A/N:

mollygibbs101: yap... Ryan is so annoying. Trying to make Gibbs talk about his feelings is like the worst thing she can do! But anyway... here's the next chapter...

Walking down into his basement, he wondered why she was here.

The incident had been six months ago and since then he had thought she was fine. Well, as fine as one can be after something like that.

He knew his favorite Israeli had difficulty with feeling helpless in situations like that and in that dark, filthy room she hadn't been able to move. She had felt too dizzy and only after spending one hour in the hospital she had finally felt better.

Of course he had made her stay with him. How could he not? After all, she was his responsibility. He needed to protect her. Knowing she trusted him more than most others, he had felt the need to be there for her personally. Calling Ryan, telling her not to come over that night, was almost too easy. He hadn't felt bad at all. Somehow he knew he should have. Choosing one of his agents over his girlfriend, while Ziver could easily have stayed with Tony, McGee or Abby that night.

Sometimes it seemed to him like the beautiful Israeli was his only weakness. Well, his only alive weakness. Shannon and Kelly were still weakness number one. But it was different with Ziver. She was his agent and his friend, not his wive. He didn't feel for her that way. Or did he?

There were days that made him think differently. Some days made him feel more for her than he would ever admit to himself. The day of the incident was one of these days. She had watched him working on his boat, in silence. She didn't need to talk about her time in that damn basement, she just needed to feel safe again. He liked how his little ninja never made him talk – they understood each other without needing to say much – yet, he loved hearing her talk. Her voice made him feel things he hadn't felt in a while. Ryan's voice hadn't annoyed him from the beginning on, but after hearing it day in, day out he almost had enough of it.

Later that night, he had watched her fall asleep under his boat, her dark hair falling into her beautiful face, making his fingers itch to touch it. He had watched her sleep down there for at least an hour, giving her time to fall into a deep slumber, then taking her into his arms and carrying her upstairs to his living room. For a minute there he had contemplated carrying her to his bedroom, but he reminded himself that that was not her place. She was a colleague, a friend, not Ryan. Then, every thought of the psychologist left his mind as he sat Ziva down on his couch and couldn't help but pull a strand of her hair out of her face. Feeling her soft skin under his fingers made his knees tremble a little, a feeling he hadn't felt in years.

When he stood to go back to the basement, Ziva's hand caught his. She wasn't completely awake and probably wouldn't remember this in the morning, but she had looked at him through tired eyes and asked him to stay.

He had held her hand a moment longer, nodded and sat down in the chair next to his couch, watching her going back to sleep and later falling asleep himself.

Now, six months later, she was back in his basement. She clearly hadn't slept well, he could see it in her eyes, and he was glad she had finally come to him for help.

"Ziver."

"I... I had a nightmare. Couldn't go back to sleep after it. I thought... I don't know what I thought. I shouldn't have come here. I'm sorry." And yet, she didn't move to leave.

"Never apologize. You know you can come here whenever you want. I'm here to help."

"I know..." with that, a tear left her eye and he couldn't help but take her into his arms.

He had always had a problem with seeing women cry, especially the women he loved. Wait, where did that come from?

He held her there for at least an hour, calmly running one of his hands up and down her back, the other one stroking the back of her head. Why does her hair have to be so damn soft!... Stop thinking like this Jethro! This is not the time!

Later, he opened a bottle of bourbon, emptying two jars for them to drink out of. She ended up sitting on his workbench right were she had sat that night, watching him work on the boat. Just now he wasn't working on the boat, couldn't risk waking Sam or the kid. He was standing in front of his young agent, leaning against the table opposite the workbench, staring at her, watching a strand of hair falling into her face again and again. Fighting the urge to pull it out of her face himself was harder than he could ever have imagined. And I haven't even had a full glass of bourbon yet...

She didn't notice the way he looked at her, looking at the liquid in her glass, thinking about that night.

This man, her boss nonetheless, made her feel safer than anyone ever had. She felt like he could protect her from everything bad in the world. He was strong and intelligent and ridiculously sexy. Sometimes she wondered why any woman would divorce him. He's your boss, Ziva! Keep it professional!

He would do this for anyone on the team, protect them, but somehow she felt special. Maybe it was the fact that he had come back from Mexico to safe her, or maybe it was the memory of Somalia, him killing Saleem for her, or maybe it was the fact that she of all people had made him remember, or maybe the fact that he had carried her out of that dark basement after the incident. He was her prince in shining armor and somehow she hoped that she could someday be his princess.

TBC

A/N: Please Review! :D