A/N: Hi everyone! This is my first story, I hope you'll give it a chance :)

It's just a little moment of emotional intimacy between Tony and Ziva on the lines of the many that we've been blessed with during this season. Therefore, don't let the light intro distract you… ;)

Spoilers: Shabbat Shalom / Shiva. It's set a couple of months after that events. In other words, these days.

Disclaimer: to love someone means to let them free, so no, I do not own them.

"Aaand DONE!" The sudden shout broke the silence in the dark bullpen, and lifting her eyes from her paperwork Ziva saw Tony press the enter key, stand up and turn towards the printer all in a single theatrical movement. She chuckled, amused and grateful for the distraction.

"Good. Then go home, everyone" said Gibbs entering the bullpen. He shut his desk lamp off and left without another word, heading to Abby's lab to dismiss her and McGee too.

"You ready? Steak and beer?" asked Tony, approaching Ziva's desk.

"Steak and beer?" repeated Ziva, half surprised, half confused.

"I know, it's a Gibbs thing, but seriously, have you seen him? It's Friday night, we've been overworked all week, and he's cool as a cucumber. It can't be just the caffeine… besides, I tried his coffee once, and I can positively affirm that the only thing that is worse than that is Craig's swill" he added, quivering.

"Who knows, maybe it's the power of western movies, we should quit the classics and try something different" Ziva mocked him, not realizing that she just let slip a we, and not expecting to draw an enthusiastic reaction out of him:

"Ziva David, are you actually suggesting that we watch a movie after dinner? That's usually my thing" he said with a smirk. "Anyway, western is not exactly my favorite genre, but there are actually some good films… have you ever seen the Dollar Trilogy by Sergio Leone? It's a must see, Clint Eastwood rose to fame thanks to that… When the man with a 45 meets the man with a rifle, you said the man with a pistol is a dead man"

"Ok, fine!" Ziva interrupted him, thinking that, for a man who claimed to need to try his boss' remedies to recover from the crazy week they had, he certainly had a lot of energy left.

The doors of the elevator opened and they finally headed out, smiling at each other.

"Actually" said Ziva after a few seconds, hit by a sudden thought, "I…"

"Ha!" started Tony, but the rest of the sentence died in his throat as he noticed that Ziva's expression had turned to a more serious one, the one she wore when she was trying to say something she was not comfortable with and she was looking for the right words. So he softened his tone and just asked "What?"

"Do you mind if we reschedule our western marathon and we go to my place instead? I could use your help with something"

"'course, I am the best light bulb changer in town" he said with a wink, well aware that she was more than capable of taking care of the maintenance of her house, and that, judging by her expression and by the fact the she just openly asked for his help, the something they were going to deal with that night must have been very unsettling for her. So he tried to keep it light for now, and to make her smile.

She rolled her eyes, but she was smiling. It was incredibly easy for him to accomplish that, lately.

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They dined in a light mood, commenting and laughing at the few funny things that occurred during that endless week, and when they finally sat on the couch they were so relaxed that for a second Ziva was tempted to postpone the moment where she had to deal with the reason of her uneasiness to a future date.

"Talk to me".

She heard his low and calm voice and found him looking intently at her. The care showing through both his voice and his gaze was so deep that she felt a lump in her throat and a flutter in her chest, overwhelmed by the feeling of his closeness. And not just the physical one.

Tony watched her stand up quietly and take a big, worn out book from the bookcase, then return to the couch and open it, take some sheets out of it and put them neatly on the coffee table. Both the book and the sheets were written in Hebrew.

"These are letters my father wrote to me over the last four years. He never sent them, I found them by accident in his house a few hours after the funeral. I do not even know why I went back there, I was already done with, you know, reorganizing and setting in order all his stuff, but…" she hesitated, then got back on trail. "Anyway, they were hidden inside this book, a book that I did not think I would have found there, and that is why it caught my attention. These are traditional Jewish tales for children and this book…" she smiled briefly "this book is one of my very first memories, actually." She turned to look at Tony as she went on. "I know this sounds weird to you because you have known him only as the director of Mossad, and you have seen only the worst of him, but he actually used to be… different, when I was a kid."

Tony was looking at her in total awe, surprised that she was openly talking about her father, that she was finally opening up, and not just a little bit, as he suggested when he hosted her at his place, but completely. He tried to disguise his amazement for her openness as astonishment for the revelation. "Yeah, it's not easy to visualize him as a bedtime stories kind of father, but I get it."

"Well, he did read stories to me back then. But I enjoyed it even more when he started doing it again for Tali, a few years later. She got thrilled so easily, and she got fond of the characters so quickly, that her reactions were part of the entertainment." answered Ziva, smiling fondly at the memory.

"It's been a lifetime," she added after a moment "everything has changed since then… it's incredible that he kept this book amongst other things of frequent use."
She took a deep breath, then spilled the thought that was hurting her.
"The point is that this, the book, the letters, is all consistent with the reasons he claimed to have for his last visit. I know that he lied to me again, and he had some other agenda, but apparently… he really wanted to rebuild our relationship, or the little that was left of it. He had been thinking about it for a long time."

She paused, and Tony watched her expression shift from pensive to openly regretful. He let her take her time to regain control, not wanting to push her, but after a while he understood that she needed him to step in and give her a cue to go on. So he asked, gently: "What do the letters say?"

