Okay, so first of all, I'm terribly sorry to be updating so late, but I really had a lot of stuff to deal with (exams, some family problems,...). To make it up to my wonderful readers, I made this chapter a bit longer. The next chapter should be up soon. Enjoy and thank you for your patience :)

When they arrived at her apartment, Tony didn't even have to force her to go to bed. She thanked him for staying, took a quick shower, left him a clean towel in the bathroom, so he could take a shower as well, and before he could ask if she wanted anything to eat, she had fallen asleep. He stood by the door, looking at her. Her face seemed peaceful and her body relaxed.

A former Mossad killer and now also a former NCIS agent.

Tough girl with a rough past and an uncertain future.

She might have been all that, but right there in that moment, she was just Ziva. His Ziva.

When Tony finally managed to take his eyes off her, he decided to look around the apartment. It was very spacious and cosy, with big windows and a beautiful view over the city. As the sun was going down, everything in the living room was covered in orange and red light. Tony turned on the TV, put it on mute, and tried to ignore his brain, which ordered him to...well, basically, to go through her stuff. Any other time, he would have already poked his nose into every drawer and shelf, but this time, it suddenly seemed rude. So instead of creeping into her privacy, he decided to take a shower and then cook something.

Her kitchen was well equipped and it was obvious at the first sight she spent a lot of time there. There was a shelf with at least fifteen cookbooks, some of them in Hebrew, Italian, Spanish and Arabic. He took out one that was in English and opened it. There were notes next to some recipes, and one of them caught his eye in particular. It said "Tony loves this, but do not put olives in it." He smiled and read the recipe. Yes, she cooked that for him several times and it was delicious.

Even though he wouldn't admit it at the time, he wanted to impress Ziva so badly, he chose to cook something from the Italian cookbook. That wouldn't pose a problem (since Google Translator exists) for someone...who could cook, which he couldn't. But Tony DiNozzo loved challenges and he was stubborn, so he put an apron on and got started.

...

Ziva slept for three hours, and she would have slept more, if a delicious smell coming from the kitchen hadn't woken her up. She hadn't had a decent meal in days so she didn't really care what he had made, as long as it was edible. She got up from the bed and went to wash her face with cold water.

"Did you sleep well?" she heard his voice coming from the bedroom.

"Yes, I did," she replied, brushed her hair and went out of the bathroom. "So, you have managed not to burn my apartment down, thank you," she smiled teasingly.

"Yeaah, about that... You probably shouldn't go to the kitchen until I clean it up."

"What happened?"

He shrugged and gave her an innocent look. "It got a bit messy."

The famous DiNozzo's puppy look. How could she be mad at him?

"Well, at least you still have all your fingers."

"I do, though I burnt myself. Twice. Anyway, let me show you the outcome of my hard work," he led her to the living room.

She noticed he had put a tablecloth on the coffee table, arranged serviettes and the cutlery there so it looked like a fancy restaurant table, and he'd even lit up a candle.

"Prego," he showed her to the couch. She sat down, while he rushed to the kitchen and when he came back, he was holding two plates. He put one in front of her. "Lasagne vegetariane," he said proudly. "Um, there wasn't any meat. But buon appetito, anyway!" he added.

"It looks delicious," she smiled at the pile of something on her plate.

"It looks like something I wouldn't let even McGee eat, but it tastes good."

It really did. Or maybe she was too hungry to be picky. Either way, twenty minutes later, her plate was empty.

"Okay, now I have prepared something special," Tony smiled mysteriously when he was coming back from the kitchen. "I noticed you put a bookmark on that page, so you probably were gonna make it, because you had all the stuff for it... So, here it is, Tiramisú casalingo. Non é cosí buono come dovrebbe essere, peró é fatto con l'amore." He put the desert in front of her and hoped he hadn't made any mistakes in the sentence. Thank God I hadn't decided for something from the Arabian cookbook, he thought.

"If I did not know you so well, I would say you are trying to impress me," she smiled.

