Hi all, sorry it's taken so long to post. I was a little discouraged/unmotivated to write because I didn't get a ton of replies. I see that there area lot of people clicking on this, but when only a few reply it makes me nervous that the majority of people aren't liking this.

To those who did reply, I hope you can see I'm taking a lot of your suggestions into account. And to the fabulous reader who suggested a Ziva/Abby chat...don't worry, it is coming up in the next few chapters :)

Previously…In need of a distraction, Ziva shows up at Tony's with Chinese and movies. She jokes, flirts, seems ok. While watching the movie, thoughts of her rape start to flood back, and she makes a move on Tony, thinking that sex can help erase the memories and show her that she isn't damaged. After a few minutes of heavy duty kissing, Tony stops, but shows her what true intimacy, a true connection feels like.

Tony woke, sprawled across the couch, light streaming through the windows. He was alone.

"Ziva?" He called, shaking the sleep out of his eyes and stretching. Her purse was gone, TV off and Chinese cleaned up. Hmmfff, Tony thought, I'm usually the one who leaves in the middle of the night.

He flicked open her cell phone and called her. She answered on the first ring.

"Hello Tony."

"When'd you leave? I was hoping to wake up and see…"

"Tony…." She stopped him, pursing her lips as she drove with one hand. "I will see you at the office, ok?"

And just like that she hung up. Conversation over. Let's not make more of this than it is.

Stung, Tony replayed last night in his head. What did I really expect? For her to call me sweet cheeks and say she misses me? For her to act all lovey dovey? Pre or post Somalia, that's just not Ziva.

…

She felt slightly bad as she hung up on Tony, taking another bite of her PowerBar. Sure, he had denied her advances last night. But then, he was so loving, so gentle, and she let herself give in. For once, she didn't have to carry the weight on her own. She didn't have to own control. She didn't have to fall; Tony had been there to hold her up, suppress the flashbacks.

But now, it was daylight. She felt awkward and uncomfortable for leaning on Tony. Ziva had seen, firsthand, that bad things happen when you lose control, when you are distracted by men or emotions, love or lust.

She wanted, no, she needed to pretend like that night with Tony was nothing more than it was. One night. Just a one time thing, filling a need that had come and gone and was now satisfied, under control.

Ziva was used to such a relationship with men. Using them when convenient, whether on a mission or purely to satisfy her sex drive.

Was she using Tony, too?

Stop thinking about him, she willed, as she leaned into the mirror at a stoplight and applied a touch of mascara. A rare makeup application since returning to the States. The wand stopped grazing her eyelashes as she smiled to herself, the memory of Tony's lips, his hands stroking her.

Who am I kidding? She had wanted him so many times throughout the years, tempted to give in to her desire for raw, wild sex. But Ziva was trained to keep relationships professional. To never give into her emotions. Sure, she had faltered over the years. Dead man walking. Locke. Rivkin. But falling for Tony, allowing lust or love or whatever it was that she was feeling…

….that was dangerous territory.

….

Tony strode into the office, swallowing a hint of resentment as he saw Ziva and McGee huddled together.

"McGeek, what are you doing."

They looked up at him. He searched Ziva for a hint of something….a hint that she still felt last night, a hint that they shared a new connection, that she was no longer drowning. But she was…unreadable.

McGee's voice was rushed, flushed with excitement. "Tony, do you remember yesterday when we were talking about the seventh victim's wife, how he had cheated on her?"

"Following up on my lead, eh probie?"

Anger flashed through McGee's eyes, and he started to raise his voice until Ziva's light hand on his shoulder stopped him.

"Yea, I was Tony." McGee took a few breaths, studying Tony's angry cockiness, as the senior agent leaned against his desk, arms crossed.

Ziva cut in, stopping the inevitable fight. "We searched back through our notes. Found that victim number two, he had also cheated on his wife."

Tony was silent. He felt angry, hurt, confused. The case, it was the last thing he wanted to think about right now.

McGee gave in to his excitement over the lead, trying to get a reaction, excitement from Tony, too. "We think there's something here, Tony."

"Something where?" asked Gibbs, as he strode into the room, plopping a large, hot coffee on his desk.

"Uh, boss," McGee said, standing up. "There seems to be a connection between victims seven and two – they both cheated on their wives."

"What about the rest."

Ziva, was standing no, too. "That's what we need to find out, Gibbs. Re-interview all the widows."

Gibbs nodded. "All right. Tony, McGee, you're with me."

And he picked up his coffee, heading toward the elevators with the boys in tow, before Ziva stepped in, blocking his exit.

"I should come to, no?"

He placed his hand on her shoulders, driving her out of his path and toward her desk. "You. You sit here. Don't move."

It clicked in her head. And she was outraged. "Desk duty, I will…."

