He doesn't mention it to her during work, which she finds odd. The day goes unusually smoothly. It passes by quickly, even though she finds herself caught up in thoughts about him, several times. When she gets home she makes a beeline for the shower. After a hot shower she pulls on pajamas, and rolls into her bed.

He lies in his bed, wide awake. He looks at the clock, 10:28 it reads. He laces his hands behind his head. He ponders why she came to him, in her sleep. Of anyone she could go to, she came to him. That wasn't what troubled him most, though. It was what she admitted in her sleep that had his head spinning.

He watches her as she sleeps. She had been in his bed, with him for ten minutes, and already she was drooling. She begins to talk, in what he assumes to be Hebrew. He loved the sound of her voice. It was one of the reasons he was drawn to her, from the first time they met. The cadence of her voice makes him sleepy. He pulls the covers over them, and closes his eyes. He listens to her as she babbles on.

"I locked the door," she mumbles.

"Good to know," he can't help respond, even though he knows that she is asleep.

"The alarm is off," she adds.

"Where is your gun?" he prompts her.

"In bed," she answers.

"In bed? You have it with you? Where is your gun, you never sleep without it."

She doesn't reply.

He clarifies, "Your sig, where is your sig?"

"In the drawer," she responds.

"Anything else I should know? Any thing you want to admit, in your sleep?"

"Tony..."

"Yes Ziva, it's me."

"I love you."

"What?"

She doesn't say another word, the rest of the night.

As she lies in her bed with her eyes closed she thinks of her elevator ride, with Tony, as they were leaving for the night.

He stares at her. She ignores him.

"How often do you sleep walk?"

"Not as much as I used to. It was much worse when I was a child. I should have known better than to take a medication that has that side effect."

"You slept walked as a child?"

"My mother had to lock me in my room."

"It was that bad?"

"When I was twelve I woke up in the middle of the night, and started throwing knives at the kitchen wall."

"Did you have guns lying around?"

"No, luckily my sister was able to wake me up, before I threw one at my mother."

"There is a way to wake you up?"

"Of course."

"Don't you think that is information you should share?"

"Not with you," she quips.

"Just in case?"

"I do not think you will have to worry about repeating last night."

"Just humor me. Do I need to shake you? Trip you?"

"Whatever you do, do not touch me. My reflexes kick in, and it can be deadly."

"You have killed in your sleep before?"

"I was on a mission, I was frustrated that my mark would not talk. He woke up with me pointing a gun to his head. He touched me, and I shot him."

"What am I supposed to do? Is there some sort of trick? Is there a special dance, or a clap?"

"No."

"Is there something I can say?"

"Fire."

"Fire? Why fire?"

"I do not know. Reflexes, I guess."

"Are you sure that will work?"

"If not there is one other thing you might try."

"What is that?"

"Zahar."

"Former lover?"

"My first love," she admits.

"What what he like?" Tony probes.

"He was beautiful. He was black, with dark eyes, and a long mane, and tail, and four legs."

"A horse?"

She smiles, "Yes, a horse."

"Your first love was a horse?"

"I was eight," she clarifies.

"You certainly are full of surprises."

He is nearly asleep when he hears his door close. He immediately returns to consciousness. He watches the doorway. A familiar figure moves towards him. He listens to her rhythmic footsteps.

"You've got to be kidding me," he mutters under his breath.

She continues towards him.

"Ziva? Are you asleep?"

She doesn't answer him. She climbs into the bed with him. This time she does not lay down next to him. She climbs on top of him. She straddles him. He looks at her. His first instinct is to push her off, ok, second instinct. He ignores his instinct, and tries to recall what he had told him earlier. Her hand presses against his torso. It begins trailing down his body.

"Ziva what are you doing?" he questions.

She doesn't answer him. Her hand continues to move. It stops at the waistband, on his boxers. Why had he not worn more clothing to bed? He knew that she might show up again. Not that he had expected this, but.. he tries to maintain his composure. She tugs at his waistband.

"Fire!" he says loudly.

She remains intent on what she's doing. His brain tells him to grab her wrist. His thoughts are muddled, and he finds it difficult to recall what to tell her. He takes a deep breathe. His eyes nearly roll back in his head, as she moves dangerously close to her intended target. A picture pops into his head. A horse, a black horse. An Arabian horse.

"Zahar!" he shouts.

He feels her muscles relax. He turns on the lamp. She blinks. She stares at him, blankly.