A/N: I feel that I need to put a bit of an angst warning on this chapter. But have faith, okay?
To everyone who wrote after the last chapter and asked if it was their story that infuriated me, the answer is no. It was by someone I'm not familiar with, and we won't speak of it again.
Thanks again to SnoopMaryMar. And to the nameless person who told all their YouTube followers to read this story (and the person who told me that'd happened). That's pretty cool.
Disclaimer: Disclaimed.


Part 7: The Argument

It was a rare Saturday night for Ziva, one spent completely alone without a single dead body, crime scene or amorous partner for company. The dead bodies and crime scenes, she didn't miss. The amorous partner? That wasn't as easy to classify.

The team had spent the last 16 days straight in the office, and the last three weekends on one case or another. After five years with the team, Ziva was used to the pace and demands of the job, and honestly it didn't bother her that much. But when the tension and frustration between two team members was getting as high as it was between her and Tony, having a weekend of peace, quiet and solitude was probably the healthiest thing for all of them right now.

It had been four weeks since Jimmy's engagement party. Four weeks since the last time hungry hands had roamed Tony's half naked body. Four weeks since his lips had been pressed to hers, and his hands had fisted in her hair. And four long, agonizing weeks since the two of them had agreed to stay hands-off until the Government decided her fate.

The wait for news was becoming more stressful with every day that passed. They were stuck in purgatory and their patience was nearing breaking point. They were frustrated (and not just sexually), impatient and all around cranky, and they had begun to take it out on each other. It wasn't too serious yet. A snapped response here and an irritated glance there. A ridiculous, 15-second argument over a memory card for the camera that ended with arms being thrown up in frustration and a not-so-muttered profanity. But every day, things got slightly more heated, and now it was clear to their coworkers that something was going on under the guise of their regular sparring.

Yep, a weekend of breathing room was exactly what they needed. And Ziva had (mostly) enjoyed every minute of it.

Although it was probably still too early in the evening to get into bed, Ziva decided that she had earned the luxury. There was a book that she had been meaning to start for the last three weeks, and tonight would be the perfect opportunity to get into it and let it help her get her mind off her situation. After locking up the apartment and turning out the lights in the living room, she went to the bedroom and changed into her pajamas. She had just pulled back the sheets and was about to slide into the comfort of her bed when the trill of her cell phone sounded from across the room. She looked up quickly and glared at the glowing blue screen.

Tony, she thought immediately, and muttered a Hebrew curse aloud. If he was calling to ask for a ride home from a bar, she would sell him to a glue factory. They originally had plans for the night, but they had agreed to cancel in favor of trying to regain some semblance of sanity. But it would be just like him to call her anyway, not because he needed her for anything, but because he thought it would be funny.

Ziva stalked over to where the phone was sitting in its charger and prepared to make it clear to him just how unfunny he was. But it was Abby's name that appeared on caller ID, and Ziva's irritation turned to frustration. She loved Abby, but she was not in the mood to go out clubbing with her. She wanted to stay home where it was comfortable, where she could wear her pajamas instead of tight pants and stilettos, and where it didn't smell like cigarettes, stale beer and too much aftershave. Abby would understand, right?

She took the phone off the charger. "David," she answered, and then noticed a distinct lack of club music in the background. Maybe Abby was just calling to say hi. It wouldn't be the first time.

"OhmyGodZiva!" Abby came out in her usual freight train manner, but the tone in her voice was far more stressed than normal. "You've gotta help me! Gibbs is on a date and Tony's not answering his phone so I can't talk to either of them and it's past Ducky's bedtime and I just need you to come down here and help me because I'm freaking out and I can't do this by myself!"

Ziva's gut clenched at Abby's obvious distress but she kept her voice calm. "Abby, what happened? Why are you freaking out?"

"Timmy collapsed!" Abby sobbed, and Ziva could imagine black streaks running down pale cheeks on the other end of the line. "He's in the hospital and I don't know what's going on. I need Gibbs. Get me Gibbs, Ziva!"

