Here's the next chapter for you all! We're still on episode 12, Shiva, and we will be for the next couple of chapters as well. Hopefully the little bits I add in give you guys a bit more than all we got in that episode.

Anyway, hope you enjoy! Read on!

The takeout and cup of tea helped cheer her up a fair bit, along with the chat with Shmeil about everything going on. It lifted her spirits a little to be able to tell someone who had known her family so personally about it, and she was in a good mood when she went to bed. Or, at least, as good a mood she could be in considering the situation. Which was a lot better than she had been when she'd arrived at Tony's earlier on.

It didn't, however, ward off the nightmares that plagued her the moment she lay down and shut her eyes. Bidding goodnight to Tony had been sweet, the male agent almost reluctant to let her sleep on her own even though he was trying to respect her space. Space that she needed to cope with everything going on. She, personally, wasn't so used to sleeping alone when she was in his bed, but she supposed she could cope with it for one night. At least.

Dreaming of bullets riddling her father's body, indifference on the face of the man who had shot him, had certainly not been sweet. It had been horrifying, to say the least, as she tried to cover up the holes with her hands, blood flowing through her fingers. And then she looked up from where she was staring at the blood flowing through her hands, coating her fingers and staining her clothes, staining her. And she watched the eyes of her father as he choked, struggling to breathe, until his eyes glazed over. And she was left alone, the room dark and empty, no one there but herself and a dead man. A dead man she had once referred to as her father, as Abba.

"Ziva," she heard a familiar, but disembodied voice whisper, and suddenly there was a hand on her shoulder, shaking her.

When she looked down at her shoulder, she couldn't see anything.

"Stop!" She suddenly shot up, lashing out at whatever was touching her. And then her hand was grabbed, and it clicked where she was. That was when she noticed the room around her, the distinct lack of blood on her hands and body, and the person who had grabbed her arm.

It was Tony.

"It's okay, it's just a bad dream."

It took a few moments for her heartrate to slow down and return to a relatively normal rate, and even longer for her brain to actually register what he had said. It was just a bad dream. She wanted to be angry at him for those words. To point out that her whole life was feeling like a bad dream at this point, a never-ending stream of nightmares all rolled into one. That what she'd had wasn't a bad dream, but reality playing out as a horrifying memory. She wanted to get angry at him.

She could only feel resigned.

"No it's not."

He was only doing what he could in that situation. She… well, she could probably be a bit more open, admittedly. She could have told him what she really thought, why she knew that it was not just a bad dream. If she was being completely honest with herself. But she didn't want to be. She wanted to sort things out on her own, to come to terms with everything going on by herself. She didn't need to open up to anyone to do that, did she? She had come this far basically on her own, depending on no one for emotional support but herself. She didn't need to open up to anyone else, because that would open up a can of bugs that she was not sure she would be able to close.

Slowly she lay back down, staring off at the lamp on the bedside table as she tried to calm her breathing and pretending not to notice how Tony intertwined his fingers with hers. Like he always did when they were alone together, helping each other, with each other.

"Hey, come on." The coax left his lips softly, and she was almost tempted to take back what she had thought just a moment before and open up to him right then. To spill everything that was on her heart and plaguing her mind. Instead, she gave a sigh and let her eyes close a little, making up her mind.

She was telling him nothing. For the moment, at least.

That was why, instead of giving him an actual reply straight away, she reached up with her free hand and gave him a heavy pat on the shoulder. She couldn't have him around now — she didn't want his pity right then. She just wanted to be on her own, in her own mind. Thinking. Allowed to actually grieve, like she was supposed to be doing behind closed doors because the world still didn't know that her father was actually dead.

"Leave me alone, Tony."

She didn't know why she'd picked those words specifically, but she didn't miss the slight look of hurt in Tony's eyes. That hurt was enough to make her want to take the words back, tell him she didn't really mean them and that she wanted him there to help her through it all. She wanted to tell him that the words were a defense mechanism, that they had been a mistake. She wanted him to stay.

Except he had let go of her hand already, and was getting up to leave. No matter how much her brain prompted it, her lips didn't move, her body instead shifting into a more comfortable sleeping position. She wanted him back, there with her. She really did.

"I'm fine. Really."

But instead, she let him go. Her eyes were still open when she heard the door close softly, and she bit her lip. She didn't know whether she could get back to sleep now — not after the dream she'd had, and certainly not now that she felt guilty about the way she'd treated Tony. She had to… well, she had to at least try and make this right. Otherwise the short time she would be staying there would quickly become awkward, even with Shmeil there. She couldn't let that happen.

