A/N: I'm very nervous to post this one. I'm afraid it's OOC, scattered, and corny...but I would love some (non-violent) feedback. Thanks all!

Oh, and no. I don't own NCIS. Please don't sue me, as I am up to my eyeballs in student loans already.

Tony checked the time as he pulled into his parking spot at NCIS headquarters. 2315. He had clocked out for the day almost six hours earlier. The Friday after Thanksgiving was usually a painfully slow one at NCIS headquarters, and today had been no exception. The monotonous flow of paperwork had only paused briefly around noon, when the little girl from their most recent case had stopped by with her mother. They wanted to give NCIS their gratitude, and Angela had requested to speak with Ziva alone. From the way they had cheerfully exited the room, it seemed to Tony that Angela just wanted to thank Ziva for a book she had recommended. When they returned a while later, both were still smiling, but Ziva's eyes were distracted. When Tony raised his eyebrows to silently ask what was wrong, Ziva averted her gaze and focused on her paperwork. When he got up to leave at five, Tony had pestered her about it. Ziva cheerfully informed him that he was imagining things and dismissed him as she got up to go to the ladies' room. Hearing her lock the door, he took it as a clear sign that she did not want to be bothered anymore. Yet, his gut told him something was off. In the old days, when Ziva was upset, she would snap at him and be ferociously cranky. This new false-cheerfulness was creepy, and it completely threw off the way he normally interacted with her; they would bicker until she got so frustrated that she either told him what was wrong, or she injured him. While he loved that the new Ziva smiled more, he hated how she made her emotions untouchable.

In an attempt to unwind, Tony caught a 6 o'clock showing of Blue Lips, a new Italian film. It had a good plot, but he was unable to shake off his feeling that something was wrong with Ziva. It annoyed him immensely that he couldn't get through a movie without thinking about her. He texted her twice during the movie and once after, telling her how good it was. He offered to take her to the 10 o'clock showing, but she did not respond to any of his messages. At 10:30 he called, but no answer. He drove by her apartment and, seeing that her car was not there, decided to check headquarters. When he saw it parked in her usual spot, he felt relief, but it was quickly followed by irritation. Why hadn't she answered any of his calls?

"It's her fault I'm turning into a crazy stalker," Tony muttered as he made his way through security, causing one of the guards to give him a funny look and double check his ID.

As the elevator dinged to a stop on his floor, Tony was startled to see Ziva was not alone in the bullpen. Chad Dunham was sitting in a chair next to her desk. They appeared to be sipping tea and turned to look as they heard him approaching.

"Agent Dinozzo." Chad rose to greet him. "Gibbs must have you working some pretty crazy hours. What are you doing here at this time of night?"

"I could ask you the same question, Dunham, seeing as you don't even work here."

"Tony." Ziva stood up. "Agent Dunham stopped by for a teleconference with his unit in Dubai. What are you doing back here so late?"

"What are you doing still here so late?" Tony countered.

Ziva stared at him, confused by his tone.

"Working," she replied softly. She turned to Dunham. "Thank you for the conversation, Chad. I hope we will see you again before you return to Dubai?"

"Sure thing," Chad said, reaching out to squeeze her hand. "I'll let you know how it goes."

Ziva smiled at him. Tony glared.

"Well, drive carefully then," Tony called as Chad walked to the elevator.

After seeing Chad depart, Ziva turned to Tony.

"What is the matter?" She asked. "Why are you so cranky?"

"I'm not cranky," Tony replied shortly. "Why didn't you answer any of my calls?"

Ziva frowned and dug in her pocket for her cell phone.

"Sorry. I guess it was on silent." Ziva clicked through his messages. "Wow, you very much wanted to see that movie again, yes?"

"Yeah, sure." Tony exhaled loudly. "But after a few hours, I was more concerned with why you weren't responding to my calls."

"I'm sorry, Tony. It was unintentional."

"Were you too distracted by the Texas Longhorn to extend some common courtesy to your partner?"

"What are you talking about? I am sorry if you were worried, but I was not aware that you were entitled to know my whereabouts at all times, Tony."

"You went missing for months, Ziva. Forgive me if my first instinct isn't to assume your cell phone is off."

"Fine. I apologize. You have located me. What do you need?"

Tony just stared at her, frowning.

"Have you eaten?" He finally asked.

"Not really," she replied. "I was going to heat up some left-unders when I got home."

"How about pizza and a movie at my place?"

"It's getting a bit late…"

"Come on, you owe me. I've been worried sick that you were kidnapped by flying purple monkeys who were teaching you how to speak English correctly."

"I do speak English correctly!" Ziva protested. Seeing the grin on Tony's face, she sighed and grabbed her jacket. "Fine, but no more of those crocodile movies. If I have to hear your Steve Irwin impression one more time…"

"I have no fear of losing my life- if I have to save a koala or a crocodile or a kangaroo or a snake, mate, I will save it!" Tony promptly shouted across the bullpen.

"Remember the paperclip, Tony," Ziva warned.

He smiled as they walked to the elevator.

