Disclaimer: Nyah.

Spoilers: Cloak, no Dagger. Must keel moose and squirrel.

Summary: Tiva-heavy ep leads to Tiva-heavy fic. Well, one-sided Tiva-ing, anyway. I'm sad Word doesn't recognize Tiva as a proper noun.

"…and that's what would happen if Michael Bay directed a remake of Hamlet." Tony waited for Ziva to react with an acid-laced comeback, but she simply continued to stare at the gated doorway. It had been a long six hours sitting in an alley shoulder to shoulder with an amped-up assassin and he was running out of new topics for one-sided conversations that ended with him being shushed. This one was actually looking better than his abridged comparison of Bonds, so he continued, "You gotta admit…"

She finally did as expected and cut him off, "I do not even know how you could fit that many explosions into a play that focuses on scheming and swordplay."

"That's what makes film such an amazing media. You adapt. Did you miss my point about how Rosencrantz and Guildenstern are carrying a letterbomb instead of just a letter? And how the gravedigger hits a gas main right after he unburies Yorick? Oh, or how the ear poison is nitroglycerin?" He stopped as she looked at him curiously rather than furiously. "What?"

"Nothing. I am just surprised that you are so familiar with Hamlet."

"Want me to discuss the strengths and weakness of the plethora of various movie versions? Branagh's is the most complete, but it's really dull for the first act, right up until the…"

She made a slicing motion with her hand. "Shhh."

He held back his complaint about being shushed once again as a guard walked past, the beam of his flashlight making their hiding place feel like a prison as it shone through the bars of the gate. Tony wasn't particularly nervous; if they hadn't been spotted the other thirty-eight times (Ziva had counted) a guard had passed, there was no reason they'd be seen this time. Still, he was careful not to move or speak until the fingers digging into his thigh relaxed. "I'm gonna have a bruise there, y'know."

"Where?"

"On my leg? Where you've been emphasizing your demand that I stay quiet each of the thirty-nine times a guard hasn't come close to finding us?"

Her jaw dropped for a moment before she corrected, "Forty-three times. And I did not realize I was touching you."

"Touching would have been fine. I'm very amenable to touching. Clenching and grasping, not so much, but touching…"

"Don't push it, Tony." She adjusted her position, pulling away from him slightly, but only for a second as she folded her legs under her. "Why did we schedule the delivery so early in the day?"

"Because it would have been suspicious if it came too late," he repeated for the – fourth? sixth? – time (he hadn't been counting) since they'd slipped into their hiding spot when the trucks had left. "You're just frustrated and chilly."

"I am not cold."

He thought about putting his arm around her to warm her up but thought better of it. Tense as she was, she'd probably respond to the contact by dislocating his shoulder. "So you're just shivering to pass the time?"

"Something like that."

He moved a little closer to her, trying to share some of his body heat without being too obvious about it. "We could play a game if you don't want to hear about Hamlet movies."

"I do not want to play any games. I want to sit here quietly and wait for our opportunity to enter the facility."

"Okay." He could handle some time alone with his thoughts. There were plenty of things to think about. There was…maybe the…what about…gum. Some gum would be the thing that got his mental wheels turning. He reached into his pocket. It would be rude not to offer any to Ziva. "I know you said quiet, but you want a piece of gum?"

"No. Thank you."

"I just thought I'd offer so you wouldn't think I…I'll just stop, and be quiet, then."

She sighed. "I don't mind your talking. I just thought that, perhaps, since we have to be here so long, we could talk about something…" She sighed again. "It is not important."

"Not important in the grand scheme of the universe or not important because you don't want it to be important?"

"Just…not important."

His woman-to-man translator kicked into overdrive. "That important?"

"I said…"

"Oh, I know what you said." He wasn't sure why he was suddenly so nervous. "Really important. Hugely important. Monstrously important." A worst-case scenario popped into his head. "You haven't been called back to Israel, have you?"

