"McGee, you sure this is this place?" Tony asked as he made his way down the dumpy hallway of an old hotel.
"Yes, Tony, I'm positive. I've got her cell tracked there now."
"Ok... you better be right Probie. I gotta go."
Tony took a breath and shoved his phone into his pocket before making a short knock on the door.
The hallway was silent for a moment before the door flew open just far enough for him to see his partner and a gun.
"Tony…." Ziva sighed, lowering her weapon from the crack in the doorway, "What are you doing here?"
"You gonna let me in?" Tony asked with reluctance, slightly raising one eyebrow.
His partner dropped her eyes, and for a moment he wondered if he should stick his foot in the door, worried she might close it on him. To his surprise however, she slowly pulled it open and allowed him entrance.
Tony took a moment to let his eyes scan the dingy hotel room. The room was dark, with the blinds drawn closed across the window. A bulletin board covered the far wall, and he could make out a conglomeration of various photographs, newspaper articles, and web searches pinned across the board. A red industrial work light shown down on a desk top strewn with papers, a laptop opened to a satellite map.
He drew his gaze back to his partner, as she stood awkwardly to the side of a worn couch with her head down. "What are you up to, Ziva…?" The question escaped his lips with a hint of despair and hesitation.
Ziva brought her eyes back up to his and replied with great resolve, "I do not think you need me to explain my actions. You are a skilled investigator, Tony. I think you know very well what I am doing."
Tony sighed. He had hoped he had been wrong, but he knew better than to think she would really move past her father's death without seeking revenge, without finding the man responsible for taking away the last of her family. But she wasn't alone. He had to make her see that. He had to make her understand that she couldn't do this by herself, that if something happened to her, he wouldn't…
"Ziva…" Tony started.
She cut him off, knowing exactly where this conversation was headed; she had been avoiding it for days. "Tony, this is not your fight. I need to do this. I need to seek vengeance. I need to find justice for my father. You do not understand…"
It was now Tony's turn to cut her off.
"Really, Ziva? You think I don't know what it feels like to want that kind of revenge? You think you're the only one who's been eaten up inside over the loss of someone they…" Tony trailed off for a moment, knowing she wasn't ready to hear that word yet: love, "… care about?" He was attempting to keep his anger suppressed. He didn't want a confrontation. For a moment, he flashed back to the courtyard of Mossad, nearly four years ago now, to their heated conversation. He shook his head. So much had changed since then. It had taken a while, but they had finally begun to truly trust each other again. Post-elevator us, he thought, with a hint of a smile. They had grown close since the bombing, and it angered him that after everything they had been through together, she felt she could not divulge the details of her quiet investigating and ask for his help, that she had instead begun to push him away. He made a resolve to refuse to allow that to happen.
Ziva sighed, she knew he understood. Over three years ago he had risked his life, travelling halfway across the world in search of vengeance for her. She knew accusing Tony of not understanding her pain was a near insult to him. It wasn't fair that she kept this from him, and she began to regret her recent actions. They were sharing things now, the things that mattered. But he was her best friend, and if something happened to him because of her she would not…
"Please, Ziva. Don't do this. Don't shut yourself up. Don't think you're alone in all this. Let me help you. Let's do this together, as a team." His eyes searched hers in a silent plea, looking to make her understand that he wasn't going anywhere.
If he wasn't so adept at reading her face after all these years, he might have missed the slight furrow of her brow, and the quiver of her lower lip before she closed her eyes for a brief moment. Yet these slight changes in her demeanor did not go unnoticed, and he took a hesitant step toward his partner.
When she did not back away, he took another step forward and circled his arms around her in a tight embrace, seeing the pleading desire in her eyes to just be held in the comfort of a friend. She turned her head and buried into his neck, wrapping her arms around his chest. He could tell she was holding back a chocked cry when he felt her warm breath on his skin as she released an unsteady response to his plea.
"Okay, together," she breathed.