She turned to face him again, grateful for his sensitivity and tact, and for that natural side of their relationship that always had them on the same wavelength and that made it possible for them to get each other without talking.

"I have not read them yet."

So, here was the something she needed help with.

"I did not feel ready. I still don't. I do not even know if I want to read them."

"You wouldn't have asked me to do it with you, if you really didn't want to know what they say" he pointed out, as softly as he could.

Only after he said it out loud, Ziva seemed to rationally focus that it was exactly what she did. She never planned it, she just asked him in the wake of the sensation of that moment, when she was feeling overwhelmed by the affection he had been constantly showing her, not to mention the affection that she had for him (and that was starting to take over her even during their silliest moments). It felt right, and that was it. And now that she had realized how far they'd come already, she could tell that it still felt right, so she just patted lightly on his knee, and keeping her hand there for balance, she bent to reach the farthest letter on the coffee table.

"The first one is dated June, 2009." They were sitting so close that she could feel Tony stiffen at her words, but he almost immediately managed to put aside his feelings about that particular period of their lives, because he knew that she needed him to be her rock in that moment. At the time that she looked him in the eyes, all she could see was his utter attention.
Tony waited for her to continue, but Ziva did not look too eager to begin the reading.

"Maybe that's not the easiest one to start off with" he commented, and gave a closer look to those that still laid on the table. He didn't go far with his exploration, though, since the only thing he could decipher were the numbers of the years, and even those made no sense to him, because they followed the Hebrew calendar. Puzzled, and disappointed for being of no help, he turned again towards Ziva.

She indicated each letter and translated for him: "September 2009, November 2009, May 2010, December 2010, April 2011, May 2012, December 2012."

Which meant, Tony thought making an additional translation: after her rescue, after her resignation from Mossad, after she became an American citizen, after Eli's catastrophic – well, not as the next one – visit to DC, during their chase for the Port-to-port killer (wait, did he really keep an eye on their investigations? Maybe there was some other reason), after the bombing and right before his last visit. Ok, there wasn't an easy one to begin with.

They seemed to have reached the same conclusion, because they remained silent for a couple of minutes, wondering which one might have been the less painful amongst them, providing that it could be anything "easy" whenever Eli was involved.
In the meantime, Ziva had put back on the table the first one, and Tony deep down felt relieved, because the Somalia related letters weren't exactly on the top of his wish list too. However, he also started feeling very anxious about his next move. He knew that they were stuck, and was aware that she probably needed a little nudge to finally take the leap and deal with it, but he couldn't resolve himself to say anything. She was trusting him with her heart here, and he wanted to guard it, not shatter it further.

The only letter that looked harmless to him was the one dated April 2011, but he was afraid to ask what it was really about. After some more silent moments, though, he couldn't help it anymore.

"I'm not sure" she sighed. "The only thing I can think about would make it one of the most difficult to read" she added, looking away. "Tali died in April, 2005."

And that was exactly the reason why he was afraid to ask. "I'm sorry" he whispered.

She turned to look at him again and said, shaking her head "Why? You did not know, it's okay." They smiled at each other for a second. "Besides, I'm just guessing. Maybe it's something totally unrelated, maybe…"

Her hand was waving in the air as she spoke, so Tony took it with both of his and kept it still. The distress had made her usually warm hands cold, so the next thing he was doing, before he could realize it, was reaching out to her other hand to warm both of them up and calm her down. They sat like this for a while, looking at each other in the eyes, until he finally broke the silence.

"Are you ready?" he asked in a low voice, without leaving neither her hands nor her eyes.

She took a deep breath, nodded once, and slowly disentangled one hand from his to grab the "May 2012" letter.

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During the next three hours Tony saw all the expressions he knew so well and many that he had never seen follow one other on her face. She went from one extreme to the opposite many times during the reading of each letter.
After the first two (May and December 2012) Ziva looked already exhausted, so he freed one of the hands that were still holding hers to put an arm around her shoulders and lean them back against the backrest.

She shared a few things with him, for the most part those that made her smile, but mostly she remained silent, because she was physically unable to speak, with her throat choked by the immense amount of emotions that was hitting her without mercy.

They had a moment of shared pain when she finally read the infamous letter dated June 2009, and stopped halfway through, incapable of going on. They really talked about that summer for the first time, and ended up holding each other as tight as they could, and then wiping each other's tears.

In the end, all the letters were read, their hearts settled, her head still resting on his shoulder, his arm still embracing her. They just remained like this, silently, enjoying the comfort of the physical contact and the new level of their intimacy. It was long past 3 am.

"Don't leave" whispered Ziva in a sleepy voice.

"I wasn't considering it" he replied, sounding even sleepier.

They shifted into a more comfortable position, Tony kissed her lightly on the head, and they finally lapsed into a peaceful sleep.

A/N: Apparently, nothing like that is going to happen soon, according to the "Chasing ghosts" press release (OMG, am I the only one drowning in Tiva feels here? No? Good). Anyway, I needed to give Ziva some sort of closure with the things left unresolved between her and her father. I hope that doesn't make Eli too OOC…

I hope you enjoyed! If you could find a minute to leave a review, I'd be extremely grateful. As I wrote, this is my first story, and English is not my first language, so if something sounds off feel free to tell me.

Both positive comments and constructive criticisms will be welcome.

Thanks for reading!

b/w