It was after 2300 when Tony DiNozzo looked up from his cheap action film at the sound of knocking on the door. He paused the movie, threw off the fleece blanket he had been curled under, and set down his Budweiser.

Tony opened the door to see his favorite Israeli, her head bowed against the rain. "Hey, Probie, what's up?"

Ziva spoke in the soft, questioning way she had developed since returning from Somalia, saying, "Can I come in, please?"

Tony stepped aside, frowning. "Uh, sure. I'm about halfway done with Die Hard, but I've got both the sequels, too, if you want to watch, and there's cold beer in the fridge…"

Ziva stepped past him as he shut the door, her head still low. The rain on her jacket glowed in the dull light of Tony's apartment. "I need to stay with someone for a little while," she said. She turned, meeting his eyes for the first time, and reached to her side where her gun was holstered. She held it out to him. "Take it. Please."

"Okay, sure," Tony responded, hesitantly. "Are you okay? What happened, Zi?" He took the gun from her hand and laid it on the table by the door, then placed a hand on her shoulder to lead her to the couch. When he felt her shoulder tense at his light touch, he lifted his hand.

"Sorry," she mumbled. She threw her coat over a chair and sunk into the couch, crossing her arms in her lap.

Tony sat next to her, turning his body to face her. He craned his neck to try to see her face between locks of her curly hair. She had not straightened it in days. "Do you want to talk, or something? You aren't thinking of doing anything—"

Ziva lowered her head into her hands and was quiet for a moment except for her deep breaths. Her shoulders shook gently, and it took a moment for Tony to realize she was crying. "Hey, Ziva, it's gonna be okay, you just gotta tell me what's going on." He reached up to place a comforting arm around her, but thought better of it.

"I'm sorry," she gasped. "I'm so, so sorry." She let herself collapse into Tony's arms sobbing louder now. He pulled her into a gentle hug, stroking her hair with his thumb.

"Shh, Ziva, it's okay. You don't ever have to apologize, remember, it's a sign of—"

"Weakness. I know. I'm weak."

"No!"

She extracted herself from his embrace and wiped her face with her sleeve. "I am, Tony, I let them take me and beat me and hurt me and… violate me."

Tony shifted on the couch. "Ziva, they didn't..."

She nodded, shuddering with another sob.

"Listen, you're not weak. Ziva, you're the strongest person I know. And you can't ever tell Gibbs I said that. But to go through what you went through in Somalia… I could never imagine. I was only there for a few days. I don't care what they did to you, you're still Ziva. You're still my ninja assassin chick, and we're still family."

She giggled a little at the ninja comment, and then frowned. "But, I left you."

Tony took her hand in his. "That doesn't matter now. You can get through this. I know you can. When that bastard pulled the sack off your head I can't even tell you how happy I was to see you, alive."

"I would have been better off dead."

Tony squeezed Ziva's hand. "No, Zi, because I couldn't have gone on living without you. I meant it when I said that."

"I just. I don't know how to keep going any more. I don't know how to be a part of this world. I cannot sleep, I cannot stop thinking about it all, I just can't—" She broke off and began to cry softly again. Tony pulled her emaciated frame close to his chest, letting her lay her head on his shoulder. He felt her warm tears seep through his t-shirt.

"Ziva, are you thinking of… doing something? To yourself?"

She stopped crying but he didn't let go of her. "It's just so hard. I am so tired, Tony, and every time I close my eyes I see him. I just wanted to make it all…stop."

"Listen, Ziva, if you really don't trust yourself not to do anything dangerous, then maybe you should talk to a professional."

She sat up to look at him. "I don't need a professional right now. I need a friend."

"Okay," Tony said, his voice low. He stood, and offered her a hand, leading her into the bedroom. He pulled an old OSU t-shirt and gray plaid boxers out of the closet and laid them on the bed. "Put these on, it'll be more comfortable. You can sleep in my bed for the night, I'll take the couch. Let me know if you need anything."

He turned to leave. "Tony?" she asked.

"Mhm?"

"Could you maybe stay with me tonight… as in close? I- I don't want to be alone."

"Of course. I'll let you get changed first."

She opened the door a few minutes later. The shirt hung loosely off her shoulders, and the short boxers revealed the scars crosshatched up her legs. The insides of her thighs were bruised, Tony noticed, holding back a cringe. "I guess we should go to sleep then."

The two lay down on Tony's unmade bed. Ziva pulled the covers tight around her. She was curled in fetal position, facing him. "Tony?"

"Mhm?"

"Thank you."

Ziva leaned forward so her head was resting on Tony's shoulder. "Goodnight, Tony."

"Goodnight, Ziva." He reached his arm around her and held her tight to him as they both fell asleep.