A/N: I found this incredibly hard to write, for many reasons, but it's done – I'm sorry it took me so long to complete. I hope it's been worth it and you find it in your hearts to forgive my tardiness and leave a review 3.

Chapter 3

True to his word, Gibbs let them leave at five on the spot. Ziva waved goodbye, catching the promise in Tony's eye that told her he was already on his way to her place. She took the elevator ride down and the car ride home to recalibrate. The silence of the elevator combined with the loud bass of the car stereo helped even her out into some kind of normalcy.

In all honesty, she had not expected him to bring it up at all, let alone confront her so directly. She was not sure how to handle this suddenly open Tony. They did not do this… this letting each other in, this talking about how they felt. It just was not them. Plus, she was still a little pissed at him for eavesdropping, and while she would concede that she would not have stopped either, she was frustrated that it had to be that particular conversation he overheard.

She was both anticipating and dreading him coming over in equal measures, now completely uncertain where the conversation would head. Tony said he had not stopped her because he had learned what happened to her. It was honestly the only reason she could think he would turn down free sex. They had done it many times before and quite successfully, she might add. Both knew it was able to just be physical. Ziva was certain he was not seeing anyone – he would never be able to hide it. So, what other reason could there be?

Ziva spent some time straightening up her home, knowing Tony was unlikely to leave it too long before turning up at her door. That promise in his eye was desperate. She changed into leggings and an oversized hoody, deliberately choosing a plain blue fabric over the OSU sweatshirt Tony left at her place. While it was usually her go-to for cosiness and comfort, in a way it would feel like answering the door in a wedding dress. Too many things unsaid with that kind of gesture. No, they did not need any more fodder for this particular fire. She would not allow herself to seem that vulnerable. She would allow him to say his piece, and then they could put this behind them.

As expected, it was shortly after six when a light knocking came from her door. She took longer to open it than she usually would, and she hoped the casual smile on her face hid how terrified she felt when she saw the intense look in his eyes. He had changed into jeans and a loose t-shirt, his jacket already off and over the arm that held a pizza box before he had even stepped through the door. It was obvious he was intending to stay for a while. The though sent a wave of panic through her and she took a deep breath and gestured him inside without a word.

Tony threw his jacket on the back of a chair and in normal circumstances, Ziva would roll her eyes or throw a punch at his arm before conceding and hanging it up for him. Instead, they both stood awkwardly, avoiding eye contact. Avoiding starting this. This thing, whatever it was, that was making them both antsy and uncertain. She could last longer in silence than he ever could, so it was a surprise to no one when Tony spoke.

"I guess we should talk," he said uncomfortably, his right hand brushing the hair on the back of his head. He cleared his throat and sat himself down on her coach, placing the box of pizza on the coffee table in front. When she did not immediately join him, his hand patted the spot next to him. "Come on, Ziva." His tone was soft and she realised had heard him say that before, the last time he tried to implore her to speak about her time in that hellhole. The same bolt of panic and nausea flashed through her body now as it had then in that dark warehouse.

She sighed and moved to sit next to him, leaving a larger gap than she usually would. The last time they were on a sofa she was climbing into his lap. Now she was terrified to be close. Terrified of what though? That he would reject her? That she would not be able to control herself and kiss him until he stopped talking about feelings and reasons and what happened in that place? That she would tell him more about what happened, and he would think less of her? The thoughts spiralled and spiralled and she began to lose track of things.

"When was the last time you ate?" he asked, out of concern for her health or as a way to ground her to the present – she could not tell. But that feeling of overwhelm held her tongue and she gave him a half-hearted shrug. Tony's answering sigh was more concerned then annoyed. He handed her a slice of pizza. "Eat."

They ate in silence for a while. Ziva picking at her slices and eating very little considering how hungry she should be, her stomach unwilling to cooperate with digestion. Tony shovelling it in and swallowing quickly, as though he wanted to get it over with so they could speak. The thought caused panic to swell again and she dropped the rest of her slice back into the box, wiping her hands on the napkin.

