A/N: THANK YOU to all of you who have reviewed and have put me and/or this story on your alerts and favorites! That is beyond awesome and appreciated more than you know. :D This chapter begins a flashback to the defining moments that changed the relationship between Ziva and Gibbs forever in this "Zibbs-verse" I've created; I'm glad you're joining me for the journey.

This chapter is dedicated to my pal Geekery15 who has supported my writing all along, fluffiness and all. She nominated my "Healing" story for the LJ NCIS awards, and I just learned today that it won the Zibbs romance category - ! *happy dance happy dance* That would never have happened if she had not found that story to be worthy of nomination, and I appreciate it greatly. You rock, Sabrina!

And now, on with the story...Enjoy!

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A few weeks later, Ziva went undercover in an attempt to solve a case in which military wives were being murdered. Her cover was blown and she was nearly killed. Gibbs had been so jarred that he'd been harsh with her. "I don't need to see you tomorrow."

Ziva was shaken by the experience, as well, and needed him – but he hurt her with that comment. A day later she returned to the bar where she'd been undercover and hooked up with Michael Locke, a man who'd taken an interest in her while she'd been undercover. She'd nearly slept with him – had, in fact, ended up in his bed - but she couldn't go through with it. She was finally honest enough with herself to acknowledge that the only person she wanted like this was Jethro. Her defenses were down and she was suddenly tired of ignoring the huge elephant in the room. She had nearly died that day. Next time she might. Did she really want that to happen without knowing what they could be to each other?

She left Michael's and her car took her to Gibbs' as if on autopilot. There was a storm brewing, in more ways than one. She entered the house quietly, immediately determining that he was in the basement. He looked up as she paused at the top of the stairs, fighting the sudden urge to turn tail and run.

"Ziver?" he'd questioned, knowing she was up there. He always knew when she was anywhere near him.

She came slowly down the steps, pausing on the bottom step with her hand on the rail. Her hair was windblown around her face. Her expression was both haunted and unguarded in a way he'd never seen.

"I know you said you didn't need to see me," she began huskily. "But…I needed to see you." As her eyes met his, he was surprised to see a sheen of tears and more than a little vulnerability.

Just then a loud clap of thunder made her jump and reach for the gun that was not holstered at her hip. He said softly, "Hey, just thunder," and came close enough to put his hands on her shoulders. She squeezed her eyes shut and clenched her hands into fists, trying to grab onto her control – and her nerves.

When she didn't pull away, he tugged her closer, hugging her to his chest. Her arms came slowly around his waist as she began to relax against him. She rubbed her cheek against his chest, taking comfort.

"It's all right, Ziver. You're safe here. I won't let anyone get to you."

For a long moment she just rested against him, gathering her courage for what she was about to risk. He was so important to her, as a friend, a co-worker, a team leader…she did not want to lose any of that. But she also wanted more and tonight the control that normally kept that under wraps was shattered.

"That is not it." She pulled back, wanting to tell him all of it, despite the nerves. Arms crossed protectively over her chest, hands rubbing her upper arms in an effort to soothe herself, she began wandering around his basement as she spoke.

"It is true that I was – am – shaken by what happened with Hoffman…but not only for the reasons you think." She paused. "And when you said you did not need to see me, I was hurt and even angry that you could not see that I did not want to be alone.

"I went back to the Oyster Lounge, and Michael Locke was there again." After another short silence, she took a breath and continued. "He wanted me …and I wanted…to be wanted."

She turned to look at him at that point. His gaze was unreadable, face almost blank.

"We went to his apartment and I ended up in his bed." If she hadn't been looking straight at him, she'd have missed his slight but unmistakable flinch. But seeing it gave her the daring to continue. She took a step toward him. "But nothing happened." Another step closer. "And do you know why nothing happened?" Another step, her eyes slowly revealing a depth of emotion.

"Why?" he whispered, almost against his will.

"Because the only person I really want…" closer she came… "the only person I need…" closer still… "is you."

One more step brought their bodies tantalizingly close. Moving oh-so-slowly, she slid her left hand up his chest, to his neck, into his hair. She looked at his lips, her tongue unconsciously darting out to lick her own bottom lip. His low moan empowered her and her mouth curved in a knowing smile.

She pulled his head slowly down to hers, and the contact was as electric as the storm that unleashed all its fury at that exact moment.

For an instant he froze. Then, his mouth was moving hungrily on hers and his hands were pulling her even closer, moving over her back, molding her to him.

Slowly, they came up for air and looked into each other's eyes. She had known it would be powerful, but she was amazed – almost shocked – at how incredibly right that kiss had felt. He gave her that half-smile she loved, the look in his eyes saying he wasn't surprised at all.

"Jethro?" she whispered tentatively.

He cupped her jaw in his hand and rubbed his nose against hers. "Ziva?" he returned teasingly.

"I –" She shook her head. She didn't really know what to say. But she knew she wanted to kiss him again. So she did.

