This is either the last one of this story or the penultimate one. So far I have kept it reasonably close to the actual story, but I just wanted it to end differently to how it actually did in the show, because I really was not happy with how it all ended in the show. Oh, and this one had some of both of their points of view in it.

Enjoy.

Me and You

It almost hurt less to see him when he was running off to be with Her.

Jeanne.

Almost.

At least then he had been happy.

Now he was just miserable.

Morose.

Melancholy.

Mournful.

Okay, so maybe not just miserable, but he was definitely not showing any of the symptoms of being his usual, happy self.

She hated to see him in pain.

He was her best friend and even after all the times he had been there for her, she could still not help him.

It amazed her how she had actually thought about going to find Jeanne just to get her to talk to him.

She wanted him to be happy.

She wanted to see him grin and laugh and flirt and joke.

Furthermore, she wanted to be the one to be able to make him grin and laugh and flirt and joke.

But if she could not manage it, then she would have to settle for someone else doing it.

She would have to learn to cope without him one day anyway.

She knew that.

Seeing him after Jeanne made her realise that he was looking for something that flings just could not give him.

She was looking for the same thing of course, but she had already found it.

It was just unattainable.

He was just unattainable.

No matter, she could just feed off of his happiness like a parasite when he found it, not taking so much to bleed him dry, but just enough to keep her going.

All she would need would be for him to smile at her once a day.

Just one smile and she would be satisfied.

Until the next day.

He was like a drug.

Addictive.

Dangerous.

Illegal.

Off-limits.

And maybe that was what spurred her on, made her continue to try and get him to notice her.

She tried every day to poke the embers, tempt a spark to fly.

And every day he ignored her, running off to Jeanne until things went south.

Why did people say 'go south' or 'down hill' when something had gone wrong?

Why was the alternative of going 'down hill' to go 'up hill'?

It was a perfect summary of the human life.

You have two choices.

It getting worse, or a difficult struggle to an unknown conclusion.

Down hill or up.

Which do you chose?

And now he was too depressed to care about anyone.

Even her.

And she could not make it better.

Not that she had ever been any good at making things better in the first place.

That had been his specialty.

Warding off the bad dreams.

Being her protector during the night as she slept.

The one time she could not protect herself, he had been right at home.

But in the way that he could not protect himself she was useless.

She was being selfish.

He was the one in pain and yet it was her complaining about how tough it was on her.

Guilt flowed through her body immediately as she stood up from her desk and walked to the ladies room.

The cold water from the tap felt good on her face.

It let her cry without having to see her tears.

She could cry without looking weak.

Because whether she was weak or not, all that really mattered was if she looked it.

It was all just a façade.

Her strong, emotionless exoskeleton.

It protected her softness.

It kept the human inside safe.

But at the same time it isolated her.

She grew callous.

The armour rubbed, chaffed, solidifying the soft parts.

She looked at her reflection.

Pathetic.

She closed her eyes and allowed his warm arms to wrap around her waist from behind as he pressed tender kisses down her neck and across the top of her back onto her shoulders.

She relished in the mental creation that had managed to get every detail right, even the way his muscles tensed and the slight roughness of his lips on the bare skin of her neckline.

It was unfair for her mind to trick her like that.

She fell to the floor, leaning against the counters with the inset basins.

Covering her ears, she blocked out the mental creation of Tony, tears now streaming heavily down her face.

He watched her leave. Externally she looked calm and collected, but he had seen the torment in her eyes as she stared at him, worried. They had been best friends. As thick as thieves. He had told her all but his deepest, darkest secret. The one that haunted every dream. Tormented every of his waking moments. The secret that he had spent so many evenings over the past year burying along with the feeling that it coupled with. They way he felt about her. He couldn't remember the last time he'd seen her laugh. A proper laugh, not the false one she had started to stop people from asking if she was okay. Nobody else had seemed to notice that it wasn't her real laugh, but he had. It was her real laugh that he had fallen in love with. He had really hurt her. Every night with Jeanne he had spent wondering if Ziva would be having a nightmare. Worrying that he wouldn't be there when she woke, screaming, from the terrors that plagued her sleep. His love for her was unrequited though. Yes, she had been worried about him. Yes, all he had put her through with the secrecy had hurt her, but only because she was his best friend, and he was hers. One day he would have to stand in a suit, watching her walk down the aisle in a white dress, adorned in flowers and lace, as she flicked a grin to him before she wed her true love. He didn't know who it would be who filled the place he wanted so much but one thing was certain: it would never be him. One day, she would wake, screaming, from the terrors that plagued her sleep, and it wouldn't be his arms that wrapped around her, it would be another mans. Someone she loved and someone who loved her. He would have to watch her as she had another mans children, watch those children that should have been his grow up in front of his very own eyes. He would have to watch her grow old with another man, retire and leave him. He'd end up like Gibbs or Ducky. Working with a stream of new, younger models continually filing in through the door possessing talents that were beyond him and being alone in his lonely, aging world.

And that is all it took to decide. Just the thought that he could not live for one more second with the possibility of her loving another man to make him stand from his desk and follow the path she had taken but minutes beforehand. He walked into the ladies room, stopping dead as her reflection closed her eyes. He walked over and wrapped his arms around her waist. She didn't flinch away. He pressed kisses to the top of her head, the side of her neck, along her shoulder, the top of her back. He watched as her reflection smiled slightly, eyes still closed, the rest of her body completely motionless. Until the crying started. Her body slipped from his grasp as she slid onto the floor, turning as she crumpled so her back was against the counter. He frowned as she pulled her hands over her ears.

"Ziva, please." He whispered and sat down next to her. "Don't cry. I hate it when you cry."

"But you're not real." She moaned through her gasping, breathing becoming a problem as she choked on her tears, suffocating as the sudden flood of emotions drowned her.

"What do you mean? I am real."

"No. The real Tony is sat at his desk thinking about Her. I just made you up, so stop being nice to me."

"Ziva. I am real. I am the Tony who you think is sitting at my desk."

"Then what are you doing here?"

"I'm thinking about my one true love."

"I do not want to hear about it." She groaned, her stomach turning.

"I'm thinking about you, Ziva. You're the love of my life."

"You know how I know I have made this up?" Ziva laughed sadly, looking at him.

"Enlighten me."

"Only I could think you would ever say that to me. You have just broken up with the love of your life."

"Jeanne was a mission. I did it because I was ordered to. I thought I could develop feelings for her, given time and a lot of nurturing, but they would never have been easy. Natural."

"And that is what your feelings are with me, I guess. Easy. Natural." She scoffed.

"Yes, Ziva." He took her hand, uncurling her fingers and locking his between them. "See?" He held up their entwined hands. "Perfect fit. Perfect match."

"Another reason I know I have made this up."

"Not made up." He shrugged. "I'll take you for a date whenever you want to prove it. Your choice of venue, your terms. Just name a date and time."

"Tonight. 2300 hours. The all night pizza place around the corner from here."

"Not the most romantic of places." Tony laughed.

"If you are something I have imagined up, you will not even take me to dinner and so I will not be disappointed."

"Well, we shall go to the all night pizza place around the corner at 2300 tonight then." He grinned and tucked a strand of hair that had been plastered to her face by the water she had splashed her flushed skin with behind her ear. "You and me, then."