Naturally, they stuck together.

With Gibbs nowhere to be found and the rain destroying any and all evidence of the murder, there was little for the team to do except wait until morning. Rest and reflection were the main priorities - That way, they would be able to track down P2P with clear minds - but heavy hearts.

However, the idea of going home to empty apartments and overwhelming silence when he could be anywhere was unbearable, and so with an unspoken, unanimous decision, they determined that there was strength in numbers.

Tony's place was the apartment of choice since it was both the closest and the largest. Between the pull-out bed in the living room, the cozy armchair in the corner, and his bed itself, there was more than enough space for the quartet to spread out but still be close. The comfort of each other's company was like a safety tether to the harbor.

Pushing open the door, Tony murmured, "Get the lights, would you, McGee?"

Tim flipped several switches as he moved into the living room and down the hall. Abby trailed behind him, fingers delicately laced around his pinky.

Ziva lingered in the doorway while Tony peeked outside the apartment for good measure. He dead-bolted the door and spied out the peep hole before facing her with a grim smile, "Better safe than sorry."

She nodded wordlessly, and he touched her arm sympathetically, ignoring the part of him that sank at her state of fragility.

Tim and Abby stood in the center of the living room. Tim nodded covertly at Tony, and he understood immediately - They were alone in the apartment.

"I'll pull out the bed in the sofa," Tony said loudly, finding his voice. He cleared his throat awkwardly and dropped it down to a lower tone, "You three hungry?"

Abby looked nauseated at the thought of food, Tim shook his head gruffly, and Ziva had an expression that Tony could read like a book. He shrugged casually, "All right then. You know where the kitchen is."

He disappeared down the hall and later returned in fresh clothes, carrying a stack of linens in his arms.

"Huh. I didn't know you knew how to work a pull-out, McGee," Tony joked lamely, desperate to fill the miserable silence. He dumped the contents of his arms onto the bed, and he tossed a pillow at McGee light-heartedly.

Tim caught it with a stoic expression.

"Where are the girls?" he asked softly after a moment, plopping down in the armchair next to the window. He pushed aside the curtains, eyes narrowing at the stormy darkness. The rain had not slowed down.

"Restroom," Tim replied quietly.

He made a sound of acknowledgement in reply. Tony let his eyes close in exhaustion. He knew that sleep wouldn't come, but there was something comforting about having the ability close and open them - It could have just as easily been him or McGee or Ziva or Gibbs.

It was a glorious thing to be alive. Tony knew he had cheated death more times than he could count, and he had a feeling that he didn't have too many lucky breaks left in him. Tony never could quite grasp how cruel it really was. He had seen countless colleagues and coworkers go down on the job, and by now, he was convinced that being the one to die was easier than being the one left behind.

He thought inexplicably of Kate. She still crossed his mind on a daily basis, and sometimes there would be things, little things, that would make him remember her. There were thousands of things he wished he could have said to his old partner, and more than anything, he wished he had treated her better. He was different then, and with a slight jolt, Tony realized that nearly six years had already passed.

Vaguely, he wondered what he would be feeling if he were Gibbs. Probably the way I'd feel if Gibbs were the one who kicked the bucket, he realized a moment later. Tony hoped that his boss was keeping it together, and knowing Gibbs, he was probably looking over every single detail leading up to the showdown.

Tony was pulled from his trance when Ziva and Abby reappeared, red-eyed and miserable. Abby moved to sit in the center of the bed, crossing her legs in front of her and pulling a pillow into her lap. She sniffed loudly, grip tightening around the pillow, and McGee squeezed her shoulder reassuringly.

Ziva stood near the edge of the room, separated from the rest of them and swaying slightly in her spot. Her eyes were unfocused like she was seeing past the walls of the room and out into the foul world below. She appeared to have somewhat pulled herself together, but Tony knew better than that. The dark circles, broken expression, and curly hair confirmed it.

With a loud sigh, Tony heaved himself out of the armchair and moved toward his kitchen. He pulled a mug out before rubbing his tired eyes with his palms. Everything hurt. His entire body was wrought with tension and anxiety. A hammer had been slamming against his head for several hours now - He would give anything to be able to curl up in bed and sleep for days.

Out of the corner of his eye, he spotted Ziva slipping into a chair at the small kitchen table. He took out an additional mug from a cabinet. Tony hovered over his counter, working in silence because nothing he thought of saying to break the tension seemed appropriate.

Taking a seat across from his weary partner, he gently placed a steaming mug in front of her.

"It's tea," Tony said softly. "I think I got the flavor right."

She cradled the mug in her hands and avoided his eyes.

