A/N: Heavy spoilers for Shalom (as in, exact lines and a pretty good chunk of the middle of the episode)!

Much like my first fic, "Contrast," this baby was borne out of the USA marathon of NCIS that aired Saturday. Of course starting with one of my favorite episodes, "Shalom" for which I have always wanted to write a fic. Sadly, I'm starting to feel like a broken record with all the Tiva-togetherness-that-no-one-knows-about fics I write. I can't help it! It's where my brain goes whenever I watch anything that doesn't involved Jeanne! I hope you all haven't gotten sick of them because here's yet another one, inspired by the assumption that Officer Bashan has about Ziva sleeping with Tony.

Oh! Italics indicated thoughts or memories in most places.

Disclaimer: So not mine. I just like to pretend that the writers have a secret agenda for Tiva that one day they'll spring on us!

A Matter of Trust

She was running for her life and, until five minutes ago, he had no idea where to find her. He hadn't spoken to her since that morning when he had stumbled out of bed to see her lacing up her running shoes: a memory that seemed so far away at this moment.

He had wiped his eyes to clear himself of lingering sleep and suddenly launched himself across the bed to her. He landed next to her, encircling her waist with his right arm as she bent over to finish knotting the lace of her shoe. She yelped in surprise as he pulled her back to lay down opposite him.

"Tony, if you do not let me go, you will be late for work."

"And you won't?" He asked, an amused smile flashing across his face. She smiled mischievously back at him.

"I have an 'in' with the new team leader..."

"Oh, is that right?" He leaned over her to tickle her sides and she let out a hearty laugh in response. She batted at his arms half-heartedly until he swooped down to capture her lips in his.

She was in hiding somewhere--somewhere where he couldn't offer her any comfort or protection. She was alone, for all he knew. Nothing to keep her mind off everything that had just taken place; no one to take her in their arms and tell her that everything would be okay. No one to wipe away the tears he was sure she was trying desperately to keep at bay. He needed to be there--with her. Now.

Tony slammed his fist into the autopsy table in frustration before the others filtered in to meet him. He had to help her.

But she wouldn't call him--wouldn't call any of them. So, he would do what he could to protect her from afar. To save her.

A plan began to formulate, but Tony felt that they were stuck in quicksand: slowly drowning without information and no quick reprieve readily available.

"Abs, I need you to go--"

"I talked to Ziva yesterday." Abby interrupted. Tony's heart fell in his chest. She trusted Abby, but she didn't trust him. He tried to keep the disappointment out of his voice with a suspicious-sounding joke.

A few minutes later, he had ripped the paper out of her hand and dialed the number scribbled before him. He felt his heart soar as the phone began to ring, but then dropped again quickly when there was no answer. He began to make a defeated quip at Abby when he heard the line pick up.

"Ziva?" he asked, holding his breath for her reply.

When her sarcastic reply filled his ears, he realized that he had never been so happy to hear her sound so upset.

"Tell Abby I'm going to kill her."

"We love you, too," he said slowly. His voice was filled with intention that he hoped the others wouldn't pick up on. I love you, Ziva.

He turned away from them to give their conversation some privacy.

"I'm hanging up now."

"No you're not, you're going to tell me what's going on here," he said, barely masking his contempt for her vanishing act. He stepped further away from the others, unsure whether he could remain calm enough to keep from blurting out declarations of love and protection. Instead, he opted for firm and unyielding. He needed to be with her five minutes ago and he wouldn't tolerate any disruptions in finding her.

They traded suspicions and comforts quickly until he had mentioned Gibbs--the only other man he trusted to find and protect Ziva with the same vigor that he would himself.

"Gibbs? Why didn't you say so?" she asked, glad to hand over the phone and get away from the conversation she wasn't ready to have with Tony--one she was sure she would forced into by the day's end.

A conversation about trust.

"DiNozzo, you have ten seconds to tell me why I'm not in Mexico building a teak hot tub right now...9..."

Tony was stunned into silence. He couldn't believe those words had really just left Gibbs' mouth. Ziva is in trouble--isn't that enough?

--

She was hiding out in Gibbs' basement--fleeing from the FBI, NCIS, and probably Mossad. Not even Gibbs had the manpower to shield her from that kind of fight. Especially after months of drinking with Franks in Mexico.

But at least she wasn't alone. She had someone, even if it wasn't him at the moment.

As the thought passed through his mind, his foot pressed harder into the gas. I should be there.

Nearly missing an oncoming car, he swerved into a spot in front of the house. His parking left something to be desired--if he hadn't wrecked his front end on the curb, then part of the back end was in danger of collision sticking out into the road. Tony didn't notice either as he jumped out of the car and raced into the house.

He calmed himself at the door, drawing in a deep breath, straightening his tie, and turning the knob slowly.

The first thing he heard were two voices muffled by the door to the basement.Gibbs is here. She isn't alone, he reminded himself.

He directed silent thanks upward and stepped tentatively through the doorway.

