Tony sat on the couch in his apartment, Chinese takeout on the table in front of him and ESPN playing on his big screen TV, but neither the game nor his dinner was holding his attention. Instead he was staring at his cell phone as, yet again, Ziva failed to answer. At first he'd told himself that he wasn't going to call, that after the scene in the elevator it would be the better part of valor to just leave her alone. She had, after all, made it quite clear that she didn't want his company. Unfortunately, he couldn't get her out of his mind. He'd tried stopping by his local watering hole, but neither alcohol nor the cute blond who slid up onto the barstool next to him, had kept him from worrying about what Ziva was going to do next. That was when he'd made the first call. He'd called again while he waited for his order at the Hong Kong Palace, and this was now his third attempt. The result continued to be the same - no answer.
He told himself that she was a big girl, that after everything she had survived, there was no way that she would get herself in trouble here in D.C., but although his brain saw the logic, his heart refused to listen. Finally, he gave up on his internal debate, snapped his phone shut, tossed his dinner into the trash and headed for the door. He would check on her. Even if she wouldn't let him in, just knowing that she was home safe would let him rest easier.
Twenty minutes later, he found himself sitting on the steps in front of Ziva's building just as worried as he was before. She had not answered when he rang her bell so he started pounding on her door so loudly that one of her neighbors stuck their head out to complain.
"Would you please stop that. She's not home," said the middle aged woman who lived next door to Ziva.
"How do you know?" Tony asked.
"I saw her leave."
"But her car is still in the lot," Tony pointed out, more worried than ever. All sorts of scenarios ran through his mind. Could Mossad have come back for a second try? Or maybe Ziva had packed a bag and headed for the airport, running away rather than deal with the mess here at home. His distress must have shown on his face, because the woman gave him an explanation before he could even ask.
"I don't know what you are so worried about, she was dressed to go out, and she often calls a cab if she's not going far and doesn't want to worry about parking," the woman told him.
Unfortunately, the thought of Ziva out on the town in her current state of mind was only marginally more reassuring than the idea of Ziva abducted, or on a plane to who knew where, and that is why he was now sitting on the steps, using his iphone to compile a list of all the bars and clubs in the area. He would check them, one by one, even if it took all night, because he knew he wouldn't sleep until he assured himself that she was okay.
It didn't actually take him all night to find her. When he walked into the fourth bar and scanned the room, she was hard to miss. There, on the dance floor, surrounded by several attractive men, was Ziva. Her red dress swirled around her as she smiled provocatively and tossed her curls, dancing closely with each guy in turn. Tony felt jealousy rear it's ugly head. After all he had done, all the ways he had tried to be a good friend, this was how she chose to cope with her worries, preferring the company of strangers, men whose names she probably didn't even know, to anything he could offer.
Tony strode out onto the dance floor, pushed his way into Ziva's group, and grabbed her by the arm. "C'mon Ziva, party's over - its time to go home," he said loudly enough for her dance partners to hear.
"Go away, Tony, I am not going home, and I am especially not going home with you," Ziva said as she tried to shake off his grip.
One of the men stepped forward to her defense. "You heard the lady, she doesn't want to go with you so why don't you let go and leave her alone."
Before the situation could escalate, Tony pulled out his badge and flashed it at the group of men. This made them decide that maybe their new companion wasn't worth the trouble and they melted back into the crowd, leaving Ziva and Tony standing on their own amidst the other gyrating dancers.
"I am still not going home with you, Tony," Ziva hissed in his ear. "What gives you the right to interfere with what I do in my free time."
"I'm your friend, and when I see a friend behaving self-destructively, I'm going to do something. You can't tell me you actually think spending the night partying, and we won't even talk about what you planned on doing with your new friends, right before you have to face Vance, and possibly your father, is a good idea."
"My life is going to pieces around me and you think I should, what? Sit home and think about it?"
"Be better than what you're doing now," Tony muttered under his breath. Then he looked her in the eye. "No, I think you should ask for help. Would it really kill you to, just once, ask your friends for help. If not me, then Gibbs, or Abby. Anyone would be better than this." Taking her arm again, more gently this time, he led her towards the door.
"I do not want help, I just want to forget," Ziva paused as they reached the door, looking at Tony, her dark eyes betraying her desolation. "Please, Tony, don't make me go home. I can not face it alone."
Tony studied her for a moment, then sighed. "Fine, we'll go to my place, but I can't promise not to try and make you talk." When Tony saw the hungry look that crossed Ziva's face when he suggested going to his place, he knew that Ziva was thinking of something other than talking. He was asking for trouble but he didn't see any other alternative. I can handle this, he told himself, I can use my self control, or at least what little I have when it comes to her.
A/N: Yes, I know i have left you hanging, but I should have the next chapter up soon, and , as we all know, Tony and self control are not words usually uttered together so it should be a good one.