Tony chuckled. "What? No way. I just thought you might fancy something special since the last few days have been tough."

"You are indeed an amazing friend," she stroked his cheek and then tasted the dessert. "Whoa, this is the best Tiramisú I have ever had."

"Are you serious?"

"It is perfect," she nodded. "Is there more?"

"Yeah, plenty more," Tony laughed in relief. "I should go clean up the kitchen," he said after a while, because he felt a bit creepy watching her eat.

"I thought you prepared some kind of entertainment for me."

"Um, sure, I did, I-" he looked around. "We could watch a movie. I'm in a mood for Bond. "

"Have you not had enough action in the last few days? "

"Good point. How about a card game?" he suggested.

"Okay, why not. I know a few games that I learned when I was on a mission in central Europe, they are a bit complicated, but-"

"I'm just a simple American dude, who hasn't slept well in the past week, please bear that in mind. You know what? I'm gonna teach you an American classic that we used to play in Baltimore."

"Fine, but I should warn you I am damn good at playing cards," she smirked at him and got up to get the cards.

"I was a champion three years in a row, baby," he smirked back at her and took the cards from her hand to shuffle them. "Damn, I don't have much cash," he realized suddenly.

"We can play for something else."

"Like what? Cleaning up the kitchen?"

"No. You made the mess; you are going to clean it. How about clothes?"

"You should've told it sooner you wanted to play strip poker."

"I do not like poker."

"Okay, if you dare to play for your clothes, I'm fine with that."

"Yeah, because you love stripping at any occasion."

He stopped shuffling the cards and gave her a suspicious look. "I know what's going on here. You liked what you saw in the beach house and you want to see it again, don't you?"

"The only thing I want to see is your face when I beat you. I can assure you I have no interest in seeing you without your clothes on."

"Don't worry, you won't. But I am very much looking forward to seeing you taking your clothes off while coping with the fact that I've beaten you."

"Bring it on, DiNozzo."

He explained her the rules and they played a few games just to see if she got it. Well, she did. It turned out Ziva David was a very good and strategic card player and she could anticipate her opponent's moves.

"Does Mossad train his agents in this, too?" he laughed nervously, when they started playing for real.

"No, but Mossad training is useful in many everyday situations," she winked and took another card from the packet on the table.

She won the first two games, and Tony had to take his socks off. He got good cards in the third game, though, and he regained his self-confidence. He won another two games, and then he started to lose his concentration. Ziva, who had taken off her socks and the cardigan, used that to her benefit and beat him.

"Pants down, DiNozzo," she grinned at him, as she was shuffling the cards.

"You know, that would actually sound pretty hot under different circumstances," he raised right eyebrow and took his pants off, trying to come up with a new strategy in his mind. He did, eventually, and he tried his best not to get distracted by Ziva's T-shirt with a low neckline . However, no matter how hard he tried, she managed to beat him again. He unbuttoned his shirt, getting really scared of totally embarrassing himself, when the ranging doorbell saved him from starting a new game.

"I'll get it, that must be the pizza guy."

"You ordered pizza?"

"Yeah, I told him to come around nine... In case you didn't like my lasagne."

"But I liked them."

"And that made me happy as a hippo," he smiled at her, reached for his pants and took out the wallet.

"Tony, your pants," she reminded him.

"Nah, I'm not ashamed of my legs. Besides, we're not finished," he pointed at the cards and smirked, with newly gained self-confidence. Pizza will help. Pizza always helps. "Don't you dare go peeking at my cards, David!" he shouted from the hallway. "I'm so going to beat you," he added in a whisper, as he was opening the door. "Or not... Boss?!"

It turned out it wasn't the pizza guy. It was Gibbs, and he wasn't alone. Besides him, there was Kort, Fornell and Tim.

Tony panicked and started buttoning his shirt. "We were - we were playing a card game, and I-I was-"

"Losing," Gibbs finished the sentence for him and Tony could have sworn there was a slight smirk on his face.

"Yes, she kinda kicked my ass. Figuratively speaking, of course. Nothing inappropriate is happening here."