"How many times do I have to tell you that I don't believe in--"

"In coincidences? I know," she echoed as he walked through the door, her gun pointed in his direction.

"Lucky for you, neither do I. According to the FBI, I should be the one aiming my weapon at you."

He descended the stairs as he spoke, noticing that she had her weapon trained on him a beat longer than normal. It broke his heart to realize that the walls he had spent the last few months tearing down had gone up so quickly. She didn't trust him.

As they spoke about the circumstances—trying to convince her that she had been set up by her former partner--he felt a sickening feeling in the pit of his stomach. He was her partner, not the undead-former-Mossad-officer Eschel.

He thrust the phone in Gibbs' direction suddenly, "I thought you might be needing this."

If she thought that all partners were capable of betrayal, he would show her that they weren't. He would be her partner--he would follow her anywhere and he would make sure that she understood what loyalty felt like. He didn't want to be the boss anymore: the boss wasn't allowed to drop all his responsibilities for her. And right now, that was the only thing he wanted to do.

Instead, Gibbs took his coffee and berated him for his apparent lack of leadership skills. Like he could know some asshole from Ziva's past would pull a stunt like this. If he did, he would've made sure he kept her in bed all day.

But that wasn't an option now. He had to take control of the situation from the position he hated--as her boss.

"What's the plan?"

"Things are bad enough for NCIS as it is, Tony," she started. She was shutting him off again, just like she had when she called Abby, just like she had when she brought in Gibbs. "You can't--"

"I don't remember asking your opinion, Officer David." He clenched his jaw and stared in her direction, challenging her.

"You see? He's been completely insufferable since you left!" At any other time, her indignant expression would have brought a smile to his face. She challenged him right back and he couldn't help but love her for it.

"Tony, I do not think you are doing that correctly," she said condescendingly as she stared at him. He was standing over the kitchen counter pouring, mashing, and stirring eagerly. He looked up at her with mischief shining in his eyes. He gave her a big, toothy grin and turned to face her. His front was covered in flour and droppings of what she only hoped wasn't their dinner.

"Am too," he countered. In his fist was a large wooden spoon caked with yellow and white…goop.

"It does not look like falafel, Tony," she said, pointing at the limp and watery bowl of smashed chickpeas in front of him. She grimaced as she took in the sight of him. "They should at least be able to be rolled into small balls and those…are not."

"Well, if I had my way, we would be eating pizza right now. You're the one who wanted falafel and hummus and…all this mushy stuff."

"It is not mushy, Tony! Not when it is made correctly," she added, looking up at him with a look of annoyance. Her eyes flicked over to the bowl as she thought of a way to remedy the situation. Her hands shot out to grab it from him. By the time he had reacted, she was tilting the bowl precariously over the garbage disposal.

He lunged forward to save his hard work and grabbed the bowl from her hands just in time. He held it over his head, just out of her reach, and she began to assail him with gentle blows. Both were laughing as they half-heartedly fought for control.


"It is not worth saving, Tony!" she giggled. He feigned sadness as he brought the bowl down to set on the counter. She took in his pouty lower lip and wrapped her arms around him. "I mean, it is. It is very much worth saving. It looks…wonderful."

She barely held in her disgust as she spoke and Tony let out a small laugh. She reached up planted a loving kiss on his lips.

"But maybe we should order pizza," he said finally, kissing her back once more as he threw the bowl into the sink.

But now, her indignancy was not so endearing. As she stood next to him, staring at him defiantly, he was frustrated by it.

"That true, Tony?" Gibbs asked, sounding amused despite the situation. He eyed them both and was able, for once, to enjoy the energy that buzzed between them. Because of his retirement, he didn't have to worry about whether his senior field agent and his liaison officer were sleeping together. Or worse: if they'd fallen in love.

"When I need to be."

Over the last few months, Tony had come to know Ziva like the back of his hand. Her likes, her dislikes, her pet peeves, and her guilty pleasures. She couldn't hide anything from him. He knew that her current stubbornness was poorly masked fear. So, he stared right back at her, willing her to find comfort in the space between them.

"Yeah? Maybe you were the right man for the job." Gibbs let out a small chuckle as he saw the looks pass between them. Yep, this was definitely something that he didn't need to worry about any longer. "Our plan is to find this guy before he gets out of the country."

Before he could elaborate, Tony interrupted, "Ziva, go call Abby--tell her I'll be here for awhile and that if McGee needs--"

"Why do you not just call her yourself?"

Tony gave her a stern look. One that told her that he wouldn't accept her argument in the matter. One that said: I need you out of this room right now.

"If McGee needs anything, he should call my cell because I won't be back to meet him," he said forcefully. She locked her jaw in frustration and stalked out of the room.

He turned his attention toward Gibbs and fixed him with an intense glare. Gibbs returned it, suddenly very interested in Tony's possessive streak.

"Ziva," he started firmly, pointing at the staircase she exited, never wavering under the once-terrifying gaze of his former boss, "I can't go with her, so I'm trusting you to take care of her."

"She can take care of herself, DiNozzo."

