Longest one so far, and I'm loving this chapter.

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All right, enough talk, happy reading, everyone!


"That's illegal in most countries, you know."

Ziva spun around with her heart pounding in alarm. She recognized the voice a beat later and sighed at him, "Sneaking up on me could get you killed."

A sweatpants-clad Tony leaned on the doorframe with a grin and steaming mug in his hand, and it seemed like he had been standing there for a long time. The light from the hall framed his shirtless figure and made his sharp features soften with his shadow falling into the room. He looked very awake, which was rather odd considering that it was the middle of the night.

"I'm not too concerned about it," he told her with a smile. He passed her the mug and leaned against his underused desk with a bright expression. Tony was awake, strangely awake. "If you wanted to look through my things, you could have just asked. What're you looking for? Money? Passport? Ex-wives?"

Ziva ignored him and took the mug from his hand as he requested. She sniffed its contents carefully and was pleasantly surprised when she was greeted with the familiar aroma of her favorite tea. She cradled it in her palms and took in Tony's triumphant smile as she sipped it.

Eventually, she answered him, "Nothing. I am tired of watching television, and there's nothing here for me to read, so I thought I would do some detective work."

"You're not going to find me with some affair with an uglier woman, Ziva," Tony joked with a laugh, crossing his arms. The muscles in his arms rippled under his skin with the movement - Had they been there all this time? Ziva must have been blind to not notice before this. Regardless, she suddenly appreciated his choice in walking around shirtless half the time they were together.

She pried her eyes away from his chest and gestured to the mug in her hands by lifting it up. "Is this for me?"

"Yeah," he answered simply. "Thought you might like it. Helps you relax."

"Thank you. You know how to treat a girl," Ziva winked at him, and the smile on his face grew until it threatened to split it in half.

While he looked at her, his expression transformed into something softer, more concerned and serious. He asked lightly, "Bad dream?"

She shook her head and murmured with her lips against the edge of the mug, "It is just one of those nights. I have been lying awake since you fell asleep. I could not take it anymore, so I got up."

"You could have woken me up," Tony said. "I wouldn't mind. You know I wouldn't."

"How did you know that I was up, anyway?"

"I had to pee," Tony deadpanned with a shrug.

Ziva laughed softly because his response was extremely true to his character.

He didn't say anything more. Tony moved from his perch on the desk and approached the filing cabinet that Ziva had been attempting to open when he interrupted her. He reached around it with a grimace on his face when his shoulder popped in protest. Groping the length of the metal for a moment, his fingers latched onto something, and there was suddenly a snapping sound. Tony let out a low noise of success. Withdrawing his hand, she saw that he held a taped silver key between his fingers, and he immediately went to work on trying to open the cabinet.

Changing the subject, she asked him curiously, "Since when did you drink tea?"

He snorted. "You're funny. I don't drink tea. You know I hate it."

"Then why do you have tea?"

"Ziva," Tony said, diverting his attention from the uncooperative cabinet for the smallest of moments. He still looked amused, but there was an ounce of exasperation in his expression and voice. There was a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth that threatened to break free. "There's tea here because you're here. You like tea, so I bought tea for you. End of story."

"Oh," she breathed, feeling incredibly stupid.

Tony smiled at her because she looked so damn adorable with her mouth slightly ajar and head cocked, and he was aware of a faint stirring just below his navel. He ignored it, but there was a masculine, reflexive part of him that wanted to pin her to his desk and ravish her because god, she couldn't possibly getting away with looking that attractive. Tony blinked hard and dismissed the thought, forcing himself to turn away.

Really, he deserved a reward for how behaved he's been.

"If I didn't know any better," Ziva said with an air of mock-accusation, moving into his view and leaning her back on the wall, "I'd say that you've been spoiling me." She pointedly took another gulp from the mug in her hands, but there was a smile playing on her lips, so Tony doubted that she disliked the idea of being spoiled.

Hell, a part of her was probably basking in it, even if she wouldn't admit it.

"What are you talking about?" Tony asked incredulously. He finally managed to work the lock, and he gently placed the key on top of the cabinet while saying, "I've still got money in my pocket - I haven't spoiled you yet, sweetcheeks. Trust me on that one."

