Author's Note: It's longer. Takes place after 'Borderland' without any real reference to the episode.

Disclaimer: I do not own NCIS or am I in any way affiliated with those who do.

---Stellar---

Ziva stepped into her apartment and shut the door. Relief flooded her. Chad Dunham was a good man. He was a man. And she was glad that he didn't seek an invitation inside because she would have relented. She dropped her purse on the couch and stopped by the answering machine before continuing to the bedroom.

Abby called and wanted to arrange some dinner. A contact left a cryptic message about how to reach him. A Mossad liaison director wanted to set an appointment to discuss her citizenship. Ziva rolled her eyes and picked up her toothbrush. Right. Well, they can keep waiting.

"Ziva, hey, it's uh, it's me, Tony."

Ziva popped her head out of the bathroom. She heard glass clinking and the buzz of different voices. A bluesy tune played in the background. He was at a bar and he was drunk. His voice was low.

"You know, lately, we've been off. We've been…weird. We used to have this ease, this Butch Cassidy, Sundance Kid kind of camaraderie. And then Jenny died and you were shipped back to Israel and I was in a sardine can floating in a bathtub for a few months."

Ziva came and stood in front of the machine, brushing absently. She did not know Butch Cassidy Sundance Kid but she knew that they were off. She caught herself staring at him like a lovesick teenager and remembered how she used to look at him. His voice cut into her thoughts.

"I've been trying to figure out when it all changed. All I know for sure is that who we are now isn't working. I feel like I'm walking with a shortened leg, which is better than walking around numb for months, I guess."

Tony paused. The background noise changed. The voices became muted. A car horn blared. She closed her eyes and saw him standing outside the bar, still in the dark suit from work. He was frowning, probably had a hand to his forehead, his eyes shuttered. She saw his shoulders rise and fall. It was there, at the very tip of his tongue. Ziva prayed that he wouldn't say it. She prayed that he would let it lie.

"You know what's been rambling around my Gibbs-softened brain? I went to Somalia not to save you. I went," Tony took a breath then let it out in a laugh, "I went to avenge you."

"Damn, this is the longest message. What kind of machine do you have?" Tony sighed. "I just want to tell you…I don't know what I want to tell you. I'm sorry. Shit."

The line went dead. Another message played but Ziva stopped the machine and replayed Tony's message. She listened to every word and every inflection of voice. She listened again, erased it, and walked back to the bathroom. Carefully she washed her mouth and her face. While she dried it her eyes caught her reflection. Who was the woman in the mirror? Ziva David?

Ziva leaned forward and then back. He once said that her eyes would not shut up. They looked flat, like someone drew them on her face. So much had happened and it made them messy. Tony made her soft, made her act like a fool, made her into some ordinary woman. And she was not ordinary. She did not need to flirt with others to get his attention. She did not need to constantly worry about his personal life—as long as it did not affect their professional life, he could obsess, next, one night whatever-Americans-call-it anyone. She did not need to be saved. She could save herself.

Ziva dropped the towel and grabbed her coat and purse from the couch. She picked up her keys from the change bowl and swung open her door.

Tony was bent over the potted plant next to the door, his hands sifting through the dirt. He looked up at the same time she jerked to a stop.

"Tony?"

He flashed a grin and wiped his hand on his pants before standing. "Ziva, hello. Did you just get home? Hi, again."

Ziva dropped a hand to her waist. "No, I did not just get home, Tony. What are you doing?"

"Well," Tony slipped his hands in his pockets and shrugged, "I did something stupid."

"And you thought rifling through dirt would help?"

He just looked at her with that dumb grin on his face. She stared into his eyes and saw panic. Once, she never made it easy. It was time to revert back to that time.

"Why are you here, Tony?"

He shrugged. She crossed her arms. They stared each other down until the grin fell from his face and her mouth compressed into a thin line.

"There's no truth serum in me this time, Ziva."

She refused to let the reference sidetrack her. "In vino veritas."