"You will stay. Review the case files. Call if you have anything."

Still standing, she averted her eyes as the men strode out, avoiding the pity that she knew would radiate from McGee, and the longing, questioning look from Tony's stare.

….

They made non-committal chatter about the case. Tony driving, McGee in the passenger seat, an open laptop in his hands. Gibbs had taken two widows on his own, and Tony and McGee had just come from the widow of victim number one, who finally admitted rather shamefully and tearfully that yes, her marine husband had indeed cheated on her.

The men came to a lull in their conversation. It was beginning to look like their theory was right, but what was still unclear was how the killer not only knew these men, but knew they had cheated on their wives.

So McGee used the silence to bring up something a little more dangerous.

"How do you think Ziva is doing?"

Tony almost snorted. So, McGeek, taking another opportunity to remind me that this is my fault, huh?

But he kept his composure. "I saw her last night." And I'm encouraged. Worried. Scared. She bounces back and forth between being ok and being downright sick and scary.

McGee shook his head. Last night? "Tony, I can't believe you'd take advantage of her during a time like this."

Tony's jaw clenched, He spoke through gritted teeth. "I. Didn't."

Silence fell between the two men, before Tony broke it with accusing words, spoken long and slow.

"You always think the worst of me, probie."

And you don't trust me, retorted McGee in his head, not daring to say the words that plagued him. You went after Rivken on your own. I understand not telling Ziva, not telling Gibbs. But me?

"You missed your turn, Tony."

…..

The anger in her chest was palpable. She wanted to hit something. She wanted to take her gun and empty a round into the nearest target.

Desk duty? I am making a conscious effort to eat. Saw Dr. Nicholas. Reached out to Tony. What more can I do?

The lack of control terrified her. Made her feel unpredictable. She wanted someone to hit her. Till there were no feelings left, nothing to try and suppress.

But it was 2:00. Time to meet Dr. Nicholas. Ziva sighed as she headed toward the elevators. The last thing she wanted to do was show Dr. Nicholas her uncontrollable feelings sparked by desk duty. If something as cut and dry as paperwork sparked such a reaction, Ziva wasn't sure if she could ever convince Dr. Nicholas that rape, torture and humiliation would stop producing nightmarish flashbacks.

Hell, she wasn't sure she could convince herself.

So Ziva strode, head held high, into Dr. Nicholas' office, perching once again on the edge of the armchair.

But the words from her mouth didn't match her confident exterior. They were low, accusing. "Desk duty?"

Jenny pursed her lips. "This is not permanent Ziva."

"Then what do I have to do?" The words exploded out of her mouth. "I ate breakfast this morning, I reached out to Tony. I'm coming here. What more do you want?"

"You reached out to Tony?"

Ziva stood, silently cursing her slip of tongue as she paced the room. "I did, but that is not the issue here. I am of no use…"

"Actually, Ziva, I'd like to explore this a little further. Tell me about what happened with Tony."

I may have used him to try and replace memories of rape with wild, passionate, feel-good sex. I may have allowed myself to weaken, lean on him a bit too much.

But instead she simply replied, "I rather would not." She returned to her perch on the armchair, leaning close to Dr. Nicholas, speaking with her hands. "Tell me, why, I am on desk duty."

Jenny's voice was once again warm, soft, drawing Ziva in. "We need to address some things first, Ziva. Your flashbacks, for one. We need to get them under control before it's safe for you to be back out there."

"So what do I do?" asked Ziva, as if there were a simple cure.

"There isn't a formula. It's coming here, talking about your feelings. Learning tools to cope with them. Making an effort to take care of yourself."

Ziva's breath started to quicken. She felt trapped. Broken. Unfixable. She counted slowly in her head, trying desperately to restore her breathing to normal.

"What are you thinking, Ziva?"

The first lie escaped her lips. "That I'd like to do this. That I'd like to let myself address Somalia."

Jenny's smile surpressed the doubts in her mind. Ziva was all too good at saying just the right things. "Good. Now, it sounds like you've started to make an effort to take care of yourself. Why don't you tell me a little bit about it."

Ziva relaxed. This was easy. Eating, sleeping, applying makeup. It was methodical. And to credit the doctor, it was extremely important if she ever wanted to be strong and kick some ass again.

So Ziva spent the next 30 minutes telling Jenny about her focus on eating, her desire to gain back weight, start working out again. The two laughed as Ziva reminisced about how good it would feel again to take Tony out.

And as Ziva left, to go grab lunch and a workout, she felt pleased. That she had given the doctor what she wanted without remembering Somalia or sharing the mess with Tony. That she was on her way to becoming strong again.

Becoming weak or unhealthy had never been her intention. But somehow, along the way, it had happened. And once she got strong again, she'd feel better, be better equipped to lock away her memories. She'd be back on Team Gibbs.