A/N: A huge thanks to everyone who's continuing to both follow and review this one. And thanks also for not burning me alive for the bombshell at the end of the last chapter.

Disclaimer: Disclaimed.


"Sorry, Gibbs," Abby was saying over the phone that night. "I'll go over the sheets inch by inch and get you some DNA, but I just can't take this fingerprint to court."

Gibbs leant back against the kitchen counter and sighed to himself with irritation. Not at Abby—he trusted her opinion and her work, and knew that if she was confident with the two-point match to Gus Werner she'd found, she'd be telling him to bust down his door. But the case was becoming more frustrating than he'd been expecting, and everything was taking longer than he would have liked. He needed to find a motive.

"It's okay, Abs," he told her. "Go over the sheets, and I'll try to find something more for you to work with."

"I'll get them processed by lunchtime," she told him. "Which I guess will be breakfast for you."

Gibbs checked his watch, and did the math. "What is it, about 0200 there?"

"Yeah. And raining. It hasn't stopped since you left."

Knowing Abby's flair for the dramatic, Gibbs had trouble deciding whether she was speaking literally or figuratively. "Go home, Abby. Get some sleep."

There was a long silence over the line. "Tony, has this been you doing your Gibbs impersonation the whole time?"

Gibbs allowed a small smile. "No. But even if it were, he'd cover for you while you went home and had a nap. Go get some rest and start fresh in the morning."

"Okay," she said at length, still not convinced that she was really being dismissed. "Sleep tight."

"You too."

"Don't let the bed bugs bite."

"I won't."

"No, seriously," Abby said. "You can never be too careful in a bed that lots of people use and that probably isn't cleaned too often. And those suckers really itch, Gibbs. I mean, generally speaking, Hawaii's too tropical for them, but there's still the possibility that—"

"Okay, I'll be careful," he cut in. "Night, Abs."

He hung up and joined the others in the living room. Tony and Ziva shared the couch, and McGee was on one of the armchairs. All three were pitched forward and looking at files spread over the coffee table, but looked up when he came in.

He shook his head at them. "Only a two-point match to Werner. We need more. She's going to look at the sheets in the morning." His three agents seemed to deflate a little, but Gibbs kept them moving. "Motive. Go."

"Juliet or Werner?" McGee asked.

"Either. Both. Give me something."

"No sign of robbery," Tony began.

"Juliet did not have a history with any of them," Ziva continued.

"And she doesn't have a history of violence or stalking," McGee shot in.

"None of the victims worked on anything remotely interesting that she could have been trying to gather or steal information on."

"As far as we can tell, Werner did not know any of the victims either."

"And his record is clean as well."

Gibbs looked between the three of them. "You all just gave me the opposite of motive," he pointed out.

They all sat back in their chairs and considered the situation. Ziva had been developing a theory since she'd watched Juliet and her date last night. It was still coming together, but when Tony and McGee stayed silent, she decided to forge ahead.

"I have a thought," she said.

Tony's head lolled against the back of the couch as he looked over at her, and he reminded himself not to stroke her bare thigh while they had company. "Lay it on us."

"They never had sex."

McGee blinked. "Who?"

"Any of them. Juliet might say they did, but I trust the physical evidence over her word. And we didn't find condoms at any of the scenes. Plus, with that much alcohol in their systems, there's no way those guys would have been able to perform." She glanced at Tony, just as she glanced at McGee and Gibbs, but Tony immediately took umbrage.

"Why do you look at me when you say that?" He tried to remember ever getting so drunk that he hadn't been able to have sex with her, but nothing immediately came to mind. But was that because he was so drunk he couldn't remember? No, surely if that'd happened, she would've done something unspeakable to him by now. A horny Ziva was not someone you could disappoint and get away with it.

"I think maybe that was her intention," Ziva went on, looking at him strangely. "Everything about Juliet Spencer hints at low self esteem."

"What?" McGee cut in, incredulous.

Ziva sighed at his unspoken assumption. "The enormous implants, the way she frequently changes her appearance, all the make up, the skimpy clothes when she's out, the fake tan, the way she freely speaks about her hook ups, and has two or three of them a week. The breathy little voice. She's trying too hard for attention."

She paused to gauge how they were taking this. Gibbs was typically impassive (which she took as encouragement to continue), Tony was blatantly curious, and McGee was now weighing it up. "I think she hooks up with these men because she measures her self worth by the opinions others have of her. More than most people do. And she gives particular weight to how men see her. She thinks if they're lusting after her, that means she's important."

