Time passes, and hair grows, and some wounds heal, and some do not. Gibbs knows this better than anyone. Bullets can maim, can easily kill, can destroy your life with one casual flick of a finger. Knives can grind and twist and kill you softly and slowly. Fire can curl the skin from your bones in the most beautiful golden fragments. Water may fill your lungs and leave you bloated and blue. But it is life that sometimes hurts the most. And oh, Gibbs knows that better than anyone.

"Ziva, I do not want to lose another agent."

"That's not what you mean, is it?" And she's right. It's not. Agent. Woman. The words can replace each other, intermingle in such a quiet way that sometimes Gibbs himself does not distinguish between them. Recognise the difference. He raises scarred eyes and smiles in defeat. For the first time in his life, Gibbs is utterly read.

"Ziva. I don't...I can't...the relationship you had with Rivkin, although personal, has given the entire agency reason to doubt your...neutrality." She smiles in appreciation. Neutrality. Loyalty.

"I understand that."

"What you have gone through...I can't possibly imagine."

"You can probably imagine better than most." Her reply is quick, but so is his.

"It's a different kind of pain."

"Sharper, you mean? Superior?" It is a challenge, and he rises.

"Damnit, Ziva! It's not a competition! Terrible things happen. They happened to me and to you. I'm trying to help." He stands, the first signs of a frustrated helplessness shining through his capable demeanour. She watches him impassively.

"I know."

"I want you back at NCIS. We all do. But just because...it's complicated. We can't automatically-"

"You can't automatically trust me simply because of what happened after you left." She smiles, tired and bitter, because she knows that, above all, he is fair. And it kills her, every day, in unassuming little ways.

"You understand."

"Of course I do." She sniffs and looks away, and her resignation breaks his heart. She is terrified and helpless, but above all, she is spent. He does not know how much fight remains in her worn and fragile bones. He sits, once more, at her side, and the cease of steady movement jars her. She remembers.

He used to pace, in his big wicked boots, and fire questions at her, would drip them down over her skin and through her hair in a voice like honey. Tell me all about them. Everything you know. I'll make it go away. And then the movement would stop, he would kneel over her and spit on her face, sharply, sharply, and then the boot would retract and pummel, again and again into her bruised and bleeding body, and the knives would slice and the cigarettes would burn and the end would come closer. She could time her life around the pacing of a man.

He sees in her eyes the remembrance of a nightmare, and tries to make peace with her fractured soul. A cautious hand rises to her face and a voice falters. "I understand, Ziva." And the spark catches.

"Would you stop being so damn understanding? I don't want you to understand! You couldn't possibly. Have you ever been tortured, kidnapped, raped, Gibbs?" She laughs at the absurdity of her words, and continues. "You've lost people. It's probably worse than what happened to me. I don't understand your pain and you don't understand mine. Let's establish that." And by now she is sobbing, choking and a child again, and he raises a hand and rubs small circles with a gentle thumb over the swelling of her cheekbone. It calms the pulsing blood on angry bone that so defines her. A tender rocking in his arms is all it takes for her to break once more. She feels his unwavering breath on her shorn and guileless scalp, and sinks into the curious embrace.

One had a daughter, and then she was lost.

The other, a father that was never truly there.

Words will need to be said, but now is not the time. Instead, they can linger, settle into the silence that bridges the gap between one world and the next, and hope that, this once, choices are not irrevocable and wounds are made for mending.

Hmmmm. I'm OK about this one, I think I improved on Gibbs' bastardity from the last chapter :) but I realllllly don't want to make it too sugarcoated, so please let me know if you think that's happening.

ALSO: I know few people will find this very interesting, but I feel the need to vent my spleen. I wrote what was gona be this chapter last night, and wanted to post it yesterday, BUT my idiotic computer for some reason took against the file and PERMANENTLY DELETED it from my system as soon as I shut it! So if this one seems a little disjointed in places, that's the reason - I was trying to recreate what I had yesterday, which, ironically, I was really pleased with. :( Life is hard sometimes.

As always, I really appreciate reviews and con-crit, and a massive thank you to everyone that's already reviewed and added this to story alert etc :) Makes my day.

ANDDDDDD (and I bet no-one is reading anymore) MY LAST EXAM IS ON MONDAY! YAYYYYY!