Ziva winced at the harshness of Abby's order, but she immediately started moving. She grabbed her jeans back out of her closet and held the phone between her shoulder and her ear as she stripped off her pajama pants. "Did you try to call him at all? Gibbs always answers and—"

"He's on a date!" Abby yelled down the line, clearly past the point of civility. "I can't break that up, Ziva. He knows I don't like that snake he's cozying up to and if I call he'll think I'm doing it on purpose or overreacting! You've got to do it."

Ziva grabbed a pair of flip-flops that she could jam her feet into without bothering with socks or zips or laces. "I will," she promised. "But you've got to tell me what happened to Tim."

"I don't know!" Abby cried. "He's been feeling sick all day and then tonight he had really bad stomach pains. Like, real bad, Ziva. And then he passed out and I called an ambulance and—"

"Where are you?" Ziva asked. She dashed out of her bedroom and towards the front door, pausing only to grab a light coat from the rack and her keys.

"Mercy General."

"I am coming now," Ziva told her. "And I will call Gibbs."

"And Tony!" Abby shot in. "I need Tony! Is he with you?"

"No, but I will track him down." She left her apartment and tried to shove her arms into her coat as she walked down the hall. "Hang in there, Abby. I will be there soon."

Abby hung up without another word and Ziva reminded herself not to take offense. Abby could be sweet as pie, but when she was stressed out, she could be as blunt as Ziva on her worst day. Having a friend in the hospital was at the top of Abby's stress list.

She speed-dialed Gibbs as soon as she stepped off the elevator in the lobby of her building, and he answered on the second ring before she'd even made it to the front door.

"What, David?" he practically growled.

Ziva didn't waste time with a polite apology. "I just got a hysterical call from Abby. McGee has collapsed with stomach pains and has been admitted to Mercy General. Abby needs you there."

There was a slight pause, and then Gibbs came back with his full attention. "What does 'stomach pains' mean?"

"I do not know," Ziva replied, as she hit the street and jogged round the corner to her car. "Abby was not able to provide detailed information. I am on my way there now."

"DiNozzo with you?"

It was probably a legitimate question, but Ziva was too stressed out about their relationship and unprepared for Gibbs' interest, and she found herself snapping back. "No, Gibbs," she said through gritted teeth. "He is not. I will call him when I hang up from you."

At that, the line went dead and Ziva cursed again as she pulled open the door and bundled herself inside. She stuck the key in the ignition but speed-dialed Tony before turning the engine over. She didn't know whether he would answer. Abby said she had tried to call him but hadn't gotten through, and Ziva wondered what that meant. Tony always answered. Maybe he was out and couldn't hear it. Maybe he was otherwise occupied. Maybe he hadn't charged the battery. Maybe—

"I was just about to call you, Sweetcheeks," came his voice across the line.

Ziva rolled her eyes at herself for worrying. "Did you get Abby's message?"

"Abby's message?" he repeated, and Ziva pitched his level of intoxication at pretty low. He sounded merry, but not drunk. "No, I have not received any messages from Abby."

"Then why were you going to call me?"

He sounded very pleased with himself. "Because I'm leaving Josh's place now with a slab of tiramisu that Celeste made, and I know the stuff makes you go weak at the knees. So I thought I'd bring it over with La Dolce Vita if our self-imposed separation is over and…" He trailed off, although Ziva didn't understand why. When he spoke again, it was with a much more casual and indifferent tone. "Uh, we don't have to do that."

Ziva sighed. He was going to bring her tiramisu and old Italian movies? Self-imposed separation or not, that actually sounded really good. She spared a moment while she considered whether they should have been making the effort to spend more time together while they had the chance, but it was too complex to work out on the spur of the moment, and it made her too sad.

"We cannot do that," she told him regretfully, her mind back on track. "I am on my way to Mercy General. Abby just called to say McGee was taken in with stomach pains. That is all I know. Abby said she needs you there."

Tony paused in much the same way Gibbs had done. "Jesus. Okay. Why'd Abby call you?"

Ziva bit her tongue as any goodwill he'd earned with promised tiramisu evaporated. "Because Gibbs is on a date, you were not answering your phone, and Ducky is probably asleep." She had become close friends with Abby over the years, but she knew that she would always be at the bottom of Abby's Go to in a personal crisis list. She was okay with that, but Tony didn't have to make fun of it.

