PREVIOUSLY: Tony hung up and set the phone on the floor beside him, wrapping both arms around his crying partner, blinking back wetness in his own eyes.

Ziva shuddered in his arms, burying her head against his neck. He rubbed her back with the heel of his good arm, keeping the aching one loosely draped around her waist. God, this was breaking his heart. He knew that there weren't any words that could make her feel better right now. Ziva wasn't one for vague words of comfort. She needed something more concrete, so he held her tight and kissed the top of her head, her cheek, her neck.

Ziva had an iron grip on his back, a fistful of shirt and skin. It gradually relaxed, and she sniffed hard, pulling her head away from his neck and resting her forehead on his once again. She was matching her breath to the pace of his hand running up and down her back as she tried to calm herself, so he kept it steady. They sat like this for a while, without speaking.

After a bit, she sat back on his thighs, letting her head fall away from his. He cupped her cheek, looking at her closely. Surprisingly, she let him. Under her eyes was still wet and blotchy, and he wiped them dry with his sleeve

"That will stain," she told him, in reference to her mascara now pooling under her eyes.

"Yeah, cause that's what I care about right now," he chuckled. "How are you?"

"A mess," she grumbled, looking away.

"Hey," he touched her cheek. She fought this effort to make her look up at him. "Don't get mad at yourself. This is all upsetting."

"I hate—"

"I know," he told her. He kissed her forehead softly, letting his lips linger on her skin.

She leaned into it. Her hands were now resting flat on his chest. "I know you know."

Tony became aware that the fingers on his bad hand were grazing the bare skin between the hem of her shirt and the top of her slacks. Funny how that didn't seem to hurt. He wasn't sure when his hand had settled there on her back. She didn't seem to mind, in fact she was purring softly.

"That feels nice," she told him.

"Yeah?" he asked huskily.

There was chaos all around them, but in the enclosure of the elevator, suddenly all Tony could focus on was the fact that she was straddling him, and the warmth of her skin against his hand. It almost felt wrong—given everything else—how turned on he was getting.

"Mmmhmm," she murmured tipping her head up, lips grazing his.

She settled, her face level with his, looking him in the eyes. Their lips were so close… He swallowed hard. She chuckled in response, her breath hot against his face. God. Her fingers grazed up and down his chest while her palms remained planted. His eyes drifted closed as her hands slid up his chest to around his neck, and he let out a deep growl. This earned him another evil chuckle. She knew exactly the effect she was having on him. She slid closer on his lap and he gasped. And if somehow she didn't know it before, she now felt the effect she was having on him, that was sure.

A moment later, her lips were on his. This startled his eyes open, though he eagerly kissed her back. It wasn't a gentle kiss. Maybe it was the circumstances, but they hungered for each other. They could not be close enough. Ziva's hands threaded up into his hair, pulling gently. Instinctively, she knew what he liked. His own hands slid further up the back of her shirt along the warm, smooth skin. They continued like this for…he lost track of how long, blocking out the shaken world around them.

Somewhere in their lust-addled subconscious they knew that they couldn't take it any further here in the elevator. Not now. They finally broke apart, foreheads pressed together, breathing heavy. After a moment of this, Ziva sat back on his thighs. Her bottom lip was caught between her teeth as she looked questioningly at him. They had to talk about this. There was no way they could just let this be. He didn't want to. And he was pretty sure she didn't either.

"So…" he began.

"Yeah…"

They were both at a loss for where exactly to start.

There was a whoosh and a thud above them, and they both startled, looking up at the broken ceiling. He shielded her head, but nothing fell. A beam of light methodically illuminated the wreckage above them.

"Hello!" a deep male voice called down into the elevator shaft. "How many people are in the elevator?"

"Two!" Ziva called up to him squinting upwards.

"Injuries?" he asked, continuing his examination with the flashlight.

"Minor," Tony answered.

"Nature of those injuries, sir?"

"Maybe a broken arm, broken ribs."

"All right, we've got some serious injuries up here on Floor 2. The mechanics here look structurally sound. You two hang tight. We will get y'all out as soon as we can."

"Thanks!" Tony called back at the guy.

Ziva was still looking up at the now-dark ceiling. He fought back thoughts at how appetizing her neck looked as she craned upward. "It does not look particularly structurally sound…"

"No, sure doesn't," Tony sighed. "I guess the superficial damage looks worse than it is?"

"Hmph," Ziva grumbled.

"In the scheme of things…we're lucky," he said, taking her hand.

"I know," she sighed, settling back down onto his thighs. "I know."