Ziva tried to ball her hands up into tight fists, but she heard Tony give a worried sigh as he also dropped his pizza and reached over to uncurl her hands. She let him, but then snatched them back and tucked them between her thighs as though afraid. "I do not think we need to discuss what happened, Tony. I was acting foolishly, and it should be forgotten about." When Tony tried to interrupt, she held up a hand, meeting his gaze for only a fraction of a second because she had not forgotten how much he could read in her eyes. "And as for what I said to Abby, I was exhausted and not thinking straight. I should not have told her about our prior… involvement…" The word felt bitter in her mouth and she cringed before continuing, "My point is, I do not need to you to still want me like that. And that is okay, people change. But I was unprofessional, and I was not respectful of our friendship." She allowed herself to meet his jade eyes, hoping to show her sincerity. "I am sorry for making you uncomfortable, Tony."

Tony stared at her for a moment, before raising one eyebrow and asking, "You done?" When she nodded, he turned to her fully, resting an arm on the back of the couch as he leaned in close. When he spoke, his warm breath dusted over her cheek. "Then listen to me closely, Ziva David. I have always and will forever want you 'like that'. You are the most beautiful, sexy woman I have ever known."

The look on his face said cocky arrogance but, in his eyes, she saw his honestly. She allowed herself to give him a soft chuckle, recognising his apparent attempt to lighten the mood. "Well, then, I do not understand you," she replied honestly, finally relaxing back into the cushions behind her. Her embarrassment and shame turning to confusion and resignation. She was honestly too exhausted to figure this out. How long had it been since she had slept?

The sigh that came from him now told her the tone was about to turn more serious. How she had become so skilled at reading his emotions from simple exhales of air, she did not know, but was stopped from contemplating it further when he spoke. "That's why I'm here. Because I need you to, Ziva. I need you to understand why." His hand scrubbed over his face. "Look, I know I have a reputation for being a bit of a Casanova."

"I would say more of a 'man whore'," she interjected, resting her head back on the soft cushion again as she closed her eyes, unable to help the easy banter that was starting to return.

He shot her a playful glare. "Well, I was, but I have always liked my woman to be able to consent. And, while I know your Ninja blood can turn alcohol into jet fuel, you were still pretty inebriated and… I don't know… I didn't feel like you were making good choices."

"You are a bad choice?" she asked, frowning as she lifted her head to look at him.

"I am if you regret me in the morning," he answered quietly, intense eyes imploring her to understand some significance she could not see. "Ziva, I couldn't live with myself if you woke up in the morning and regretted it."

Ziva gave a gentle smile, suddenly unable to stop her hand coming out to trace his jaw. When she replied, her voice was just as quiet, as though whispering the confession would lessen the consequences. "I could never regret you."

His hand came up to press hers against his cheek, and she enjoyed the way his stubble felt beneath her skin. "That wasn't the only reason," he continued as she dropped her hand. "And I know you'll get mad at me for this, but you'd just had a freaking awful day, Zi. Having to relive what happened, helping Sophie…. You'd just brought all of that crap back up to the surface and, like it or not, you were fragile at that moment." She knew she looked uncomfortable but he seemed content to press on anyway. "After everything that had been brought back up, I wasn't sure sex was the healthiest way to process it."

She stiffened next to him, eyes suddenly fixed on the ground. "Why, because I was raped?" she asked bluntly, her face burning red with embarrassment and anger from what she felt was his judgement. "There is a difference between rape and sex, Tony."

When she tried to stand up, he shot a hand out to pull her back down by the wrist. "I know that, Ziva," he replied slowly, his voice taking on that patronising tone he only seemed to use when he was frustrated with her. "But I needed to know you weren't in self-destruct mode, and you walked out before we could talk, remember?" His eyes were wide, as though talking to a child.

Ziva stared at him for a moment, fighting urges to either hit him or run. She replayed that night back in her mind, then hung her head. He was right, she had walked out. She had not been able to face hearing his reasons and had left with only her assumptions. "I am sorry, Tony," she conceded softly. "I was embarrassed. I should have let you speak."

