The lights of Las Vegas gleamed beneath the plane's wings as it touched down on the runway. Tony and Ziva sat side by side, their usual banter tempered by the seriousness of the case that had brought them here. A Marine had been found dead, and there was a trail leading to an underground gangster ring. Their assignment: go undercover as a criminal couple to infiltrate the organization.
Tony, ever the movie aficionado, was already playing up the role as they stepped out of the airport. "You know, this reminds me of a scene from Casino, but let's not end up with the same bloodshed."
Ziva gave him a sideways look, the corner of her mouth twitching. "I don't need a movie reference, Tony. I just need you to focus."
"Focused and ready," he grinned, adjusting his jacket. "Besides, we make a convincing couple, right?"
Ziva sighed but couldn't hide her amusement. "Let's just solve this case."
Tony and Ziva's mission began the moment they stepped out of the airport. Posing as a power couple with a flair for criminal ambition, they slipped seamlessly into character. Tony's natural charm and easygoing demeanor complemented Ziva's sharp confidence, making them a formidable pair. They fit perfectly into their roles, weaving in the carefully crafted backstory the team had prepared for them.
Their first stop was the casino lounge where they were set to "accidentally" cross paths with Leo Marchesi, a high-ranking member of the underground crime ring. Leo was known to scout for talent—players who could handle high-stakes deals without batting an eye, and enforcers with the kind of skill Ziva was known to possess. In their setup, Tony was the brains of the operation, while Ziva was the brawn.
Tony had fully committed to the persona, calling her "Z" with a casual intimacy and shooting her subtle glances that told anyone watching they shared more than just business interests. Ziva played along, her eyes constantly scanning their surroundings while she held his hand possessively, making it clear to anyone nearby that she was his deadly counterpart.
Their first interaction with Leo came when he "bumped" into Tony at the bar. Tony's quick wit came into play immediately.
"Hey, careful there," Tony laughed, as Leo's drink nearly spilled. "Wouldn't want to mess up this fine suit. Got it imported from Milan for a reason."
Leo chuckled, noticing Tony's expensive watch and well-tailored jacket. "Italian, huh? Not bad. I know a thing or two about the good stuff."
"Maybe more than a thing or two," Tony replied with a knowing smirk, flashing a look over at Ziva. "This one's hard to impress, but even she's taken by your operation."
Ziva gave a subtle nod, her gaze cool and slightly aloof. "He talks too much," she said with a hint of an accent, barely masking a smile. "But he's right. I've been impressed... so far."
Leo gave an approving nod, intrigued by the mystery she presented. Over the next few hours, they continued their act, letting Leo and his associates see just enough of their "talents" without giving too much away.
Later that evening, Leo invited them to a private poker game with some of his inner circle, where they could test their wits and charm against hardened criminals. Ziva, never one to shy away from a challenge, joined the game with an icy focus that quickly drew respect, while Tony used every trick in his playbook to keep the mood light and charming, his humor disarming the players as he quietly gathered information.
Throughout the game, Ziva noticed a man in the corner, one of Leo's security guards, watching her with a scrutinizing intensity. He looked like he recognized her—or at least was trying to place her. Leaning in, she whispered to Tony, "Our friend in the corner is suspicious. We may need a distraction."
Tony's eyes flicked over the man, and he gave her a tiny nod, slipping a hand to her waist, playing it up even further. "You know, Z," he drawled in a low voice, "if you keep beating everyone here, we'll be kicked out before we even have a chance to win our next big payout."
Ziva didn't miss a beat, rolling her eyes for effect. "You're lucky I'm not playing against you."
Their interaction did the trick, drawing laughter from the other players and diverting attention from the man's suspicion. As they continued the game, Tony made sure to steer the conversation in ways that encouraged Leo to drop hints about the organization's inner workings.
The next few days followed a similar pattern, with Tony and Ziva meticulously gathering information while playing their roles to perfection. They attended a series of high-profile events, each more dangerous than the last, getting closer to Leo and gaining his trust. Ziva demonstrated her combat prowess by intervening during a "misunderstanding" with a rival gangster. Her skill was so efficient that Leo couldn't help but see her as an asset, even as he remained wary of their growing presence.
By the third day, Leo had finally invited them into his main operation—a high-stakes poker tournament that would be their last test. They knew the gang's leader would be there, along with information that could finally expose the entire network.
