A/N: Apologies for not updating. Lack of inspiration is not fun.

This is NOT my best chapter, and it's a bit out of character. Well, not really, it just shows the more caring and weak out-of-work personas we do not see in Tony and Ziva.

I don't own NCIS. I don't own Ziva, Tony, Abby, McGee, Probie nicknames, or, well anything. I don't own you, that's for sure. But, I do like this Imac that I own. Pretty, hey?

Enjoy~

His eyes closed and face dropped into his hands as she took her leave. It was insane. Tony was insane. He should be childish, he could be flirtatious, he could be serious. But he had never been like this before. His emotions tumbled over themselves, gone too fast to be recognized.

This was crazy. Ziva had wanted to make up and get a little bit closer, but he had not been himself. With any other girl, he would have easily taken advantage and now they would be doing other extra curricular activities involving the bed he now sat on… rather than both a mess.

She was still fighting against him, she still loved Michael no matter what, and kissing him would not do anything. How he wished he'd seized the moment and now could be placing quick kisses on innumerable places, if only just a chaste one. He'd tried earlier, and how wrong he had been to try.

"She's gone," he finally realized out loud, green eyes still staring at nothing. "My God, why did I come here. Gibbs could have taken me, or I could have rented hotel… she's… I don't know… God, what did I do? After Rivkin, this is the worst thing I could have tried to do. It's impossible. But she's gone. With Abby, I hope, her car should still be here. With Abby… maybe… I should go out with McGee."

His unsteady hands reached for a sleek, black phone that he used for social occasions rather than work-related. It shone in the sunlight streaming from the window behind it and Tony, enticing him to call a former girl. No, it was a familiar face he needed right now. Needed. McGee?

It was enough to bring a smile, though small and bitter, to his face. Slow, steady hands flipped open the phone and shifted through his contacts. McGee… it was early, perhaps too early for a bar, but Ziva was gone, so why not? He drew in a shaky breath and dialled.

"McGee?" his voice broke through as soon as a beep sounded to remind him he was not only on the phone, but it had been picked up.

"Tony?" McGee was obviously puzzled. "Hey, what's up?"

"I… uh… want to go out? I mean, you're probably writing, but I have room for a Probiewan and his laptop in my car…"

"Haha, classic. Sure, I guess, but where are we supposed to go?"

Trust McGeek to be logical.

"I… well, we know most of the bars are closed. But there's still that one by the office… you know, the one we visit on Fridays sometimes? With Boss and Duck?"

"I'm surprised you didn't ask me to bring a bottle of beer and meet you in the squad room. Anyway, Tony, sure, I guess. And I'll leave my Probiewan laptop home, thanks. When can you be here?"

"Twenty minutes," Tony decided, snapping his phone shut.

He closed his eyes one more time, drew in a sharp breath, and rose from the bed.

-

"What's up, Ziva? Here, tell me inside!" Abby flashed her friend a smile and pulled into one of the many vacant parking lots. She hop-skip-jumped out of the car and waited impatiently for Ziva to follow more hesitantly. Frustrated with the slow movement, the forensic scientist grabbed Ziva's hand and pulled her into the bar. Together, they sat down at one of the counters. "Come on. Spill!"

"I… it's complicated Abby," Ziva offered quietly. No it is not, she added in her head.

"I have time to listen, Zivah. Start at the beginning… and bartender, nothing for me right now," she smiled a trademark smile that could rival Tony's.

"Fine. First of all, Tony is staying with me for the weekend. It is, perhaps, not the best idea, as one would think from the events that have occurred so far."

"Ahh, got a little close, did we? Hope you had a fun night in bed, anyway..." the male bartender laughed, winking at her. Anger flashed across Ziva's face and she raised her hand to hit him, but found herself restrained by Abby.

"Sorry, Abby. Alright. Where was I?"

"You said Tony's staying, but it's not a good idea," Abby smiled.

"He just showed up upon my doorstep. I offered him refuge for the night, and of course he accepted. Rather, he offered to take refuge and I had no choice but to accept. It was quite late, so we slept - he… Abby… he held me while we slept." Her voice was shaky, and Abby's eyes widened.

"No, we did not do anything. But I don't know how to feel. He killed Michael. He almost got me killed. No, he rescued me, and I am eternally grateful, but I cannot help but be mistrustful."

"That's understandable," Abby murmured, nodding. "Michael meant a lot to you."

"Woah, wait, did you just say that guy - Tony or whoever - killed somebody? I'm calling the cops!" the bartender called, eyes wide.

The forensic scientist exchanged a look with her friend and they burst out laughing. Ziva quickly gathered herself and turned to him. She took her gun in one hand and badge in other, slowly saying, "I am NCIS."

"But I haven't seen you around."

"You wouldn't have. I have been in Somalia for the past few months, tied to a chair and tortured. Would you like more detail?"

The pain from the memories flashed across her eyes again and she tried to overcome the weakness.

"Uhh, no, I'm good. Wait, so Tony… the guy who comes here every Friday or so? Oh, yeah, he talked about you, but whatever."

"Anyway, Abby…"

-

"McGee!" Tony cried and pounded against the door leading to the apartment that concealed his Probie. "Open up!"

As if on command, it banged open and McGee stood smiling at him. He nodded and followed Tony to the waiting car. "It won't take long, I guess. Not like we're gonna score right now, Tony!"

This brought a small, wry smile to his face. The older man nodded and stepped into the driver's side, his foot pressed down so hard on the gas as soon as the door whipped closed. He could barely see…

The car crunched to a stop just outside the bar, parked around back in a quiet spot. He got out wordlessly and walked to the back door. Finally, he looked at McGee as they entered the bar, and told him quietly, "I have something to tell you, my Probiewan."

"...I woke from a nightmare the next morning to see him. I screamed at him. He… calmed me down. But I could tell my words pained him. I called him a jealous bastard, Abby!"

Abby drew in a sharp breath and stared.

"Please, do not be mad at me… he offered breakfast and I screamed at him again, I can't remember exactly why. He pulled me into his arms and kissed my cheek softly. I… Abby, but then he went farther. He tried to actually kiss me. And I pulled away, screaming about Michael."

"You jealous bastard," Tony whispered, his voice barely audible.

"Abby, I tried to retaliate later. I tried to be flirtatious as we tend to be, and I sat beside him. I lay my head on his knees, but he looked at me and said…"

"You're right, nothing has changed. I killed Rivkin and you won't forgive me," Tony recited loudly from behind her. His eyes were spiked with emotion and slight heartbreak.

Ziva stood up quickly and backed up against the counter. "Tony!"

The man smiled and advanced on her, his eyes still quiet and sad. He stopped just in front of her and stared, unsure of what to do.

And if in complete agreement, the pair enveloped one another in a hug.

He held her in his arms, ignoring the gasps and excited voices from behind them. His face in her hair by her ear…

"Ziva," he murmured.