"You do not need to spend money to spoil someone, Tony," she told him in that chiding, matter-of-fact voice that made him tilt his head in confusion.

He frowned with his eyebrows pulling together. "I think that we have two totally different ideas of spoiling, Ziva."

She brought a hand up to pat his cheek. She searched for words, "You have been treating me very much like..."

"Royalty?" Tony suggested with a impish waggle of his eyebrows.

Ziva brushed off his joke and shrugged, "If you prefer to say it that way."

"But Ziva," Tony sighed, carefully taking the mug from her hands and placing it on the desk behind him. He stepped close to her, pinning her between the wall and his body. He caressed her warmer-than-normal palm just because he could - He did a lot of things nowadays just because he could, and to have that freedom was still unfathomable to him. "We're together - in a relationship, mind you. It's strange, even a month later, I know, but we are. I'm not doing anything out of the ordinary. It's like you cooking me food. It's stuff that we just do because we want to."

A smile spread over her face, and it was infectious. Tony grinned down at her crookedly.

"You haven't seen spoiling yet, love," he told her with a glint in his eye that always meant trouble. Tony braced a palm on the wall next to her head and leaned in close enough to her face that he could feel her tea-scented breath on his skin. He hated tea, definitely, but the smell of it mixed deliciously with her skin and made him want to shudder from the sweetness of it.

He vaguely had the idea of running his tongue down her exposed neck - But he decided against it.

Tony was wholly determined to make sure that their relationship was more than just their amazing, passionate, mouth-watering sex.

Even though it was fucking amazing.

"I do not need to," Ziva said firmly. She drew Tony from his naughty thoughts and gave him that look - The one that meant he better behave himself or else. The look had more of an effect on him nowadays - After all, her devious self could very easily hold out on physical intimacy, and Tony couldn't have any of that. He'd gladly be a dancing puppet to keep her happy. "This -" she squeezed his hand, "and everything you are doing is enough. It is more than enough."

"It's never enough," Tony challenged while he stepped away. He didn't want to expand on it because Ziva would complain and give him an argument that he couldn't fight, and he would lose just like he always did. So, he changed the subject before she could start talking, "About this cabinet - There really isn't anything of interest in it. It's just old medical records and certificates and warranties and old crap like that."

"Though," he said, pulling open the uppermost drawer without looking at her, "You might find this stuff interesting."

He stepped out of the way so she could peer inside, and upon realizing what was within, Ziva immediately pulled out the contents of the drawer in one, lopsided stack. She set it on his desk and pushed the drawer closed distractedly with her attention focused on the papers in front of her. She sat in his chair, and Tony took a seat on the desk with his feet planted firmly on the ground. His thigh was close enough that even the slightest movement would result in her brushing against him.

Ziva examined the tilting tower with a frown. Decisively, she plugged her nose and blew the dust away.

Tony immediately sneezed in response and rubbed his nose. He sniffed, "God, I haven't opened that drawer in years, as you can tell."

Upon looking back up at his face, she realized that there was something strange in his expression. There was a nervous uncertainty on his face that made him look as if he just got caught with his hand in the cookie jar. He wasn't looking at her - Rather, he eyed the stack of memories wearily, like there was something within that he didn't want to see at all. He realized that she was studying him, and he gave her a quick smile that didn't quite reach his eyes and a nod that meant she should continue.

With the utmost care, Ziva picked up the piece of paper at the top of the stack. It was flimsy and thin compared to the others, and hell, it would be a good place to start. Its texture was more like copy paper but just the slightest bit thicker, but it stuck out like a sore thumb in the stack of photos. She flipped it over and realized that she held a drawing in her hands. The picture was a very rough sketch of the man sitting next to her done in pencil.

"Kate," Tony explained with his throat tight. He wasn't looking at her, and he was leaning forward with his hands folded together and his elbows digging into his knees. There was an unknown point on the wall that he didn't avert his gaze from. "She was a talented sketch artist. I found that in her desk after she passed away, and I didn't think that she would mind if I kept it."

