The Fall

A/N – Another fic that would not leave me alone. I have half of chapter 2 written so will update soon. Please let me know what you think

Chapter One

That she knocked on his door after midnight should have been his first red flag. The second should have fluttered when he smelled alcohol on her breath and caught the glassy sheen of her eye. But it wasn't until she stepped into his space and pressed herself against him in a tight hug that he realised something was very wrong.

He should have expected it, really. It had been a hell of a day.

Earlier in the Day

The team stood in the observation room, each with a frown on their face. The girl sat in interrogation was dirty, curled up with her knees tucked against her chest. Her red hair fell in tangles around her sunken cheeks, and she nibbled on the short fingernails of her left hand. Her name was Sophie, and the team had rescued her from her kidnapper earlier in the day when he had taken her outside to troll for other targets. When the team became aware of two other girls being held, they doubled down on their questioning of the suspect but, with insufficient evidence, they were forced to release him. Despite their best efforts, the suspect evaded their surveillance and disappeared. He was obviously with the other girls, but they had no idea where his hideout was.

"She is scared," Ziva said as she glanced to their boss, her thumb massaging the palm of her left hand. "A small room is perhaps not the best place for her, Gibbs."

The older marine sighed in agreement. "I know, but we need her to talk and we need it on tape. Otherwise, those girls die and we never put him behind bars."

Tony recognised the desperation in his boss's voice. They did need her to talk. This girl was the only person who had any idea where two other girls, were being held. As the only one out of six abductions to have survived so far, the red-haired teenager was the team's only link to the location of their suspects hideout. But she outright refused to talk about anything that happened to her there, and couldn't be convinced to revisit her memories to narrow down a location. Time was running out to find the girls who were still missing.

"If you had let me…" Ziva started with a raised finger, but was swiftly cut off by Gibbs.

"You can't torture suspects, David," he said, a good-natured grin settling on his face despite himself at her frown of disapproval. Tony and McGee shot each other a smirk. "Not in here," he continued, raising a brow in a silent reminder of the last time he'd left her alone in a room with a suspect. She gave an enigmatic smile in return before returning her gaze to the girl in the room.

The observation tech sat at the desk looked up from his monitor in alarm and Tony paused on his way to take a sip of coffee, casting the man an uncertain glance. "Ah, you didn't hear that," he dismissed, a crooked smile on his face. The man swallowed and turned back to the screen.

"Anything from her group home, McGee?" Gibbs followed up, turning to the younger agent.

"Nothing, Boss. Seems like they didn't keep great records, wasn't even state registered. I'm not entirely sure how a 14-year-old ended up with them, they are only supposed to take over-16s." McGee replied. "They've sent a child advocate over, she just arrived. Ducky's bringing her through. She's getting a coffee first and seemed more interested in when she can go home than how Sophie is doing."

Gibbs sipped from his coffee and appraised the girl in the room with bitter sadness. "I don't blame her for running away," he muttered.

"And runaways are easy targets," Tony finished. Everyone turned to glance at him oddly, and when he realised how what he had said sounded, he backtracked, "If you're a murdering psychopath of course…. which I am not."

Ziva was shaking her head at him with an amused smile when the sound of the door opening made her jump, and Tony narrowed his eyes at her in concern. She avoided his gaze, knowing he had noticed, and they turned to see Abby and Ducky walking into the already crowded room. Ducky had escorted the advocate into the interrogation room and the team watched as she nodded a hello to Sophie and proceeded to sit in the corner and ignore her.

"Anything?" asked Ducky, gesturing to the girl. At the series of shaking heads in front of him, he sighed. "She doesn't feel like anyone could understand. She feels alone, poor thing," he continued sadly, anguish on his aging features.

When Tony looked up, he noticed Gibbs staring at Ziva. He knew what would come next, and apparently so did Ziva because she glared in the direction of their boss. Tony was about to intervene on her behalf, but before he'd had a chance to take a breath to do so, Gibbs held out a placating hand and quietly said, "I won't ask you, Ziva."

From the sad look on her face, Tony knew she wouldn't be able to just walk away from this. The faces of the two missing teenagers on the plasma next to dozens of crime scene photos of abused and mutilated victims was enough to make them all sick. He didn't want her to do this, knew that opening those wounds that had only just started to close could leave permanent damage. He also knew she couldn't live with herself if she didn't do everything she could to find those girls. If their pictures moved to the other side of their crime scene board, she would drown herself in a guilt more tortuous than any terrorists' hands.

Before Ziva could say anything, Abby spoke softly, apparently sensing the mood in the room. "I got the results from the particulates on her shoes. I'm close to narrowing down an area, I just need a few more clues."

