Hello!

sorry that this chapter wasn't out yesterday, there is a lot on my mind at the moment, but i had to put something out. This is a little short, and i apologise, but there are some no so nice real-life things going down... so im sorry... :(

thank you for the reviews, every one of them made my day a little brighter! if you have any suggestions of things you want to see in this story, please let me know and then i can put them in!

DISCLAIMER: not mine

Chapter 12

Ziva stared at Tony's sleeping figure on her bed. True to his word he had hardly let her out of his sight all evening, and now when he was asleep seemed to be the only time that Tony had taken his eyes off her. But even then, when she had got up he had groaned in protest, as Ziva untangles herself from his bare arms. She had pressed a gentle kiss on the top of his head, and he had begrudgingly settled back into sleep. It was amazing how perceptive he was, even in his sleep, and most of the time Ziva would be thankful or grateful for this fact. But not today. Not when she was running away.

Ziva slipped out of the room soundlessly, clothes in a dark pair of leggings and a large hoodie which she had pulled off the radiator whilst groping in the dark for something to wear. She grabbed her keys from the basket by the door and pulled the door shut behind her, not once looking back.

Tony could tell something was wrong. The moment he rolled over onto his side to move to find Ziva, and the small bundle of warmth was not there. His eyes opened slowly at this stark realisation, and he took a few moments to adjust to his surroundings. The first thing he notices was the slightly crumpled sheets that were drawn back, as if someone had left in the middle of the night. The next thing he noticed was the full glowing moon hung high in the sky, and the time on the digital clock. But none of it made sense. Where was Ziva, and why did she had better things to so at 0200 than be in bed with him.

Tony stumbled to his feet, the cold night air hitting his body with its full force. He pulled on a T-shirt that was lying haphazardly on a chair by the bed, trying desperately to push some warmth back into her body.

Moving towards to living room he flicked the lights, squinting against the sudden bright haze. But Ziva wasn't there. He pushed open every door, including Tali's room, where he found nothing but a sleeping Tali snoring like a drunken sailor and deeply buried in her duvet. But no Ziva. Where was she?

Ziva pushed open the doors of the dance studio, the lights flickering on automatically, as if welcoming her home. It had been too long since she had come here, spending most of her days looking after Tony, and being texted or called every so often with updates from her assistant teachers. She had always known when she insisted on taking Tony home that looking after him would be a twenty-four hour thing, but she had not predicted how much she would miss the cold floors and the white washed walls. She entered the first dance studio on her right, flashing back to all those months ago when she had first seen Tony push open those very doors and make his prescience known. That had been so long ago, and she shamefully remembered how the first thought that crossed her mind was "he is hot", her inner schoolgirl radar going off at the hot man approaching. But it was in those months after that she learnt more. She didn't learn that she was wrong, on the contrary as she got to know the real Tony DiNozzo he seemed to get more and more attractive. She had always seen men in that way. When they first appeared good looking, then turned out to be an arrogant arse, she began to see more faults that good things. Whereas with Tony, the more she got to know him, the more she noticed the small things that made his to attractive. Like the way when he smiled there were two distinct lines on either cheek, and his eyes turned a lighter dancing green. Or the way he could make her feel more desirable than any man had ever made her feel before with one look and a touch. But that was one of the things that scared her. The fact that, whether she liked it or not, she was falling hard and fast for this amazing man, and she didn't even want to hit that ground, because she had felt the pain that had come with falling from cloud nine. She didn't want that to happen, not again. Her track record with men was bad. There was no nicer way of putting it. At first, she had blamed them. It wasn't her fault that he was a jerk, or wanted something different to her, or couldn't love her the way she was. But then, after the pattern continued repeating, she began to think that it wasn't them. It was her. Maybe she repelled men because she repulsed them, or maybe it was because she wasn't beautiful. She had been called hot or pretty enough times, but hot was based on her physical attributes alone, and "pretty" was the way you described a necklace that you really couldn't care less about. And she was a woman scarred beyond repair, both on the inside and out. No wonder men didn't love her.

But then there was Tony. There was something different about him. She felt something, and she was fairly certain that he felt something too. But would that be enough? Surely in a few months or years he would grow tired of her issues, and just leave her. She knew that Tony wasn't the kind of person to just leave without trying, but she couldn't trap him in a relationship, not ending it because he felt sorry for her. Could she do that to him, when she loved him so much?

She walked over to the CD played in the corner and selected a track at random from the CD that was already in the player. Dropping her bag in the corner, she pulled off the hoodie that she had thrown on when leaving the house, and a sob almost left her mouth. It was one of Tony's. She knew there was a reason that it felt so soft against her skin, and smelt to much like home.

She stretched out as the music began to flow out of the player, pulling her arms across her body and stretching her legs out, her back clicking to warm up. When she felt that she had warmed up she took a deep breath, shaking her hands and feet out before becoming completely still. And then she danced.

Pulling his phone out Tony dialled the number of his trusty side kick.

"Hey, I need you to trace a phone number for me," Tony said in a hushed voice.

"Tony, it's 0200," Tim said, Tony heard a voice at the other end of the phone ask who it was, but Tim's response was muffled as he put his hand over the mouthpiece.

"It's important," Tony said. He switched her hand he held the phone with so he could scrawl out a note for Tali if she woke up and then were both still gone.

