Protection

She fumbled with her keys. Of the three keyholes her eyes could see, her brain could not quite work out which was the real one, and she growled in frustration as she missed the lock again. The porch-mounted lamplight made her fragile head ache, and she squeezed her eyes shut against its invading presence.

" Here, let me do that." The keys were taken from her grasp and slid easily into the door with his free hand; the other retained a steady presence at her elbow.

Her feet were unsteady, but once inside the apartment she pulled away from him and concentrated on walking across the room unaided. " I do not need a baby-sitter Tony. I am quite capable of taking care of myself." She held her head up high, but her words were undermined by the way she clutched at the back of the couch, the butter-soft cashmere throw bunching between her white-knuckled fingers.

Closing the front door behind him with a click, Tony watched as she made her way to the bedroom, keeping one hand in contact with a steady surface at all times. " I'm sure you can, but Ducky said you shouldn't be left alone tonight, so I'm not." As she disappeared into the shadows of her room muttering under her breath, he found himself wandering, eyes scanning her tall wooden bookshelves. His fingers trailed along the keys of the piano, leaving a pitch-perfect scale echoing around the room. The books on display were vast and varied, and in so many different languages he thought she must have been being modest when she said she only spoke five.

He was in the middle of studying the photos on her walls – and trying to figure out where in the world each one was taken - when the sound of a crash and vehement cursing in Hebrew caused him to step hastily up to her bedroom door left ajar. " You okay?" he asked as he entered into the shadows – not waiting for an invitation - his eye quickly adjusting to the dim light. He found Ziva knelt on the floor next to a now-crooked end table, picking up scattered remnants of what he assumed used to be her side lamp. Her legs were bare amongst the shards, and she had at some point removed her blood-spattered sweater, leaving it in a ball on the distressed hardwood floor.

" I have crazy glue in my head and I just broke my lamp, do I look as though I am okay?" she exhaled, frustrated. She sounded annoyed, and for a moment he hesitated in helping her, but the sight of her crumpled on the floor, half dressed, her forehead resting in her palm made him come to his senses. He reached out for her arm and she didn't protest.

Making her sit on the bed, he picked up the remaining pieces of the lamp-base himself and deposited them in her trashcan. Crossing his arms over his striped-shirted chest, he regarded her with a frown. Brushing the side of her shoulder with his hand, he held the other up in front of him he asked, " How many fingers?"

Laughing, she didn't answer, but swatted him away, slipping under his outstretched arm and walking across the room before he had a chance to stop her. " I am taking a shower. If you insist on watching over me, you may join me. Otherwise, I will not be long."

Although his body urged him to take up her offer and join her under the pelting spray, his brain made him shake his head. " You go ahead. Yell if you need any help." His suggestion was met with a raising of her eyebrows, and she disappeared into the bathroom with a barked laugh. Moments later her heard the shower turn on, and decided to leave her to it.

By the time she exited her room, rubbing her hair carefully with a towel as so to avoid her wound and clad in nothing more than a grey NCIS sweatshirt and a pair of hiking socks, Tony had settled on her couch and was flicking through channels on her tv. Leaning his head back, he looked at her upside down. " I ordered us a pizza."

" Kosher?" she teased, pushing her still damp hair behind her shoulders and draping her wet towel over the back of a chair. She dropped down onto the couch next to him, pulling her legs beneath her so that their thighs were touching.

Taking a small brown bottle from his pocket, he shook two white pills into his palm. " Half vegetable." Holding out his hand to her, he nodded his head towards to glass of water on the coffee table that she hadn't even noticed until that moment. " Take these. Ducky said two before you eat."

Even as she took them from him, she argued, " Do I look like I am in pain, Tony?" She didn't mention the throbbing behind her eyes, or the way her skull still ached from being smashed into the concrete floor of the warehouse, hard enough to get blood everywhere and warrant an impromptu trip to the ER.

Picking up the glass of water, he rolled his eyes. " Stop arguing, Ninja Girl, and just take them already." He didn't give voice to the way his chest had tightened when he had seen their suspect throw her across the room like a rag-doll, or the way the sickening crack of her head had made him almost fumble his weapon.

After she had acquiesced and taken the pills, they argued over what to watch as Tony picked through what he called her 'pitiful' collection of dvds; mostly foreign language, he made her explain all the plots to him as he carefully considered their choices. He wouldn't admit it was a way of checking her memory - even though she suspected - and they became so sidetracked by a rambling narrative about Tony's first time watching 'Stand By Me', they hadn't even picked anything by the time the pizza arrived.

Tony almost laughed at the pizza boy's stunned expression – for Ziva has answered the door in a sweatshirt that barely skimmed her thighs - but used his best 'Gibbs-glare' just to see the boy's eyes flare in panic, and hear him stammer as he asked for the money. Though Ziva rolled her eyes, Tony placed a mock-possessive arm around her waist and waited for the kid to scurry back to his moped before he broke into a grin.

Across the street, there was a brief flash. Tony puzzled over it for a second, and then, assuming it was the neighbours' tv through the not-quite-drawn curtains, went back inside, closing the door tight behind him.