"They don't have much time," Gibbs sighed, glancing at his watch. It was almost dark out. "The snow isn't due to let up 'til tomorrow."

Tony heard a bang as Ziva slammed the report she was holding down onto the table in the corner. She said nothing, refused to look at them as she walked out of the room. The rest of the team stood in shock in the observation room. They glanced to each other, each unsure of what was unfolding and whether they needed to do anything about it. It took a few moments, but eventually she opened the door to the interrogation room, slipped in quietly and sat down in front of the girl. The team behind the glass observed with interest. She was composed, eerily calm.

"Hi, Sophie. My name is Ziva," she introduced herself with a gentle smile, speaking softly.

The girl glared at her from across the table. "This where they send in the woman to get me to talk?" she sneered. "Look, just because you don't have a dick, it doesn't mean I wanna talk to you about it either."

When Ziva didn't respond, simply tilting her head, Sophie's voice took on a cutting, sarcastic tone as she leaned across the table with mock sadness. "You gonna tell me you understand how I feel? That you know how hard it is?" The girl finished with a dramatic eyeroll.

Ziva was quiet for a moment longer, searching her eyes. The team saw the anger and defensiveness for what it was: pain and fear. "I do understand," she eventually said, and something about her tone or the look in her eye caught Sophie's attention.

"You do?" she asked, a confused frown on her face. When Ziva nodded, she followed up, "You've been kidnapped?" She sounded incredulous, as though such a thing were impossible.

Ziva pursed her lips and nodded again. "Technically I was captured, but yes." She met the girl's eyes, trying to tell her story without giving away too much personal information. "I was doing some… work…in Somalia when I was taken prisoner by a group of terrorists. They held me for three months. The man who held me, the one in charge… he tortured me, he raped me. Much like the man who took you did to you and those other girls." Sophie's eyes welled up – it was clear she was fighting a desperate desire to let someone in.

Tony's hands clenched into tight fists at his side, and felt Abby move imperceivably closer to him and McGee. He felt a white-hot flash of pain and rage tear through him hearing her confirm, for the first time out loud, what she had been through. He already knew; he'd read the medical reports, pieced together things he learned along the way. But having her admit it felt like both a step in a direction towards healing, and pouring salt into a gaping wound. He felt bile burn the back of his throat and he swallowed hard. He wanted more than anything to hold Ziva close, breathe in the smell of her hair and remind himself she was safe.

In the interrogation room, Sophie's gaze had turned cold again. She blinked away her tears and crossed her arms in front of her, a move the team recognised as an attempt to place a physical barrier to prevent anyone getting close. "How do I know you're not lying? You're probably just saying that to make me talk about it."

Ziva sighed and bit her lip. She rolled up the sleeves of her top and placed her arms on the table in front of Sophie. From their view in the observation room, the fading scars on Ziva's wrists from the restrains used and the now-whiteish dots running down her arms from cigarette burns were still painfully obvious. But Sophie did not look convinced. Sighing again, Ziva stood, her fingers running the hem of her shirt before she lifted it at the back and turned to show Sophie the wide, ragged scars running down her back. The girl inhaled in shock and immediately looked contrite.

Ziva steadfastly refused to look at the one-way glass in front of her and the team of people she knew was behind it, jaw fixed with determination. Tony willed her to look at him, even though he knew she wouldn't see him through the mirror. He needed her to feel some kind of reassurance that the people here were not judging her, not thinking less of her for doing this. Not thinking her weak because she was being vulnerable. Not seeing her as a weapon like Mossad did, but as a person with a heart and soul that could care and love, as well as a mind and body that could fight and protect. But more than anything, he wanted to tell her he loved her.

He chastised himself for giving into such thoughts at such a vital point in their case. He needed to focus on finding those girls, on putting the bad guy away, on keeping Ziva safe and grounded. He could deal with his slowly evolving realisations later. She appeared calm and composed but a trained eye could see the rapid pulse at her neck, the tenseness of her back, how little she blinked.

When Ziva turned to sit, pulling her top back down, her back was briefly visible to the team stood behind the glass. Tony felt Abby's gasp from behind him and saw her hand fly to her mouth as she let tears fall down her cheeks. In the reflection he saw Ducky place his hand on her shoulder and heard him murmur, "Oh Ziva, you poor girl." McGee looked at the floor, his face burning red with a myriad of emotions. Tony felt sick seeing the consequences of what she had endured. Reading about it was much different to seeing it.

She'd spent the last few months refusing to even acknowledge she had been in the desert. And now here she was, revealing her secrets to a traumatised young girl in a desperate bid to find the missing ones before it was too late. Tony felt immense pride in his partner, but knew the damage it would do. He worried the fallout might do more damage than the original blast. "Boss, I don't know if this is a good idea," he said quietly to the grey-haired man.