Taking a few moments to come to her final decision, she sighed before throwing off the covers and pushing herself up to a sitting position. Would Tony even still be awake? What if he'd decided to just go to bed? Well… she supposed there was really only one way to find out. Swinging her legs off the bed, she pushed herself to her feet and padded towards the bedroom door. Her hand hovered at the door handle for a few seconds longer than she intended, but finally she took the handle and turned it, pulling the bedroom door open.

The living area was as quiet as she expected it to be — Shmeil was asleep on the couch, the old man wrapped cozily in the blankets Tony had leant him, so she didn't exactly expect there to be any sort of noise. Tony, however, was not laying on the bed he'd borrowed from his flirty cougar of a neighbour. In fact, he wasn't even sitting on his bed. He wasn't in the room. Ziva's brows furrowed in confusion at that, before she decided to go on a little search. She knew she would have heard the front door opening and closing if Tony had left the apartment — the place wasn't particularly huge, and the latches on his doors weren't exactly quiet. He was likely somewhere still in the apartment — she'd just have to find him.

It didn't take her long to actually do that, considering the first place she headed to ended up being the kitchen and he was actually in there. Rifling through his barely filled fridge, as usual. She caught him just as he grabbed a bottle of still water out of the refrigerator door, and he jumped when he turned and spotted her standing there, at the kitchen door.

"Christ, Ziva."

"You should have turned the lights on," she pointed out casually. "Then you would not have been so startled by my appearance."

"I think your silence had more to do with that than the lack of light in here, Zi," he huffed out as he shut the refrigerator. Ziva took that as her cue to turn on the kitchen lights, the sudden brightness making them both squint for a few moments until their eyes adjusted to the light. A small part of her wished she'd kept the lights off and spoken with Tony in the darkness — there was something special about just sitting with someone you considered closer than a friend in the dark. Something hidden, yet vulnerable. All of that was washed away in the light.

Tony moved to stand by one of the kitchen counters, leaning on it as he opened his bottle to take a swig from it. "So, you're up?" Instead of falling back asleep. The comment was unspoken, but Ziva could feel it there. She wished he could have said it, just so that she could speak the answer to it that she had in her mind.

"So are you," she responded casually, watching him for a few moments. The way his hair looked scruffy yet neat, as if he just woke up that way. The slight bags under his eyes made her think he hadn't been sleeping well, or at least he hadn't slept yet that night. She knew she probably had bags that looked just as bad, if not worse. Her hair probably looked like a mess as well, if she had been tossing and turning in her sleep.

"You want anything to drink?" he asked casually, glancing at her momentarily before ahead at the wall and counters in front of him. She wanted to say yes, but then she knew that he would just direct her to the fridge so that she could get something out for herself. Under that whole "mi casa, su casa" thing he had going on whenever she stayed over. So instead of answering she headed straight to the fridge, grabbing out a bottle of water for herself before joining him by the counter and sitting up on it. He raised an eyebrow at her. "I would've got a bottle out for you."

"No, you would not." The look she gave him in response to his eyebrow was challenging, and he simply gave her a small smirk as he took another swig from his bottle.

"Are you sure about that?"

"I am very sure."

The pair settled into a comfortable silence, both of them drinking from their bottles of water. Ziva would have liked to continue like that — just spending time with him like that, not speaking about what was on their minds but just keeping each other company. Even though she knew that they would both eventually need to go and get some sleep. And she had to speak before they went back to sleep, or she would have got up for absolutely no reason whatsoever. Other than for a bottle of water, which hadn't been her original intention anyway.

"Tony," she started, "I—"

"It's okay."

She stared at him, blinking. He gave her a knowing look, and she sighed. She wished, sometimes, that he couldn't read her mind with just one look. Had it even been that obvious that she'd got up to apologise to him for what she'd said to him? After all, he was the one who claimed to be the open book, not her. She was meant to be… an enigma, a mystery. That was the mask she liked to wear. It kept her and her emotions safe. Though, really, if he were anyone else she may have felt uncomfortable about how easy he'd been able to read her.

He pointed at her briefly with his bottle. "You're an open book."

"Am I, now?" She definitely didn't think herself to be one.

"You are to me."

She paused at that, thinking on it briefly, before taking a swig from her own bottle and smiling a little at him. "Perhaps I am only open to you."

He returned her small smile with one of his own. "Are you, now?"