"No."

"Are you, uh, disappointed you haven't been called back?" He didn't ask why she might be disappointed, as it would probably involve a rude question about the picture she didn't know he'd found on her desk.

"Why would I be?"

Her tone caused his tension level to drop. "No reason. I was just thinking of things that you might want to talk about that are, uh, important."

"And that was the best you could do?" This time when she withdrew, she stayed away from him. He was about to start apologizing for something he didn't quite understand when she said, "I interrupted you before you could finish talking about which Hamlet movie is the best."

He was telling her about Olivier's leap in the fight scene and how it had been filmed last so that if the actor were seriously injured the film would still be complete when Gibbs gave them the green light.

Ziva took two deep breaths to force her heart rate to slow and tried to focus on the shadows outside the frosted window of the closet door, but the mingled scents in the air were proving very distracting. She hissed, "Stop breathing."

Tony gave her a pained look, but complied. With the mint on his breath gone, she was free to inhale his cologne. Usually she had to make excuses to get so close, but today she was feeling greedy; the limited space in the alley had resulted in several hours of physical proximity and now all she wanted was more, even including his never-ending monologues about movies. He hadn't wanted to talk about anything deeper, but he had as much as admitted he didn't want her to leave. That was something.

She could feel him watching her as she tried to see what was happening beyond their small, warm, pleasant smelling…she tried to pay attention to the guards, but…was he getting closer? She stopped trying to figure out what was happening in the hallway and turned to Tony. He was definitely leaning in. His lips were parted. This was…a mission. A few centimeters and…

"You are clear."

She cursed Gibbs in her head as Tony exhaled mint in her face. She turned away from him and got out of the closet as quickly as possible. They were on a mission.

Tony winced as he opened his eyes. Without picking up his head, he tried to figure out where he was and why he was lying on the floor. Guardroom? No the guardroom had been brighter, with a…no, this was the guardroom. The only thing that was missing was light. And people hitting him. And Ziva hitting people. He muttered, "Ziva?"

The situation suddenly became clearer as he rolled onto his back, groaning. He was a prisoner. He carefully brought his hands to his face to feel the swollen areas. Oh, he was not looking forward to seeing his reflection any time soon. Hopefully Ziva hadn't been… "Ziva?" He listened carefully to a soft, rhythmic whistling sound before tilting his head to look behind him. "Ziva!"

He ignored the soreness in his body as he rushed to check on her. She was unconscious, propped against a post with her hands cuffed behind her. Blood had trailed from her nose, down her chin and onto her black jacket. He lifted her face gently with a hand on either side of her jaw. "Ziva, wake up."

Her breath continued to whistle softly through the dried blood caked around her nose.

"Come on, Ziva. Don't they teach you stuff about how to shake off unconsciousness at Moussad?" She didn't rise to the bait. Or rise at all. He looked at her for a long time before deciding her nose was the only serious injury on her face, settling her chin against her chest as tenderly as he could. Her head lolled to the side as he let go. "Sorry. I'll, uh…" He looked around the room and spotted a sink. "Wait here."

After a quick search, he found paper towels and a coffee mug. Using lukewarm water, he methodically cleaned the blood from her chin and jacket. He left her nose mostly alone; even unconscious, touching the area seemed to hurt her. He had done the little he could do when the door behind him opened. "Glad to see you up and about, Agent DiNozzo."

"How do you know…?" Tony trailed off as he turned and recognized the man in the doorway. "Secretary Davenport. Does this mean I won't be getting my Christmas bonus this year?"

"Cute. Director Vance is already on his way here, but maybe you should give whoever was in your ear a call to tell them you're okay."

He squatted and touched the side of Ziva's neck, but she didn't respond. "That would be a lie."

Davenport rolled his eyes. "Then to let them know you haven't gotten into too much trouble."

"Why is she cuffed?"

"She's trespassing in a secure facility."