Beside her, Tony felt his cheeks color. Gee, now where had he heard that before? Certainly never from Ziva, although he didn't doubt she'd had that opinion of him at some point in the past. But therapists and ex-girlfriends had certainly never been shy about pointing it out. He took a swig of the beer he'd been cradling so he could blame the flush on the alcohol if he needed, and hoped the action covered his sudden discomfort.

"But maybe she can't make herself go through with the sex," Ziva continued. "Maybe there is a bit of self respect in there that can't let her go through with it. So she gets them so drunk that they can't remember what they did. She gets her hit of self worth from having the men lust after her, and they think they had sex with a hot woman. They both win."

Gibbs nodded along as he worked that through. "Could be right," he allowed. "But that doesn't add up to murder."

Ziva shifted to sit with her legs crossed, yoga style. "Not by Juliet. But Gus Werner has feelings for her. Perhaps he sees something in her that she doesn't see in herself."

"But he doesn't like her sleeping around," McGee shot in, getting on board with where she was going. "Killing the men she hooks up with is his way of protecting her virtue. They can't tell anyone they slept with her if they're dead."

Gibbs looked to Tony for his take, but found his senior agent staring at Ziva's water bottle with a vague frown. "DiNozzo? Thoughts?"

Tony didn't shift his gaze. "I don't get women."

Three sets of eyes looked around at each other in amusement, irritation and exasperation.

"I don't get how they can be so beautiful, and not know it. Why they bother with the hair and the makeup and the push up bras and—"

"You can't expect us to take this seriously coming from you," McGee cut in. "You know that, right?" It was a cutting remark, one he wouldn't normally make. But he was still reeling from Gale's bombshell that afternoon, and the childlike 'you hurt me, I'll hurt you' feeling was hard to ignore.

He was expecting a rise, but McGee still wasn't prepared for the severity of the scowl Tony suddenly shot at him. "Yeah, I'm a slut. We know." He returned his eyes to the coffee table and shrugged. "Doesn't matter."

McGee flushed under the glare that Ziva shot him, but it was Gibbs who spoke up. "I'd like to hear where you were going."

"Me too," Ziva added.

But Tony shook his head. "No, it doesn't have anything to do with the case. Just ramblings. I think we should get some eyes on Werner the next time Juliet Spencer heads out for a date. See if he turns up again, and if he tries to bust the date up. If he does, it certainly gives us a line of questioning to pursue with him."

Gibbs nodded, and then got up and left without another word. The three of them watched him go, and remained silent until they heard his bedroom door close.

Tony looked over to Ziva. "I think that means we're dismissed for the evening."


Tony was brushing his teeth before bed when Ziva joined him in the bathroom. She reached around him for her cleanser as he rinsed, and then caught his wrist as he took a step towards the door.

"All yours," Tony said, and kissed her forehead, hoping she'd let him go. Instead, she tightened her grip.

"What were you going to say?"

Tony shook his head. "It really doesn't matter."

Ziva cocked her head to the side and softened her gaze. "Tony."

He sighed heavily as he caved in. He knew Ziva well enough to know that she wouldn't let it go until he told her, even if he held out for a year. He took a seat on the side of the tub, and Ziva gave his hand a quick squeeze before she turned on the faucet and filled the sink with warm water.

"I was just going to say that I don't understand why women put themselves through all that stuff." He met her eyes cautiously in the mirror, and she nodded in encouragement before leaning over the sink and splashing water on her face. "I mean, I do. Of course I do. I do the same thing. But…men are so easy. Women really don't need to go through all that crap to get our attention."

Ziva squeezed some cleanser onto her hand and rubbed it between her palms. "You are bothered by false advertising?"

He chuckled. "No, it's…I don't know any guy who, if he got a woman home and found she was wearing a push up bra, would get disappointed and kick her out. You know?"

"Good to know," she said, and started working the cleanser over her face.

Tony reached for one of her hair bands sitting on the vanity, and started flexing it between his fingers. He wasn't sure he was making sense, so he changed track. "I just mean that none of that crap matters when you really like someone, you know? Seeing the woman you love as she really is, as what she might think is less than perfect, is actually a massive turn on."

They held gazes in the mirror for a silent moment. Ziva was surprised that he was being so frank about it, and the irony that they were discussing it while she was looking in the mirror and cleansing, toning and moisturizing wasn't lost on her. Half of her wanted to point it out and make a joke of it, effectively ending the conversation. The other half of her was far too curious about the reformed serial dater's thoughts on the topic.