"Makes sense," he said agreeably, but Ziva could still hear the smirk in his voice. "Would you be able to pick me up?"

"You don't have your car?"

"No. And I'm probably too drunk to drive anyway," He put on his most charming voice, throwing in some Italian for good measure. "Ziva, bella, Tesoro, I have tiramisu. Would you please be able to make my day and pick me up?"

Ziva smirked into the phone. "I've been trying to pick you up for years, Tony," she shot back, and then hung up while she still had the upper hand.


Twenty minutes later, Ziva double parked outside Josh's row house and rushed up the path to knock on the door. Celeste, Josh's 6'1 model-esque wife whom Ziva had met briefly several months ago, answered with a friendly smile.

"Hey, Ziva! Come on in. Tony's just helping Josh move the barbeque back into the shed."

Ziva stepped inside the comfortable, tastefully decorated house and tucked her unruly hair behind her ears. She was suddenly very conscious that she was dressed even more casually than normal in the presence of someone as put together as Celeste. Had she even changed out of the tank top she had put on to sleep in? She glanced down at herself and sighed. No, she hadn't.

"You had a barbeque?" she asked, trying not to appear as irrationally intimidated as she was by the perfectly friendly woman.

Celeste rolled her eyes. "Josh bought it last weekend. We've had a barbeque every day. If he tries it again tomorrow, I'm gonna shove that pretty face of his into the grill."

Ziva took the comment about as seriously as it had been intended. "It is a non-stick plate, yes? I would not want to clean that up."

Celeste laughed, but then gave her a sympathetic look. "I'm really sorry about Tim. I hope he'll be all right."

"Have you met?" Ziva asked.

Celeste shook her head, sending her loose red curls swaying about her shoulders. "No, but Tony talks about you all a lot. When we see him, that is. I get the feeling he thinks of Tim as a little brother or something."

"Yes, it is very much like that," Ziva said, shooting Celeste a smile before catching sight of a framed photo on the wall. It was of Celeste, Josh, Tony and another guy from what had to be 20 years ago when they were in college together. Tony's hair was several shades lighter and his body slightly bulkier with college athlete muscle, but the trademark smile was on display, and Ziva found herself smiling back.

"He seems much happier now," Celeste said, drawing Ziva's attention back.

She frowned. "Tim?"

"No, Tony," Celeste chuckled, and then glanced over her shoulder to check that they were still alone. "I mean, he's always outwardly happy, but you know as well as I do that's a pile of crap. But lately, the last couple of times I've seen him, it seems like he's finally happy on the inside as well."

Ziva had not been expecting anything from Celeste outside the realm of small talk, and was completely unprepared for a meaningful discussion about her partner's psyche. "Yes?" she hedged, trying to work out what exactly Celeste was getting at.

"It's just such a relief," Celeste went on, making Ziva wonder if her tongue had been loosened by wine. "Josh and I were so worried about him after what happened in Philadelphia when we weren't there to help. It changed him, you know? From the guy we knew in college, and we were so worried we'd never get our Tony back. But…" She paused to touch Ziva's arm and flash her a grateful smile. "He's finally getting there. Finally. I think you've got his head on straight. Thank you so much, Ziva."

Ziva stared back at her, completely lost in the conversation. "I do not—"

"Hey, Zee-vah!" Tony called, coming into the living room behind Josh and carrying two containers filled with desert. "Thanks for not ditching me." He looked at Josh and cocked his head towards Ziva. "You remember my partner, the superhero?"

Josh smirked at Tony, but shot a genuine smile at Ziva. "How could I forget? Good to see you again, Ziva."

"You too."

"We gotta go," Tony said, and shared a backslapping bro-hug with Josh. "See you at the game."

"Unless you find some lame federal agent excuse to skip it," Josh returned.

Tony went to Celeste for a quick hug and a kiss on the cheek. "Thanks for feeding me."

Celeste gave him a measuring look. "Yeah, sweetheart, I'm worried that you're wasting away."

