then anguish took over her expression "Why wasn't I there Tony? Why did I follow my instincts instead of my heart? I should have been with him. I should have told him that I love him, promised that I would try to forgive him. But I wasn't here and he died alone." A shutter fell over her eyes and Ziva stood still as a statue. "I am the only one left. They are all dead. It is only a matter of time until I am next." Her cold, dead, resigned gaze fell on him and Tony flinched as a ghost from Somalia rose up in her soul. "Get away from me Tony, I will always be poison to anyone who cares."

Tony moved slowly and got back in her space. "We're not going to let anyone get to you. I won't leave you alone here Ziva. You're my partner, my best friend and right now you're hurting. I won't let you keep me out."

Stubbornly she raised her chin. "You cannot make me let you in."

"No," Tony agreed, tenderly cupping her cheek in his hand, "but you're not getting rid of me that easily. I'm staying Ziva. Try to lose me, hit me, curse at me, hate me if it makes you feel better, but I'm staying."

A tear trailed a lonely path from the corner of her eye to her jaw where he caught it on his thumb. "There was a time when hate was all I knew, it would be too easy to become that again."

Tony watched her gaze flit back to her dead father and curled his fingers around her wrist. "Hold on Ziva, let me keep you grounded."

Ziva looked down and noticed for the first time the blood staining her hands. She flexed them, staring as if trying to understand. Tony slid his arm around her back and led her to the kitchen, trying to block the place where Jackie had lain bleeding out from Ziva's sight. Grabbing a dishtowel from the partially open drawer, Tony held it under warm water and used the wet material to gently and deliberately erase the remnants of death from her hands.

When they were clean, Ziva looked around and swallowed. "I should...be at the hospital, Director Vance-"

"Has Gibbs," Tony interrupted. "You need space to grieve Ziva, give yourself that time."

"I have never been allowed the luxury of grief," she reported tonelessly.

"Until now," Tony insisted. "Come on Ziva, let me take you home."

She didn't protest and he steered her towards her Mini, finding the keys in one of her pockets. Ziva didn't look up until they pulled into Tony's parking lot and then her brow furrowed. "Where are we?"

He shut off the engine and got out, not answering until he'd helped her from the car. "My place."

Ziva shirked at the idea, trying to step back. "No Tony, I cannot. This is your sanctuary, a place where work does not intrude. Please."

Tony wouldn't let go as he led her slowly to the building doors. "This is my sanctuary Ziva, but I'm willing to share it tonight. And you are never an intrusion, believe me."

Incredibly uncomfortable with the arrangement, Ziva nonetheless followed him to an elevator and down the hall. If she was surprised at the starkness of Tony's apartment, she said nothing, watching his goldfish swim in circles while Tony disappeared and came back holding sweatpants and a t-shirt. "The bathroom's over there, towels in the cupboard. Take a shower, get clean. I'll see what I can find us to drink."

Grateful for the gesture but still feeling strange, Ziva took the clothes and headed in the direction he'd pointed. The bathroom was just as pristine as the main room, looking like something out of a magazine. Ziva shed her soiled clothes, refusing to look in the mirror and see her reflection, and entered the large corner shower. Hot water felt wonderful and for several long moment she stood there, letting it wash over her. Then in a frenzy Ziva scrubbed her skin red and almost raw, trying to get the invisible feel of her father's blood off. Finally, with gentler hands, she used the cloth to wash her body, gradually becoming aware of Tony's scent filling the shower.

Unbidden a smile touched her lips. For a reason Ziva had yet to define, she always felt safe with Tony. Sure he drove her crazy with his obsessive nosiness and constant flirting, but over the years she'd grown to appreciate his humour and movie references, and in all that time Tony had never once failed to have her back. To a woman who could never tell where the next betrayal was coming from, that meant more than anything.

When Ziva at last stepped from the shower her fingers were wrinkled and the bathroom filled with steam. Wrapped in a fluffy cream coloured towel from Tony's linen closet, Ziva tilted her head to the side, rubbing the water from her thick hair with a smaller one. With very little regard for her appearance, Ziva dressed slowly, pulling up the too large sweatpants and cinching the drawstring around her hips before rolling up the cuffs so they didn't drag on the floor. Tony's worn OSU shirt swam on her but she couldn't bring herself to care.

Feeling cold all of a sudden, though more inside than out, Ziva snagged the dark blue hoody tossed over a chair and pulled it over her head. Surrounded by and literally washed in Tony's familiar scent, the tiniest bit of comfort finally seeped into Ziva's soul. She padded through the apartment in bare feet, stopping to gaze longingly at the handsome piano in front of her partner's bay window. What she wouldn't give for the release of playing right now. And while Ziva was sure Tony would be fine with and even encourage that kind of expression, she sighed and stepped away. There was no room for music in her heart tonight, with grief and rage and hopelessness drowning her inside.

Her destination was the kitchen and through she'd expected and even hoped to find alcohol available, the surprise was in the selections. Coffee, three different kinds of tea, milk and white hot chocolate were all set out on the island in the middle. Sensing she was there instead of actually hearing something (they always seemed to know when the other was around), Tony turned and offered her a tentative smile.

