Ok, I know this doesn't have any Gabby in it, but bare with me…

"We almost died today."

"I do wish you would stop being so overly pragmatic."

"Dramatic, Ziva."

"Whatever. We are here. There is no point in wondering 'what if'. This is very much an American custom, yes?"

"I…you don't understand."

"Tony, what I do not understand is why you are over there and I am here, lying on your bed, half naked."

"Ziva—"

"No, Tony. Every day we go out and we could be killed. Every day we risk our lives. Why was today any different?"

Ziva watched as Tony shook his head and silently walked out of the bedroom. Ziva, knowing it was out of his character, followed him. She found him, sitting on his couch, head in his hands, as if he was weeping.

"Tony?"

"I really liked her."

"Who?"

"Kate. I really…she was my first real partner. I opened a damn letter, almost died from the plague and she…she stayed with me. She lied to me, telling me that I got her infected too, just so she could stay."

"I do not see how--"

"She died a few weeks later. I almost died but I lived…I thought, we would all survive anything but then. You just never know, Ziva."

"Tony, Ari…Ari killed Kate. You had—"

"Did Gibbs tell you Abby had a dream a few days beforehand? She told Kate that she dreamed I was standing with blood all over my face. That's what happened when the bastard shot her. She was protecting Gibbs, someone else took a shot and missed—well, she blocked it. But she wore her vest. We helped her stand up, all laughing, and then…I had nightmares for months, Ziva. Months!"

"Tony, I…I am sorry."

"Then today, when Ducky said…I thought, "I can't save her."

"Oh, Ton—"

"I…Somewhere between the jokes and the cases and the banter, I fell in love with you, Ziva."

Ziva stopped mid-step at his admission. They had been sleeping together for months and yet…neither of them had ever brought feelings into it. She felt her pulse quicken, her throat tighten, and her mouth become dry. It wasn't that she didn't love him; quite the opposite actually, it was that she wasn't sure she could continue it. Her feelings had never been in question, but the life she had lead…it never accounted for lovers. What if her time at NCIS ended? What if Tony became tired of her and started chasing every other skirt that walked passed him again? What if her father recalled her to Israel? There were too many questions for her to be 100 sure, or capable of reiterating his sentiments.

Tony had never been one to admit his feelings to a girl—well anyone really—before. Then again, he never before found himself so intrigued/intimidated/sexually attracted to anyone like he had with Ziva. For the second time in his long crime-fighting career, he had felt as if the end was near. All he could think about was that he never got to see what a real relationship would be like with her; although they had been sleeping together for over six months now. He thought she looked beautiful when she was sick, sleeping, fighting, interrogating, talking…really in any situation. Therefore he decided to take the plunge and tell her what he had long admitted to himself. Although, the moment he said the words, he semi regretted them. She looked as though she was trying to decide between running like hell or shooting him. He watched as her eyes darted around the room, her pulse quickened, and she swallowed as though she hadn't had a drink in days. He did the only think he had been taught to do…survive.

"I mean, of course, I love how you handled yourself in all of that. Was it your ninja training, because I for one have to say, I--"

"Shut up, Tony."

"Excuse me?"

"I said shut up. I…in all seriousness, there is just too much…this American custom of 'what if's', it applies to this, yes?"

"I don't know what--"

"There are questions, like what if my time at NCIS is cut short. Or what if you decide you don't want this, or--"

"Ziva, I—"

"I said shut up! I cannot…We are not Gibbs and Abby. I won't stand by you after you…if this does not work and we end it; I cannot…"

Tony inched closer to her at each syllable she spoke. He knew what she was trying, unsuccessfully to say. He had thought it as well. That didn't change the fact that every time he saw her, his heart leapt and he found himself smiling. When something good or bad happened during the day, if she for some reason wasn't beside him, he only wanted to tell her. That was a first in his life as well. He loved the way she rose to each occasion as he joked or attempted to correct her English. By the time she was out of words (or rather she couldn't speak anymore) he was standing in front of her. He caught a glimpse of her eyes, asking him/begging him to prove her wrong; before he crushed his lips to hers. After what seemed like hours, they separated to gasp for air.

"Tony, I--"

"Just remember who said it first."

The rest of the night was in silence as he carried her to his bed and they made love.