He felt the anxiety rolling off Gibbs, and knew the man was just as concerned and aware of the risk here as he was. His face showed very little, the occasional squint as he watched the woman who was like a daughter to him put her own wellbeing last yet again being the only visible sign of distress. "It's up to her, DiNozzo." The tone was dismissive, but Tony knew better. Gibbs was worried too.

Back in the interrogation room, Sophie swallowed hard. "What did that?" she asked, a nervous tone to her voice that suggested she wasn't sure she wanted her question answered.

"He used a whip," Ziva answered simply, meeting the girl's eyes before continuing, "It hurt a lot. A kind of pain I know you are familiar with too." Sophie looked down at the table, fiddling with her nails. "It is a different kind of pain, is it not, when you know there is no one to comfort you afterwards?"

Tony's heart broke at her words, a desperate ache in his chest that made it feel as though he couldn't breathe with how much he wanted to be there to comfort her when she hurt. Sophie nodded twice before dissolving into tears, finally breaking down and letting her body experience the feelings of fear and grief and pain that she had kept locked away. Ziva moved her chair around to the other side, taking Sophie's hand in hers, she soothed the girl, whispering to her that she was safe now. When her tears had calmed, Sophie looked up at the Israeli with trusting eyes and asked, "Do you ever go back to being yourself again?" She hiccupped softly and sniffed before continuing. "I don't feel like I'm myself anymore."

Ziva sat back in her chair and considored this for a moment. "No, I don't think you do. At least not the self you were before it happened." She opened and closed her mouth a few times, obviously finding it hard to translate her already complicated thoughts from Hebrew into English suitable for a traumatised teenage girl. "Everything we experience - good or bad - shapes us, yes?" Ziva waited for the girl to nod. "And so, I do not think we can ever go back to being the person we were yesterday, last week, last year. We are constantly growing and evolving. In time, and with someone to talk to about it all, you will find the bad memories start to fade, and from that you will have grown into a new, stronger person." Sophie gave her a soft smile and Ziva returned it before a sad frown came over her face. "This is something you should never have had to endure, Sophie. But it does not have to define you. You are alive and you are free. Yes, we may have some scars now, but you must remember that scars can only form if you survive something. They are proof that you survived. That you won."

Sophie fell forward into Ziva's arms and it took a moment, but eventually she held the young girl gently, rubbing soothing circles on her back as she cried. It felt strange for Tony, to see Ziva offering such physical comfort to a stranger. It wasn't usually something she was comfortable with. Tony hoped Ziva had taken on board her own words, saw herself that way. He hoped she knew that she had also won.

After a while, Sophie pulled back and took a deep breath. "I don't want anyone else to have to go through what I did." Ziva nodded in response, knowing it was better to let the girl come to her own decision rather than asking her again. "And you said he has two more girls?" Ziva nodded again. "I don't want them to die." Ziva remained silent, simply holding the small hand gently in hers. It took a few moments, but eventually Sophie stopped nibbling on her lip and whispered, "You can tell Agent Gibbs I will do what I can to help."

Ziva squeezed the girl's hand tightly, and whispered a soft thank you into her hair as she offered a last hug. Gibbs and Abby were entering, the latter with her laptop ready to compare Sophie's clues to her forensic reports. After assuring Sophie she would return later, Ziva stepped out into the corridor and disappeared from Tony's view.

He watched her leave, trying to come up with excuses for following her. He wanted nothing more than to go and hold her, but he knew she wouldn't welcome it. Right now, Ziva would want space to regroup without prying eyes. Ducky had already begun regaling him with a story of a similar circumstance and he couldn't find a reason to go without it being painfully obvious he cared about her much more than he should.

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Once back in the bullpen, armed with new information from Sophie, Gibbs turned to the team. "Let's get to work," he said gruffly, his voice filled with newfound determination. Tony nodded, refocusing his attention on the case yet again. He glanced over at McGee and Abby, who were already hunched over his desk and busy analysing the clues and evidence. Ducky had remined with Sophie, awaiting social services, and whilst they worked fluidly with an ease that only comes from years of learning each other's habits, someone was still missing and it was noticeable.

An hour passed before Ziva re-joined them. She looked composed, focused, as though nothing unusual had happened today at all. Tony knew her well enough to notice the slight redness in her eyes, the dampness at the roots of her eyelashes. He longed to reach out to her, but she avoided his gaze, instead pouring over reports on her desk. She had only smiled briefly at the team before getting to work, and while they were concerned about her, simply having Ziva back in the bullpen with them gave them back their familiarity and balance.