Tony held up his hands to demonstrate that they were unrestrained. "I'm trespassing."

"You don't scare the Marines." Davenport smirked. "Don't tell them I said that."

"They'd probably just hit me again if I did."

"Go make the call." He knocked on the door and a guard appeared.

"I'm not leaving my partner."

"I'll stay with her if it makes you feel better."

"Not particularly," Tony grumbled. He did want to talk to Gibbs, but why would it be so hard to get a phone in here? There was a damn phone on the console with the computers!

When he made a move toward it, Davenport made a clucking sound with his tongue. "Deckard, did I tell Agent DiNozzo to use that phone?"

Deckard scowled. "No, sir, you did not."

"Then take him to the phone he can use."

"The tapped one?" Tony suggested.

"Shoot a few more blanks at him if he gives you any trouble," Davenport said, pulling a chair in front of the post where Ziva was chained. "Oh, and Agent DiNozzo?" Tony caught the coin flipped in his direction. "Consider that your Christmas bonus."

He inspected the challenge coin. "Gee, thanks. I suppose it'll bring in a couple bucks on eBay."

"I was talking about the fact that the guards were firing blanks."

Ziva didn't open her eyes immediately as she started to become aware of her surroundings. Without moving, she could tell that she was handcuffed and achy. Something metallic was clicking in her immediate vicinity. Switchblade? No. Scissors? Maybe. She was going to have to let the person holding know she was awake if she wanted to find out. She couldn't protect herself or Tony if she didn't know what she was up against.

The light, dim as it was, was almost too much as she opened her eyes, but she forced herself to focus as a voice asked, "Young lady, can you speak?"

She forgot all about the anonymous weapon as she realized Tony was not in the room with her. Her desire to rip the chain of the cuffs directly through the metal post in order to launch herself at the smug man sitting in front of her didn't disappear until Tony walked toward her with a small key. He was hurt, but not shot. "Tony." The tone in her own voice made her nervous. She tried to cover it with a request for information.

There had never been a threat. The gun that had been pointed at him when they'd burst into the guardroom had been useless until she had…

She pulled her hand back before she could touch his bloody lip or bruised face. An apology didn't seem like it would be enough.

Eyes closed, Tony put his feet up and leaned back in his chair, waiting for the naproxen Ducky had supplied him with to kick in. He still wasn't clear on what the point of the night had been, unless pissing off Marines was now an official duty of the job instead of just a fringe benefit. "Probie, can you get me a soda?" When McGee didn't answer, he called louder, "Probie?"

"McGee has gone home." Ziva faced away from him as she sat behind her desk, apparently looking for something in her bottom drawer.

He sat up attentively. "Hey. What's the verdict?"

"Ducky thinks it was just some clots that loosened and that it is not something to be concerned about."

Tony frowned, glancing into his wastebasket at the bloody tissues she'd needed after a sneeze half an hour ago had set her nose gushing. "Well, I'm no doctor, but…" The memory of cleaning her up while unconscious was immediately banished when she looked up at him, revealing nostrils trailing white gauze. He laughed in spite of himself. "You, uh…"

She gave him a sarcastic smile. "McGee was smart enough to bite his tongue."

"Did he feel left out of the battle scars club?" Tony touched his cheek. Light pressure caused pain, but that just emphasized the fact that the constant ache was no longer present. He wasn't sure why a medical examiner kept analgesics on hand, but thank God he did.

Ziva was looking at him with a furrowed brow. "Was that not the correct…?"

"No, you got it right."

"Oh." She began to gather her things and he realized that he wasn't sure why he was sitting in the bullpen instead of going home. She stood in the open door of the elevator to hold it as he pulled his coat on. "Do you…would you like to get a drink?"

"I'm not falling for that. You still have my SecNav challenge coin." She didn't smile at his joke. "I probably shouldn't…" Her expression shifted out of neutral for only a moment. "…but okay."