His warm hand came up to lift her chin. "When do you ever let me speak, sweet cheeks?" he quipped, lightening the mood slightly with her nickname. "And I'm sorry too. For eavesdropping, and for not being honest with you sooner."

Ziva gave him a one-shouldered shrug, fatigue taking over again. "It is okay. Water in the road, yes?"

He frowned for a moment then clicked his fingers. "Water under the bridge." Tony watched her dismiss his correction with a sleepy hand wave. "Why were you embarrassed?" he returned to their conversation.

Ziva cringed. "Because I was acting ridiculously. Just because of some stupid memories." She sighed and was silent for a long time before speaking again, unwilling to meet his eyes. "I forgot, for a moment, that the past is the past." She could feel herself drifting, riding that line between past and present. Her eyes were unfocused and she took a deep breath, letting his presence comfort her even if he did not know it.

When she refocused her eyes, Tony was frowning. "Where do you go?" Ziva cocked a brow at him, so he clarified. "Sometimes it's like you're in a different world."

She gave a sarcastic chuckle. "You and I are from very different worlds, Tony," she reminded him, holding out a hand as he went to correct her. "But I know what you meant." She took a moment to think. "It is not easy to…" she tried, before giving up and trying again. "At Mossad, we are trained in techniques to withstand torture." Ziva felt him shuffle closer, and she forced herself to continue, talking to the floor rather than meeting his eyes. "The aim, obviously, is to not be captured, but if we are, we are trained to seek a way to… end things. If we cannot, we are trained to dissociate from what is happening so that we do not disclose secrets. The aim is to create a safe, comforting space to retreat to, closing down our minds to the outside world. I suppose it helped me get through it - the pain, the degradation, the hopelessness. I know I do not need it anymore, but sometimes I cannot help but… drift to it, I guess. I do not know why." Ziva was surprised at the honesty in her own voice. She had barely discussed this with anyone before yesterday. That feeling of vulnerability made bile burn the back of her throat, and she fought the urge to run.

Tony smiled softly, his hand coming to brush gently against her cheek for a moment before he dropped it to take her smaller one in his and spoke. "You're still recovering. PTSD doesn't just go away because it's been a few months." The look on her face clearly was not enough for him, because he continued to talk. "And I've used that technique too, the safe space thing. A few times actually." He cleared his throat and asked, "What was yours?"

She was not sure how he got so close, physically or emotionally. Ziva felt panic rising in her again, anxiety flaring, the urge to run growing. She was letting too much out, if she were not careful, the damn would burst and they would all drown. She stood abruptly, breaking their connection and quickly took the remains of their dinner into the kitchen. Tony's sigh behind her was too loud in the quiet apartment.

Running her fingers though her hair, she leaned against the counter, hoping for a few moments to herself before returning to Tony. No such luck. She could hear his socked feet padding through to the kitchen and by the time she looked up he was in front of her. "Ziva," he started but stopped when he saw the devastation on her face. "What?"

"You are doing it again!" she accused, angry because that look in his eye was back. That pity and desperation and pain. Ziva felt her lip tremble, and bit down hard on it to ground herself. She was too tired for this. There was no way she could keep her emotions under control when she had not slept in days. The words were coming out without her consent. "You keep denying it but I am not blind, Tony. I can see you look at me differently now."

"Yeah, I do," he conceded and Ziva dropped her head, glad at least to be on the same page, to have him admit it. Although it devastated her to know he saw her as weak and damaged, she was glad that he was at least being honest about it. She thought perhaps, in time, she could rebuild herself in his eyes.

But then he continued, grabbing her shoulders to focus her attention. "I do see you differently now - I don't just see you as my partner or just my friend. Ziva, when we thought you were dead, life stopped for me. I gave up. I couldn't see any point in carrying on without you because without you nothing makes sense." He stopped briefly to fist his hands though her hair, ignoring the tears that threatened to spill from both their eyes, he pressed his forehead to hers and continued, "That's when I decided to kill the man that took you from me. I wanted to destroy that person that had taken you from this world and I was so angry at him, at the world. At myself for not realising what was right in front of me." He kissed her forehead, then met her eyes. "So yeah, I look at you differently now. Not because of what happened to you, but because losing you made me realise how much you mean to me."

