For the rest of the afternoon, the team sits in McGee's room, and it's comforting to all. Gibbs informs them that the agency is in the process of putting together temporary offices but that everybody can take as much or as little time as they need before returning to work. Palmer calls at one point to tell them that Ducky is on track to getting out of the hospital when the doctors originally said he would. This news is met with a light smattering of applause and seems to restore Abby to her fully energized self.

Around five a nurse enters, declares that McGee has socialized enough for one day, and orders everybody besides Abby to leave. Gibbs, Tony and Ziva say their goodbyes and commit to returning tomorrow, then step out into the hallway. After checking that nobody else is in earshot, Tony says lowly, "They've sure got some Nazi nurses around here, don't they?"

Gibbs looks at him. "You didn't have a concussion, right?"

"No."

He should have seen the headslap coming.

While Tony rubs the back of his head, Gibbs turns toward Ziva and affectionately places a hand on the side of her neck. "How are you, Ziver?"

"I am fine," she says, leaning into his touch, but Tony knows that their boss doesn't miss the subtle tightening of her jaw.

Gibbs is a smart man; he doesn't push it. All he does is press a feather-soft kiss to her cheek, and then he steps back and takes in both of them at once. There's no anger left in him; either he has granted forgiveness or he's just too tired to deal with it anymore. Either way, Tony, not completely devoid of a fear of Gibbs, is relieved.

"Dunno what time I'll be in here tomorrow. Keep in touch."

"We will," Tony and Ziva say at the same time, and then exchange a surprised glance upon hearing the way they effortlessly fell back into sync with each other.

Gibbs gives one of his signature half-smiles- which is kinda miraculous, Tony thinks, since yesterday he had been convinced he'd never have anything but a steely-eyed glare directed at him again- and nods as he leaves.

Then there are two.

0000000000

They are halfway back to Tony's apartment before someone speaks, and it is him. "So."

"Yes?"

"Talk now?"

Ziva exhales. "Not yet. Let's eat first; I am hungry."

Although he is worried that she is only trying to put it off and that she will continue to do so, he says, "Sure."

By the time he is locking the apartment door behind them, listening as she walks purposefully into the kitchen, he has figured out exactly what he wants to say and he is determined to say it.

Soon.

Now.

For years, it has been simmering at the back of his mind, but for one reason or another, he never allowed it to escape. But now, he feels as if he has been pushed over the edge. This time, he cannot simply shrug off how terrified he was when there was a chance he'd lose her. This time, she has reciprocated the most heartfelt declaration he ever made.

This time, he cannot rebury the feelings that have been brought to the surface.

With a sudden surge of courage- or maybe just a determination to not let another word go unsaid- he tosses his keys on the table beside the door and strides into the kitchen. When he clears his throat to announce his presence, her muscles tense visibly, and there is a long, immeasurable pause before she shuts the fridge door and turns around. "What should we-"

"Ziva," Tony says, taking a step closer to her. "It doesn't matter what we have for dinner right now, okay? I have… we have…"

"To talk," she finishes flatly, leaving no question about her opinion on the subject. "I know."

He runs his hands through his hair in frustration; she is severely testing his patience. All he wants is to finally do this. He has to. He has to. "Then talk to me. Please."

Ziva moves slowly toward him, stopping just a foot away. With her face lifted toward his, she begins to speak. "It was a mistake, what we did, Tony. The past few days have been hard. Our… emotions are running high. The position we were in-"

"You cannot," he interrupts, waving one finger for emphasis, "act like that was just us not thinking straight. We've been on the brink for a while now. It was a matter of when, not if. And it wasn't a mistake. There's something here, Ziva There is." She purses her lips, shakes her head, looks away, until Tony takes her face in his hands and, using more gentleness than he is speaking with, forces her to meet his gaze again. "Ziva. Ziva, I want to be with you."

Her eyes go wide and she stares at him. She seems shocked, but surely she has known this fact, on some level, for a long time. Maybe what she's actually surprised by is him saying it out loud.

And then the warmth of her cheeks is gone as she wrenches herself out of his grasp and staggers backward. "We cannot, Tony. We cannot."

"Why not?" he demands, spreading his hands wide. "Give me a reason."

Ziva opens her mouth and closes it again. She rolls her lips and blinks quickly; when she looks back to him, her eyes are shining. "If we did this, I would be jeopardizing my relationships with two of the only men I have ever completely trusted."

The pain in her face hurts him, physically hurts him. How can she think that their partnership and team are so fragile?

Daring to move closer, he speaks more softly, just trying to get her to listen, to consider giving him a chance. "I can't guarantee that things won't go wrong. But if they do, you won't lose me."

"How can you be sure of that?"

"Because we've been down that road before. It should have ruined us, Ziva, but we came out of it stronger."

Nobody has to specify what road he is talking about: one partner killing the other's boyfriend would be the undoing of most partnerships, and at first, it had seemed like theirs was no exception.

But it was. He will not allow her to forget that.

She nods, seeming to accept it, and his heart lifts a little. But then her eyes darken again and she says, "Tony, you know there is rule number twelve. Gibbs believes in that rule."

Gibbs. The previous anger he held toward his boss rears its ugly head. How did they allow him to worm his way into their personal lives so effectively?

It isn't where he belongs.

"We can't make decisions based on that," Tony says. "That rule exists because it didn't work out with Jenny. It has nothing to do with us."

"I cannot take the matter of disrespecting him lightly. Were it not for him…" Her shudder is so subtle she probably doesn't even realize she did it, but of course he doesn't miss it. "I do not want to think about what would have become of me."

Tony sees her point, and honestly, he doesn't want to think about it, either. Maybe it should give him more concern for Gibbs' rules, but if anything, it makes his need for Ziva greater. She has planted a thought in his head: what if she hadn't stayed at NCIS? Where would she be today?

Not with him, that's for sure.

It doesn't make sense, but the alternative to the actual history makes him miss her, even though she is right in front of him.

By now, he is grasping at straws, and he knows it. Somewhat desperately, he adds, "Okay, how about this? Rule number five: don't waste good. You and me, we're good, Ziva. There's… we got something here, and if we don't try to find out what it is-"

"Tony." Ziva is pressing her fingers into her temple, looking overwhelmed. "This is not a good idea, and even if it was… our team needs our full attention right now."

There is that word again: team.

Something lodges in his throat. He wants to wipe away the tear rolling down her cheek, but isn't sure whether or not he has permission to do so. Besides, he's trying to fight his own tears.

Ziva's whisper seems amplified in the quiet room when she repeats, "This is not a good idea."

Tony's shoulders slump and he looks away; this battle has been lost. When he allows his eyes to return to Ziva's, he finds that her face mirrors the look of defeat he can feel on his own features, and now he wonders if the war is actually the two of them against this expectation of what it means to be a team.

0000000000

After they eat, Ziva says that she will go back to her apartment, but he convinces her to stay. Yes, dinner had been terribly awkward, and the rest of her stay with him will be, too. Still, he isn't going to let her go home with one arm out of commission. She needs to be with somebody right now, and whether she likes it or not, he's the only option.

Tony hadn't thought it possible, but bedtime is even worse than dinner. Just last night they slept in the same bed; since then, so much has happened and now it is out of the question. He insists that she take the bed because there isn't room on the couch to pillow her arm, and she grudgingly agrees. They do not speak while he gets her situated or when he leaves.

Even though he is exhausted, he spends all night tossing and turning on the couch, hoping he hasn't screwed everything up for good.

Poor Tony. Poor Ziva. Poor Tiva.

Alright, so once again I just want to issue a collective THANK YOU for reading this far! You guys totally, completely rock!