This time the heat flared quickly until she was practically climbing up the front of him in an attempt to get closer.

He turned her so she was pressed against the side of his boat, trapping her between its hard surface and his own. His mouth wandered to her neck, licking, kissing, sucking…

"Oh my God," she gasped, arching against him.

"Mmmm…"he murmured in agreement. After several long moments, bit by bit, he took the heat down, brushing gentle kisses all the way back to her mouth where he kissed her slowly and tenderly.

As they pulled reluctantly apart, lips clinging, he made a conscious grab for his self-control. God knew he wanted her, but not when she was shaky, floundering.

He cupped her face in his hands and pressed a kiss to her forehead, then to her nose. With a gentle smile, he wrapped her in a hug that was warm, but not sexual.

"Gibbs? Is something wrong?" she asked, worried.

"Wrong? No." He shook his head. "Complicated, but not wrong."

He pulled back far enough to gaze directly into her eyes. "I want you, but I don't want this to be about Hoffman or Locke or you getting shot at."

"But –" she started to protest.

"Shhh…Just let me take care of you tonight. And when you're feeling yourself again, we'll talk."

She raised an eyebrow.

He smirked in that way she loved. "Ok, maybe more than talk." He leaned toward her lips again as if he couldn't help himself. "God, I hope more than talk." As he kissed her, she wrapped her arms around his neck, pressing as close as humanly possible.

This time when they pulled apart, he took her hand, pulling her toward the stairs. "Come on."

He took her to the couch, sat, and pulled her onto his lap, cradling her. She snuggled in, finally exactly where she wanted to be.

They talked a little, sharing some of those moments when they'd each felt those flashes of attraction they'd forcibly ignored. Gibbs told her that his heart had nearly stopped when he'd run into that warehouse and found her on the ground covered in blood. His control had cracked, and with his emotions riding high, he'd barked at her. And breaking another rule, he apologized for that.

He observed this wouldn't be easy and that he'd created Rule 12 for a reason…and admitted that worried him some. She told him that he meant more to her than NCIS and she would leave the agency if he wanted. But after he pointed out that she'd end up back in Israel or God knows where if she wasn't tied to NCIS, they'd decided it was better if she stayed right where she was.

The look in her eyes and the gentleness of her hands said she understood his concerns, but her kiss said this was more powerful than his rules or the fact that it would be complicated.

After a while, Ziva started to drift off to sleep, snuggling even closer. She shifted around trying to get comfortable, finding her clothes too constricting.

Jethro stood, still holding her. She protested.

"Just taking you upstairs. We'll find you something to sleep in."

"You do not have to carry me," she pointed out, without lifting her head from his shoulder.

"Turns out I like carrying you."

In his room he steadied her on her feet & found a long t-shirt. His boxers would just fall off her, so he didn't bother. He steered her toward the bathroom and pulled out a towel and, surprisingly, an unopened toothbrush.

She cocked a teasing eyebrow at him.

"Are you always this ready for overnight guests?" she teased, holding up the unopened toothbrush.

"Hate to shop, so I always buy a few at a time so I don't have to go as much." He grinned. "And it doesn't hurt to be ready for overnight guests."

She smiled, but her eyes flicked away. He cupped her cheek, bringing her gaze back to his. "Not that there have been many in the last couple of years."

She pressed her cheek into his hand and gave him a small smile of thanks for his reassurance.

Leaving her there, he stepped back into his room and changed into boxers and a t-shirt before going downstairs to lock up. He grabbed a blanket and pillow from a closet and tossed them onto the couch. Gibbs then went back up to check on Ziva, who was just coming out of the bathroom. His groin tightened and his heart rate kicked up at the sight of her in one of his t-shirts and little – dear God, maybe nothing - else, hair falling around her shoulders, face clean of any makeup.

Grabbing for his control with an iron will, he pulled back the covers on the bed and gestured for her to get in. She did, smiling as he tucked her in. She put her arms around his neck, and pulled him down for a long, deep kiss which he happily returned. She tried to pull him completely on top of her, but he resisted.

She looked up at him with dry amusement. "You really are determined to be noble about this, yes?"

"Even if it kills me," he confirmed ruefully.

He started to get up, but she held on. "Where do you think you are going?"

"Couch."

"If I promise to control myself, will you sleep here?" She gently traced his features with her fingertips, then gazed into his eyes.

"Not sure that's a good idea…my nobility might not hold up sleeping next to you."

"Please?"

He rested his forehead against hers, knowing he was beaten.

"OK," he acquiesced, reluctantly. "Let me get the lights."

After turning out the lights downstairs and brushing his teeth, Gibbs climbed into bed next to Ziva. She immediately scooted over and rested her head on his chest. He curled his arms around her and kissed her hair.

She let out a long sigh of contentment and cuddled closer.

"Goodnight, Jethro."

"G'night, Ziver."