The soup had started to simmer on the stove when he heard her feet padding down the hallway.

Tony turned and took in her bedraggled appearance but was unable to do anything but grin. She was a mess; but at least she was here.

She looked somewhat ashamed and Tony observed as she obviously squared her shoulders: "I think tomorrow I should see Ducky."

Tony felt his heart skip slightly. "Are you ok? Did they..." he wasn't able to eek out the words and he had to clear his throat and take a quick steeling breath before trying again. "Did they-"

She cut him off with an upraised hand, knowing where his mind had gone. "No." Ziva replied quickly. "They did not rape me."

Ziva watched Tony's shoulders relax ever so slightly as what was obviously one of his deepest fears was disproved. The "Thank God" she knew he had thought was almost a visible expression on his face.

"There are some cuts on my back. I think they may need stitches," she said simply, explaining her need for a doctor.

Tony nodded and jerked his head towards the sofa. "Go sit," he said. "I'll get the first aid kit. If they're not too bad, we can see Ducky in the morning. You need your sleep," he said firmly and was mildly surprised when she actually did as he indicated and moved towards the sofa.

He grabbed the box of first aid supplies that he kept under his bathroom sink. It had seen him through many work-related injuries, never mind the serious bruises Ziva always left after one of their sparring sessions.

As he approached the living room, he took a moment to observe his partner. She sat sideways on the sofa, her right arm resting on the back of the couch and her head pillowed on her arm. He noticed the residual tension in her body and, not for the first time, he cursed himself for the part he played in putting it there.

He slipped behind her on the sofa and set the first aid kit on the coffee table.

She looked over her shoulder at him, an exhausted look on her face.

"Can you, um,..." he discretely waved a hand at the hem of her shirt.

A year ago, he would have made some comment about red-light behavior. He would have tickled her ribs quickly as he pulled the shirt up. She would have swatted his hand away and laughed good-naturedly while moving her shirt out of the way.

It was the fact that neither of them did any of that which caused the melancholy look to settle over their faces.

She reached down and with her very bruised and swollen hands, she tugged the shirt up on the sides as far as she could and leaned forward, exposing her lower back to him.

Tony delicately lifted the shirt the rest of the way in the back and hissed in sympathy as the deep lacerations, recently opened from the moisture of her long shower, were red and angry on her back.

"Damnit," he muttered under his breath as he reached for the peroxide and cotton pad.

She knew his touch was gentle as he wiped down the injuries on her back. She knew he couldn't help the sting as the peroxide killed the bacteria in her open wound. And she knew that every time she flinched, he mentally kicked himself for causing her pain.

When he stopped and ever-so-gently dabbed her back with the antibiotic cream, she forced herself to relax into his caring touch. She forced herself to focus on the years of working with him when he had been caring and kind, not the recent weeks when he, in an effort to protect her, had caused her pain.

Tony pulled the shirt down over her wounds. "I'll call Ducky. Do you want him to come now or tomorrow?" he said softly, packing up his medical supplies.

"Tomorrow will be fine, I think," she said. "They will scar, I am sure, having been open this long anyway."

"We're lucky they aren't infected," Tony said simply. He had heard from VanTright about the room on the ship where she had been kept. The way it had been described, they were lucky she hadn't caught the plague from the rats all over the place.

"There's chicken soup on the stove," he offered, standing and taking the first aid kit in hand and quickly returning it to the bathroom.

Ziva rose stiffly and helped herself to a half of a mug of soup, eating slowly as she knew it was best for her body even if she didn't have an appetite.

She felt him watching her from the door frame as she put her empty mug and used spoon into the sink gently.

Tony jerked a thumb towards the front door. "I'm goona head out if you're all set. I've, um, I've got my cell if you need anything."

Her wild hair moved as she nodded simply. "I still do not feel right about taking over your home."

"Its fine," he shrugged. "I'll come by in the morning and take you to see Ducky if you're up for it. Call if you need anything, ok?"

She nodded again and watched as he hesitated and visibly moved towards her ever so slightly before turning on his heel and heading towards the door, grabbing his keys on the way.

"Tony!" she called after him; her words caused him to stop mid motion with the door open, knob in hand.

She had caught up with him, though her movements were somewhat less than graceful with all of her bruising and injuries.

She moved, settling a hand on his arm and squeezing as much as her swollen fingers would permit. "Thank you," she said.

He nodded and offered her a lop-sided smile before heading out the door.