"You never talk about it."

He tried to keep the same, even tone to his voice, startling his partner or appearing too interested about this topic would not be a good idea. She would become distrustful and clam up. Or mussel up, as she liked to say. Maybe even angry and defensive. Either way, he'd have no chance at getting any information out of her if he wasn't careful. And he wanted to be careful

"What is there to talk about?"

And there was the defensiveness, right on time. Complete with a dangerous undertone of warning. It was almost funny how predictable she was, if it wasn't for the topic, he was trying to discuss with her.

"Come on, Ziva." His voice was low, not wanting to sound accusing but needing her to know that he wasn't joking around - he was serious.

Not that it mattered, she went on the defensive anyway. What she did best, what they all did best if he was being honest. But he wasn't thinking of him, he was thinking of her. Her and her dark brown, haunted eyes that told him more than her lips ever would. Those eyes that spoke of horrors even in the brief but lasting look she had just shot him. Tony wondered if she knew just how easily he could read her. She knew about the eyes; he'd told her willingly enough. But did she really believe him? Or know how much she gave away and so easily too?

He was right, after all. She never talked about it. Or appeared to be affected by it except for dark circles around her eyes and increased jumpiness. And the flashbacks. Couldn't forget the flashbacks, no matter how brief they were and how dismissive Ziva was about them. Oh, Tony knew she was affected by it, a person could not come through a hell like she had and not be affected by it. No matter how terrifyingly tough you were. No matter how much you tried to compartmentalise it. Tony knew that much from experience.

The flash of a blade and it swept towards Ziva's neck. His heart twisted and his breath came out in a gasp. It couldn't end like this, not after all he'd done. She was right there, just feet from him. It all couldn't come to an end now. Not when his despair had only just turned to hope.

The white of Saleem's smile gleamed brightly, maliciously, in the sandy haze of the cell. Tony had half expected them to be red-stained from all that Caf-POW he ordered, his weakness. The knife rested on Ziva's neck as her head was forced upright by the man's hold on her matted hair.

He blinked and shook his head as the memory faded from his consciousness. He didn't think he'd ever forget those few minutes in that nasty cell. The furious righteousness that coursed through his veins in his quest for revenge that quickly gave way to despair as he realised what he'd just hauled McGee into. Why had McGee even come? Then that turning to astonishment as Ziva was unveiled; filthy, battered, possibly even broken, but alive. Tony didn't think he'd ever feel such an overwhelming sense of hope than what he felt in that moment.

His heat stopped, all thoughts came to a halt and he was pretty sure that he had stopped breathing as well because he couldn't smelt the acrid scent of his own sweat anymore. Then, in a split second, everything started again and it was like you had turned the volume up on your TV very, very loud. Everything overwhelmed him. He couldn't register anything except her face.

The memories were forced back down and Tony was about to try and encourage his partner to talk again when she finally responded, though she wasn't looking at him.

"What Saleem did was bad enough. Becoming like him. Would be worse."

And that was not what he wanted to hear. She was deflecting again, though to a much darker place this time. He knew what she was doing. She was trying to shock him into not prying any further - to distract him. Making him think thoughts he didn't want to dwell on. Or even admit to having.

What did she even mean by that statement anyway? Did she have a flashback? Tony didn't think so, she had got a faraway look in her eyes when she was talking but she didn't become unresponsive or unaware of her surroundings. He could tell. He'd helped her through enough of them and gone through enough of his own.

Was it something he said? Did he remind or of Saleem in some way? Is that what she was hinting at? He hoped not, he would never want to be comparable to Saleem Ulman. Never. Would the summer always have this hold on them?

He didn't get a chance to question the matter as the case got in the way. Or rather, their attention returned to the case. Which was rather quickly used by Ziva to change her tone to something more normal, compartmentalising like only she could. Surprisingly, there was actually something that related to the case and might just get them a step closer to finding their guy.

"The food is fresh."

"Whoever was here left in hurry."

They exchanged familiar knowing looks and easily slipped into their usual easy partnership; finding the evidence, connecting the dots with a little bit of their banter returning (it wasn't quite there yet but it was there). Tony's stomach flipped as he realised something at the same time as Ziva by the looks of things. It all came down to one thing. Just like it always did.

"They were building a bomb."

"It's definitely the dirty kind."

Sometimes he really thought that they were in a movie the way things all fell together just in time like this. He looked down at the equipment. Well, he hoped that they were on time.