Tony scowled at her teasing and gently shoved Ziva towards her. "Ziva, take her out. I'll testify that I didn't see anything."

"No, I do not think I will do that," Ziva said gently.

Tony baited Celeste over Ziva's shoulder. "You're lucky she's the stable, well-adjusted one."

Ziva whirled on him with a sky-high eyebrow. "I'm the stable, well-adjusted one?"

Tony nodded at her meaning. "Yeah, I know. We're screwed." He slung his arm around her shoulders and steered her towards the door. "Come on. Let's go find out what kind of trouble Timmy's in."

Ziva was kind enough to wait until Tony had buckled his seatbelt before pressing her foot to the floor and accelerating the car to warp speed. It was hardly out of the ordinary for Ziva, but the look on her face was.

"Why do you have that weird look on your face?" he asked conversationally.

Ziva went on the defensive. "What look? This is my face."

Tony lifted the corner of one of the containers and stuck his finger into the tiramisu. "No, that's not your face. Your face is generally not so frowny."

"I am not frowning," Ziva insisted, even as the crease between her eyebrows deepened.

"What did Celeste say to you?" Tony asked. "She can get kind of intense when she's had wine."

"Nothing," Ziva muttered. She wasn't sure what exactly Celeste had said, or why it made Ziva feel slightly panicked. She just knew that it was somehow big, and she didn't know how to ask him to explain it to her.

Tony narrowed his eyes like he was sizing her up. "You're not even trying to pretend like that's the truth."

Ziva frowned deeper and took the corner at the end of the road sharply. Not only was he a merry drunk, but he was a chatty drunk tonight.

Tony winced and held on. "You can't end this conversation by putting me in emergency. McGee's already there, and Gibbs and Abby will string you up if you hurt me."

"Be quiet, Tony," she sighed.

Tony ignored her. "You want some tiramisu?"

"Not if you have had your finger in it."

"It's pretty good," he continued, ignoring her mood in favor of amusing himself. "Not as good as mine, but I learnt at the feet of my Italian grandmother—" He went quiet as Ziva took another corner at light speed, and then cleared his throat. "I am concerned about the methods you use to alleviate your aggression, Ziva," he said evenly.

"Will you please stop talking like a therapist?" she threw at him.

"Will you please start answering simple questions like a regular person?" he hit straight back.

Ziva bit her tongue before she bluntly asked him what happened in Philadelphia and what it had to do with her. She was getting lost in her anxiety and worry again, and she had to stop taking it out on him.

She took a calming breath, and then approached it as delicately as she could in her current mood. "Do not get angry with me when I tell you," she began, taking her hand off the wheel to hold up an index finger in warning. "I had barely said hello to her when she started divulging all this information."

He went silent for a moment, and Ziva felt the mood in the car change. "What information?" he asked carefully.

She flipped her hair out of her face and again wished she had brought a hair band with her. "She told me that she was relieved that you are happy again. As in real happy, not the fake surface happy you put on so often," she said, with a dismissive flick of her wrist.

"The fake, surface happy?" Tony repeated, a fight creeping into his voice for the first time that night.

Ziva held her finger up again. "I did not say it, Tony," she reminded him. "Do not get angry with me."

"I'm not angry with you," he said tightly. "What else did she say to you?"

Ziva closed her eyes briefly and sighed again, and she could feel Tony bracing himself for impact. "She said she and Josh were worried they would never get their old Tony back after what happened in Philadelphia."

Silence.

"But she said that you seemed to have your head on straight now," she continued warily. "I am not sure what that means, exactly, but she seemed pleased by it."

"What else did she tell you about Philly?" Tony asked, beginning to speak before she had finished. His joviality from just minutes before was gone, and Ziva felt her heart pang with regret. She should never have said anything.

"Nothing, Tony," she said softly. "She seemed to think that I already knew."

"Do you?"

She shot him a quick frown. "No," she said obviously.

"Honestly?" Tony asked, pushing the point. "Because I know you did all that background research on us for your brother, and—" He cut himself off when Ziva's head whipped around and her eyes aimed daggers at him, but only for a second. He re-gathered courage and pushed it further. "You did, right? That's a fact."