"Yes." Her smile widened ever so slightly at him. "And that is the way I like it."

Ziva didn't know why it felt as if they'd taken two steps forward and four steps back, but it did. Perhaps it was the way she'd asked him to borrow his laptop that morning to check some emails when really wanted to try and find some more information on her father's case using Tony's account and get in contact with some old friends back in Israel. Perhaps it was the suspicious look he gave her as he agreed to it anyway, telling her she could use his computer anytime and didn't really need to ask for permission — after all, it was better to seek forgiveness than ask permission, according to Gibbs; and Tony trusted her — at least, she hoped he did. She doubted he would let someone he didn't trust stay in his apartment.

Or perhaps she felt that way because of the way he caught her, walking straight out from the shower in his dressing gown and a towel around his neck, and closing his laptop right in front of her before going on a rant about how he was supposed to protect her with her staring back at him almost blankly. Only for her to follow up with the knowledge that Bodnar was in town on behalf of Mossad, something Tony clearly hadn't wanted her to know.

"And you did not think to tell me?" She was angry. Fuming, even. She was the one who deserved to know about what was going on, especially when it seemed to concern family affairs. But apparently, because it was linked to the ongoing murder investigation, she wasn't allowed to know about it. About any of it. And it hurt to see someone she'd trusted so deeply, someone she would give her life for in a heartbeat, and someone she knew would also give their life for her, keep something so vital from her.

"I thought, Ziva." Any traces of that conversation they'd had the night before, the brief cheerful bonding over bottled water, was gone. They were having a serious conversation now — one that neither of them really wanted to have, but clearly needed to. "I think a lot of stuff. All the time." He shifted to lean back in his seat, away from her. "I've been thinking how to keep you away from all of this, but clearly that's not working—"

"Why must I be kept away?" she cut in. There was venom in her tone, her words almost sounding like a demand, but he didn't look fazed. When he didn't even try to cut in, she continued. "I have known Ilan since we were children. He always fancied himself a… a son to Eli. A part of my family. Which he is not." She could feel herself getting angrier the more she spoke about it, the more she thought about it. How this man who wasn't even related to Eli David was being given the privileges of knowing about the case as if he were family. "I am blood! And I am not allowed the same access?"

"What do you want me to say, Ziva? The guy's Mossad."

"I was Mossad."

"And now you're the daughter of a dead man."

The words hit Ziva harder than she thought even Tony had intended, but his straight expression combined with those words coming from his mouth had her reeling emotionally, her body straightening up as if to lean away from him. Her lips pursed a little as she tried not to let herself break down in front of him. That was the one thing she was trying to avoid thinking of, because she wasn't allowed to show it. She had already grieved for more than enough time in private. She wasn't allowed to show the world that she was the daughter of a dead man. Everyone else in the world believed that her father was alive and well, and still in Israel. Not lying in a morgue at the Navy Yard, Washington D.C. But, more importantly, it hurt that Tony had used those words against her. That he'd pointed out the death of her father and used that as a reason to not bring her into everything that was going on, to keep her away from the whole case being used to give her closure on the loss of the last remaining member of his family. He, on the other hand, either didn't think it had hurt her as much as she felt, or was completely ignoring her change in expression to get his point out. She was, really, hoping it was the former… but she knew it was more likely to be the latter.

"Why don't you let yourself act like one?" His expression was still steely, and he stared at her for the briefest of moments before pushing himself to his feet and leaving her there, sat by his closed laptop. Leaving her there to hurt on her own, whilst he got ready to go to work. To do the work that she was not allowed to do.

And that? That hurt more than anything.

Ziva spent what felt like most of the afternoon, actually most of the day, thinking about what Tony had told her that morning. She, of course, felt guilty for using his computer without his permission. After all, it was his device, and if anything had happened then he would be at fault. He had let her borrow his computer and she had, in a way, betrayed his trust. She should have told him her intentions before even using it, and then let him decide whether she was allowed to use it based on the truth instead of a lie. Perhaps this was why she deserved everything that had happened to her. If she was so quick to break the trust of a friend like that because she was so desperate to get her own revenge—

No. Stop it. You do not deserve the pain you are going through. You're just enduring it because it's the hand you've been dealt. You're not being punished because you're hurting your friends.

The words echoed through her mind in Tony's voice, strangely enough, but she found it more than a little comforting. Because those words in that voice just sounded… right. And just knowing that her friend would actually say those words to make her feel better just comforted her that bit more.