When Abby's analysis of the particulates found on Sophie's shoes led them to a warehouse district, they focused their efforts there, relying on thermal scans and the young girl's descriptions to narrow down the building. With back-up in place, the team moved in to apprehend the suspect and rescue the girls. He put up no fight; Ducky's assertation that he was, deep down, a coward coming true as he trembles and cried beneath the agent's guns.

In a dark corner of the warehouse, they found the two missing girls; they were scared and traumatised, but thankfully alive. Tony watched as Ziva, again with this new gentle touch she had found, eased them out of their binds and assured them they were safe. He felt so much pride in here, in how far she had come. He knew she would not stop to think about herself until her job was done. The desperate desire he had to put her first when she couldn't or wouldn't resurfaced, and he had to force himself not to reach his hand out to her.

As the girls were taken to safety by medics, the team regrouped outside the warehouse. Tony looked around at his teammates, noticing the utter exhaustion on their faces. Despite their fatigue, a twinkle of pride in a job well done filtered between them, and Gibbs simply nodded his thanks with a half-smile.

The boss turned to Ziva, a soft hand resting lightly on her shoulder. "You did good, Ziver," he said, his voice gruff but filled with genuine appreciation. She gave him a small smile at his use of her nickname and nodded in response.

They didn't speak as they drove back to the Navy Yard. Ziva sat up front whilst Gibbs drove, and Tony found himself watching her closely in the side door mirror as they passed under the flickering street lights. Each flash illuminated her face, and when he saw that empty blackness in her gaze, that unfocused look in her eye that said she wasn't with them anymore, he cleared his throat and asked, "Hey, Boss, can we get some music going in here?"

Tony saw Gibbs glance to him in the rear-view mirror before he returned his focus to Ziva. The older marine seemed to follow what Tony was implying, because he gave a grunt and uncharacteristically agreed to turn the radio on. He picked an upbeat station, fiddling with the volume until it was a nice level before turning back to the road.

When Tony looked up again, he saw Ziva looking back at him in the mirror. Her eyes were clear and sparkled under each orange street light and whilst she still looked sad, he was thankful she no longer looked like she was lost in a prison cell. As he met her gaze in the reflection, she let a small grateful smile grace her features. The warmth he felt had very little to do with the car heater.

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Once back in the bullpen, with Sophie safely with social services, Gibbs ordered them to go home. "Paperwork can wait 'til tomorrow. It's been a long day," he said with a tired sigh. "Get some rest," he said to the team, before lowering his voice and turning to Ziva. "I don't need you in tomorrow," he stated, meeting her dark eyes with his clear blue ones. "You can email your report."

Ziva rolled her eyes and scoffed. "You do not know how to use email," she replied, annoyance tinting her words.

Gibbs simply chuckled back at her. "No, but McGee does." He paused, studying her features for a moment. The younger agent looked up in alarm, clearly not wanting to have to pick a side between his boss and a ninja assassin. "I know you won't, but I have to offer… and I think it would be a good idea."

Ziva gave a smile so convincing Tony nearly bought it. "I am fine, Gibbs," she stated, voice clear and confident. She gathered her things and said goodnight before walking to the elevator to head home.

Tony watched Gibbs shake his head in despair at her refusal to admit when she needed support. He vowed to call her as soon as he got home.

He called five times. She did not answer.

Present Day

When Tony realised how tightly she was gripping him, he whispered into her hair, "Wanna talk?" His fingers played with the ends of her curls, he breathed her in, enjoying her warmth against him. It wasn't often she hugged him, and he wanted to soak up every second of her in his arms.

Ziva shook her head, the loose strands of her curls tickling his nose. "No." Her tone left no room for argument and Tony sighed in defeat.

"You drunk?" he asked, already knowing the answer.

When Ziva replied, it was quick. "No." When Tony sighed again she looked up at him, meeting his eyes for a fraction of a second. It was enough for him to see the pain there, more pronounced than he'd ever seen it. "Yes," she conceded, then shrugged. "A little."

Tony pulled back. "Come on, I'll get you water." He led her inside, leaving her by the couch as he went to fetch a glass of water from the kitchen. When he returned, she had removed her coat and gloves and was glancing around his living room with thinly veiled interest. He handed her the water and looked at her hard until she rolled her eyes and drank it, handing it back to him when it was empty.