"Why?" she asked, pushing the word through a slightly tight throat and hoping she wasn't setting herself up for a bout of unwanted insecurity.

Tony stared at the hair band as he ordered his thoughts. "Because...it means that she's relaxed around you. She trusts you. She's confident enough to share a side of herself with you that she wouldn't share with too many other people. All of that's sexy."

Ziva stared at him quietly for a moment, unable to help comparing herself to his statement. Mostly, she thought she was pretty true to herself. She didn't dress up for work like some of the other female agents did. She mostly dressed for practicality. And when she was slogging though a crime scene, the state of her hair and whether her foundation was holding up its 12-hour promise wasn't really on top of her mind. But it would be a flat out lie to say that she never worried about her appearance or employed the tricks he'd been talking about. And it would be a bigger lie to say that she had never had him in mind when she'd dressed herself up or ironed her hair. On the other hand, she hardly obsessed about lipstick shades or whether she could get away with wearing blue with her skin tone.

She bent over the sink to splash water off her face and remove the cleanser, and then reached for the bottle of toner and a cotton ball. "You think it is a form of intimacy?" she tried.

Tony considered that. It wasn't what sprang to his mind when he thought of the traditional implications of the word, but in a weird way, she was right. "I guess." He glanced at her in the mirror as she tossed the cotton ball in the bin and reached for her moisturizer. Right now, she was bare faced. Scrubbed clean of all make up and relying only on what God gave her for her beauty. And, Jesus, she was stunning. His stomach did a little flip and the corner of his mouth lifted. Damn he was lucky.

When he'd been quiet for more than a few seconds, Ziva looked over at him and raised her eyebrow. She sensed he had more to say on the topic, and she was still curious.

Tony went for the obvious. "Okay, hypothetically speaking, I might've known a woman once who, when we were at her place after we finished work really late at night, would let me sit on the edge of the tub as we talked and watch her take her make up off. And then do this cleansing, moisturizing routine thing."

He smiled at her affectionately and she looked down at the products in front of her with a self-conscious wince, and then smile of her own. 'Hypothetically speaking' was simply Tony's attempt to put some distance into the conversation to allow for more honesty.

Tony went on. "I loved it. I loved that she felt she could be her real self around me when I knew she probably wouldn't let many other people see her like that. Even though she was so beautiful without it." He paused and Ziva met his eyes again. "And after all that—seeing her without her make up, hair pretty messy, in sweat pants, sometimes still smelling a little bit like crime scene—I still wanted to get her into bed every time I saw her, and kiss her all over."

She held his gaze, determined not to turn away this time despite the flush running through her body. He was being extremely honest at this moment and he deserved for it to be acknowledged. She let go of the pleased smile she held inside. "She was a very lucky girl. I bet she wanted to get you into bed every time she saw you, too."

He smiled, and then reeled it in to lightly joke, "There were probably one or two occasions—make that years—when she was too annoyed at me for that."

"Maybe a little."

After all the honesty, it was only natural for Tony to now turn to levity. "I'm not saying that she wasn't smoking hot when she dressed up, though. Like, if I saw her running around in this little black mini dress she has with the stilettos and her hair done and that…smoky eye thing she sometimes does, maybe while shooting at someone…" His eyes glazed over as he built the fantasy in his head, but when they drifted to her bare legs, he snapped back to attention. "I'm not saying that wouldn't be sexy as hell as well."

Ziva smirked, and watched his eyes darken as they traveled up her legs.

"Man, she's got amazing legs," he told her, as Ziva pushed off the vanity and crossed the room to close and lock the door. "And her butt?" he went on as she braced her hands on his shoulders and straddled his legs to sit on his knees. "Oh my God, Ziva. This woman has the greatest ass you've ever—"

Ziva cut him off when she wrapped her arms around his neck and leant in to kiss him. She could feel him smiling into it, deservedly very pleased with himself, and pushed her chest against him as she deepened the kiss. She felt one of his hands creep up under her top to rest on the skin of her back, and the other tunneled into her hair. She could feel the spark right there, ready to ignite if she would only let it. But she was still acutely aware that while this case was still open, they were technically on the clock. Sharing some intimacy after a conversation like that was to be expected, but now they had to draw the line before it got out of control. And Ziva knew from first hand experience that when she was with Tony, she often got out of control.