"Can we come in?" Fornell asked.

"Sure, come in. I'm gonna..."

"Get your pants," Gibbs once again finished the sentence for him.

"Yes."

"This should be fun," Kort grinned.

"We'll see. And by we I mean you and by see I mean you won't because I will deprive you of your other eye."

"You seem to be forgetting I saved your ass earlier today."

"I'm well aware of that, but it doesn't mean I started liking you. I didn't."

"Don't worry, I don't like you either," Kort gave him a wry grin and went to the living room.

Ziva, all blushing, put the cards away and tried to concentrate on what the guests had to say. It was getting very annoying; each time she had a good time with Tony, something had to come up and ruin it. It was like the universe didn't like them together.

"First things first. We're gonna need coffee. Which way is the kitchen?" Fornell asked and looked at Ziva.

Tony answered him first. "Um, I wouldn't recommend you going there... Danger zone," he smiled innocently. "I'll go make the coffee myself."

When he got back, they all were looking at Tim's laptop, while Kort was explaining something.

"So, to what do we owe the pleasure?" Tony asked, looking at Kort. "I mean, when you dropped me off downtown you didn't seem like you wanted to meet later."

"I didn't, trust me. But there are some things I assumed you would like to know."

"What things?"

"Parsons had his personal spy in the CIA," Gibbs informed him. "That's how he was getting information about prominent people."

"Someone was supplying him with dirt so that he could blackmail people... Why would anyone do it for him? I mean, it's not like he could afford to pay them."

"Maybe he had something on the informer as well," Ziva shrugged.

"What's Fornell doing here?" Tony frowned when he fully realized Fornell's presence. Until then, his mind was still too busy thinking about Ziva's neckline.

"I'm a lucky charm," Tobias mumbled while sipping his coffee.

"FBI still needs the guy who killed Parsons," Gibbs explained.

"It might have been the informer," Ziva said. "If you think about it, Parsons had a very strong sense of justice; he despised people who were breaking the law. Maybe, he thought he was doing the right thing using the dirt he got from his informer as leverage. But then he found out that whoever was delivering him the information was as bad as the people he was after. He wanted to expose him and he got killed."

"Or he was just a hypocritical bastard who wanted to climb to the top of the bureaucratic ladder and got in somebody's way," Tony offered his explanation.

"I think the question we should be asking is why he would target your team," Fornell said. "He had a lot of dirt on other people that would make better and easier score. We think he was working for somebody who ordered him which people specifically to take down."

"There must be someone else. Very probably someone in charge," Kort said with a calm face as he was looking around the living room.

"Or the informer is in charge," Tony suggested.

"That's not likely, Parsons was in contact with two different people," Tim said.

"So we are looking for someone who has access to sensitive CIA information and then for someone..."

"Who has enough money to pay both Parsons and the informer," Gibbs finished both the sentence and his coffee.

"Any ideas on who it might be?" Tony asked.

Tim nodded. "That's why we're here."

"The informer must be someone with a very high level of clearance at the CIA," Gibbs said and a tired, worried frown appeared on his face as he looked at Ziva. "When was the last time you heard from Ray?"

"What? You think - but he is - he was in prison, wasn't he?"

"Someone paid a lot of money to get him out half a year ago," Kort said. "The agency has been looking for him since then."

"Any sign of him?" Tony asked.

"Nothing. However, we believe he is in DC, given it was probably him who killed Parsons."

"How are we going to find him?" Ziva glanced at Tim.

"Wasn't there something in the emails he sent you?" Gibbs turned to her. "A phone number, an address, anything that could be useful?"

"No, there was nothing of that kind."

"I thought you said you had ignored his emails," Tony frowned.

"Exactly, ignored, but that doesn't mean I hadn't read them."

"It implies it."

"Enough, you two. Ziva, can I go through those emails? I'm not saying you overlooked something, it's just...to be thorough," Tim looked at her. She gave him the permission with a short nod.

"Is anyone hungry? I made lasagne earlier," Tony said, trying to break the tension at least a bit.