"I do not think so either," Ziva murmured softly, and really, she felt the tiniest bit responsible for Kate's death, even after all these years. Tony should know that she shot Ari. He should know, but Ziva decided that there wasn't a need to bring it up right know. Carefully, she placed the drawing down and away from the rest of the stack. She squeezed his thigh, and he untangled his hands just long enough to touch her hand in return.

"I'm okay, really - I just - Well, you'll see." The was a strain in his voice and expression that made the hairs on her arm stand up. Tony gave her a sad little smile that made her chest constrict as well.

Ziva knew that the only was she would find out what he meant was to keep looking through the pictures, so she immediately started examining the pictures in curiosity.

"You're younger in these pictures. Much younger," Ziva commented almost right away. "These are before you were at Baltimore - and no, wait. There are college pictures - Wow, that is obviously from college -" She shook her head at a picture of Tony licking salt off of a busty blond. "Really, Tony?"

Tony chortled at the memory and nudged her with a slightly sheepish expression. "It's in the past, love."

Ziva snorted in reply and tossed the picture in the pile that she had already seen.

He pointed to an image of him playing basketball and mumbled, "Oh, my golden years."

Tony explained the particular game to her quickly - He was on fire that night, and it had been the single best game he had played in college. He had landed the winning shot just seconds before the buzzer went off, and while she was clinging to his every word, Ziva was aware of the look on his face. It was reminiscent but not the least bit sad, and there was a sparkle in his eyes that meant he was talking about something he truly loved.

He fell silent, and Ziva continued to look through his past. It became obvious that she had shifted into Tony's police era, and she was thinking out loud when she said, "Still young but just as handsome."

Tony chuckled quietly. "But with less of a gut."

"I recognize some of these people," she murmured to him softly while she shifted through pictures of Tony and his friends. Usually at bars, but she decided not to be too irked by the thought. It was Tony's personality to spend his free time at bars. Apparently, it has been for years.

"You've met a couple of them," Tony replied lightly, sounding more like himself. "They're mostly buddies from college and my other police forces - A few odd ones here and there, but you have met a good chunk of them."

She pushed past the younger Tony and slowed down when more familiar faces started showing up. The pictures started morphing into more present time, and there were more faces that she could recall than the older ones. "Are these from when you worked for Baltimore?"

Tony was examining her face, and he blinked once before he registered her question. He tilted his body in a way that probably wasn't too great for his back to look at the pictures in her hands. "Yeah," Tony explained, leaning over and pointing to a couple of faces. "Recognize these two?" His finger lingered over his old partner's face, and he tapped once before withdrawing his hands. "Danny and I were a thick as thieves, back in the day."

"It is best if you remember him like that."

His voice was soft, "I always do."

Tony changed the subject and straightened his back. He grinned a little and picked up a picture from the stack. Handing it to her, he said, "There you go. My first day on the job. They gave me a copy of my identification picture - Only the lord knows why. I think the lady had a crush on me."

Ziva studied the picture and compared it to the man staring down at her. He still looked strikingly the same despite working at NCIS for the better side of nine years. The only difference was the he looked a little older, but it was nothing drastic. The only difference seemed to be his hair style, and Ziva had to admit, he looked better with the cut he had now.

Tony grinned at her with a tightness in his eyes that she tried to ignore.

She moved on to the next photo and found that it was one of him and Kate - At a bar, of course.

He had his arm around her with a huge, cheesy grin on his face. Kate was pushing him away but looked faintly amused at his childishness.

"She was very pretty," Ziva murmured softly, passing Tony the picture.

His eyes narrowed at the sight of it, and he agreed, "She was. She was a great gal, Ziva. I think you really would have gotten along with her - Or you know what? Maybe not." Tony chortled and placed the memory down in the stack that Ziva had already looked at.

The next dozen were from the same time period, and Tony very softly told the stories behind the pictures in her ear, and Ziva was engrossed by all the experiences he had with the team before she came along. She could imagine Tony, Kate, McGee, and Abby sitting at bars on Friday nights, bullshitting and discussing cases and becoming close. There was even a single snapshot of Paula and Tony, and Ziva wasn't even aware that the two of them were friends outside of NCIS. There was a sad, distant expression in his eyes as he told her stories from before she knew him, like he hadn't allowed himself to relive them because they hurt too much.