She broke the kiss right before she knew he'd take things up a notch, but hovered just a few inches in front of his face. "I don't smell like crime scene now, right?" she checked.

Tony stared at her darkly for a second as his brain tried to switch from 'sex' to 'talk'. "No, you smell like," he paused to smell her freshly moisturized cheek, causing Ziva to giggle, "green tea and cucumber."

Ziva gave him another quick kiss, and then looked at him with serious eyes to address McGee's comment that had pissed them both off. "I don't think you're a slut."

The corner of his mouth lifted, but the smile didn't reach his eyes. "I don't quite believe you," he told her honestly.

Ziva cocked her head to the side, partially agreeing with his meaning. "You used to be," she allowed. "But that doesn't seem to be you anymore."

"Well, I'm kind of focused on one woman now," he replied, shrugging as if it was obvious, and surprising himself by how easy it was to say.

Ziva studied him carefully. "Are you sure about that?"

Tony couldn't help the look of hurt that flashed across his face. Yes, he had slept around a lot. He'd never try to argue the point. But did she really think he was still doing that? Because of what that idiot Gale had said today?

"If this is about Abby—" he started, but cut himself off when she dropped her head and started laughing. "What?"

"It is definitely not about that," she chuckled.

He took a hopeful stab in the dark. "You're not upset about that?"

She frowned at him, not understanding why he'd think she would be. "Why would I be? It was ten years ago, not last week."

Tony's shoulders hunched in as he let out a huge sigh of relief. "I'm so glad you're okay with it."

Ziva shrugged. "I don't see the point in getting upset about something you did before I met you. But out of curiosity, how long did you date each other?"

Tony shook his head. "We didn't, really. We just…you know."

"Had sex."

"Yeah. But only twice. And it was very clear that's all it was." Ziva nodded like she got it, but given her comment from a moment ago, he had to make sure. "You don't think that I'm staying friends with her because I want to end up with her or anything, right?"

Ziva frowned deeply. "What? No. Of course not."

"Well you just asked me if I'm sure you're the one I'm focused on."

"Oh." She swallowed as she became nervous again, but decided to forge ahead. "No, I just wanted you to think about it."

"About whether I'm seeing anyone else right now?"

She shook her head. "No, about whether I'm her. The woman you want to focus on exclusively."

Ziva may have been nervous about the possibility of opening a can of worms, but it seemed as though Tony had already tackled the subject independently. "Oh. Yeah, of course."

Ziva blinked at his swift and decisive reply, and Tony smiled at his growing ability to put that look on her face.

"I didn't even stutter or pass out," he pointed out, as if it added more weight to his decision. She gave him the vaguely amused smile he was looking for, and then he turned on the honesty again. "Look, you are nothing like who I was looking for. But you're definitely everything I want. Without question."

Her gaze softened, and Tony tucked her hair behind her ear in an affectionate gesture, letting his fingers trail across her jaw before he met her eyes again. "I love you," he told her for only the second time, even if his heart was pounding like it was the first. "Just because you're not completely comfortable hearing it yet, it doesn't mean it's not true. You don't need to second guess me."

He stroked her cheeks with his thumbs as Ziva took a shallow breath, and her eyes took on that melty look that made his heart stutter. He knew she was hearing him, believing him, and just like when he'd told her in Paris, knowing that she got it filled him with a strange sense of relief and calm. This—them—was going to work. He felt it in his bones.

Ziva took a deep breath. "I—"

It was as far as she got before Tony put his thumb over her lips, stopping her from saying what he knew was coming. "Not here," he told her confused frown. "I'm probably going to regret stopping you, but I don't want to do it in a bathroom with Gibbs and McGee outside, and when I know I won't be lying next to you tonight."

Ziva understood what he was saying, but pouted against his thumb. He smiled.

"Besides which, I will probably let go of some manly tears when you actually say it, and if Gibbs sees that, his head will explode."

Ziva chuckled and buried her face in his neck, needing to be closer. She truly did adore him. "Manly tears, hmm?"

"Very manly," Tony reiterated. "I won't forget, though. So don't think you're off the hook."

Ziva tightened her arms around his shoulders. "I don't mind being on the hook for you."


Aw, mushiness!

I hope this is all making sense. Especially the case part. It makes sense to me because I've got it all planed in my head, but I hope I'm not assuming things are obvious when they're not. Yes, yes, the case isn't actually the star of this story, but it'd be good if it were at least vaguely coherent to people.