"May I borrow a sweatshirt?" Ziva asked when they were dishing up their dinner in Tony's kitchen.

"Sure," Tony replied. "Should be some clean ones in the dryer."

While she was gone, he set up their pizza and beers on his coffee table and popped in his most recent Netflix rental. He looked up as Ziva came into the living room. For some reason, seeing her dwarfed by his OSU sweatshirt made his chest tighten. She had stopped in the bathroom and washed her face. She looked ten years younger without her usual makeup.

"What are we watching?" Ziva asked as she plopped delicately onto the couch.

"Ocean's 11, the original 1960 version. Classic. Sinatra at his best!"

Tony dimmed the lights and they dug into their meal. Tony couldn't help but watch Ziva out of the corner of his eye. She had healed a lot since Somalia, but there were small, hardly noticeable things that she still struggled with. Her eating was the main one. She used to be able to match Tony slice for slice, burrito for burrito, beer for beer. Now, it took her half an hour to eat one slice to his three. He leaned forward and scooped another piece from the box onto her plate. She frowned at him, but he shushed her and pointed to the TV.

"You can't miss this next part," he told her.

When the movie was wrapping up a couple hours later, he felt better that he had gotten her to eat two and a half slices of pizza. He turned to her and smiled when he saw her head bobbing forward.

"Bed time, sleeping beauty?" he mocked her.

"What?" Her eyes sprang open. "Oh. What time is it?"

"After two," Tony answered. "Why don't you spend the night? You can have my bed."

"Do not be ridiculous, Tony. I can sleep on the couch, so I will not wake you when I leave in the morning."

"Who says you'll wake up before me?"

"Once you go to sleep, you will be unconscious until at least 11. You sleep like a teenage boy."

"Well, you sleep like a batty old lady. You won't be comfortable on the couch."

"It's probably safer than in your teenage boy sheets."

"Hey, I got over that problem months ago."

Ziva crinkled her nose at him in response. Tony winked and got up to grab her a pillow and blanket.

"I am impressed that you were able to stay up so late, Zee."

"Agent Dunham and I shared some tea he brought back Dubai. It was just like what I used to drink at home. Very sturdy and caffeinated."

"So, do you and Dunham have late-night exchanging of fluids often?"

"You are disgusting, Tony."

"You are not answering my question, Ziva."

"Because it is offensive."

Tony sighed, feeling guilty as he watched her shoulders stiffen.

"I just wondered if you had told him why you were upset this afternoon. You know, after your talk with Angela. What happened there?"

Ziva looked at her hands.

"Nothing," she replied tonelessly.

"It's no good lying to me," Tony told her softly. "Your eyes always give you away."

She looked up at him then, frowning.

"I am an assassin, Tony. I have been trained to be unreadable."

"You were an assassin," Tony corrected her. "Now you are an NCIS agent. Big difference."

"Not always," she disagreed. "Yesterday I blew someone's head off in front of a little girl."

"You were saving her. Her and her mom."

Ziva stared blankly at him.

"Thank you for the movie," she said as she moved to get up.

"Ziva." Tony grasped her hands, anchoring her to the couch. "You saved Angela and her mother yesterday. That's good. That's huge. You should be happy."

Ziva pulled her hands away from his.

"I also took away a child's innocence, Tony. Not even a teenager yet, and she's already seen someone get blown up." Ziva jumped up and retreated to the window, her back to him. "I was hoping to leave all that when I left…Israel."

Slowly, Tony rose and perched on a chair behind her.

"Cases with kids are the hardest," he told her. "Even Gibbs…especially Gibbs…well, there's a reason we don't see too many cases with kids on this team, Ziva. Maybe if you had more experience you'd have been better prepared."

"I've been getting prepared to be a killer since birth." Ziva turned around to face him. "I do not need more experience. I need less."

When Tony opened his mouth to reply, she went on, "Gibbs did not need me as an investigator for this case. He just needed a marksman."

"Stop it," Tony ordered her, standing up. "Stop saying you're a killer. NCIS agents get the job done, and that's what you did today. So what if you shot someone in front of that little girl? Don't you think she would've rather seen a murderer die in front of her than her own mother?"

They were standing toe-to-toe now, Ziva gazing up at Tony.

"A murderer," she replied after a few moments in a whisper. "But why are these the only options?"

"Dunno." Tony met her eyes. "We work with what we've got and change what we can, when we can."

He lowered himself back to the top of the chair, so they were at eye level.

"What would you change, Tony?" Ziva asked softly.

"Our fieldwork jackets," Tony replied promptly. "Does nothing for my sleek physique."

Ziva's face slowly morphed into the smile that Tony had been aiming for. She braced her hands on his knees and leaned into him.

"I wouldn't say 'nothing,'" she teased, her dark eyes dancing with his.

"Oh, well, I…what?" Tony stuttered, startled by the warmth of her fingertips.

Ziva just smiled at him as she backed away.

"I think I would like to sleep here tonight," she told him. "May I borrow some pajama bottoms?"

When Tony didn't answer right away, she got nervous.

