The smell of coffee drew Ziva from a deep sleep. She opened her eyes to the bright light streaming through the windows and rolled flat on her back. The sense of frustration, both emotional and sexual, refilled her body with tension. She was in Gibbs' house, in his bedroom. In his bed. She blurted out an incredulous laugh at that thought. Never in her life would she have imagined that she'd be there. Let alone that he would put her there. After a soul wrenching, toe curling, hotter than anything she'd had in a very long time kiss. Was the man made of complete will power? No one, and she meant no one, had ever turned her down. Not like that, out of some sense of gentlemanly concern or obligation. That was indeed a first. And something about that made a little smile steal over her lips. She gently ran the back of her knuckles against her lips remembering his kisses. She should be offended, but this was Gibbs, and he meant more to her than she was even prepared to admit to herself.

She got out of bed and padded into the bathroom. After taking care of business and washing the sleep worn makeup from her face, she went downstairs, following the scent of coffee into his Spartan kitchen. The entire house was just a shell. She'd been there before, seen it in the light of day, but somehow this morning it tore at her heart just how empty it was. How the hollowness represented the hole that would never be filled in his heart. The symbolic reminder of the family he once had and lost.

Part of her wanted to go back upstairs, put her clothes back on and go home to pretend that she did not remember anything that occurred last night. He did not need the complication of her in his personal life. And she did not need the heartache of never being enough. It would be just another reminder of her entire existence. The woman who was always used as a tool, someone who did not have feelings––the sharp tip of the spear. But something kept her feet going, drawing her into the space.

He leaned against the counter, freshly showered, shaved and dressed in a t-shirt and a pair of worn jeans. His clear blue eyes watched her from over the edge of his coffee mug. They were guarded and unreadable as usual. And yet again she had the urge to run.

"Coffee?"

She nodded. "Please."

He took a stray mug out of the cabinet and poured her a cup. "Milk in the fridge."

She waved off his offer and took a seat at the old kitchen table. Neither of them spoke for a while. The awkward silence unnerved her. She could not bring herself to say anything and she knew he would never broach the topic. He was not a talker. Anyone who knew him knew that.

She sipped that last of her coffee. She rose and placed the mug in the sink. "I will get my things and go."

"Is that what you want?"

Her confidence flared, or maybe it was her stubborn nature, but she raised her chin at him and pinned him with a stare that would make Tony shrivel. "I could ask the same of you."

Surprisingly, he hung his head self-consciously and cleared his throat. "No, not what I want."

Ziva's eyes widened and her heart constricted in her chest. Could he possibly?

He looked at her after a moment and cocked his head with that half self-deprecating grin of his. "I'm not good with words."

"I know."

"After Jenny, I made that rule."

"I am not her."

"No, you're nothing like her." He tilted his head as if he was debating within himself all of the words he wouldn't say. "It still makes sense."

"Maybe." She crossed her arms and looked at him. "In Mossad, we often have liaisons with fellow agents. It is commonplace. The things we do, the life we live. There are shared experiences. Things that we cannot bring home with us. It makes sense to find an… outlet in those you work closely with."

"That's not just what this would be and you know it."

"What if I want to take that chance?"

"What about Ray?"

"Ray is a bookmark."

His eyebrows drew together, confused.

She must have said it wrong. "A distraction. A warm body, someone who makes me…" She was almost ashamed to admit it. "… feel like a woman."

"Why me?"

"Honestly, I do not know." She smiled at that. "In case you have not noticed, you are an extremely attractive man."

He chuckled, as if he was not sure of her assessment. "I'm not easy to get a long with."

"I think we handle each other just fine."

"I have a horrible track record with women."

"I do not need you to marry me."

His tone was still light but then he quieted. "I don't know if I can give you more than that."

"If you are trying to convince me to abandon this idea, you are doing a pretty good job of it."

"You need to know."

"I have known who you are before I even met you. You do not scare me Gibbs."

"You can't fix me."

"Are we not all a little broken?"

"Ziver…" It was a plea. He wanted her to go, wanted her to not take the chance. But she refused.

He let out a sigh and pulled her into the circle of his arms. "One last chance to walk away."