"Hey." Ziva's dark, troubled eyes bored into his and Tony thought he could see the turmoil of the storm brewing in her soul. He wondered if he'd be by her side when it came to a head or blown away in the wake of her fury. Pushing the thought aside, he gestured grandly to the beverage choices. "I wasn't sure what you'd feel like. And while I have no problem getting drunk with you, tonight is not the time."

For a moment she didn't move at all, then her hand reached out hesitantly for the mug of mint tea. His fingers ghosted over her shoulder as he grabbed his refilled hot chocolate mug and guided her over to sit on the couch. Ziva tucked her feet underneath her and stared morosely at the teaming liquid resting in her lap. Tony cleared his throat. "I can't imagine what you must be feeling Ziva," he began, "but if you want to talk..."

Ziva sat so still she was barely breathing and he had to lean forward to catch her next words. "He was not always a good man," she whispered, "but he was still my father." She fixed her eyes out the window, seeing nothing. "He came to make amends, to start redeeming his sins. We had one normal moment today when we ate lunch in a diner and looked at pictures and talked honestly. But it was over as soon as his true purpose became clear, and when I found out that he had hidden the body to protect his plans." A tear leaked down her cheek. "I told him his sins were too great and he knew then that he had lost his last chance." Ziva's head raised momentarily, letting him catch the loss swirling in her chocolate irises. "Eli was the only family I had left."

Tony couldn't stop his hand from sliding across the cushion to cover hers. "You have a family Ziva. I know it's not quite the same as flesh and blood, but here you have a father, brother, sister," he paused. "Me."

Hearing the distinction, Ziva met his eyes. "I have never felt so alone."

At that he moved close enough to be invading her space. "You're not Zi, I swear. You won't be alone in any of this, and I will be whatever you need."

Ziva gave her partner the most grateful smile she could muster, not bothering to tell him how dangerous an offer that was in her current state of mind. They finished their drinks in silence and once empty mugs were deposited in the sink, Tony led Ziva to his room. No one who knew him from work would ever peg him as neat or a minimalist, but his bedroom reflected that. Bare except for a double bed, (new after the fiasco with his father), a rug and a chair, this more than anywhere else was his private place.

She looked at him briefly but shed his sweatshirt and slid under the covers without hesitation. Tony fought the rightness of seeing Ziva, stripped bare of all her defenses, taking up residence in his bed, and left to change in the bathroom. He joined her minutes later, because it never occurred to him to take the couch, observing her blank stare aimed at the wall before flicking the light off.

Crawling in beside Ziva was not uncomfortable or awkward, but familiar. Over the years they'd had several occasions to share a bed, the most memorable, of course, being undercover. But Tony also remembered the few hours they'd crashed in a cheap motel before their flight back to DC after Jenny was killed, and Paris, where they'd found solace in each other's arms and the strengthening of their rebuilt friendship. Tonight was different than any of the other times, and Tony wouldn't've been surprised if Ziva wanted him as far away from her as possible, but he was here and by default of space, close enough to touch her. All he wanted was to be whatever she needed.

Sleep was hard to come by as they lay still in the darkness, but finally a sob broke the calm and without a word Tony reached out to curl an arm around Ziva's waist, pulling her back against his chest. Her sobs shook both of them as Tony surrounded her in his embrace, whispering nonsense over and over into her dark curls. Hot tears dripped onto his arm, Ziva's grip threatened to cut off circulation, and her cries ripped at his heart, already bleeding in response to her wounds, but still Tony held on just like he'd promised. At last the tremours rippling through her faded away and Ziva was left feeling wrung out and totally exhausted from the force of her grief.

Wondering if she needed space now, Tony loosened his grip. Taking advantage of that, Ziva rolled over and allowed herself the weakness of midnight hours by burying her face in Tony's shirt and sliding her arm around his back. Shocked into immobility, Tony took a moment to recover before relaxing and repositioning his arms to keep her close. It wasn't until her breathing evened out that he felt brave enough to speak in a faint whisper.

He lowered his mouth by her ear. "I know nothing is going to feel okay for a long time Ziva, but I want you to remember that...we love you." He paused and then spilled out the rest of the truth. "I love you. It may not be much to hold onto, but I promise that fact is not going to change." Tony closed his eyes and kissed her forehead. "You mean so much to me Ziva." He sighed. "Please don't forget that when you're off fighting these battles you think you have to face alone. I can't be without you again."

Tony would've thought he got away with the confession except for the briefest tightening of Ziva's fingers in his shirt. His heart nearly stopped but nothing else changed, not even the cadence of her breathing, blowing out in soft puffs on his collarbone. Rather than ruin the moment further, Tony kept his big mouth shut for once and simply rested his head against hers, letting oblivion overtake him.

In the dimness between sleep and awake, Ziva heard Tony's words and though she wanted to grab hold of his promise like a life preserver, she couldn't allow herself to feel, not yet. There was room only for revenge, for a single-minded pursuit of her father's killer. Until that was accomplished, she would pretend she hadn't seen Tony's heart on display in the dark of this night while he held her in his arms. Later, when justice had laid a murderer to rest, Ziva would find a moment to show her partner how much his declaration meant. For now though there was only sleep and the mission of tomorrow. It wasn't much, but it was all she had to hold on to.