Title: Break

Author: csiphile/redwing

Rating: Standing steady at T

Summary: You asked for it, you get it – the bar scene.

AN1: This went somewhere slightly unintended, though I think I like how it came out – it feels…true. The ending is just a touch…mushier then I expected. But who am I to argue with the muse? While chapter one was mostly action, this one is a lot of talking and introspection.

AN2: Ok, so initially it was a one shot…then I wrote the bar scene and it became a two shot. Now I'm contemplating writing a Ziva/Eli scene. Interested? Not 100% how it would play out, but I might be willing to give it a shot…

AN3: Ok, one last thing. I have a multi-chapter post Rule-51 (that is now AU since the premiere) that I need a beta for. Anyone willing to help correct grammar and get a sneak peek as a bonus? It's about…10 chapters. Message me if you have interest.

Disclaimer: I checked REALLY hard and yeah, I still don't own them.

Reviews are lovely! Please push the little talky icon down there and let me know what you thought!

CHAPTER TWO – Lie to Me

Intimacy means different things to different people. To some it is merely the act of sex, to others it is what the act means, to know someone so completely and thoroughly. It can also be familiarity, of a place, thing or even a person. Knowing what makes them tick, anticipating what they will do or say. Being in tune enough to know when to abide by a request to be left alone and when to ignore it.

Feeling in your soul they can't be gone, even when the rest of the world accepts they are.

Wishing the cause of their pain was dead.

Being with them when their world falls apart.

At some point between leaving the Navy Yard and finding two seats at one end of a dimly lit u-shaped bar, Tony wondered how it was possible to be so intimately connected with a person, and yet feel so far away from them.

Especially when that person was sitting right next to him at that dimly lit bar, quickly downing her first shot of tequila. And he could tell she was hurting badly, but trying to hide it from him - and doing so rather unsuccessfully.

Tony suddenly had a feeling maybe taking her to a bar wasn't such a good idea. Vulnerability radiated off her every pore and alcohol wasn't going to make that better.

"Lie to me, Tony," she said as she knocked back a second shot of tequila, placing the glass upside down on the bar top and looking at him expectantly. It was the first words she had spoken since they left the yard.

"About what?" he asked even though he knew.

Waving at the bartender, she indicated another shot before answering, "My father. Tell me that his visit is professional only and he is not here to…" He could see her struggling with the correct slang term. "…screw with me."

Tony looked at her sadly; he couldn't lie to her, not now. Not after everything they had gone through, a lie, no matter how well intentioned, would do nothing for the trust they had regained. Eli David was here to get under his daughters skin as much as he was here to ask for help. And he told her as much.

"I can't lie to you, Ziva."

A third shot glass was placed in front of her, but she didn't acknowledge the man who brought it, attention focused on her partner. Saying nothing, she picked up the glass and quickly downed the clear liquid, again placing it upside down on the bar.

"I know," she finally said softly.

Not for the first time that day Tony had the urge to strangle her father. Or at the very least forcibly put him on a plane back to Israel.

"This…'case' could have easily been communicated without a special visit. He wanted to come to make a point; that he can still break me." Sudden tears threatened her eyes for a moment but she quickly blinked them back. Despite the darkness of the bar and the darker corner they found themselves in, Ziva would not allow even one tear to shed; her father was not worth it.

He considered that a moment before responding, "I wish I had an answer, Ziva. I really do. I wish I could tell you that everybody has problems with their fathers and its normal and fine, but you know, I think your case is a little more…unique than most."

A strange look crossed her face. "Unique. I am not sure that is the word I would use."

"What would you use?"

"Fucked up."

He laughed lightly at her use of English. "That's two words. But accurate."

For several long minutes she was silent, staring into the empty glass that sat on the bar in front of her. It was still a jumbled mess in her head; she could barely begin to sort through it. And tonight was not the best time to try; the emotions were too raw. That and she already had three shots of Patron running through her. But still, she could see the look on the Eli's face when they had first walked into the office. She knew that expression; it was the one he frequently gave people when he knew something they didn't. And he was going to use that information against them.

Looking over at his partner Tony became alarmed at the expression on her face so he placed a gentle hand on her arm, rubbing gently. "Ziva?" Her head snapped up at him, confusion written all over her features. "What are you thinking?"

"I do not know," she whispered, her voice trembling. "I am trying to…sort it out. But every time I try, I just…" She didn't want to say it, to admit how much her father's presence had bothered her, how much it had sent her into a tailspin. This was not how a former Mossad operative behaved. "I do not know what is wrong with me. I am…"

"Human?" he asked without a trace of teasing, turning fully to face her. "You aren't Mossad anymore, you don't have to lock feelings and emotion behind walls because if you don't they get you killed. You are an American, an NCIS agent, and those feelings you hate to acknowledge? Now they make you better at what you do. And they make you a better person."

"We were always taught emotions make you weak, distract you from the job at hand."

"By who, your father?"

Something close to irritation crossed her face. "It is not that easy, Tony. When you have a way of life practically beaten into you, change is…difficult."

"But you have changed. And that's the problem, isn't it? Five years ago you would have just…locked those feelings away somewhere inside that ninja brain of yours and moved on. Now," he shrugged. "Now they aren't locked away. And they hurt."