Ziva flattened her hands against his chest. The heat from his skin warmed her palms through the thin blue cotton. "I will never walk away from you again." She was referring to when she turned her back on him and their team in Israel. The look on his face when she did had broken what was left of her heart. It was one of the hardest things she'd ever done. And one of her biggest mistakes. The softening of his eyes told her that he knew exactly what she meant. It was an apology and a promise all the same.

She brushed her lips against his. His arms circled around her back and drew her close against his chest. He kissed her slowly, deeply. His tongue worked magic inside of her mouth and the small feral growl of possession rumbled in his chest. The kiss was full of passion and the intensity of a taboo, yet he still held a portion of himself back. Ziva knew she would never have all of him. That part of him would always belong to the woman who was his first love. Ziva was ok with that if it meant that she could have the rest.

His lips broke away from her and he dragged a trail of kisses along the sensitive skin of her neck. Shivers of electricity raced all the way to her toes. She threw her head back in ecstasy and clawed her way closer to him. The way his mouth felt on her skin, she never wanted him to stop. Passion and desire soon clouded her vision and all she could hear was her pulse in her ears and the shared sighs that filled the air between them.

He pulled back and looked into her eyes. His own were a stormy blue and it gave her chills the way his desire for her was so readable. She smiled at him to reassure him that this was exactly what she wanted. His lips tugged into a predatory grin.

Without a second thought, he placed his hands on her ass and hitched her up around his hips. He kissed her as he carried her effortlessly up the stairs and back into his bedroom where he so frustratingly, albeit gallantly, left her last night. But there was nothing gallant about the way he touched her now. The ridge of his erection rubbed against the thin barrier of cotton at the apex of her thighs. The sensation teased her and drove her to yank at the hem of his shirt so she could drag it over his head. It caught under his arms. He placed a swift kiss on her lips before he threw her down onto the mattress. She gasped at the shock of bouncing off the cool sheets. She laughed and watched him remove the offending shirt over his head to reveal a honed chest dusted in silver hair. Excitement and desire made her pulse race. He was still so very sexy.

His strong hand clasped around her ankle and he pulled her close enough to thrust his hands into his pajama pants on her hips. His calloused palms scrapped deliciously down her legs as he removed her pants until she was spread bare in front of him. Ziva let out another eager gasp, both surprised and turned on by the way he manhandled her. It was both playful and sexy at the same time. Well, two could play at that game.

She reached out and grabbed a fistful of the waistband of his jeans. In a flash, she had his button undone and his zipper down. She reached inside the edge of the elastic and ran her palm down the full length of him before she took him in hand. He let out a growl that rivaled a caged lion. He shed his pants and crawled on top of her. The kiss was hungry this time, every ounce of his being electrified her and if she did not have him right then and there, she thought she might die.

With the pure strength of her legs, she flipped him over and straddled him. She crossed her arms in front of her and pulled his baggy t-shirt over her head. The appreciative look as his eyes fell on her body made her feel like a goddess. His hands traced her sides, up and over her ribs to cup both of her breasts. Work-roughened pads of his thumbs brushed over the sensitive tips of her breasts, sending shockwaves of desire through her. She arched against him, trapping the ridge of his desire between their bodies. His fingers rolled the nubs between them and she bit her bottom lip, grinding her hips into his.

She leaned forward and placed tiny kisses along his chest, crawling and skimming the length of his body like a cat. She worked her way back up, drawing a hot slick pattern along his skin with her tongue. His skin trembled with the light touch. When she reached the hollow of his throat, his hands plunged into the length of her hair at the back of her head and he gently pulled her back up to his mouth. His kiss was slow, sensual, deep.

Ready for him, more aroused than she could possible imagine, she took the length of him all the way to the hilt. His eyes rolled back in his head and his hips thrust his shaft deeper into her. They both let out a gasp upon their connection. It was a release of shared desire and tension. When he opened his eyes, he stared into her face. His hand came up to caress her cheek and reverently skim down her neck to the valley over her heart.

He just looked at her for a long moment, frozen in time. Ziva felt the connection between them transform and expand into something so much stronger than either of them expected.