As the game wore on, the air grew thick with tension, and Ziva kept a keen eye on their target. She could sense Tony's excitement next to her, the same thrill of the chase she felt herself. When Leo introduced them to the head of the organization—a man known only as "DeLuca"—Tony and Ziva were ready. DeLuca welcomed them with a cold smile, his gaze flickering over Ziva with interest.
"You've impressed Leo," he said smoothly, "but I'm not convinced yet."
Tony didn't miss a beat, stepping forward. "We'll let our work do the convincing. I assure you, we're good for it."
Ziva nodded, adding a steely, "We don't make mistakes."
DeLuca considered them for a moment, then nodded, signaling Leo. "We'll see how you handle this deal. Tomorrow night."
The operation came to a head the next evening when DeLuca's men finally led them into the heart of the gang's operations. With a signal from Tony, Ziva expertly took down two guards without a sound, while Tony slipped ahead to secure the evidence they needed.
Within minutes, they had everything: incriminating documents, recorded conversations, and enough proof to bring the entire gang down. With a final look between them, Tony and Ziva initiated the takedown, leading to a whirlwind of arrests and ending with the capture of DeLuca himself.
As they watched the suspects being loaded into the police cars, Tony grinned, nudging Ziva. "See? Piece of cake. And you said I talk too much."
Ziva's lips quirked as she surveyed the aftermath. "Talking too much is one thing, Tony. But even you can be useful... occasionally."
He laughed, and in that moment, with the case finally behind them, the exhaustion and adrenaline hit them both. They'd done it—together, as always. And as they headed back to the hotel for a final night in Las Vegas, they knew they'd made a lasting impact, not just on the case but in the trust between them that had deepened even further.
They checked into a local hotel, only to discover there had been a booking mistake one room, one bed.
Tony, ever the gentleman, immediately offered, "I'll take the couch. It's no big deal."
Ziva shook her head, waving him off. "No need for that, Tony. We're adults. We can share the bed. It's not as if we're going to be doing anything except sleeping."
Tony raised an eyebrow and grinned. "I mean, I've seen the movies. One bed... Las Vegas..."
Ziva rolled her eyes but chuckled. "In your dreams, DiNozzo."
Tony flopped onto the bed dramatically, hands behind his head. "Exactly."
They settled in for the night, Tony on one side of the bed, Ziva on the other. The exhaustion from the long case quickly took its toll, and soon, Tony was fast asleep, his soft snores filling the quiet room.
But for Ziva, sleep didn't come easily. The darkness in the room and the weight of the silence pressed down on her, stirring memories she'd been trying to push away.
In the dim silence of the hotel room, as Las Vegas pulsed with life outside, Ziva drifted into a restless sleep. The weight of exhaustion from the case pressed down on her, but it couldn't keep the darkness at bay. Memories that had been locked away slipped out in fragments, uncoiling like tendrils in her mind, pulling her back to the places she had fought to forget.
The dream started as it always did hazy at first, then sharp and vivid. She was back in Somalia, the grit of the sand beneath her, the relentless sun burning overhead. Her wrists were bound, and her body felt bruised, weak, but her mind stayed sharp, defiant. The silence in the dream was thick, broken only by distant echoes of footsteps or the scrape of metal against stone.
The dream blurred, shifting to the cell where she had been held captive. She could feel the chill of the air, the roughness of the walls, the weight of fear sinking into her bones. Her body tensed as she remembered each detail, each second that had stretched into an eternity.
Faces began to appear—her captors, taunting her, voices dripping with cruelty, each word designed to chip away at her strength. She fought to remain unbroken, but in the dream, that helplessness clawed at her. They circled her, shadows on the walls, their sneers flashing in the darkness. The cold realization of how alone she was, with no one coming to save her, pressed in on her.
But then, the dream twisted, taking on a darker edge. She could hear cries in the distance, faint, yet hauntingly familiar. It wasn't just her own suffering she faced now; she could hear her father's voice, faint but desperate, calling her name. Ziva. The voice echoed like a ghost, carrying a regret she had never heard from him in life. She tried to move, tried to run toward the voice, but her feet were stuck, her hands restrained. The more she struggled, the tighter the binds seemed to grow, trapping her.
Her heart pounded, breaths coming in short gasps as the shadows moved closer, closing in around her. Her father's voice faded, replaced by a new voice—a small, delicate one she recognized immediately. Tali. Her little sister's laughter echoed, soft and innocent, the way she remembered from their childhood, and Ziva felt a sharp ache at the sound.
