They hadn't really spoken since they'd gotten back to D.C. The ride home had been peaceful enough. Light hearted in the beginning, laughing and talking, holding hands when Tony hadn't needed both hands on the wheel. The closer they'd gotten to the city, however, the fewer the words seemed to be shared. There was less chuckling and longer stretches of complete silence. Neither had even dared to turn on the music and it had been almost unbearable, not knowing what was going through the others head. No one pressed. No one questioned. Tony had dropped Ziva off at her apartment, at least willing to walk her to the door.

He opened his mouth to say goodnight, but she lifted her hand, shaking her head slowly. Leaning upwards, she placed a kiss close to the side of his mouth, lingering long enough for him to place his hand on her lower back and hold her there a moment. When she pulled away, he gave her a soft smile, before she'd disappeared inside the building without a word.

Work had come on far too quickly. Tony retracted on his promise to not clam up around her, to not get nervous whenever Gibbs looked their way, wondering if he knew, convincing himself he did, and trying to figure out why he wasn't saying a word about it. Did he not care? Or was he waiting for Tony to come to him as he had with EJ? Wanting to lecture him in the security of his basement over a glass of bourbon where no one would be able to overhear? He could feel a lump in his throat building every time he thought about it. The obvious solution was to avoid the thoughts all together.

It was that alone that should have made him not jump in surprise when he heard the click of the lock of the bathroom door. He didn't even have to glance in the mirror to know that it was Ziva who was standing behind him now. Sighing, he gave a shake, before carefully readjusting himself, and zipping up his pants. He didn't look to her as he made his way to the sink to wash his hands.

"We've really gotta stop meeting like this, you know."

"I thought you said you would not regret it," she all but snapped at him, only now checking to make sure no one else was hiding in the stalls. He was tempted to tell her that was a bit of a delayed precaution, but with the tone in her voice, he had a feeling it wasn't best to test the waters right then.

He simply responded with a sigh. "Not in the mood for light hearted teasing, I take it." He flicked the water from his hands, going to grab a paper towel and drying them off quickly. Tossing the crumpled paper over her shoulder, he smiled as it landed in the basket behind her.

She looked entirely unamused.

"I don't regret it," he finally said, looking tired as he leaned against the edge of the sink. "Am I acting like I did?"

"By practically ignoring me the past three days?" She huffed, shaking her head in agitation. "No, Tony, how on Earth could I have gotten such a message from you?"

He felt his stomach tie in knots again. The same knots her got around Gibbs. Was she right? Did he regret it? Is this what regret was going to feel like when it wasn't some sort of gut wrenching guilt? Just... awkward? Strained? He looked at her, a thousand words for an apology spinning behind his eyes, but none of them seemed to want to form properly and come out of his mouth. He had lied to her, hurt her - again. It seemed to be all he could do to her.

She snorted softly, shaking her head. "Next time you wish to act out some fantasy vacation dream, bring another girl. I cannot take you and your games anymore."

"Ziva..." She held up her hand to cut him off before unlocking the door and heading back out towards the squad room. Tony closed his eyes, biting on his lower lip and tried to figure out how he was going to walk back out like there was absolutely nothing wrong.

"What did you do?"

Tony stared down at Abby's finger pointing directly at his face in such an accusatory manner, pure surprised and bewilderment on his face. He let his eyes flicker upwards to look into her own, seeing quite a bit of irritation - maybe even borderline anger - in her expression. He swallowed lightly, shaking his head, and going to deny any wrong doing. She didn't let him get a word out, instead throwing her hands up in the air, and continuing her rant.

"Ziva's acting weird. Like, really weird. Like sad kind of weird. And according to McGee, you were the last person he knows she spent any alone time with. Which means that you know something. Or did something. Or both." She turned around, the irritation replaced with worry and concern. "Did you two fight or something?" The anger came back onto her face as she pressed the tip of her finger into his chest. "Did you bring up Ray with her? Because Tony, if you did-!"

"I didn't bring up Ray," he said firmly, going to wrap his hand around Abby's. "Tim doesn't exactly keep full tabs on Ziva. You don't know for sure I'm the last one she was with."

She let her hand hang in his for a moment before pulling it away and glaring skeptically at him. "So you're saying you're for sure not the cause of Ziva being upset?"

He was quiet for a moment. He couldn't lie to Abby. Apparently his silence lasted a bit too long for the scientist's tastes as he had a sudden sting on the back of his head when she gave him a nice smack.

"Gibbs would have wanted me to," she said simply. "I can't believe you went and upset her when she's already so upset, Tony."

"It was an accident."

She gave him a look, pressing without words, and he couldn't help but squirm uncomfortably under her gaze. How could he tell her? How he could he openly admit to so grievously breaking Rule Number Twelve in the lab that Gibbs could walk into any minute? He held onto some false hope that maybe his mentor had yet to figure everything out and he certainly didn't want to blow it by mentioning anything in the office. He held her gaze, biting at his lip, before giving a huff and finally breaking away to look at her computer.

"Whaddya got, Abs?"