Tony cracked a smile that failed to even draw out the wrinkles by his eyes. "So you got the message. Huh," he scratched his head, "I should have known by that stone cold killer face."

Ziva shook her head. "You are a coward."

Tony clapped a hand to his chest. "Me? How so? Please, explain."

"I ask a simple question, I get another cryptic response. You came here to find a key, break into my apartment and what? Steal the tape?"

Tony sighed. "Okay, I thought it would work. Saw it on a show once."

Ziva inhaled sharply. "I am sure, Tony. I will call you a cab. Come inside." She turned away, not bothering to see if he followed. In the kitchen she called the operator and got a cab company while she made him a glass of lemon water. He sat on the couch, elbows on his knees, head in his hands. She set the glass down in front of him with a hard clink.

"I did not have honey. So it is more sour than normal. Drink it. The cab will be here in fifteen minutes."

Tony opened his mouth to speak but she held up a hand. "For your sake, do not speak. I have had enough of your talking."

So he did not talk. He drained the contents of the glass with a shudder as she watched him from the opposite chair. Time ticked by slowly. He analyzed the boots she wore. The heel was thin. The leather black. Her jeans were tight. The peach silk camisole she wore looked like lingerie. Her hair was down and straight and fell into her face, creating a shadow. He thought of the moon when he looked into her face. She wasn't smiling, not even a slight quirk of the corners. He opened his mouth after ten minutes but her eyes pricked him silent.

When fifteen minutes rolled into twenty, Tony stood up. He took a step, hesitated, then started towards her door.

"Tony, why did you call me tonight?"

He stopped and looked at her. Ziva stood by the chair. Even in the partial darkness her eyes bore into him. Her voice was soft and, despite his drunken state, he could hear the note of vulnerability.

"No bullshit?" he asked.

Ziva nodded. "No…bullshit."

Tony grinned. He rarely heard her curse in English. It sounded pretty coming from her. He came back and sat on the couch. She resumed her position in the chair.

"I saw you with Dunham. At Fioro's. What did you get? Butter pecan and cookies n' cream, two scoops, chocolate sauce and fostered bananas?"

The surprise on her face was worth the remembered sinking sensation as he watched them sitting on the terrace beneath twinkling white lights. She smiled at Dunham above her mountain of ice cream. She even let him swipe a spoonful.

He waited for the round of questions, for the charge that he was jealous, for her indignation and recriminations and guilt tripping. Instead the surprise turned into a soft smile.

"It was four scoops. I have sweet teeth."

Tony started to correct her but changed his mind. In a way, she was correct.

"You saw me eating ice cream with Dunham. And then you went to a bar and drunk called me. And then you came to my apartment to erase the damning evidence," Ziva said. Tony shifted. He forgot how easily she could flip the investigator switch. The next logical question would be…

"Why?"

He expected the question and yet he squirmed. He rubbed the back of his neck, tugged on his tie, rubbed his suddenly aching knee. Ziva remained unaffected by the display. Finally he sighed and held her gaze.

"I care. I got drunk because, hell, Ziva, look at what happens when I care. It turns into an episode of The Young and the Restless."

Ziva raised an eyebrow. "I do not know this reference. But I understand that our partnership has…evolved. It has come to a point where I also care for you in such a way."

She came to the couch and sat close to him, but did not face him. "I see you differently, Tony. I…" she paused, "when I witnessed your behavior with Dana, I realized as you must have realized with Michael, that we keep missing our chance."

Tony glanced at her. It was the most revealing statement she has made about them. In that moment, he knew that he loved her simply because she was braver than him. Yeah, he went into Somalia to find the sons of bitches who killed her, regardless of his life, but he never said anything, he never put it out there, and if he did, he fucked it up. Here she was, in her place, telling him the truth. She did a fine job of not fucking it up.

"Our chance, you say."

Ziva nodded. "Yes. For ourselves to be happy. But," she inhaled and brought her eyes to his, "we can never be happy together, Tony."