"I don't care!" He shouted at Gibbs, clearing his throat as he composed himself. The older man's eyebrows rose at the outburst. "We're together, Gibbs. I love her and I won't let you or the FBI or some old partner of hers put that in jeopardy. You find this guy, put him away, and then you bring her back to me, got it?"

"Got it."

It wasn't like Gibbs to give up so easily. Tony had expected a headslap or a roll of the eyes, but neither came. Gibbs looked back at him with a slightly goofy smile shining briefly across his face. This certainly wasn't the man he knew six months ago.

"That's it?"

"You love her? That's good enough for me."

Tony opened and closed his mouth like a fish, searching for the words that came next: "B-but what about Rule 12?"

"I'm not your boss, anymore, DiNozzo. I don't care what rules you break."

Before Tony could respond, Ziva came back down the stairs, angry look still in place.

"That was a pointless phone call, Tony."

"I'll decide what's pointless and what's not, Ziva. What's next, bo--Gibbs?"

The tension in the room was thick as they regrouped and decided what evidence to pursue first. When all this was over, Tony knew that he and Ziva would have to sit down and have a talk. Not even Gibbs' blessing could fix the broken trust between the two of them.

--

After a momentary heart attack the previous afternoon at the thought of losing both Ziva and Gibbs in the safe-house and then an evening sitting in the hospital for hours at Ziva's bedside as they repaired her nose and other cuts, Tony had never been so happy to be back at NCIS with the guilty put away for good. Gibbs had left without a word that afternoon and they had spent the better part of the evening finishing paperwork. He sent McGee home after it was finished and he had been more than happy to oblige. The previous day had been stressful on all of them and all they wanted to do was catch up on sleep.

Everyone but Tony.

He stood up from his desk, nodded his head at Ziva in the direction of the elevator. A confused second later, she got up to follow him. Once there, he let it descend for a moment before flicking on the emergency stop.

"Gibbs returns and you start picking up his habits?" she asked, a nervous laugh in her voice.

"Ziva," he said quietly, his head hung low as a small sigh escaped his lips. "Why?"

"Why what?" she asked defensively.

"Why didn't you come to me to help you? You went to Gibbs--you don't trust me enough to save you, to protect you, to keep the world away when you're running for your life. Why, Ziva?"

"It is not that I did not trust you, Tony. I could not put you in that position. You were better off not knowing."

"No, Ziva!" he yelled, slapping his hand against the side of the elevator near her head. "Not knowing nearly killed me today! I needed to be there for you. I need you to understand that I would give up everything for you--that I would take down the FBI, NCIS, and even Mossad if you asked me to! I could have helped you, but you wouldn't let me!"

She sucked in a deep breath as he spoke, clearly unnerved by his declaration.

"But it is I that cannot ask these things of you, Tony. You have to understand that as well," she started, her voice even as she swept the hair in her face behind her ear. "I do trust you, but I cannot run to you for every problem I have. You are more help to me from the inside: handling the FBI, keeping things under control. I cannot ask you to give up everything for me. It is not fair. And you should not offer it."

"It's not an offer, Ziva. You get it whether you want it or not. It's not voluntary. I trust you with my life. I need to know that you feel the same."

"Tony, I trust you. I do," she said quietly, the weight of the words she hadn't said left hanging in the air between them.

"Yeah, that sounds really convincing," he said, his voice dripping with sarcasm. He couldn't look at her after he saw her face fall. He had hit a raw nerve and it was written all over her face. "Maybe we need to take a break from us, Zi. Not forever, but until we can make this work."

"Tony, I--" her voice broke and she closed her eyes, wishing she were anywhere else at the moment. She didn't want to lose him, but she couldn't bring herself to fight back. There were obviously issues that she needed to work out with him, but didn't even know where to begin. She was tired of fighting, tired of defending herself, and tired of hearing that she should trust more easily. Trust let you down; trust broke your heart. "I think that maybe that is a good idea. We do not need this...distraction right now."

He shook his head in agreement. This may have been the worse idea I have ever had.

"I love you, Zi. I don't think I'll ever stop. When you're ready, I'll be here."

He flicked the emergency stop once more and the elevator roared to life. As the elevator came to a stop on the ground level, Ziva touched his arm as he moved to leave.

She whispered, barely audible, as the doors opened, "I love you, too, Tony. Remember that."

She dropped her hand from him and let him walk out of the elevator. She shut her eyes and bit her lip to keep the tears at bay.

End Part 1

A/N: So, this was meant to be a one-shot, but it's grown since that initial idea, so I think there might be another chapter of two to bring it full circle. Other parts would deal further with the aftermath of this mutual break-up and the evolution of their relationship over time until the beginning of this season. Not too overly detailed or long, but almost like a highlight reel of how their relationship matures from this moment on.

Continuation, of course, depends on whether you all like it or not! So, give me your feedback! Is examining their relationship in this context at all interesting? Tell me if you'd like me to continue!

It can, of course, stand alone. It's just angsty that way. Which is fine in its own right. Either way, please review!