"No," she whispered, her voice barely audible. She didn't want Tali here, not in this place. Not in the middle of her darkest memories. She needed to keep Tali safe, far from the horrors she had seen. But the laughter turned into a scream, a sound that sliced through her, breaking her from the inside. She tried to call out, to tell Tali she was there, that she'd protect her, but the words wouldn't come.
Then suddenly, Ziva's vision blurred, the scene shifting again. Now she saw herself back in the cell, alone again. Her hands and feet were free, but she was trapped, pacing the length of her confinement with no escape. The silence was deafening, her heartbeat echoing through the small space. She clutched her sides, feeling the weight of all those memories pressing in, until they became one, an unending loop that she was helpless to break.
Just as she thought she couldn't take any more, the shadows faded, and the room dissolved, leaving her in darkness. She felt the warmth of a hand on her shoulder, gentle but firm, anchoring her. It was unexpected, but it stilled the chaos around her. She knew that touch it was steady, familiar, safe.
Tony's face appeared in the darkness, his expression calm but concerned, his eyes warm with understanding. He didn't speak, but his presence alone was enough. Slowly, the terror receded, the shadows retreating as she focused on him. The darkness didn't feel so suffocating anymore, and the cold faded as she let herself trust in the comfort of his silent support.
She felt herself exhale, a deep, shuddering breath, as her eyes opened. The dream clung to her, like a shadow in the dim light of the hotel room. She was awake, but the memory of the nightmare still weighed heavily on her chest.
She woke with a start, heart pounding in her chest, but she stilled herself, careful not to wake Tony. Glancing at the clock, she realized it was only 3 a.m. and the city outside was still alive. Unable to stay in bed, she slipped out quietly, grabbing her blanket and a book from the nightstand. She padded over to the balcony, stepping outside into the cool night air.
The streets below were still buzzing, filled with drunk tourists and flashing neon signs. Ziva wrapped the blanket around herself, hoping to lose herself in the book, but her thoughts were too scattered. The nightmare still lingered, and her mind drifted.
She wasn't broken, not anymore. She was healing, working through the pain, but tonight's dream reminded her that those scars were still there. She stared at the horizon, the book open but unread in her lap. What did it mean to be healed? Was she really ready to move forward with her life, or was she still clinging to the idea of being "damaged"?
And then, there was Tony.
He had been by her side since the moment she arrived in D.C. He made her laugh, made her feel human again when she sometimes doubted herself. But was she ready to let herself feel more for him? Could she even allow herself to care for someone like that, knowing the darkness that still haunted her?
Ziva sighed softly, the noise of the city below fading into the background. The thought of Tony stirred something deep inside her, but the fear of being "broken" held her back. She didn't want to bring her baggage into a relationship with him. Tony deserved better than that.
And yet, she couldn't deny that he made her happy. He was steady, dependable, and somehow, despite everything, he made her feel lighter.
Ziva shook her head slightly, trying to push the thoughts away. It wasn't the time to get tangled up in feelings especially not here, in the middle of the night, in Las Vegas. But the truth was, the longer she sat there, the more she couldn't ignore what was building inside her.
She wasn't sure how long she had been out there when she finally gave up on reading. The city lights still flickered below, and she found herself simply staring at them, lost in thought. Could she be with Tony? Was it worth the risk? Could he see beyond her scars and accept her for who she was, even with the pieces that felt broken?
She didn't have the answers tonight. But as she sat there, she realized she didn't feel as alone as she once did. Tony was her friend—her partner—and maybe, just maybe, there could be more when the time was right.
For now, though, she would let things be. There was time to figure it all out later.
With a sigh, she pulled the blanket tighter around her and glanced back at the sliding glass door. Tony was still asleep, unaware of the inner battle waging inside her. Maybe that was for the best.
Ziva closed her eyes, trying to let the cool night air calm her thoughts. Whatever happened next, she would face it like she always had head-on. But the thought of Tony, even just as her friend for now, made the unknown seem a little less daunting.
Around 4:30 Tony had to pee so he got up and went into the bathroom. Tony rubbed his eyes, adjusting to the dim light as he returned from the bathroom. He noticed Ziva's side of the bed was empty, the sheets slightly rumpled, but cool to the touch. Blinking, he glanced around and caught sight of a soft glow from the balcony. The door was cracked open, and a thin line of light sliced into the room.
With a quiet sigh, he made his way toward it. The air was crisp, a dry desert chill that brought him fully awake as he stepped outside. He found her sitting on the balcony, wrapped in a blanket, her gaze lost somewhere in the neon lights of Las Vegas.