He placed it on the table and turned back, intending to say something comforting but instead found her closer than she was before. When she met his eyes, he couldn't recognise the emotion there. It was something he hadn't seen in her before. Some kind of desperation or ache. She looked so… vulnerable. Which was not a look he was used to seeing on her. She was always so strong, so capable. He longed for this, to be able to hold her when she was broken, to be able to whisper reassurances into her hair. Tony didn't know if she would let him, didn't think he had the guts to tell her why he wanted to. "What can I do?" he asked, completely lost because he wasn't sure what would help.

She ran her fingers though her windswept curls in an uncharacteristically nervous gesture and stepped even closer to him, her warm hands coming to rest on his waist as she fisted his shirt into her fingers. Tony couldn't help responding, gripping her elbows because he needed to touch her but wasn't sure how much she would accept from him. "Tony… I want…" she trailed off, unable to meet his eyes, the fatigue in her voice obvious. "I need…"

Ziva stopped again, then glanced up to him with dark eyes that were suspiciously wet. She moved so quickly, Tony barely had time to breath before she pressed her lips against his and he saw stars. Her hand shifted to the back of his neck, and the feeling of her fingers running though his hair as she pulled him closer sent a growl reverberating from deep within him. She swallowed it with a moan of her own as she slipped her tongue out to push past his lips. Kissing her back felt so natural and incredible that it took him longer than it should to realise what was happening. With those soft lips moving against his, that talented tongue darting out to taste him, things quickly became heated and he couldn't help but reciprocate, gripping at her narrow waist and curved hips. Warning lights flashed in his mind as the subtle taste of alcohol hit him and he reluctantly broke the kiss, almost blacking out at the moan of disapproval that escaped her. "Ziva, I think…" he tried, breathing hard against her neck.

He felt her shake her head before she moved to kiss and nibble along his jaw. She felt incredible, and he was struggling to hold on to the threads of decency within him as she sent shivers of pleasure rippling through him. He wanted her more than he could possibly explain. "No," she stated bluntly, a little breathless. "I do not want to think." And with that she pushed him back hard to sit on the sofa behind them before climbing into his lap, pressing herself against him. "I want to feel," she murmured in his ear, her warm breath making him tingle and he felt blood flowing south. His grip on her waist tightened. "Make me feel, Tony." Her lips hovered above his and the darkness of desire in her eyes, desire for him, was almost enough to undo him.

Surely he could let her kiss him again? Perhaps it would be enough for her; a kiss, a comfort to ease her into sleep. Enough that he wouldn't actually have to turn her down. Because, really, what kind of man would he be if he took advantage of a vulnerable woman. Oh, right, himself five years ago. Which is probably why she is here, he reasoned. Thinking he'd take her for a night because he likes an easy lay – that he'd be willing to offer her a night of solace from reliving the hell she'd been through. But he couldn't tell her that he didn't want that with her. Right now, he wasn't sure she even had the capacity to understand what he would inevitable fuck up saying. Now couldn't be the right time to confess his feelings for her, not when she was a little drunk and a lot hurting. But he didn't know how to stop her without hurting her more. As desperate as he was for her, he loved her too much to let it happen this way.

Tony was forced to act moments later when her lips found his again, tongue trailing over them as she ground her hips down hard onto the bulge in his lap. The groan he let out was uncontrollable, and he used every ounce of decency within him to push her hips away from his whilst still keeping her in his embrace. "Ziva, stop…" he whispered, trying to keep his tone reassuring rather than dismissive.

Still, he saw the hurt pass over her face and she flushed red. "You do not want me?" Tony was certain it was a question, but came out more like a statement, as if she had already assumed the answer.

Tony resisted the urge to roll his eyes, not wanting her to become more defensive. He glanced down between their bodies at the obvious tent in his jeans, then back at her with a raised brow. "That is clearly not the problem here, Ziva." His voice was strained, huskier that he'd ever heard it. He didn't recognise it.

She simply looked at him, questions he knew she wouldn't ask swirling around her eyes. If he wanted her to know how he felt, he would have to tell her. He knew she wouldn't ask. But he couldn't, not now. Not when she'd blame it on him feeling sad or guilty or worried about losing her. Not when she was drunk and hurting and looking for escape. Not when she would likely outright reject his love because, really, was he even worthy of her? Could he give her what she deserved? He frowned, swore under his breath and scrubbed a hand over his face as he felt her climb out of his lap. He immediately wanted her back.

"You used to," she said quietly, and he wondered how she got so far across the room. "Before…" The accusation in her tone cut him, and he watched as the pieces fell into place and she saw entirely the wrong picture. She thought he was saying no because of today, because of what they'd learned about her. She looked mortified for a second before her walls went up, so fast he swore he could hear them clanging into place, and her face became a controlled mask of indifference.

"Ziva… " he tried, but he knew it was too late. She had already gathered her coat and was closing his apartment door behind her.

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