Looking into herself, she knew he was right. It wasn't so long ago that Ziva would have taken her father's behavior as normal and expected. Why should he come get her? She had failed her mission, not only was Salim alive, but the Damocles was at the bottom of the ocean and Ben was too injured to continue. A failure on many levels, she deserved what she got for such a catastrophe.

But she didn't. No one deserved to be abandoned by their flesh and blood in hell. She realized that now, and it had taken the people that she turned her back on to help her realize that.

And it did hurt. More than she expected.

Waving down the bartender she indicated another shot.

Instead of pushing emotion to the side and pretending it didn't bother her, she allowed it to rush over her. She deserved a life, her worth was no longer measured by successful missions, and by how well she followed orders or how many enemies she killed. For far too long she allowed her training to override basic human needs and wants, even after several years at NCIS it was difficult to let go of what her father had made her. Probably because in the back of her head she was prepared to return to her former life; now there was no chance of that.

A glass was dropped in front of her and she stared at the liquid a moment. Once she had returned from Africa, she had let go of what her father had made her little by little, but she never spoke of the atrocities from last year and never of anything leading up to being left on a tarmac in Israel, either.

Of all her regrets in life, that was her biggest. She wished that it hadn't taken such extreme measures to make her realize who could be trusted.

Lifting the glass she downed it quickly, the liquid burning a path down her throat. It didn't help.

"Tony," she finally said, her voice cracking, she could feel the tears starting again.

"Yeah?" he asked. He had been studying her carefully as she had stared at the last shot, wondering what had been going through her head.

"Can we leave?"

Without a word he pulled out his wallet and dropped enough cash on the bar to cover her shots and a generous tip, then standing he held her light jacket as she slipped into it wordlessly.

As they stepped out into the cool air she paused and took a deep breath. "Can we walk?"

Again he agreed, taking her hand gently and guiding her in the direction of his apartment. With or without Gibbs' order to stay with her tonight, Tony certainly would not have allowed his partner to be alone. And he suspected she knew this, which was why there had been no discussion about staying with him.

That and she was clearly too emotionally drained to put up a fight about much.

The walk was brief and mostly silent and before she knew it, Ziva was standing in his living room, realizing an immediate problem that hadn't occurred to her until now. She had no clothes, no sleepwear, not even a toothbrush. And her partner had disappeared down the hall.

Shrugging out of her jacket she slumped into the comfortable couch she had convinced Tony to buy after his incessant complaining about the massage chair. If he was going to fall asleep watching movies and stay there, she didn't want to hear him whine every morning about his back. Leaning her head back her eyes just started to slip closed as she heard her partner return.

Opening her eyes back up, she watched as he placed a small pile next to her on the arm of the couch.

"Enjoying the couch?" he asked with a smirk.

"It is very comfortable, yes."

"You would know, you sat in it for thirty minutes at the store."

"You could not continue to sleep in that chair, Tony."

"Yeah, yeah…" he muttered, knowing she was right. Finally he pointed at the pile. "Something I hope will be suitable for sleeping, towel for a shower if you want to take one and a new toothbrush. We'll go back to your place in the morning for clothes."

She nodded dumbly at her partner, secretly glad he had made decisions for her. It was all she could do to function normally, much less make a logistical decision.

He continued, "You take the bed, Ill take the couch."

Standing directly in front of him, Ziva placed both hands on his chest. "Thank you, Tony. Again."

He placed his hands over hers and looked directly in her eyes, his gaze never wavering. "You do not have to face him alone, or at all."

Sliding one hand out from under his, she cupped his cheek gently, running her thumb across the stubble on his face. "I know." And she leaned in, placing a chaste kiss on his lips. "You are my friend, Tony." With that she picked up the clothes, "I will be back."

It wasn't five minutes and she returned wearing a pair of his boxers as shorts and tanks tops as a shirt; both were large on her, but not so big as to fall off. Clearly she had forgone a shower. Tony stared for several long seconds before turning back to what he had been doing while she was in the bathroom; setting up the couch.

Eyeing the couch, then her partner, Ziva slid next to him, touching his bare arm gently with her fingertips, her voice low and dangerous.

"You do not need to sleep on the couch, Tony. We have shared a bed many times." The tone was familiar; Tony had heard it before from women prior to taking them home.

She wasn't really sure what had possessed her, but standing there in her partner's clothes, her head slightly fuzzy from the alcohol and her nose filled with his scent, all she wanted was to forget the afternoon and focus on something else. And sex had always been effective for her in the past.

A sad smile ghosted his face before he shook his head, he feared what would happen if they did. If she turned to him for physical comfort Tony wasn't sure he would be able to say no if he was already in bed with her. And one thing he was sure of, sex wouldn't help anything right now. "Not this time."

A resigned look crossed her face swiftly to be replaced by a guilty one. He was right; the worst thing they could do would be sleep together. "I am sorry. I should not have…"

"Don't worry about it, never happened."

Tears stung at her eyes again. "You have been…my rock today. I will not forget it."

A sly smile crossed his face. "You better not. This is Tony DiNozzo at his best."

A broad smile crossed her face. "Nowhere to go from here then; good to know."

"Hey now," he protested weakly.

"Goodnight, Tony."

"Night Ziva. If you need me, I'll be on the comfy couch."

A small nod preceded her turning and heading down the hall, closing the bedroom door halfway behind her.

Tony only hoped they would survive tomorrow.

END