The rest of the day, though? She just had to find things to keep herself busy so that her mind didn't spiral. She decided to spend most of the day away from the laptop, even though she left it open. In case, you know, she got an email notification from any more of her friends and contacts abroad with any more interesting information. (Her last email had come in from Alex, and she could tell just from the message that the boy was stupidly sleep-deprived but trying his best to be helpful. She didn't know why she had decided to ask him for help, but the brief conversation she was having with him over email was entertaining enough — it was almost like having a conversation with Gibbs' son, Andrew. Except Andrew was typically more conscious and coherent in their conversations.)

Instead of sitting at the open computer, she spent her time moving about Tony's apartment. She didn't leave it, of course — Tony would most definitely have been angry if he'd found out that Ziva set foot out of the apartment when she was staying there for her own safety. But she spent time cleaning (Tony wasn't particularly messy but there were areas that definitely needed a bit of a clean, and there was dust in every home), doing her laundry, and she was pretty sure she managed to find a YouTube yoga video on her phone to get some exercise in without even leaving the apartment. Shmeil had had meet with some friends for a catch up late in the morning, after their deli breakfast, but he had promised that he would answer any calls from her straight away, no matter what he was doing. It was touching, really, but… she didn't want to burden him. Shmeil (the man of steel, as Tony called him) had a busy life, Ziva knew it. He had so many contacts, and so many people he had to meet and exchange information with. She didn't want to burden him with the messiness of her own troubled life, no matter how good a friend he had always been.

Whilst the laundry had been quick enough to do, since she didn't have so many dirty clothes and so had spent most of her time making sure the clothes she was going to pack to take with her to Israel were clean, the yoga had given her… far too much time to think on her own. And she was not thinking about the things she wanted to actually think about. She'd forced herself through at least half an hour of it, but when it came to meditation? Her mind wandered so quickly to everything that had gone wrong with her life that she had to shake herself out of the yoga session to ground herself again. She didn't need to start thinking on her lost family members, and how all these people that she loved had died one by one. Otherwise she would end up spiralling into a pit of despair, and she didn't need Tony coming home to her sobbing on his living room floor after everything that had happened that morning. That would not be fair on him.

Sorting out her freshly washed clothes from the day before, a quick buzz of her phone told her that she had a message. She picked it up, frowning a little when she realised she had multiple messages there that she had missed. One, of course, was from Alex — and it seemed that simply emailing wasn't enough for him. A quick check of the time told her that he was definitely doing something he shouldn't — texting in class. She would have to have a word with him about that, definitely. He should be studying — with his injury, he didn't even have a reason to be distracted, since there wasn't much else he could do. Another of the messages was from Andrew, just a quick check up on her. She replied to that quickly enough, but she realised that his message, too, was sent during school hours. Gibbs would not be pleased about that if he ever found out. A third message from Tony, which she skipped past to get to the message from Abby. Tony's message could be answered later.

A smile grew on Ziva's face when she saw what looked like a giant tub of cookies as an image in Abby's message, with a little post-it on top that said the box was for her. Maybe she did not want the cookies right now, especially after Abby had had to try so hard to convince her to take one the day before, but she certainly appreciated them. Abby making so much for her? It was touching. She sent her friend a quick message to thank her, promising to have someone pick up the cookies for her later (because she certainly wouldn't be allowed anywhere near her lab now, with the case so underway).

Before she could go back and check Tony's message, though, she heard a notification going off on his laptop and frowned. As far as she knew, Tony should not be getting any messages on his computer — he could access everything on his phone, and would probably have had the wherewithal to warn her if anyone was planning to contact him through his laptop at any time. And that didn't even sound like a regular email notification; not from the way it seemed to keep going off. She turned to look at the laptop, still sat open on the table from where she'd left it earlier, and was surprised to see a request for a video call coming through. She didn't… well, she didn't usually carry out video calls with other people, but she knew it was very much possible. Who would be calling her at this time of day, though, when most people knew that she would be at work (and not mourning her father)? In fact, she realised rather quickly that this was Tony's laptop, and so no one should be calling him at this time of day either. After all, wouldn't it be faster to contact him at work on his phone? What if it was one of his many flings? Why was anyone calling him at all?

Her question was answered when she headed over to the laptop and accepted the request, and the face of Ilan Bodnar popped up on the screen. Not a woman expecting a date, but Ilan Bodnar. Her eyes widened at the sight of the man.

How did he know where to contact her?

"Hello, Ziva."