"Right, who is it," Tim sighed, and Tony could hear the whirring of machines in the background. Tony recited the number that he knew off by heart quickly.

As Tim repeated the number, a thought came to his mind.

"That's Ziva's number?"
Tony would have made a comment about McGee knowing Ziva's number off by heart, but knowing McBrainbox his super intelligent brain could store that kind of information.

Tony heard some tapping from the other end of the line, and the phone was picked up again.

"It's still at her apartment, Tony, is something wrong?"
"No, it's all good," Tony lied, "Thanks anyway McGee." And hung up.

On the other side of town, Tim was shocked. Tony had been nice, and actually thanked him for something. Something was wrong. He shook his head at the strange scenario. But then again, most scenarios were strange at 0200.

"What did Tony want?"
And then Tim's thought were brought back to the beautiful woman in front of him. She was rubbing her eyes gently with the cuffs of her skull and cross bone pyjamas, and the sight was too beautiful to waste time thinking about Tony.

"Nothing. Let's just get some sleep," Tim said, and Abby led them back into his bedroom, right where they both belonged together.

Tony wasn't panicked. He was just extremely worried. Or that was what he kept telling himself over and over again as he drove round the empty streets of Washington, trying to find Ziva. She wasn't on her usual jogging route, she wasn't at any of her favourite pubs or clubs, and she didn't have her phone with her. OK, so maybe he was a little bit panicked.

He looked at the clock, internally debating over whether it was a good idea to contact the police. But he didn't want to cause unnecessary fuss. Plus, he didn't want to piss anyone off. He was afraid of them. And when he said them, he was referring to Ziva, not the police. The police had nothing on his crazy ninja chick.

Coming up with zero every time he added one and one, he decided that he would consult the only person who he knew would have the answer to his situation. He just had to hope that he didn't slap him into next week for waking him up at such a strange hour.

"Yeah Gibbs."

"Hey, Gibbs, sorry about the time bu-"

"Get to the point DiNozzo."

"I can't find Ziva. She's not out jogging, she's not at any of her favourite club, and she left her phone at home"

"The studio," Gibb said gruffly, and Tony could have hit himself for not thinking of that.

"Thanks b-" but the click from the other end of the phone told him that Gibbs had already got bored, and had already hung up.

In the depths of her mind Ziva noticed when the song changed again on the player, but she somehow didn't care. There was just a slight change in her rhythm when the new song came on, and even in the short break between the songs her rhythm did not falter. Her body moved with the emotion of the song, all the pain and doubt from every ounce of her being getting transmitted through her movement. She hardly noticed the tears running down her face, her eyes closed, just relying on the music to see. But without her eyes she could see what was important. She could see Tony's laugh, his dancing eyes, she could feel the sensation that spread through her body when his lips fell against hers. But the tears kept flowing as she remembered why she had run, and she spun over and over again, one of her arms above her head, the other curving at right angle to her body. She kept spinning, giving into every sensation that coursed through her body, all the pain and self-doubt, all the bitter words and the harsh realities. And then she crumpled to the floor sobbing.

Tony pulled up in front of the dance studio at 0300. He had broken every traffic rule that there was to break, but at this time in the morning there was no-one around to tell him that he'd broken them. He pulled the car door open and strode purposefully to the entrance of the studio. He could see the lights on from the lobby, but there was only one studio with the lights on inside, and one with music coming out of it.

He peered through the glass panel off the door, and gave a sigh of relief. There was Ziva. She wasn't dead in a ditch somewhere, kidnapped or mugged. She was there, in body and mind. But there was something wrong. Tony could see the heaving of her breaths as she drew oxygen into her lungs in gasping breath. Her shoulders shook with each sob that fell from her body, and the tears fell onto the wooden panel floor. Curled up there in the middle of the room, Tony didn't see the woman who he had shamelessly flirted with, who had ignited him with desire with just a look. He saw the woman that he felt such tenderness for, the woman who he had unwittingly fallen for in such a short period of time. And now that woman was hurting.

He gently pushed open the heavy door, but the sharp noise still resonated around the room against the pause between music. Ziva's head snapped around sharply, so caught up in her thoughts that the violent awakening startled her.

"Tony?" she said softly.

Tony said nothing, but walked closer to her, Ziva shuffled back a little, putting distance between them as Tony tried to close that distance. As Ziva saw the flash of hurt in his eyes, she felt guilty. She was causing him pain. That was all that she was doing for him.

"Tony?" she said again, this time clearing her throat before she spoke so the words came out as less of a whisper.

"Ziva," Tony said, and closing the distance between them he knelt down and kissed her. What began as soft and hesitant grew as Ziva grabbed onto her shirt, pulling him closer. She had doubted why Tony wanted her, but now there was no doubt. Tony loved her. Tony wanted her. The kiss began to heat as Tony dug his hands through her hair, then brought them to run down her neck. She shuddered in pleasure, and his tongue smoothed over hers in response.

They disconnected their lips, leaning their foreheads against each others to catch their breaths. Ziva's mouth could not help but break out in a grin, and she closed her eyes shyly. When she opened her eyes, Tony asked her one question. Not what she was thinking, not why she had left. Those questions would come with time. Instead, he asked something completely different.

"Dance with me?"

kinda cheesy, i know... did you guys like the McAbby moment? :)