"Why aren't you asleep?" he asked gently, leaning against the frame of the door, his voice low in the silence of the early morning.
Ziva looked up at him, her face barely illuminated by the city lights below. For a moment, she didn't answer, her expression unreadable. She closed the book that lay open in her lap, though Tony had a feeling she hadn't been reading it.
"I… couldn't sleep," she murmured finally, her voice steady but soft, as if choosing her words carefully. She looked away, her eyes finding the lights below again, a flicker of something unresolved crossing her face.
Tony took a few steps closer, leaning his hands on the balcony railing. He knew that look. He'd seen it before on missions, on quiet nights when the weight of her past caught up to her. This wasn't just about sleeplessness he could see that.
He waited, letting the silence settle between them, giving her space to decide if she wanted to share more. Finally, after a long moment, she took a deep breath.
"I had a nightmare," she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper, as if saying it out loud made it more real. Her fingers tightened on the blanket, and she glanced sideways at him. "One I have not had in a while."
Tony's gaze softened. "Somalia?"
Ziva's silence answered him, her jaw tightening slightly. She didn't need to say it. He reached out, putting a warm hand on her shoulder, letting her know he was there without pressing her to continue. They stood there in the stillness of the night, the hum of the city below them a faint reminder that life continued around them, even as she fought her battles in silence.
After a few moments, Ziva finally spoke again, her voice steady but heavy with emotion. "It's strange… I've tried to leave that part of my life behind, but it's like it still has a grip on me. Like it's… waiting." She let out a shaky breath. "Sometimes I wonder if I'll ever really be free of it."
Tony watched her, choosing his words carefully. "You're stronger than anything in your past, Ziva. You've survived things most people couldn't even imagine. And that strength? It's not going anywhere." He paused, giving her a gentle smile. "But you don't have to handle it alone."
Her gaze met his, searching his face as if she were weighing the truth of his words. Slowly, she nodded, a hint of warmth creeping back into her expression. "Thank you, Tony."
Tony leaned back against the railing, watching Ziva as she stared out into the night. After a moment, he spoke softly, careful not to break the fragile peace between them.
"Do you think the nightmare… happened because we're sharing a room?" he asked. "Maybe you slept better when you had your own space, like the other night?"
Ziva shook her head slowly, still gazing at the lights in the distance. "No," she said, her voice thoughtful, almost as if she were only now realizing it herself. "I hardly slept that night. And it wasn't because of you." She looked down, a faint smile tugging at her lips. "Actually, I think I sleep better with you in the room. There's something… grounding about it."
Tony raised an eyebrow, intrigued. "Grounding, huh? So then… what is it? Something about Vegas?"
She nodded, sighing softly. "It's the desert. It… brings things back, memories I try to leave behind." She paused, glancing at him with a hint of vulnerability in her gaze. "Memories I can't control."
Tony's expression softened, and he gave her a reassuring smile. "Well, if there's anything I can do to help you sleep better, you just say the word."
Ziva shrugged, looking down as if she was weighing her next words. "I don't know," she began slowly. "But maybe… if we leave the light on the balcony… just in case I wake up." She hesitated, glancing away, then added, almost to herself, "And maybe…"
He caught the shift in her tone and leaned forward, curiosity in his eyes. "Maybe what? You can tell me, Ziva. I won't laugh."
Ziva looked up at him, a hint of uncertainty in her eyes, before taking a deep breath. "Maybe… if you could… hold me?" The words were barely a whisper, as if they were too delicate to be spoken any louder.
Tony's expression softened even further, a gentle smile spreading across his face as he stepped closer. "Ziva," he murmured, "my arms are always open for you."
For a moment, they simply stood there, the silence filled with a quiet understanding. Then, Tony reached out, drawing her close, wrapping his arms around her in a warm, steady embrace. She let herself relax into him, the tension melting from her shoulders as she closed her eyes, allowing herself to feel safe.
After a few moments, he gently guided her back inside. They made their way to the bed, and this time, as they lay down, Tony wrapped his arm around her, holding her close. She rested her head on his chest, listening to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat, finding comfort in its familiar cadence.
"Goodnight, Ziva," he whispered, his voice soft in the quiet room.
"Goodnight, Tony," she murmured back, her voice barely audible as her eyes drifted shut, the warmth of his embrace finally easing her mind.
And together, they let sleep take them, the nightmares kept at bay by the simple comfort of each other's presence.