Ziva's eyes went back to the road with what Tony could have sworn was the beginning of a tear. "It was my job," she bit out, her jaw clenched as a sudden lance of pain in her chest almost took her breath away. All these years, and she couldn't let it go.

"I know, Ziva," he said tiredly, not succeeding in keeping the fight out of his voice. "I'm not saying you did it maliciously—"

"Yes, that is exactly what you are implying."

"No, it's not," he insisted, voice rising. "Don't put words in my mouth!"

"I did not have a choice," Ziva told him firmly, even as her voice wavered. "I did not know what he would do with the information."

"I know, goddamn it!" Tony cried. "I'm just saying that you did background research on us, and that the thing that happened in Philly might've been something that came up in that research."

"Well it didn't!" she shot. "I do not know anything about it!"

"Okay, fine!" he almost yelled back.

They traveled for a few miles in silence, heavy breathing filling the car as they both tried to calm down from another fight that came out of nowhere.

"I don't blame you for it, Ziva," he finally said.

She frowned at him. "For Philly?"

Tony shook his head and swallowed hard. "No. For what happened with him and Kate. I don't blame you for any of that. I don't know if that's what you think, but I want to make it clear."

When Ziva didn't respond, he forced himself to look at her. Almost immediately he looked away again, when it was clear that she was struggling not to cry. As much as Tony hated it when women cried, sometimes he wished Ziva just would. He wished that she wouldn't try to keep the mask in place around him. All it did was remind him of everything he didn't know about her and never would.

"In Philly," he began, but Ziva cut him off.

"I do not want to know."

His eyes went out the passenger window as he coped with the sting and tried to swallow it down. "I kind of need you to know."

"Why?" Ziva asked softly, trying very hard not to fight. "You have known me all this time without needing me to know."

Tony cocked his head to himself in agreement. "Yeah, but our relationship's different now."

Ziva sighed. That was an understatement. "Yes," she said cautiously, letting him lead.

Tony debated getting into it now, but in the end, he decided that now—in a car on the way to the hospital—wasn't the right time. "We can talk about it later," he said, letting her off the hook. "Doesn't have to be now. Actually, there might be some tears, so later would be good. I can't do the big brother thing for Abby when I'm crying."

Ziva could not recall a single time she had seen him cry, and wondered if he was embellishing or warning. "You do not have to tell me anything you are uncomfortable with."

Tony chuckled like it was no big deal, but kept his eyes trained on the passing buildings. "Yeah, but if I can't tell you, I can't tell anyone. It's okay. We'll talk later."

She still wasn't sure she wanted to know. "Okay."

They traveled another few miles in silence, Tony trying to build a plan for how to tell her what had happened with Jill in Philly almost 15 years ago. He'd talked it through almost a dozen times with detectives, lawyers and therapists, but not for a long time. Abby had only received the abridged version, and that'd been enough to make him tense and nervous for days afterwards. God only knew how he'd cope with laying out every detail for Ziva.

He cleared his throat. "Subject change?" he suggested.

"Sounds good."

He looked over to find her face settled in a neutral expression. "So, how freaked out was Abby?

Ziva glanced at him. "She was not exactly calm," she understated. "Mostly, she was worried about McGee. But I think she was upset by Gibbs' date as well."

Tony did a full body shudder. "No kidding. This dating thing he's doing is giving me the heebie jeebies. Have you ever seen Gibbs flirt? It's…gross."

Ziva shot him a teasing smirk. "Have you ever seen you flirt?"

Tony aimed a big, confident smile at her. "It's magic."

Ziva chose to ignore that. "Abby does not like her. She did not want to call Gibbs because she was convinced he would think she was making it up."

"Did she say how bad it was?" Tony asked, looking at her closely to catch any of her usual tells. But Ziva didn't bother to hide her worry.

"No," she said with a shake of her head. "Abby just said he had been feeling sick all day and that he developed severe stomach pains before passing out."

Tony sighed and dropped his head back against the seat. "Poor kid. He doesn't have the iron disposition of you or Gibbs, or the grace to handle it like me."

Ziva shot him an appalled look, and Tony returned a smile that assured her he had been joking. Mostly.

