A/N: Nothing like taking part in a challenge to try to relieve a little writer's block. I don't own NCIS, CBS, or any other known entity. The challenge (at FCG): Must include the phrase: "What are you afraid of?", Must be a minimum of: 750 , Must be rated a minimum of: PG13 , Must include: Rain , And choose a topic: Family/the past. Here's what I got. I hope you enjoy, and please review. :)

Day's Ending

Ziva had watched as Tony hung his head. He had been downtrodden since the phone call earlier in the day, while they were rushing to gather evidence before the downpour washed it all away. It was unusual for him to get so upset over a phone call, he was never this unhappy or unsettled, and that bugged her to no end. When Gibbs gave him the go-ahead to go home, she watched as Tony packed up his things and left without a word. McGee and Ziva exchanged a look before burying their heads into their work.

Once free, instead of driving home as the rain fell in steady streams, Ziva found herself driving to his apartment, pulling into the spot she normally did when she went to visit him. She made her way into the staircase quickly, trying to avoid getting soaked, and walked to his door. She knocked softly, and after a few moments, she heard his saddened voice say, "It's open."

She walked into his apartment, taking in his appearance as he lay on his couch. His hair was slightly disheveled, as much as it could be with his hair being so short. He was wearing flannel pants and a white cotton tank top, holding a bottle of whiskey in his right hand and the remote in his left. His eyes closed the instant he saw her, swallowing the lump in his throat.

"Tony," she said softly as he turned his head away.

"Ziva," he replied quietly.

She couldn't tell if he had been crying, but knowing Tony, she was betting against it. She had never seen Tony cry, and wasn't sure if he ever did.

"Are you okay?"

"Do I look okay?" Tony countered.

"I cannot tell. It is too dark in here." She took off her coat, hanging it by the door as Tony took a drink from the whiskey in his hand. She walked over to the couch, sitting down next to him as he sighed deeply, putting down the remote. "No, you do not," she said finally, tucking her leg underneath her. "What's going on?"

He looked away, sighing painfully. The last thing he really wanted to do was be subject to an interrogation by Ziva, but once she got worried, there was no way to fend her off. He turned his head back toward her, closing his eyes again for the moment. "I don't want to talk about it," he said finally.

"Does Gibbs know?"

"Of course Gibbs knows. Do you think he just sends me home for the hell of it?"

She ignored his slightly harsh tone by saying, "I have never seen him send anyone home."

"He doesn't do it often."

"Which gives me more reason to be worried," Ziva concluded.

Tony said nothing, looking down at the floor. He took another drink from the bottle before Ziva pulled it out of his hand.

"Talk to me," she said softly.

"I don't want to," he replied.

"What are you afraid of, Tony?"

He sighed painfully, looking down. "The nightmares," he said after a few moments.

Ziva looked at him sadly, biting her lip softly before saying, "What nightmares?"

Tony shook his head, standing on shaky, drunken legs to move over to the window. Ziva watched him from the couch as he stared out the window, watching the rain assault the pavement outside. "I'm not fucking drunk enough for that conversation."

"But it is something you need to get out, yes?"

"I don't know," he replied quietly, placing his hand on the window. He let his head fall against the glass, his internal struggle taking its toll on his outside. He closed his eyes again, swallowing hard as he heard her move up behind him. She put the bottle into his other hand before walking back over to the couch. She didn't need to explain as Tony took a long drink from the bottle.

After a few moments, he joined her back on the couch. She looked over to him, and he sighed. "What is it?" she asked gently.

"The phone call I got was from my half-sister," Tony said finally.

"I thought you were an only child."

"I don't associate with them. Too much has happened from when I was a kid that I just… I don't call home, I don't write."

"Did you know you had a half-sister?"

"Yeah. Her mother tried, in vain, to bring me and my father back together." Tony took another long drink from the bottle, letting the room lapse into silence for a moment.

"Is she the only one?"

Tony nodded. "And she always will be." Tony polished off the rest of the bottle, and sighed deeply as Ziva furrowed her brow.

"What do you mean by that?" she asked.

"She called me to tell me my father and her mother were murdered," Tony whispered.

Ziva's mouth dropped slightly, shocked at the news. "How?"

"Stabbed to death in their house last night."

"Is your sister okay?"

"Yeah. She was out at prom at the time. Her senior prom."

She said nothing, taking his free hand into hers. He looked down, sighing painfully as the tears began to roll down his cheeks. "I'm sorry, Tony," she said softly after a moment.

"Thanks," he replied quietly. She squeezed his hand gently as she recognized the tears in his voice.

"Did you tell Gibbs, or…?"

"Gibbs found out another way. I don't know how. I never fucking know how he does it." The tears were gone from his voice as he looked up at her.

