She stares into the glass full of liquid, and ice cubes. Her partner slides into the seat, next to her. He orders himself a drink, and turns, to look at her. She continues to stare into her glass. She doesn't even look in his direction. She says nothing to him, not even to object to him being there. She hadn't been herself lately, and he had given her enough time, and space. Now she needed to spill. He clears his throat.
"What's with the long face?" he questions.
"Tony, not now."
"Can I ask you something?"
"I have never been able to stop you, no matter how hard I've tried," she responds.
"Why do you come to a bar, if you're never drink?"
"I drink."
"You've been here three nights in a row, and haven't had a drop of alcohol."
"Don't interrogate me," she warns, still staring into her glass.
"I'm not. I am trying to figure out what's wrong with you."
"Something has to be wrong with me, because I'm not drinking at a bar?"
"That's not what I meant."
"I don't have the patience to decipher what you mean, tonight, so if you want to ask something, then just ask it."
"Why don't you drink anymore? I haven't seen you drink in... I can't even remember how long it's been."
"I don't want to start down a slippery slope," she reveals, tracing circles around the rim of her glass.
"Ok, then why come to a bar? Three nights in a row? Something is on your mind."
"Was that a question?"
"A statement. What is on your mind? That was a question."
Finally she looks up at him. He notices the dark circles under her eyes. She looked tired, far more tired than she had in quite a while. There was something wrong, but getting her to tell him, that was not going to be easy. She hated sharing, even when she should.
"A lot of things."
"Like what?"
"Why are you here? You've followed me here, three nights in a row. Why?"
"I'm worried about you. The way you've been acting, I think that I have a reason to be."
"You do," she stares down her drink.
"Do you want to let me in, on the secret?"
"No."
"You know I'm not going anywhere, until you do."
"I know. Does it look like I have anywhere to be?"
"Ziva, this is me you're talking to. You can tell me anything."
"It's not what you think."
"It has nothing to do with Ray? Since you broke up, you've been pretty mope-y."
"It's not that."
"You're over him?"
"I didn't say that, I just said that's not it."
"Why do you come to a bar, if it's not to drink?"
She shrugs, "I don't know. I just like it here."
"You don't want to be alone?" he guesses.
"Does it matter?"
"You don't have to be alone. You know I always have your back."
"Sometimes that's not enough."
"Why are you so down? Did something happen?"
She looks up, from the melting ice in her glass. She turns to him. His eyes lock on hers. She gives a subtle nod.
"So tell me about it," he begs.
"I've made some bad choices."
"We all make bad choices, sometimes."
"Not like this," she argues.
"How bad can it be? Ziva I'm sure whatever it is, it can be fixed."
She shakes her head, "No, it can't."
"It can't be that bad," he argues.
"You have no idea."
"What did you do? What happened?"
"I... I made a mistake."
"Ziva, we all make mistakes."
"This is different."
"Did you kill someone?"
"No, it's not that," she shakes her head.
"So why do you look so, damn, guilty?"
"It's worse."
"Worse? How could it possibly be worse?"
"I can't take it back."
"Do you want to take it back?"
"I... I don't know. I just know... it's not supposed to be like this."
"Be like what? What did you do?"
"I ruined it."
"Ruined it? Ruined what?"
"Everything. I feel like everything is about to come tumbling down around me."
"I can't imagine what you've done that could be that bad."
"You wouldn't be able to imagine this."
"So just tell me. What did you do? Whatever it is, I'll help you, fix it."
"Tony, you can't fix it. I can't fix it. There is no fixing it."
"I don't know anything, that can't be fixed."
"This can't. I made a monumental mistake. I don't think that I have ever used such bad judgment, in my entire life."
"Ziva just tell me, what happened? Did you crash the car again?"
She almost smiles, "No that can be fixed."
"You broke probie's computer?"
"No."
"You spit in my coffee?"
She grins, "More than once."
"I hope that you're joking."
"You'll never know," she answers, and the smile quickly disappears from her face.
"What did you do? Just tell me. I won't judge you. I am sure that it can't be that bad. I mean look at some of the stupid things that I've done. I'm sure whatever it is, pales in comparison."
She shakes her head, "You're wrong."
"Ziva..."
"I slept with Gibbs," she reveals.
He looks at her, completely dumbfounded. She swallows hard, knowing that his speechlessness was not a good sign. She stares at her drink, afraid to tell him the whole story. She returns her eye contact to him, and finds that all color has drained from his face. His mouth is agape, as if he wants to say something, but no sound comes out.