He swirled the contents of his cup with his spoon absently, leaning his chin on his palm. A part of him felt fifteen again - Sitting at a restaurant with his father, waiting for some sort of cue and not knowing what to do with himself until then.

"Where do we go from here?" Ziva's voice was hoarse and cracking from underuse.

Tony shook his head, "I can only speculate. Now that we have both a name and a face, we may be able to catch a trail, but - We don't know what he's going to do. If he's sensible, he'll disappear for awhile because Gibbs is out for revenge. But if he's not -"

He stopped talking abruptly, shaking his head.

Ziva finished for him, sounding more like herself, "If he is not, he will go after more."

"His targets could very well be us," Tony said finally, voicing the thought that had been looming over everyone's minds. "Attacking Mike could have been spur of the moment. He could have wanted to go after Gibbs instead, he could have just been studying, he could have just wanted to figure out how close we were to catching him - We don't know."

"It could have been us."

Ziva wore a wretched expression on her face, and Tony reached across the table to touch her hand.

"But it wasn't, Ziva. We dodged yet another bullet. And - Mike always wanted to go out fighting, and I think that he'd be proud of himself for it." Tony knew his words were weak, but they were the best he could muster up.

Her head was shaking slowly, and her eyes were firmly focused on the table before her.

"Oh Ziva," Tony sighed. "We'll get him."

"How many more people have to die before we do?" she demands quietly, and Tony wonders what's worse: a shouting, raging, furious Ziva or a bitter, withdrawn, hopeless one.

He didn't have an answer for her, but he tightened the grip he had over one of her hands, hoping that she understood what he meant by the gesture.

"You haven't been around here in awhile," Tony suddenly pointed out.

She replied dully, "I was here a few weeks ago, Tony."

"What kind of weeks do you count? It was a couple months ago."

"Your point, Tony?"

He shrugged in reply. "Once upon a time, you were over nearly every week, and I guess, well, I don't know. I think I just realized how much time has passed." Tony gave her a long, searching look, running his thumb across the back of her hand.

She returned the gaze steadily, and there was a flicker of something in her blood-shot eyes that he couldn't place.

"We should probably take advantage of our chance to recharge. Gibbs will have us working like dogs in the morning."

Ziva nodded in agreement, passing Tony her untouched tea. He left their mugs in the sink and turned off the lights before following her back into the living room. He touched the small of her back when he reached her, mumbling above her head, "You can take my bed. I'll sleep on the window seat."

McGee and Abby were already asleep in the sofa bed, and while the two of them were separated for now, it wasn't going to last very long, knowing Abby's cuddly-nature. Given this, Tony doubted Ziva wanted to take the armchair just a few feet away. He knew that feeling. It would be an invasion of privacy.

He lead her toward his room and felt rather awkward in doing so. He still wasn't sure about where they stood or if they stood anywhere at all. Their pasts were muddled and messy with overweight baggage that they both lugged around. Once upon a time, they were reaching a boiling point - do or don't - but they were separated before the point was even reached. She was his partner, and he cared very much about her. (he did, after all, technically go on a suicide mission for her) - Whether or not he was in love was a different thing entirely.

Hell, he wasn't even sure of that.

But then, there was EJ. He liked her, sure, but he had been with enough wrong women to know that she didn't make him feel anything significant. Tony hated to break it to himself, but in complete honesty, she was just something to do.

He internally winced at the pun.

Pushing open the door to his bedroom, he said, "You're lucky I decided to clean up before I left this morning."

Tony moved toward the long window seat on the left side of the room. It was ultimately the reason he decided to get the apartment. It was a unique feature, and the view of the city was stunning.

Ziva hesitated at the edge of his bed, looking at him expectantly.

"Hm?"

"You don't have to sleep on the sill, Tony."

"It wouldn't be right if I made you sleep on it - Or worse, sleep on the armchair next to Abby and McGee." He grinned a little.

It took her a moment to find the right word to say. She settled with something simple.

"Paris?"

"Oh."

Tony rocked on his heels uncertainly. Ultimately making his decision, he figured that since they did it before without issue, so it shouldn't be anything different. He nodded to himself before covering the distance between the bed and the window in two strides. He climbed into his bed, his heart fluttering of its own accord, and settled back against a pillow.

Ziva had turned off the lamp and crawled in also.

He was aware of her warmth, and even with the distance between them, it was a little overpowering. There was something inviting and comforting about her next to him, and he struggled to keep himself from radiating closer. Tony mumbled into the darkness, throat a little tight, "Feel free to keep your hands to yourself."

She made no reply, and just when he thought that she had already fallen asleep, she said, "No promises."

Despite everything, he couldn't help but let out a constricted laugh.