"Be nice to him," Ziva admonished lightly.

"I'm always nice," Tony insisted. "But I'm not handing over this tiramisu to him, if that's what you're suggesting."

Ziva smiled under rolling eyes. "I would not dream of asking you to."


By the time they pulled into the lot at Mercy General, Tony's merriness had returned and Ziva had relaxed. She stepped out of the car, only to turn and lean back in, across the driver's seat, to stick her finger into the tiramisu and bring it to her mouth.

"Wow. This is really good," she told him, and went back for another finger-sized scoop.

Tony glanced over and smirked. "You know, I can see right down your top now."

"I do not know why you think that is news," she replied, and swallowed more of the dessert. "I need a spoon."

"I'll spoon you later," Tony cracked, not expecting her to get the joke. But Ziva did, and she winked at him as she wiped some cream off her lip and retreated from the car once more. Tony smirked, supposing that her vague encouragement meant that they were done with fighting for the night. He could definitely get on board with that. He was truly getting sick of their increasingly frequent spats.

Neither of them noticed Gibbs 20 feet behind them, quickening his pace to catch up as they all walked out of the car park and towards the hospital. He watched as Tony put his hand briefly on Ziva's back before he caught her gaze and they smiled at each other. Then Tony dropped his hand and Ziva crossed her arms over her chest.

"Glad it's not the white one," Tony said.

Ziva tilted her head back to look up at him, her frown indicating that she wasn't following his train of thought. "White one what?"

His mouth pulled in a small grin as his eyes fell to her chest for a moment. "Tank top."

Ziva looked down at the black tank she was wearing that she had been planning on sleeping in. "I did not have time to change," she said. "I had to round up Abby's support team."

"I'm not complaining," he said.

Ziva looked at him with heavy eyes. "I thought the white was your favorite," she teased.

"It has its merits," he admitted, thinking of how transparent that top got in the morning sunshine. "I knew you wore that on purpose."

Ziva shrugged, unconcerned at being caught out. "It seems to make you happy," she said, before grabbing his arm for balance as she tripped in her flip-flops on the gutter she was trying to step over.

Tony grabbed her with both hands, and chuckled. "Stealth, Ziva. Aren't you supposed to have a degree in ninja or something?"

"Don't laugh at me," she warned, even as she laughed at herself. "Abby is not the only one who knows how to kill without leaving evidence."

"You know, Ziva, every time you threaten me without following through, it loses a little more impact."

"Maybe I will have to stop threatening and just start torturing."

Tony shot her a lascivious grin. "I love it when you talk dirty to me."

Whatever retort she had ready was swallowed when Gibbs decided to make his presence known.

"Hey!" he called.

They both stopped and turned to see Gibbs just four feet behind them. He was dressed up in a grey suit, blue shirt and black tie, and Tony and Ziva both grinned gleefully at the sight.

"Nice suit, boss," Tony said. "Lookin' sharp."

"Very dashing, yes?" Ziva said, looking to Tony to make sure she'd used the correct word.

Gibbs rolled his eyes and shoved his way between them. "You two chuckleheads get to see Abby yet?"

"No, we just arrived," Ziva told him. "How was your date?"

Gibbs spun, and Tony grabbed her arm and pulled her back slightly, out of fire-breathing range.

Ziva understood the warning, but continued anyway. "What? You have been dating for a while, yes? It has to be going well."

"Oh, Ziva. Please stop talking," Tony begged quietly.

"Fine," Gibbs growled, and Ziva knew she'd pushed her luck as far as it would go.

"Well, good," she said.

Gibbs turned again, and Ziva felt Tony tug her hair. She looked over at him and he shook his head and gave her a look she read as 'You're crazy'.

She stepped in close to him and whispered, "Don't act like you don't want to know."

"Well I guess if you're going to ask, the parking lot of a hospital would be one of the better places to do it," he whispered back.

"It will be good for him," Ziva insisted. "To have other interests—"

"You weren't around after he broke up with Darlene," Tony cut in. "That was not good for him. Or the rest of us."

"You're assuming they will break up," she argued. "Maybe—"

"You know I can hear you two gossiping, right?" Gibbs called back to them.

