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He hadn't been to her house in months – since they brought her back from Somalia, really. The team had delivered her home and left her to heal in the new apartment Abby had acquired once they knew she was alive and headed back.

He had been over more frequently than the others, that was certain. Made sure she had clothes. And food. And company if she wanted it, which she rarely did.

He also made sure she had a TV. His bedroom was now bare, his spare television now settled into her living room.

And if truth be told, he really only missed it when there was a M*A*S*H marathon on Nickelodeon once every few months. He knew that it was being put to better use in its new home, keeping Ziva company while she recuperated.

And now, rocking on his heels in front of the door to her apartment, he realized just how long it had been since he had been to her place.

Was that his choice? Or hers?

Was it just the way their lives had parted since what started as a small crack in friendship turned into a rift the size of the Grand Canyon?

God, I hope not. Tony thought.

"You should go in," a voice startled him, causing him to spin, hand immediately reaching for his sidearm.

"Slow down," the guy said, one hand raised, the other holding a bottle of wine and a DVD.

"Werth," Tony said, visibly relaxing as he recognized the other man.

"Damon," Damon corrected, offering out his hand to Tony in greeting.

Tony shook the man's hand and nodded. "Didn't know you were here – I didn't mean to intrude," he said.

Damon shook his head. "No intrusion. The night didn't exactly go as planned," he shrugged.

"Oh." Was the only answer he could manage to eek out.

"Not what you think," Damon said quickly, "I had a Narcotics Anonymous ball this evening; Ziva was nice enough to keep me from having to go stag. Unfortunately, one of the waiters spilled the hor d'ourvre tray all over her and we left early."

Tony groaned. That red dress – please god save the red dress!

"She's cleaning up – I headed out to pick up a movie," Damon said. "But… I think I should head home early. Would you mind taking this in to her and making my excuses for me?" he held out the wine and movie and waited until Tony's fingers curled around the objects.

He felt his brow furrow as he recognized Werth's comment for what it was – a polite bow out when the territorial gauntlet had been thrown down over a woman.

"Really, man. Stay. I'm not trying to butt-in on your date. I just owed Ziva an apology."

Werth grinned and nodded, suddenly understanding. "That must be what had her in such a nasty mood all night." He jutted his head towards the door. "Go. I'm positive she'll be happier making nice with you than walking on egg shells with me all night."

Damon turned and headed away from the door before Tony could object, his form disappearing into the darkness.

He turned around and raised his free hand to knock, only to have the door swing open.

"Tony!" Ziva's voice reflected her surprise. "I um.. thought I heard Damon's voice. What are you doing here?"

Tony couldn't help but take in her casual appearance; her dress had been traded for jeans and a t-shirt and she certainly looked more comfortable and equally as lovely.

"You did hear him – he had to go…something came up. He asked me to, uh, tell you he had a wonderful night and he'll call you soon. And he wanted you to have these," he said, holding up the movie and wine.

"I see," she said, still frowning. "So what are you doing here, then?"

"I owed you an apology," he said, shocking even himself with his frank admission.

"This apology couldn't wait until tomorrow?"

He sighed, feeling the sting of rejection hit even deeper than usual, thanks to yesterday's battle with the Quick-Chat program. "I'll just save it for tomorrow, then," he said quickly, shoving the wine and movie at her and then turning on his heel.

"Tony, wait," she said, sighing. "You are here now. You might as well come in."

He spun back around and stepped passed her into the condo.

The lack of personal touches startled him; her previous apartment had more traces of 'Ziva' than he had ever expected. But it was warm, and cozy – shockingly, and very 'her.' This house still felt sterile. As if the occupant was too afraid to personalize the place.

"Is this a long apology or a short apology?" she asked, heading into the kitchen.

He didn't move from his spot in the foyer. Tony watched through the dividing wall window, remarking at how her movements were still graceful even as she did a mundane task such as reach for two glasses of wine from her high cupboard.

"Short," he said.