Ziva couldn't help but yearn to ease his pain, but she also knew that she couldn't.

She placed the last picture in the stack and was now confronted with a high school yearbook. Tony flipped open to his school picture, and she wasn't surprised to find a strikingly handsome, younger version of him grinning arrogantly up at her. He pointed out his basketball team and explained how lucky he was to be on a team of such talented players.

"That's it?" Ziva asked him, shutting the book with faint disappointment leaking into her voice.

Tony shook his head, and suddenly, his eyes were very unreadable. The light nostalgia on his face was wiped clean, and his face wore an emotionless mask that Ziva desperately wanted to peel away. He lifted the yearbook up, and there were at least thirty more pictures sandwiched between it and the photo album below it. He resumed his position of staring at the wall with his hands folded in front of him, and dread filled her like a sinking ship.

A few of the photos were smashed with creases and a few with tears on them. Ziva racked her brain for some sort of explanation, and she realized with a jolt that the last time they were looked at, the high school yearbook had been thrown on top of them. The assumption made sense - The rips and lines lined up with the way the yearbook had been lying.

She brought the least-damaged photo up to her face and found that there was a shift in time in these pictures. These were memories that she could recall.

She was in each and everyone of these pictures. Occasionally, Tony wouldn't even be in the picture, and it would be her and Abby or her and McGee. There were even a couple snapshots of Gibbs with the team, which was nonexistent up until now. She could immediately pinpoint the most recent out of all the pictures - It was months after the team was reunited after Jenny's death.

"I do not understand," Ziva murmured quietly. "What has you so shaken up?"

Tony reached over and grabbed a picture that was crumpled into a ball. He smoothed it out, and Ziva realized that it was not trash like she had previously thought - It was another picture. Tony straightened it the best he could and handed it to her with sad eyes.

She stared down at it and her heart leapt into her throat. Ziva remembered this night and had forgotten about it until now - Tony had gotten pissed drunk, and he had flirted relentlessly with her. She knew that a picture had been snapped of them, but Ziva didn't realize that he had a copy until now. His lips were pressed into her cheek, and his arm was slung around her casually like it belonged there. He was red-faced and obviously intoxicated, but she, on the other hand, was pink-cheeked for an entirely different reason.

Tony's voice pierced painfully through the silence, eerily calm, "The last time I opened the drawer was when I thought you were dead."

Ziva couldn't think of anything she could possibly respond with, and luckily for her, Tony continued roughly.

"I haven't been able to get myself to look through it since. Hurts too much. I've been keeping my new pictures in this drawer." He kicked back on his desk with his heel.

"You were angry," Ziva said without an ounce of accusation.

It explained the crumpled and damaged pictures.

"I was infuriated. With you, yeah, but most of all with myself. I let you go, after all. I caused the problem. If I hadn't - You would have been with us, alive... and it wasn't until I slammed everything back in the drawer and snapped it shut that I broke down," Tony admitted in a hurting voice. She looked up to find him digging his elbowing into his knees with a wounded expression on his face. "Ziva, I have never felt anything as bad as that."

He exhaled shakily. "It... It was a long night."

There was a certain edge to his voice. The way it seemed to hang in the air had Ziva's senses going off, and there was something more. He had reeled - There was something that he was going to admit but decided not to at the last second. There was something more to his story, something that he didn't want to talk about but something that Ziva had to know.

"Tony?" she asked, rising from her chair.

Ziva nudged his knees apart and stood between them. She took his face in her hands and forced him to look at her. He tried to look everywhere but into her eyes, but eventually, he breathed a sigh and complied with her insistence.

She was startled by the amount of emotions in his gaze. It was a swirling pool of pain and memories of long-ago. There were parts of his buried past that haunted him, and it was evident in the achingly wretched expression on his face. He gave her a broken, slight smile that made her heart plummet to the floor because there had to be something she could do to fix this. He didn't deserve to hurt like this.

"Tony?" she repeated his name through prickling nerves.