"I mean, I do have an overnight bag in my car, but it is rather cold outside and-"

"Who were you planning on staying overnight with?" Tony asked sharply, snapping out of his stupor. "Does Dunham have some breakfast tea that you were simply dying to sample?"

Ziva looked at him like he had grown an extra ear.

"Why are you so jealous, Tony?"

"I'm not jealous."

"Of course you are. You are being completely irrational. I always keep an overnight bag in my car in the event we have to leave town suddenly for a case. You were the one who taught me to do that."

"Oh. Right. Well…"

Tony disappeared down the hallway and returned with wrinkly Ohio State sweatpants. Ziva narrowed her eyes reproachfully.

"They're clean!" he defended. "They were in the dryer."

Ziva continued to eye him suspiciously. Tony let out an exaggerated sigh.

"Fine. Sleep naked. I hope no one accidentally pulls the fire alarm in the morning."

Ziva surprised him by laughing as she took the proffered pajamas and went to the bathroom to change.

Tony was in his bedroom slipping an old, worn tee-shirt over his head when he heard Ziva behind him.

"What do you think of my sleek physique in these?"

He turned around to see her drowning in his clothes. There were six inches of extra material pooling at her feet, and she was gripping onto the waistband for dear life.

"Sexy," He winked at her.

"You have nothing else?" she asked, peering into his closet.

"I am not a department store!"

She sighed.

"Well, good night then."

"Good night, Ziva."

She shut the door as she exited. Tony crawled into bed, rolled onto his back, and tucked his hands under his head. Why wasn't he more tired? It had been an exhausting evening, what with worrying about Ziva, finding Ziva with Dunham, trying to convince Ziva she wasn't the bad person she had been trained to be...Tony shifted abruptly to his side. He hated that he couldn't fix everything. He had rescued her from Somalian terrorists and her father, but he couldn't change what any of them had done to her. Ziva was strong because she had faced horrors as a child that he hadn't known existed at that age. It made sense to him now why Ziva reacted the way she did after she had to kill in front of that little girl. Ziva had seen too much death as a little girl. She hated to take away Angela's innocence because Ziva knew what that felt like.

Tony felt his chest and stomach begin to ache. He normally didn't allow himself to think about Ziva and how hard her life had been. It made him unbearably angry, like the anger he felt when he thought Ziva had died. He didn't know how to control it so, when he could, he avoided it. At that moment, however, Tony felt like his anger was radiating across the whole room, squeezing him painfully. He threw off his covers and walked toward the living room where Ziva was sleeping underneath a heavy quilt on the couch.

Tony sat on the coffee table next to her and watched as her eyelids fluttered in her sleep. Emotion reverberated through him as he watched her shoulders rise and fall with her breathing. He remembered how, just a few months ago, he had been sitting where she was on the couch, unable to comprehend that she was really gone. And now, here she was.

Staring at him too.

"Why are you watching me sleep, Tony?" She frowned up at him.

"You're snoring woke me up," Tony lied.

Ziva was silent, clearly not believing him.

"I was...I was just..." Tony tried to make himself stop talking, but he couldn't. He felt like her eyes were x-raying his thoughts. There was confusion in her eyes but also…trust?

"What is the matter, Tony?" She moved to sit up.

"I…we…I thought you were dead, Ziva."

"I remember." She grimaced.

"And you're not," Tony went on. "And that's good. That's huge. I know I should just be happy and thankful you're here, but…"

"It still hurts," Ziva finished for him.

"Yeah."

There was a pause as neither could meet the other's eyes.

"I still hurt too," she admitted.

"What do we do about it?"

She lifted her eyes to his.

"We work with what we have. We change what we can, when we can."

Tony smiled, pressing his forehead to hers.

"And what would you change, Zee-vah?"

"I would move this conversation to your bed, where it is warm and not lumpy." She glared pointedly at the couch.

"You're so high-maintenance," Tony teased as he took her hand and pulled her toward the bedroom. He noticed that she had given up on the gigantic sweatpants. Her legs were bare to where his sweatshirt hit her mid-thigh. That had, of course, been his motivation all along. He chuckled silently as he enjoyed the view.

As they climbed into bed together, Tony couldn't ignore how "right" it felt; her dark hair spread all over his pillow, her gun on his nightstand…Well, that was mildly creepy, but so was Ziva, he reasoned.

Tentatively, hoping she wouldn't grab her firearm, he drew Ziva toward him. She was stiff at first, but just as he was about to flee for his life, she sighed and snuggled into him. He wrapped his arms more firmly around her waist and buried his face in her hair. She tucked her head under his chin.

"Good night, Tony."

"G'night, Ziva." He paused. "Hey, Ziva?"

"Hmm?"

"Could you keep the snoring to a dull roar tonight? I'm really tired."

"If you will, I will."

"I can live with that."

Not ten minutes later, the combination of Tony and Ziva's snoring simulated a cacophony that neither had heard since they experienced the planes landing during Tony's days as agent afloat. Thank goodness the apartment had thick walls.