"No, it is fine." She held the coin out to him. "Sorry."

"You can keep it."

"Please." The look in her eyes gave him the impression she wasn't thinking about the coin. Even the gauze packed in her nose wasn't funny anymore.

"Ziva…"

"I will see you tomorrow."

"I thought we were getting a drink."

She paused at the front door. "It…you…no. You are right." He smiled until she clarified, "Neither of us should be drinking tonight." He followed her to her car, wondering what he'd done wrong. "Goodnight, Tony."

"You sure you don't want…" he trailed off as her hand paused in midair, closer to his face than it had previously but still not touching him. He pleaded, "Let me buy you a drink."

"I am sorry, Tony."

"It's just a drink."

"Yes. I know."

As he drove home, he couldn't shake the feeling that they may not have been talking about a drink.

"I saw you…" Ziva found she wasn't able to continue. She was calling it instinct, reflex, because what else could you call it when you lost all control because someone was threatening the person you…she forced herself to maintain silent eye contact with Tony in the elevator. He was so angry. Now was not the time to…

"I'm tired of pretending."

Her heart leapt into her throat. Slow. Take it slow. "So am I."

And then only his anger was left. She stood in the elevator, not knowing why she had stepped into it in the first place. It was foolish to think he had been talking about something other than what was happening to them now. Or not them.

He wasn't ready. And it hurt.

"No! I have to talk to her!"

Tony let go of McGee's arm and watched him speed walk down the hall, calling after him, "She's probably in on it! Everybody else in this frickin' place is!" He heard a door slam somewhere. "Yeah, I'll just go arrest Bert because he's probably an accomplice."

He stepped into the elevator, more concerned about another woman. Ziva hadn't spoken to him since he gone off on her in the elevator. True, they had been ordered not to speak when they'd been herded into the garage for Vance's Geiger Fun Time Variety Hour, but there hadn't been a restriction on eye contact, as far as Tony had heard. He hurried through the empty bullpen, hoping his instinct was correct. He smiled to himself as he opened the men's room door and saw her splashing water on her face in front of the sink. "You do realize that this is…"

She interrupted, "Agent Lee is in the women's room, washing her hands. Out, damned spot, I believe."

"Macbeth. Y'know, if you enjoyed my analysis of the various Hamlets I could…"

"Not now." He blocked her from exiting. "Tony."

"I'm sorry I yelled at you. You didn't deserve…"

"No." She finally looked at him, and he almost wished she hadn't. She looked so sad and vulnerable. It was disconcerting. "You were right. I should not have attempted to defend…myself. We had orders and they had blanks."

"Yeah, but you didn't know that at the time."

"But if I had not attacked, they would not have responded and you…I am sorry that I caused you to be injured."

Tony leaned against the door, watching her carefully. Gibbs' refrain regarding apologies popped into his head. "I don't feel weak."

"I was not trying to protect you because I thought you were…" She abruptly returned to the sinks to splash more water in her face.

He struggled to find the right response to her admission. "I…you were…you didn't have to…there were, like, five guys, with guns…thank you." Water dripped from her face as she turned to look at him. It ran down his neck and under his collar when he pulled her into a hug.

She whispered, "I am so sorry you have to go through this again."

He stepped back, allowing his hands to remain on her arms. "What? Finding out my partner would take out the Corps for me? Because I don't think I've ever had that before."

She smiled almost shyly. "I meant the stress of lying for the sake of undercover missions you do not always understand."

"Maybe this one will be for the best."

"A-HEM." Tony turned and saw Gibbs watching them in the doorway. "If you two are finished, we're going out. Vance just gave Lee permission to leave."

As they followed Gibbs toward the rear exit of the building, Tony whispered to Ziva, "I still owe you a drink."

"I thought I owed you."

Gibbs spoke up, "Don't put a limit on how much you're planning to drink until this is resolved. I'll get Cynthia to sneak hangover days past Vance. Just this once."