"Ah, Ziva," Tony sighed quietly, bringing his hand up to touch one of hers. "Let's just say it was rough. Really rough."

"How rough?" Ziva pushed because she had to know. She couldn't just let this one go. Not this time.

But somehow, she already knew.

Tony pulled her close enough to him that he could lay his forehead against hers. His eyes shut tightly in an attempt to block out whatever he was feeling. Hoarse, he murmured, "Rough enough that I almost lost it."

She couldn't look away from his face. "Lost it how?"

"Ziva - You know how, okay? I was in disbelief - I couldn't... I refused to accept that you were gone. I couldn't deal with it. I tried. I went through one day in denial - The day was hell. Everything reminded me of you. The entire summer I was okay with turning a blind eye to everything that even had the faintest wiff of you, and I managed. It was tough, but I managed - But after I thought that you were dead, I couldn't anymore. It was like everything got magnified with a fucking megaphone. It screamed in my face - mocked me. I just - I almost ended it."

Without realizing it, tears had formed at the corner of her eyes, and Ziva hated how he could do this to her so easily. It wasn't fair - Despite all her training, he could unravel everything instantly, without fail. Her training didn't help at all against the crippling emotions flowing through her veins. Choked from tears, she said while rubbing his face with her thumbs, "But you didn't. You're here."

Tony's eyes were still squeezed shut. His hands took a hold of her forearms loosely. His voice was broken and tight and made daggers poke through her skin, "You're right. I didn't. I decided that I couldn't give up like that, so I threw myself into trying to avenge you... I planned on waiting until afterward. A part of me sort of hoped that getting revenge would give me peace, but another part of me knew that it never would. But, you know, I never allowed myself to hope that you were alive and okay. I couldn't let myself do that. I wouldn't be able to live with it if I got my hopes up but came home empty-handed."

Ziva couldn't say anything. She couldn't think she could without breaking her thin composure.

Like a fucking tidal wave, emotions hit her because finally she understood how Tony felt when he went to Somalia to get her. The thought of him being gone and gone for good felt like hell -and hell, he was right in front of her in the flesh. The idea of losinghim was overwhelming, and god forbid, if that ever happened, Ziva would pull the trigger on herself without hesitation.

After all these years, after everything they've been through, she wouldn't be able to live without him. She couldn't. Wouldn't.

Tony's eyes flickered open and bore into hers, and there was a level of sincerity that passed between them that was inexplicable. His hand brushed a tear away, and he mumbled, a thin-lipped, humorless smile playing on his face, "Anthony DiNozzo, professional heartbreaker."

Ziva shook her head. "No. Never. Not to me."

"Glad you have faith in me."

"You weren't lying in Somalia," Ziva blurted before she could stop the words from leaving her lips.

"Lying about what?"

"You can't live without me."

Her words hung in the air like a two-day old balloon, hovering but not floating or sinking to the ground, and eventually, Tony shrugged and pressed his lips together nervously. He said through closed lips, "Really, Ziva. I had truth serum in me. I couldn't lie if I tried. But yes, I wasn't lying. It's true."

And that was the closest thing he had said thus far that indicated that he wanted to spend more than just a couple months or years with her, and it made Ziva feel fluttery and school-girly and hopeful. Really, she shouldn't have those type of feelings - She hadn't been a school girl in over a decade, damn it, but it bubbled up inside of her like carbonated soda and all she could do was go with it.

Pressing her body against his, she kissed him with all she had because he deserved that and nothing less. His lips were like fire on hers, and there was an amount of desperate passion that had stemmed from their intimate moment tonight. His movements were precise and breathtaking and made Ziva's nerves tingle like they were fried.

He rose to his feet and tugged her out of the room with his hands all over her, frenzied and uncontrolled. Ziva was shocked because he hardly ever came at her with this type of lust, and while she wasn't opposed to it, this wasn't Tony's style. He was normally very limited and adamant about making sure everything was meaningful and about her.

She half-considered slowing things down as her back hit his bedroom door, but then his tongue dragged against the length of her neck and she couldn't form another coherent thought, and fuck it, Tony could do whatever he wanted to her.