When she showed up on his doorstep, it was raining so hard that she was soaked to the bone. It had been late; nearly midnight. Her long sleeved t-shirt had been cotton and thin, and she'd been without a jacket. The rain had made her clothes nearly see-through, but for some reason that hadn't mattered. What had mattered was the lost expression on her face, the way she was shivering in the cold, and why she was here at all.

"Ziva?" he finally asked after the silence faded from his mind. She looked at him as if she were surprised to see him there, her curls rain-slicked to her skin. She rubbed a hand under her red-tipped nose, which at a more appropriate time, Tony would have jokingly nicknamed her Rudolph for. She didn't move, didn't say anything, looking down at her shoes like a child who was about to receive a punishment. "Why don't you...uh, come in?" Awkwardly, he stood to the side to let her in, not used to her seeming quiet and barely-there and...needy.

"I..." Ziva finally said softly, looking down the hallway for a moment, before she pressed her lips and nodded instead. Crossing her thin arms over her chest, she headed into through the doorway.

He closed the door behind her, and then stared at her for a long moment. "Ziva, what are you doing here?" he had always been straightforward with her, more than anyone else, and this was no exception.

She didn't say anything for a moment, and she still hadn't looked at him. "I...I was going for a run. And then it began raining, so...I came here." She shrugged, her shoulders still shaking slightly from the cold weather.

"You were going for a run? At midnight?" he replied incredulously, shaking his head.

"I needed to clear my head," she responded blankly.

He gave a false, mocking laugh that made Ziva turn her head away and tense almost angrily. "Whatever, Ziva. Do you want dry clothes or something?"

Her mouth opened as her eyebrows furrowed, but she didn't say anything, instead nodding and headed into the kitchen. He switched off his TV where a rerun of Get Smart was on, frowning, and headed into this bedroom. He thought about getting some of his old 'girlfriends'' clothes that he'd collected over the years, but decided better of it, instead grabbing his old warmer clothes from the back of his closet.

When he handed them to her a few moments later, she in return gave him a hot chocolate that, he agreed upon as well, would cheer him up a bit. She headed into the bathroom, and when she came back out, she was dwarfed in his sweatpants and his oversized OSU t-shirt, which didn't even fit him anymore but landed near her knees. He took a seat on one side of the couch with his hot chocolate, his feet propped up on the middle cushion, while Ziva mimicked his actions on the opposite side. She took a soft sip, sliding her toes under his feet because they were so cold.

They sat in a comfortable silence for minutes longer, drinking their hot chocolates, not feeling the need to say anything at all. It had always been the nice thing about their relationship; quiet, comfy, not needing to fill voids with useless babble, a mutual understanding of each other.

At least until Tony broke it.

"Ziva, why are you really here?"

Hinting that, she didn't really come around just to talk, they didn't have much a relationship out of work, they weren't as good friends as they used to be, they weren't close, they weren't them, they were lost. Everything Ziva had feared.

"I told you. I needed to clear my head."

"Of what?"

Ziva froze, unaware that he was so astute, that he knew the questions to ask. "I..." she almost began, but instead bit her lip and looked at the swirls of chocolate in her mug. "It is stupid," she added quietly, and Tony moved his feet more over hers, being too far away to give any other sort of comfort.

"I'm sure it's not," he said softly, thinking of how she'd ran in the rain, her hair still in the process of drying. Ziva still didn't look up at him, blowing softly into her drink, watching the liquid ripple.

"Promise not to think of me any differently?" She questioned, trying to project strength from her voice, failing a bit in how he felt her toes curl underneath his arches.

Instead of answering, he simply said, "Ziva."

She took a breath and gave a shaky smile, finally looking him in the eye, which were big and watery and strange to see on her.

"I had a nightmare."

Tony didn't say anything for a long moment, staring at her in - what was it - disbelief? She felt the embarrassment flush over her, heating the back of her neck, and she bit her lip painfully to stop the pressure building behind her eyes. Standing up from the couch, chewing now, she made way to the kitchen, regretting ever saying anything, regretting coming to Tony.

She barely made a step before his hand wrapped around her wrist, tugging her back almost roughly. She fell back against his knee, unceremoniously sliding off it, and still managing to keep her drink intact in its mug. She was against his leg now, his hand hot on her arm and her hip in a sort of burning way. She stopped breathing for a second; panic.

"Tell me," he said, surprising her. She didn't answer right away, fighting the instinct that wanted her to escape, calming her racing heart and charges of adrenaline.

She took a breath, feeling ready to share this with someone, to get this off her chest, even if just a bit. Her hand drifted to his shin, falling underneath, her fingers pinching the falling flannel piece of his pajama pants. "They are always about my time held captive."

He didn't say anything, but she could hear his breathing, even, behind her.

"It is stupid because I know it is not real, and...he looks more like a demon in my mind than he really was. The eyes more red, yes?" She gives a light chuckle, kneading the flannel of his pants harder with her fingers. "It is not so much that they are accurate in what actually happened. They are...looming? It is like when you are young and you dream about the dinosaurs chasing you, that feeling. Except, when I wake up, it does not go away." She rubs her nose again, hiding the sniffle. "And then I cannot help but to revisit the memories that did happen. The pain and the whips and the...violations..."

This time she heard his sharp intake, and she slid down farther against his leg. "If I think about it too much, I can still feel their hands, and how much it hurt to be...forced." Her voice was shaking with her breaths. "And some nights, it is too much. Like tonight. So I go out running, try to feel like myself again. But tonight it did not work and I...I found myself here." Her hand slid down to clasp his ankle. "Sorry," she said, stilted.

"Don't apologize," Tony said automatically, stiffly. His hand drifted to the back of her neck, gently rubbing circles. "Nobody deserves to - that..." He shook his head. "I don't mind if you come talk to me, Ziva," he instead said awkwardly, trying to say that he didn't mind if she confided in him, didn't mind when he had to listen for her. But somehow, he couldn't find the words to tell her.

Ziva seemed to understand anyways. She always had.

She turned around to face him, her appreciation etched in the lines on her face. She didn't respond, didn't say anything at all, but instead just leaned back into his chest and his hand gently rubbed the tension out of her shoulders.

And maybe that was the wonderful thing about them. They weren't being romantic, they weren't even fooling around with each other, they weren't even saying anything. They were sitting here in silence, just with each other. Maybe something about just feeling his presence behind her, comforting and warm and him.

And, right now? That was all she wanted.