Ziva sat quietly in her chair, staring at the computer screen in front of her. Tony had managed to talk McGee into going out for drinks only moments ago and the two had left, talking about some movie they'd both gone to see. He seemed perfectly cheerful, despite how miserable the day had been between them. She couldn't tell if it was an honest good mood or just one of those many fake ones he liked to use to cover how he was really feeling.

He was always so good at faking things.

It made her hate him, sometimes.

She found herself not quite wanting to return home. Not wanting to be left with nothing to do, plagued by thoughts, wondering if maybe she should call him and forgive him for being... well, Tony. She had known for the start this could happen; his issues with commitment were hardly a well kept secret and she knew how many one night stands he had had over the years. To make something serious, especially with his partner, well... It could be likened to asking for the moon from him.

Sighing a bit bitterly, she went to open up her e-mail, opening up the new messages inside just to have something to focus on. She had been in the midst of replying to one from Malachi when she could feel eyes on her. The silent stare of an all too familiar figure, likely getting ready to take a sip from the coffee cup that seemed permanently attached to his hand.

"You are here late, Gibbs."

"You're one to talk, Ziver." He smiled lightly when she looked up to meet his gaze, brow arching in question. "Case is over. Shouldn't you be getting to bed?"

She shook her head gently, looking back to the computer screen. "I do not wish to go home yet. I... don't particularly care for the feelings that await me there." It was easier to be honest with him when she wasn't looking at him. He was the only one she ever fully opened up to and even then, it felt strange. Foreign. Things people had been doing since they were children were habits she had been trained against. It was like growing up all over again, relearning how to talk to people, to relate to them. It still had a tendency to make her uncomfortable.

"Cruz?"

"... Mm." She nodded. It was only a half-lie, after all. The way Gibbs stared made her feel like he knew this, somehow, as though he were going to pry further, or was waiting for her to spill more. She pursed her lips and sent off the e-mail she'd just completed, not entirely sure even what it said anymore.

Gibbs reached forward and shut off her light.

"Get home, Agent David. Get some rest. I'll need you sharp tomorrow."

As she went to grab her bag, he waited by her desk. He gave her a soft kiss against the cheek when she moved passed him before heading towards autopsy, likely to see if he could get a last minute conversation in with Ducky. Ziva placed her fingers to her cheek, grateful for the warmth and comfort that he had left there, and trying her best to hold on to it for just a little while longer.

She wondered if this was how daughters normally felt with their fathers.

"I think I screwed up, Probie," he muttered before tipping back his glass to get the last of the scotch out from between the ice cubes. He let one fall into his mouth, sucking gently on it, enjoying the way the mixture of water and alcohol melted onto his tongue. It was the best way to get every last drop of flavor from his drink before getting a refill.

McGee only gave a small snort, taking a sip from the dark ale in front of him, and nodding in agreement. "Wouldn't be the first time."

"That's not helping."

"Sorry." He gave an awkward frown, scratching his neck gently. "Is this about the Ziva thing?" Tony didn't give a response, simply waving the bartender over for a refill. Tim rolled his eyes softly, taking that as confirmation. "Well it was dumb of you to go on that trip, you know. It's not like you two being alone ever has anything good come out of it."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

McGee shrugged, finishing off his drink and placing the glass away from him so it could be taken by the staff to be cleaned. "You just... complicate crap when you don't have someone there to mediate you. That's all."

"I complicate crap? What about her?"

"I meant it in more of the sense of the general you. Plural you. You and Ziva. Not just... you you."

"Oh." He nodded, apparently pacified, and took another sip from the refilled scotch. "Well. Alright. I guess you have a point there."

"So you screwed up," McGee began, stating it matter of factly and giving Tony no room for argument. "Now what? You've gotta make it up to her, right? How do you plan on doing it, DiNozzo?"

Tony shifted awkwardly in his seat, scrunching his mouth and looking at the bar top. Fix it. He didn't know how to fix it. She hadn't acknowledged him since their confrontation in the bathroom, short of to give case information or shove a file into his hand. Gibbs has forced them to go out to an interview together, but the car ride had been stiff and silent, and the discussion on the interview on the way back cold and business oriented. He rubbed his face, sighing, and shaking his head.

"I have no idea. I was... kind of hoping you could help me out there." He looked over at him, green eyes filled with some kind of desperation. "I mean, you guys are close. Maybe even closer than she and I are, in some ways. In a lot of ways. What do you think I'd have to do to get her to forgive me?"

"Besides let her shoot you?" He smirked a little, to show he was joking mainly, and then let out his own sigh, shaking his head. "You just have to show her you're really sorry, Tony. And I don't mean buying flowers and buttering her up like you do your girlfriends you piss off. But I mean really show her you're sorry."

Tony let the words digest. He'd never really tried to truly apologize to anyone. Occasionally he gave a heartfelt sorry, one he really meant, but never had he embellished upon it in a way that would show how much he meant it. He assumed people would understand and accept it for what it was. But with something this big, something this drastic, he was foolish to think he could do such a thing with Ziva. A muttered sorry with a desperate pout would only land him with a knife in his gut, he imagined. Or at least a very angry assassin shoving him out of her apartment.

He let his head drop onto the bar top, groaning loudly. "I'm screwed."