She smiled slightly, squeezing his hand again. "So he sent you home," she said.

"Yeah," he said softly.

"Can I ask you something, Tony?"

"Would it stop you if I said no?"'

"Maybe."

"Go ahead."

"Why did you not talk to your father?"

Tony sighed, closing his eyes and swallowing a lump in his throat. "It's complicated," he replied reluctantly.

"Complicated how?" she asked.

"My father was a bully for the better part of my life. He was someone who pushed me around, thinking that the more he hurt his son, the tougher he would make his son. His only son. And when I would try to rebel, he would hit me, or make it worse. If I said something he didn't believe, he would hurt me. Eventually, I just got sick of it, started standing up to him, fighting back. He sent me off to military school to learn some discipline. Stopped talking to me when I decided I'd rather major in Phys. Ed. and become a cop than be the heir to his business. Cut me off from everything."

"I'm sorry, Tony."

"It's okay. I just…" Tony's voice choked off with tears for the moment, before he said, "I wish things had been different is all."

"You still cared for him, even after everything he did?" she asked.

"He was still my father," Tony replied. "I wasn't a fan of him. I'm still not. But… he was still my father. And he's dead. And… I mean, he got what he deserved, but… I can't…"

"I understand."

Tony closed his eyes, his head hitting the back of the couch.

"Tony?"

"I'm just… I'm so tired, Ziva. Tired of the pain. Tired of hating home. Tired of not knowing my sister. Tired of hating my father. Tired of everything. I just want it all to be over."

"It almost is, Tony."

"No, Ziva. It isn't. It won't be. Not until I'm dead, it'll never be over."

She frowned, squeezing his hand gently. "What can I do?"

He shook his head. "There really is nothing, Ziva. But I appreciate it." He yawned, the alcohol making him drowsy.

"Maybe you should go to bed, Tony," she said softly. He nodded silently, allowing her to help him up.

"Why don't I feel sad?" he asked softly.

"You would have to ask Ducky about that."

"I mean, I guess I can understand. I didn't have a good relationship with him, so why should I feel bad? But I do, and I hate it, because then I feel like a hypocrite. He's the man who provided for me when I was a kid. He fed me, clothed me, gave me a home. Without him, I wouldn't be on the planet. And… and I... I can't even make myself feel sad that he's dead. What the hell kind of son am I?"

"A smart one, Tony," she said. "You took care of yourself. He did not. Providing for you does not make him your father. It makes him the man who gave you things, but materials do not raise a child."

"Yeah, maybe," Tony replied softly, looking down. Ziva frowned slightly, putting her arm around him. "Doesn't make me feel any less bad."

"I do not think much will right now, Tony, because you're a good person."

"Yeah."

"I'm sure your father would be proud of that."

Tony chuckled bitterly. "Nothing I could do would ever make him proud of me."

Ziva frowned again. "I doubt that, Tony. You're a good person, and a good senior field agent."

"He never wanted me to be a cop. Any time I tried to update him on my life, he didn't care. I wasn't good enough. I was supposed to take over the family business, and didn't I care about him and what he did for me?" Tony scoffed bitterly, lying down in his bed while Ziva stood and watched from the side of the room. "I guess it doesn't matter now. Business goes to whoever the will says it goes to, I get nothing like I've always been told I will. I don't even think I want to go to the funeral."

"Tony, I know you do not like the man," Ziva began. "But if you do not go, you will regret it."

"I already have a lot of regrets, Ziva," he replied softly.

"Go for your sister."

"She doesn't know me."

"But she needs you. You are the only family she has left, yes?"

Tony sighed. "Yeah."

"She would not have called you if she did not want you to come. If for no other reason, you should go for her."

Tony nodded silently before shaking his head. "I'm tired of talking."

"That is fine. I can leave if you want."

Tony said nothing, and Ziva took that as her cue to turn to the door. She was about to close it behind her when she heard him say, "I don't want you to leave." She turned around, looking at him. "I don't wanna talk, but I don't want you to leave."

"Whatever you say, Tony," she said softly, walking back over to the bed. She sat down next to him as he turned his body toward her. She ran her hand over his hair as he closed his eyes.

"I can't believe this is happening," he said softly, tears stinging his eyes. "I just wish I could've had the chance to tell him what I needed to."

"Would it have ended well?"

Tony scoffed quietly. "No."

"Is there any harm in letting it go unsaid?"

"Only to me."

Ziva sighed, stroking his hair softly. "I'm sorry, Tony," she said quietly.

"Yeah, me too, Ziva," Tony replied, letting his tears fall more freely now. She stroked his hair tenderly as he cried, burying his face in the pillow. "I'm so sorry."

She leaned forward, whispering into her hair, "We will get you through this. You are not alone."

The End.