a/n: this takes place within my 'Red Shoes' NCIS/Bones universe. I strongly recommend you read that otherwise you won't have a clue what's going on here. As per requests, it's going to be all those moments that I couldn't put in that particular.

This takes place after Chapter 35 and during Chapter 36. Enjoy!

The problem was, Tony reflected, that he was all too aware of how much of a woman Ziva was. Since the moment she had strolled into the bull pen, the thick wavy hair with that olive skin and incredible lithe figure, Tony had known he was in trouble.

Anthony DiNozzo had spent much of his life chasing after women. Usually, he would smile and turn up the charm and they would fall at his feet. It had been a game to him at first, seeing how many he could bed - and how many he could keep wanting to come back for more. During college, being part of a fraternity, it had seemed like an appropriate rite of passage into adulthood. But he was older now, and with age he had started to question the validity of his lifestyle.

The thought of settling down with one woman was beginning to sound appealing, he had realized one day, a blonde named Candy curled up beside him. Drifting listlessly from one woman to the next, realizing that none of them made him want to put in the effort to learn more about them, had gone stale.

Then he had met Caitlin Todd. He had never had many female friends. In fact, Tony mused, he had never really wanted any female friends. Girlfriends – and he used that word somewhat loosely – were more his thing. But Kate came along with her Catholic schoolgirl sensibilities, preaching to him the virtues of a serious, emotional relationship, and Tony felt something shift beneath him. Kate was interesting. Smart. Funny. Unafraid to play with the big boys. Incredibly attractive.

Plus, the DiNozzo charm had no effect on her whatsoever.

Their playful flirting had slowly evolved to become a strong friendship. They were partners, and she had his back just as much as he did hers.

This was new to him. Growing up, his mother had spent most of her time lounging by the pool at the Country Club. Tony had been brought up by a carousel of nannies. Once high school ended, he had grasped at the Ohio State scholarship and packed his bags.

Tony had gotten the plague. Kate had stayed with him. Ari came back. The next thing he knew, Tony was standing around a dark pine coffin laying roses on the top. Abby was sobbing into McGee's shoulder, Gibbs and Ducky both silent and staring unseeingly ahead.

Tony had stood apart from them, his fitted black suit and white shirt immaculate. Temperance Brennan was beside him, grasping his hand. He remembered looking down in amazement, wondering when he had let another Caitlin Todd into his life. Temperance was infuriating and beautiful, and despite the sadness that Tony recognized reflected back in her eyes, he knew how lucky he was to have her.

It just hurt that the person who had allowed him to realize this was now buried beneath six feet of earth.

He didn't cry at Kate's funeral. Temperance had understood why, he knew. They both disliked letting their weaknesses show. The rest of the NCIS team treated him like spun glass. Tony decided maybe they were right when he started seeing Kate in that infamous uniform of hers.

Ziva David, then, was an unwelcome but needed introduction. Kate's death had thrown them all off track, Tony knew. Despite the initial hostility they had shown her, Ziva soon insinuated herself into the team and Tony thought he had found another Kate, another Tempe.

He was wrong.

The Israeli was an enigma. Not in the way that she didn't wear her heart on her sleeve – both Kate and Tempe did the same – but that she both repelled and pulled him in at the same time. From the minute they had discussed page fifty-seven, the underlying sexual tension between them was always just there.

At first he had put it down to novelty. She was different to all the women he knew. She was well-read and street smart, though her knowledge of the local vernacular left much to be desired. Ziva was also not quick to trust. He could see her struggling within herself, trying to mediate the internal war about whether it was okay for her to place this much faith in the three men she worked with.

What little he knew about her – and it was extremely piecemeal – often frightened him. Imagining Ziva growing up in a veritable warzone, and not getting to really enjoy her childhood or allowing herself the luxury of indulging in childish fun, often brought up parallels with Temperance. They had both suffered so much and the scars they carried, both internal and external, made Tony want to lock them up somewhere safe and peaceful.

But then, Jeanne Benoit had come into his life. While Ziva had always remained an impossibility, Jeanne was normal. Well, as normal as one could expect when your father was a criminal mastermind. She found his knowledge of film interesting, and Tony could imagine himself spending hours doing nothing but watching her talk. Her face would light up, and those dimples would appear in her cheek.

But he would look at Jeanne's smooth porcelain skin, light eyes and red hair and some part of him would wish it was someone else. And he hated himself for that.

'What Tony?' Ziva demanded. Tony cringed. She must have noticed him staring. He had forgotten how sharp her radar was.

'Look Ziva, what I said back at the lab was a joke. Just a little light-hearted humour between friends that isn't meant to be taken seriously.'

Ziva's exasperated sigh, when it came, was quiet and concealed. Much like the woman herself, Tony thought.

'It is fine,' she told him, eyes on the road. Yeah. That was real convincing.

'Look-'

'I said that it is fine Tony. Right now, I would like very much for this journey to be completed in silence.'

'In all the time you've known me, have I ever listened when you say stuff like that?'

'Sometimes I doubt you listen at all.'

'What is that supposed to mean?' Tony asked, trying to gauge the expression on Ziva's face. Her mask though, was almost as immaculate as his.

'Forget I said anything,' Ziva finally replied, waving her hand about in a sharp, jerky movement. 'Right now what is important is apprehending Natalie Dalton.'

'You know,' Tony started, trying to keep his tone light. 'Whenever we talk about your feelings, it never goes anywhere.'

Ziva turned sharply to face him, eyes flaring. 'Just because I do not prance around with that incredibly shallow smile you have on your face, does not mean I do not have feelings.'

'Hey! I don't prance. I walk around with a confident gait. And I'm not saying you don't have feelings, okay? Let's make that clear. What I'm trying to say is that you should, you know, express yourself more.'

'By relating everything that happens to a movie, and subjecting everyone to terrible impersonations?' There was a distinct edge to Ziva's words, so subtle that if you didn't really know her, it would pass right by you.

'Well then, maybe I should just fall in love with a dead man walking? Because you know, the chances of-' The words were out of his mouth before he could stop them, as always seemed to be the case around his partner. The woman had a way of crawling under his skin, noticing things about him that he tried desperately to keep hidden from everyone else.

'Shut up.' Ziva hissed, her body tensing and stiffening. 'Say another word Tony and I will not be held accountable for my actions.'

An awkward tension filled the air, Ziva gripping the steering wheel and pushing her foot down on the accelerator.

'That was out of line.'

'It was.' Her reply was curt.

'I shouldn't have said that.'

'I agree.'

Tony slumped, releasing a breath. 'I'm sorry.'

Ziva didn't respond, though Tony thought he saw some of the blood rush back into her knuckles. The trees, he noticed, also seemed to be slightly less blurry.

'I know how much you care. I can see it in your eyes. They don't shut up even when you say you don't want to talk.'

It wasn't really an apology. They would say hurtful words to each other, never really letting the other know that they regretted them.

But like all things between them, exoneration came unspoken.

Tony just wished that the distance he could feel growing between him and the team, between him and Temperance, between him and Ziva, suddenly didn't seem so wide.

Peering at Ziva out of the corner of his eye as she screeched to a stop behind Booth, he hoped that Anthony DiNardo wouldn't be something that she would never forgive.