Ziva felt the tear escape her eye but his thumb came up to catch it before it could crest her cheekbone. She leaned into him, finding comfort in his closeness. "Tony, I am not what I was - "

"You are more, Ziva David," he interjected. "More brave, more powerful, more compassionate… You are more 'you' than you've ever been." He pulled her into a hug, and she could feel the relief in his body when she returned it. Being in his arms felt so unbelievably right, she was reluctant to let go, although there were many reasons she should.

Reasons which triggered a memory. "Tony?" she asked from her place against his chest. When he grunted a response she continued, "What was the third reason?" Tony lifted his head from hers and met her dark eyes with a question behind his. Suddenly unsure of herself, Ziva's hand came to fiddle with the material of his t-shirt. She spoke into his chest, unable to look at him. "Earlier, you said there were three reasons you stopped me. You have only told me two."

His long silence scared her and she tensed, pulling back ready to apologise and claim exhaustion hijacked her brain. But he did not let her get far and instead his hands held her by the waist, large, warm hands that made her feel safe and home and god she was losing her mind. Tony's head rested on hers and he dusted soft kisses over her nose and cheeks. Ziva inhaled his scent, drifting into what felt like insanity. She longed to kiss him back, was not sure if he was saying what her exhausted mind was telling her he was saying, needing the confirmation and of course he knew that because he was Tony and he knew her better than she knew herself.

"Because I am in love with you," he said softly, his lips gently brushing hers as he whispered his confession against them. "Because I love you more than I can explain and I couldn't… I didn't want to do anything without you knowing that. Without you knowing what it would mean to me."

His voice was so sincere it broke something in her, and Ziva tilted her head to press her lips fully against his. The kiss was almost tentative, testing the waters, as though it were their first time and they had not spent countess nights exploring each other's bodies. When they broke apart, she gave him a soft smile. "It scares me, a lot. But I love you too, Tony," she murmured and that was all he needed to fist his fingers through her hair and pull her closer into a passionate kiss that felt much more familiar.

She pulled away a moment later, looking at him with concern. "But how will we…?" Ziva started, but was cut off by his lips again. She whacked him on the chest to get his attention.

Tony reluctantly broke the kiss again, smoothing down the hair he had messed up and smiled gently at her. "We will figure it out, Ziva. But not right now, you're exhausted. Come on, you need to sleep before you start hallucinating." He did not wait for her to agree, and tugged her behind him as he wandered through her apartment like he belonged there.

When they got to her bedroom, he pulled back the covers and manoeuvred her into a comfy position before shedding his outer clothes and climbing in beside her. "Can I hold you?" he whispered, and he had barely finished speaking before Ziva had rolled into his arms, her head resting on his chest. His arms wrapped tightly around her and held her close, breathing the soft scent of her shampoo.

They lay quietly for a moment, both just content to be in each other's arms. Tony's breathing was starting to even out when Ziva spoke, her whisper gentle in the dim room. "This," she said simply.

"Huh?" Tony asked, half opening one eye to look down at her.

"When you asked me what the 'safe space' I created for myself was," she explained, before tapping her hand against his chest. "It was this. Lying with you, you holding me."

Tony gave her a soft smile before shifting to lift her head up for a gentle kiss. Her hand came up to hold his cheek, fingers scratching through the scruff that had grown there in the past couple of days. She kissed him lazily for a while, loving kisses geared more toward comfort and love than lust and want.

When her eyes started to drift shut, Tony pulled back, pressing a final kiss to her forehead before tucking her back under his chin. "You'll always be safe with me," he promised, and she hummed her sleepy agreement against his chin as she nuzzled into him, letting the gentle beat of his hear lull her into a dreamless sleep.

Fin.

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