Carefully, he rolled her underneath him and showered her with kisses. Her eyes, her cheeks, her nose, her lips. The intensity morphed into a tenderness that Ziva never felt before and they were all of a sudden no longer just having sex, they were making love.

He began to move. Slowly, deliberately. Her legs shook with need when she wrapped them around his waist, but she wanted him closer, deeper. If they could have become one, even more than they were now, her heart would surely have burst.

His rhythm sped up. Erotic sensations driving them to a primal dance. He felt so good inside of her, their coupling slick and hungry. Soon the tension built, rose above her and crashed into her like a tidal wave. His thrusts pushed her over the edge and she exploded into a million tiny white-hot pieces. She might have called out his name, she couldn't be sure. His own groan against her neck as his orgasm hit drowned out any thought in her mind.

They lay there boneless and panting, clinging to each other as they rode out the last waves of ecstasy. His weight on her both reassuring and welcome. He looked into her face, a tiny smile on his lips. He pecked a chaste kiss against her chin, her nose and her forehead. There was a tenderness in his eyes that she knew he possessed but never showed the world. She ran her knuckles against the side of his temple in a loving gesture to reflect the feelings in her heart. He didn't have to say anything. She could see it all in his eyes. He cared about her. More than he wanted to.

He rolled over to his back and tucked her against his side. Ziva snuggled in to the space and allowed him to cover their bodies with the sheet. His heartbeat was still strong in her ear and she could hear him swallow the lump of pride or regret in his throat. A wave of doubt and self-recrimination came over her. She was about to pull away when he tightened his arms around her and tipped her chin up to give her another sensual kiss.

"For the record, this was not at all what I expected when you showed up in the basement last night."

She blurted out a laugh that sort of came out like a sob of relief and buried her face against his neck. "For the record, this was not what I intended. At all."

He chuckled along with her and hugged her tightly. "Kinda nice though."

Ziva propped herself up on her elbow. "Just kinda?"

He laughed. His pure open joy warmed her heart to a simple easy glow. He was teasing her. "Really. Really nice."

She bit the corner of her lip. It was a nervous gesture, one that her safta always chided her for as a girl. "So, we are still ok?"

"Oh, I'd say we're more than ok." His hand caressed her shoulder and brushed down her arm. He paused for a moment and his face grew serious. "Ask it."

"Ask what?" She shook her head, confused.

"That question burning a hole right between your eyes." He ran his forefinger in the space between her eyebrows.

"I do not know what you mean."

"The 'where do we go from here' question," he filled in.

"Oh." She cast her eyes down, ashamed that she was so transparent to him. She never wanted to be the needy woman who sought constant reassurance––she tried to not be anyway. She supposed she failed.

"Truth is, I don't know."

"Can I be truthful?"

He glanced down at their intertwined naked bodies and quirked his eyebrows. "Yeah?"

"I have cared for you for a long time. First it was a bit of awe, then it was in hope of approval from you, acceptance. But after Somalia, everything with Michael and my father––you, Tony, McGee have become my home. The place where I belong. And that is all well and good, but at the end of the day, I want more. I need…more."

He shifted and pulled back. "I told you, I don't know if I can give you that."

"No, no, you misunderstand me." She sighed and tried to get her thoughts in order. "What I'm saying is that you and I have had this… thing, for lack of a better word, between us. I don't know what to call it. It is nefesh te'oma in Hebrew. It means 'twin souls'."

"Soul mates."

"I suppose. You once questioned whether I killed Ari to gain your trust but even then, I knew, you were more than a mission to me. I knew that your life and mine were supposed to cross in a profound way. Were we destined to end up here, like this? I do not know. But what I do know is that I want to try."

"You are home. And this is where you belong. Right here, with me." His fingers brushed her hair away from her face and she pressed her cheek against his palm.

That was as much of a declaration as she could ever hope to get from him. Everything he did not say rang loud and clear in the tone of his voice and behind the crystal blue of his eyes. He wanted her exactly where she was, in his bed, with him. Where that took them, as long as she was by his side, it did not matter. Logistics and rules and needless worries fell to the wayside. They would face it together. Some how, some way. This would be a New Year indeed, full of new beginnings. And that was all she needed to know.

The End