Tony winced. "Right, boss. Hearing's better than your eyesight. We're shutting up." He looked at Ziva, and repeated pointedly, "We're shutting up."

Ziva sighed. "Shutting up."


As the clock crept closer to 0100, Gibbs pushed himself out of his chair in McGee's recovery room. The poor kid's appendix had burst, no doubt causing the agony that had caused him to pass out, but his emergency surgery had saved him before infection set in. He would most likely be allowed to leave the hospital on Monday. After hearing the diagnosis and being assured McGee would be fine, Abby's mania had subsided almost immediately. She collapsed into the chair beside McGee's bed two hours ago and hadn't gotten up since. It was clear she'd be there all night.

Gibbs passed behind her chair and squeezed her shoulder. "Coffee," he told her, and pressed a quick kiss to her head.

Abby looked over her shoulder at him and waved her Caf-Pow that Tony and Ziva had brought in a while ago. "If Tony and Ziva are still out there, tell them they should go home. And thank Ziva for tracking you guys down. And thank them for coming."

Gibbs paused by the door until he was sure she didn't have any more instructions, and then nodded and headed down the hall to the small waiting room they'd commandeered that evening. He didn't doubt that they would both still be there. He just didn't know what mood they'd be in.

It would have been obvious to even the casual observer that Tony and Ziva had been up and down a lot lately. More so than usual. Gibbs wasn't clear on the source of the snippier-than-normal dialogue, and he sure as hell didn't want to know. He just wanted them to sort it out and get back to normal before one of them took it too far and they came to blows.

He turned and walked into the waiting room, and stopped dead in his tracks. If the picture before him was anything to go by, Gibbs shouldn't have been worried about fistfights. Rather, he should have been preparing for some serious rule-breaking.

Tony was sitting in the corner of the couch, slumped right down so that his ass was barely on the seat. His knees were tented and his feet were propped against the edge of the coffee table. Ziva lay on her side across the remainder of the couch, her back to the rest of the room and her head on Tony's stomach. DiNozzo had an arm lying possessively over her waist, and the two of them were fast asleep.

Gibbs supposed this meant that they weren't going to be doing any fistfighting tonight.

It was his first impulse to go over there and smack them both awake, but he resisted the urge and instead looked heavenward for patience and strength. He'd seen this coming. Ever since the first time he'd been in a room with both of them together, Gibbs knew that sooner or later they'd all be dealing with this. Frankly, he'd expected it to happen a lot sooner. Years ago, in fact. So he didn't know why he was suddenly so surprised by the evidence.

It occurred to him now, as he silently backed out of the room and went in search of a desperately needed coffee, that this could be why they'd been behaving so differently of late. Ziva's application was still up in the air, and it was stressful enough for the rest of them left wondering if a member of their family was going to leave them. But if Tony and Ziva were in a relationship and looking at the possibility of being broken up, their shared moodiness suddenly made a lot more sense.

Gibbs scowled to himself as he stepped into the elevator and smacked the button for the ground floor cafeteria. The boss side of him was irritated beyond belief that they'd finally given in. Not only would the possible/inevitable break up impact his whole team, but so would the romance. Gibbs had been in their shoes and knew how easy it was to get distracted, even when you were determined not to be. Distractions put the entire team in jeopardy, and as far as Special Agent Gibbs was concerned, the two of them had no right to put the team in that kind of danger.

But the other side of him, the side that loved them like his own kids and wanted nothing more than to see them both be happy and at their best, was the side responsible for the barest of smiles tugging at his lips. They'd waited a long time, both by choice and by circumstance, and the fact that they were still determined to give themselves a chance said a lot about how strongly they must have felt, and how sure they must have been. As much as he'd deny it, four marriages and another relationship that had felt like a marriage spoke to the fact that deep down, Jethro Gibbs was a romantic. The part of him that didn't feel like their boss was genuinely happy for them and wanted it to work out.

Right now, Gibbs wasn't sure how to handle the conflict within him. But there was one thing both sides of him agreed on: if Ziva's application was denied and she had to return home, the loss—of both of them—would be unbearable.