"You cooked?" Tim stopped working on the computer and gave him a surprised look.

" Yes, I did, do you wanna try it?"

"No, thanks. From what I've experienced, you're a horrible cook. I don't even want to see what happened to the kitchen."

"Ziva liked it. The food, I mean, she hasn't seen the kitchen yet. Anyway, you know she's super honest so she would say if it wasn't good. Right Ziva?" he turned to her, but she didn't seem to be listening to him. "Ziva?"

"Hmm?" she looked up at him. "What?"

"You okay?"

"Yes, I am. Did you find anything, Tim?"

"Not yet, it's gonna take a few minutes until the program goes through your e-mails."

"What if we don't find him?" Tony looked at Gibbs, hoping he would have some kind of a plan. Gibbs always had a plan, right?

There was a moment of silence.

"Do you think the plan is still on, even though Parsons is dead?" Tony spoke again, still looking at his former boss.

"It might be."

"Okay, so there's nothing in the emails, plus the address doesn't exist anymore," Tim told them with disappointment. "What are we gonna do now?"

"I need you to stay with Abby. DiNozzo, you take care of your dad."

"What can I do?" Ziva enquired.

"You can stay here and keep an eye on yourself. Let us take care of it."

"Gibbs, you know I cannot do that."

"You have to. I don't want you to get involved in this."

"But Gibbs-" she was ready to argue with him, but his phone started ringing and interrupted her.

"Abby has some news about Parsons's murder," Gibbs told them when he hung up. "Let's go," he got up from the couch. "Keep your phones on," he glanced at Ziva and Tony and then along with Tim, Kort and Fornell left the apartment.

"I should probably go get my dad," Tony said after another silent moment. "I can totally swing by later, if you want."

"I am fine, take care of your father, that is most important right now. I will try to think of other ways to contact Ray."

"I could come and help you. Plus, I need to clean up the kitchen."

"Do not worry about that, Tony, really, just make sure your father is safe. I will call you if I find something."

"Okay," he nodded, realizing he has just lost another game that evening. "I'm gonna go."

It wasn't easy to let him go, but she needed a moment to get her act together. There wasn't much to get energy from (thank God for the Tiramisú leftovers), but she was used to being under pressure; it was basically her lifestyle ten years ago. She felt somewhat responsible for all that has happened; after all, it was her who brought Ray to NCIS, who introduced him to the team. And it was her who made him really angry by charging him with murder.

Ziva spent most of the evening going through the letters and emails he wrote her, and then tried to call all his numbers she had, with no particular plan in her head. She cried when reading his touching declarations of love, and then some more when she realized how much she missed being loved and adored. Eventually, she fell asleep, from all the crying and blaming herself, but some strange noises coming from the kitchen woke her up an hour later. She got up, didn't bother to turn on the lights and went to the living room.

"I told you not to worry about the mess," she said, expecting to find Tony in the kitchen. But there wasn't anyone.

"I think we all should clean up the mess we have made." The voice came from the hall and it definitely wasn't Tony's. Suddenly, the lights in the living room turned on. "Hello, Ziva."

"Ray," she said shakily and made a step back. "What do you want?"

"I want you to hear me out."

"I do not want to hear anything from you."

"Then shoot me," he opened one of the drawers and took out her gun.

"You have to pay for what you have done. I am not making this easier for you." Of course she wanted to shoot him, but firstly, she wasn't an agent anymore, so she could get in trouble, and secondly, she really wanted him to rot in prison. There was only one reasonable thing to do, so Ziva slowly reached in her pocket for the phone.

"I wouldn't do that," he aimed the gun at her.

She took the phone out, turned it off and put it on the table.

"Good, now let's talk."

And as always, here's what you can expect in the next chapter:

- someone's gonna shoot at Ray (who and will he/she succeed? ... we'll see),
- Ziva makes a decision that will affect her relationship with Tony,
- someone's gonna hang out and get really drunk with somebody we wouldn't expect him/her to spend time with.