Ziva woke up, her arm draped over Tony's chest. She stirred and sat up, rubbing her eyes and yawning. Glancing over at the alarm clock, her eyes widened and she jumped off the bed, hurrying into the bathroom.

She stared at her dishevelled reflection in the mirror. She splashed her face with water, rubbing vigorously at the smudged eyeliner blotting her usually clear skin.

She had never got dressed so she was still naked, allowing her just to step into the shower. She gritted her teeth, refusing to allow herself to think about their steamy activities underneath the spray of water.

She rinsed the sweat off her body and wrapped herself in a towel. Her mind was swimming with hazy images of the night before and she needed to focus and get her thoughts in order.

She found a pot full of cold coffee, abandoned on the counter when Tony carried her off to bed. Pouring it into the sink, she rejected the idea of making a fresh pot.

Closing her eyes, she sank to the floor. The evening had passed in a blur and neither of them had stepped back at any point and thought about their actions. Consequently, they had had virulent sex, albeit passionate and wonderful, and 'the morning after' had not been given any thought to. Now that it was 'the morning after,' Ziva regretted that thoughtlessness.

Straightening up, she dressed quickly in the clothes she found discarded on the floor of Tony's bedroom and left the apartment.

She jogged towards her old apartment, taking up her daily route from the normal starting point. She wound her way through the side streets, smiling at the regular people she met, and then she turned into the park. She paused, leaning against a fence, and staring blankly out across the expanse of green.

An orange hat was bobbing round the corner and her shoulders slumped, reminded callously of Roy Sanders, her first love since uprooting herself from Israel. The hat disappeared round the corner and her attention turned to an Asian man walking a dog. In her mind, he morphed into Rivkin, turning and blowing her a kiss. She didn't return the gesture.

She lowered her gaze, staring at the child and seeing her brother, Ari, carefree and loving as a child, heartless and cruel as an adult. Her breath caught in her throat and she choked on a sob, steadying herself on the fence behind her. A hand was laid comfortingly on her shoulder and she twisted round to look at its owner. Tony's face smiled down at her. She blinked, making sure that she wasn't hallucinating.

'Ziva,' he murmured. 'Are you ok?'

She nodded, smiling cheerfully. 'Yeah,' she assured him. 'What are you doing here?'

'I woke and found that you were gone,' he began accusingly.

'Sorry,' she apologised. 'I didn't want to wake you up.'

'Since I knew your route, I thought that instead of waiting at home, I'd see if I could catch up with you,' he continued.

'You did not catch me up,' she protested.

'Fine,' he conceded. 'I drove to the entrance of the park.' She laughed and took his hand, pulling him after her as she jogged. 'Try to keep up,' she challenged.

'You're on,' he accepted, bursting into a sprint. She laughed and increased her pace only slightly, waiting for him to run out of energy. She didn't have to wait long since five minutes later he had fallen back beside her. 'I'm not a morning person,' he defended.

They jogged back to Tony's house, keeping in step with each other. Neither of them spoke much; Tony was too out of breath and Ziva was not ready to broach the subject of sex yet. Nevertheless, the silence was not awkward; they spent too much time together to need to fill every space with meaningless words.

Tony unlocked the door and ushered Ziva in politely. She thanked him and headed straight for the bedroom, dressing in clean clothes and returning refreshed and relaxed.

Tony was not a spy, he was not dying and he was not a terrorist. He was not her destructive brother, her deceased unconsummated love and he was not her deceitful Israeli boyfriend. She could trust him. She did trust him. She would always trust him.

She walked over to the table, sitting down at his instruction. He turned around, revealing a tray laden with coffee, pancakes and chocolate. She licked her lips, finding that she was ravenous after her elongated morning jog. He placed the tray in front of her and sat down beside her, taking his own plate off the tray.

'What's this in aid of, Tony?' she asked.

'We're getting married,' he answered. 'Is that not reason enough to celebrate?'

'Sure,' she accepted. 'This is good,' she added through a mouthful of pancake.

'Of course it is,' he boasted. 'I am a very good cook.'

She snorted. 'Not usually,' she argued. 'Don't forget, Tony, we are getting married. I know everything about you.'

'You do not,' he contradicted.

'Yes, I do.'

'Like what?' he sneered.

'I know that you liked the sex last night,' she retorted.

He opened his mouth to reply but hesitated. 'I thought you weren't going to talk about it,' he muttered.

'You don't want to talk about it?' she inquired.

'No,' he explained. 'I thought that you didn't want to.'

'Tony,' she sighed. 'We have to be a realistic couple. To do that, we must have sex.'

'Yeah, but we have gone undercover as a couple before and the sex didn't get that passionate,' he argued.

Ziva rolled her eyes. 'The last time we went undercover we had only just met. We did not have the history we have now. Also, we are not undercover now. We are actually going to get married and the extent of scrutiny we are under is on a completely different scale. To deceive Mossad, we will need to prove that we are actually in love.'

Tony's face fell slightly at the 'actually' she threw into her speech. 'So,' he ventured slowly. 'This is all just an act? You didn't enjoy last night.'

'I enjoyed it,' Ziva replied simply. 'But that doesn't change the fact that it is pretend.' Tony nodded and got up, clearing the plates.

'We have to go to work,' he told her. 'We're going to be late already.'

Thank you for your suggestions, they really help. Keep them coming.