Slightly different to how I usually write. Not sure if I truly conveyed what I wanted to. It does get kind of confusing at points, but it was meant to be, if that makes sense. Basically Ziva thinking about how her and Tony's midnight-meetings as I have come to mentally refer to them as ended.

The Very Oldest Stories Of The Beginning Are, Sooner Or Later, About Blood

She was not jealous.

She did not get jealous.

She was Ziva David: jealousy was a weakness.

It did not matter that he had he had stopped spending Thursday nights with her.

It did not matter that he had disregarded what had become, to her, the routine that was keeping her going.

It did not matter that he had begun to take time out of work to see Her.

It did not even matter that he had not let any them meet Her.

All that mattered was that she felt like she had lost her best friend, and was being tortured by having to see him every day, phoning Her and running off to meet Her.

It might have helped, even just a little bit, if he was not just let off the hook, given a free pass from the director every time he left.

But he was, and that infuriated her because were it anybody else to behave in such a manner they would be unemployed in seconds.

And all this reminded her of was that it was not her that Tony was taking time out of his work, the most important thing to him, to see.

It was not her that he was spending his Thursday evenings with.

It was not her.

So maybe she was jealous.

But did she not have a right to be?

She would do anything for him, and he had broken her heart more times than he could every realise, because every time he picked up a phone call from Her, or left her every Thursday night hoping he might just change his mind and turn up on her doorstep, a bottle of red wine in his hand and a grin on his face, wanting to stay in her spare room, her heart shattered just that little bit more.

It took all her strength to not show how she felt when he left early to be with Her, when she came into work after a bad night's sleep, or when she brought lunch for them to share, only for him to go out to lunch with Her.

Maybe her father had been right.

Maybe emotions were a human's biggest weakness.

They caused pain and suffering.

They were what ruined lives, feelings.

And yet she could not do without them again.

She could not go back to being the cold-hearted killer she had been before.

Even though the only feeling she felt anymore was pain, she decided it was better than not feeling anything at all.

And she could thank Tony for that.

She could thank him for the pain.

"Ziva, my dear child, what are you doing here so late?" Ducky asked, walking over to the crying woman. She had not even realised everyone had left. She had not realised how late it had gotten. She had not realised the tears running down her cheeks. He pulled the chair over from McGee's desk and sat next to her, placing his hand on her shoulder. "It's Thursday. You always used to be so cheerful on a Thursday." She looked up at him from where her head was resting on her folded arms.

"How about a drink, Ducky? You and me, we can drown our sorrows." She tried to smile through her tears and Ducky sighed and shook his head.

"You and I both know that hiding our miseries in the bottom of a bottle gets us nowhere but drunk."

"Maybe I want to be drunk." She held her finger up and the pathologist chuckled.

"No. You don't want to be drunk. You want to tell me what's wrong and then you want to go home and sleep."

"I do not want to talk about it." She shook her head, defiant, her eyes lingering on Tony's desk. Ducky, being Ducky, noticed and smiled pitifully.

"This would be Tony's new lady-friend who is causing you so much distress?"

"You can read minds, Ducky."

"No, Ziva dear. I've just seen many upset women throughout my short life. This one's different from the others."

"He has changed so much since he met her. He does not talk about his life anymore, he barely talks to me at all, we have not stayed together in over the last month…" She froze, realising what she had said. "That does not sound how I wanted it to. I mean…he would take my spare bedroom. We never slept together. I mean we did actually sleep in the same bed once or twice, but we never had sex." She explained, flustered.

"I understand." He smiled and nodded, remembering a story but holding back, thinking it would not help the situation.

"I felt safe with him there, Ducky."

"I'm surprised he was not the one feeling safer." He grinned.

"He could protect me from the nightmares."

"I know." His smile faded away slowly. "How strong are your feelings for our new team leader, if you don't mind me asking?"

"Who said I had feelings for him?"

"The painful little glint you get in your eyes when you think about him. They won't dissipate, you know. They'll always be there if they're powerful enough."

"I know, Ducky. I know." Yawning, she stretched and cracked her knuckles and neck.

"You look exhausted."

"That is what comes from not sleeping." She laughed coldly.

"Come on, Officer David, let me escort you out of here."

If you could not guess, the Her I referenced many times was of course Jeanne, and I do of course dislike her greatly (Sorry if you like her). She stole Tony. Okay, so that might be a bit over dramatic, but it is true.