"That's a shame- you might not even finish your wine," she said, a smirk on her lips as she poured them each a glass.

"Apologies aren't something I'm good at, Ziva," he said quickly. "I mean, I screw up enough, but … usually a charming smile will mend whatever I've broken. I just can't do that with you."

She handed him the glass of wine and moved to sit on the sofa. "I don't fall for it."

"No. You're too smart. But more importantly, you're… well you're you. And you deserve more than a cop-out."

Her brows raised in surprise.

"I'm sorry the way I looked at you today made you feel objectified," he said, his words straight out of the sexual-harassment handbook. "I really didn't mean for you to be uncomfortable."

"Tony –" she started but her words were silenced as he plowed on, still having not left the entryway.

"Ziva, you're the most important woman in my life," Tony DiNozzo was on a roll. And nothing, short of a Gibbs Slap or a Nuclear Explosion was going to stop this speech. "And I really have managed to treat you like crap over the years. To be fair, you give as good as you get. But that doesn't mean its right. You're crazy-smart and talented, and you've got kick-ass-ninja skills. I mean scary ninja skills," he paused to chuckle. "But still, you're a beautiful woman and sometimes I get distracted and forget the other stuff and all I see is this amazing woman…" He stopped to clear his throat. "I'll really try to rein in the red-light behavior. The last thing I want is for you to be uncomfortable and leave."

She sighed. "Tony, I am not leaving," she said. "Well, citizenship pending, of course."

"I just –"

"I know what you thought," she said, taking a sip of her wine. "I know you think that every time someone gets mad or the status-quo changes, people leave. And I know that I have not done a good job of disproving that theory of yours."

She sighed, tired of watching him from across the room. "Tony, sit down."

He moved reluctantly and settled into the far corner of the couch, clinging to the glass of wine and thankful to have something to fiddle with.

"Listen to me," she said, her tone demanding his attention. "I owe you an apology. And it is long overdue. I was not entirely honest with you about Michael. And instead of admitting to my mistake, I blamed you when things went wrong. It was unfair of me."

"You had every right to blame me, Zi," he said softly.

She shook her head. "I don't blame you now, Tony, and you shouldn't blame yourself. You should remind yourself of how you dropped everything in your life and put your career in jeopardy to come rescue me out of that camp in Somalia."

He couldn't help but notice the gentle, almost imperceptible shiver that ran her body when she spoke those words. She never discussed Saleem or Somalia and now he saw why; external wounds heal much quicker than internal ones.

"Wouldn't you have done the same thing?" He asked. "If it was one of us, wouldn't you have done that?"

"I do not know," she said honestly. Her eyes finally showed a bit of sparkle and she regarded him with amusement. "I do know that I would have held up better under the Sodium Pentothal. I certainly wouldn't have told you those things with McGee around."

Tony wasn't sure how he managed to keep an embarrassed red tinge from taking over his features. "One of your many ninja traits?"

"Yes."

He cleared his throat. "So. Where do we stand on the red-light behavior? Are you going to tell me when I'm out of line or should I just treat you like my grandmother?"

Ziva chuckled, finishing off her glass of wine. "Do you check out your grandmother's legs the way you were looking at mine?"

"Well Gram was known for many things in her day…"

"Tony," she said, interrupting his joke. "Perhaps the agreement should be that we do not say things we do not mean."

He thought for a moment before nodding. "I can live with that."

"No more lies."

He nodded.

"So," she said. "What movie did Damon pick out?"

Tony reached over to the coffee table and picked up the DVD box "The Kite Runner."

She frowned. "Too depressing. I believe somebody left a box of DVDs here when I moved in. You wouldn't know who did that, would you?"

"I do know who did that," he said, firmly obeying their new 'no lies' rule.

Ziva backed off with a soft grin. "Perhaps there's something in there that is agreeable for us both?"

"You want me to stay and watch a movie?" He clarified.

"Yes."

"Ok then," he said, settling back on the couch as she rummaged through the shoebox of DVDs.