Ziva was pacing. Despite the size of the room the walls felt tight around her. For so long time had ceased to exist and now she knew with certainty it was nearing evening. The bright red numbers on the bedside clock did nothing to push away the darkness pressing against the windows. All the lights were on and still the threatening darkness tried to steal her breath.

For months the passage of time had been elusive, been used to taunt her, to torment her. She hadn't broken, not even for a moment in that hell-hole in the desert. But here in a hotel room in D.C. She was falling into little pieces. She'd been off the plane not more than ten hours and only two of those had been spent alone. Pacing, if she kept pacing, she kept breathing. Still the lights burning enough to rival a landing strip did nothing to stop the shaking. The darkness pressed at her, took her back to when they would put her in the ground beneath their feet and leave her there for uncountable hours. She hadn't broken then, but she was breaking now. Her skin itched; it had been almost painful to shower again. The water had felt like needles pressing on her dingy flesh. Proper bathing hadn't been allowed in her stay in the desert. The fluffy white towels provided by the hotel had been like sandpaper on her skin, causing flakes of skin to fall heavily to the floor as she rubbed. She was literally falling to pieces. The simple act of drying off had been agonizing, leaving her skin red and raw. But, she had needed that place, them off of her. Pressing her hand to her ears she tried to force the remembered sounds out of her mind. Even beneath the ground she had heard the muffled sounds of their laughter, their footsteps as they came for her. Her chest hurt with the effort it was taking to breathe normally.

Pulling the provided bathrobe around her tighter she tried to ignore how thin she was, it only served to remind her of all she'd lost. As she turned in her furious pacing her overly long hair slapped at her cheek bringing tears to her eyes. It wasn't salvageable months of neglect had left it a gnarled mess. She had washed it and then conditioned it multiple times but it was pointless, and her strength was no longer what it had been. Merely showering had exhausted her, and the pacing wasn't helping. Maybe if she paced long enough, she could forget the darkness, hell on earth and the bathrobe chafing her already tortured flesh.

Her head whipped up at the knock on her door. She couldn't face them, couldn't face their need, their questions. Her body shook as she first stepped back from the door and then retraced those steps standing just within reach of the door.

"It's just me Ziva, no one else."

Ziva let her head fall against the door and winced at the forgotten bruise there. She had known he'd come. For an insane moment she thought of refusing him entrance and then nearly laughed out loud. He was not a man to be refused. Opening the door she took in the casual jeans, the take-out, the back pack but what she noticed most was his hair. The silver locks fell carelessly against his brow, she wondered how she would ever explain that he was the reason she was still sane. Not the years of training, not past experiences, him and the need to someday find out if that hair was as soft as it looked. The memory of him had sustained her when all else had failed her. In the darkness of the dry desert ground she'd been able to imagine what he would look like breaking through that darkness. The reality of seeing him gun in hand as part of a rescue she hadn't believed would really happen, had almost made her go mad. Until she'd stepped off the plane onto American soil she hadn't believed it wasn't a fantasy thought up by her mind.

"Can I come in?" Gibbs stood patient in the doorway, watching her consider his request. "I brought you some clothes."

Ziva didn't speak but motioned for him to enter. She stepped back fighting the urge to touch him while at the same time fearing it. The essence of who he was followed him; sawdust, and coffee momentarily pushing away the smell of sweat burned into her nostrils.

Gibbs set the takeout on the table and turned to face her. "You need to eat Ziva"

"I am not..."

"You will eat. I brought chicken soup, potato chips and root beer."

"Interesting combination."

"Trust me" he watched her flinch ever so slightly at the words but didn't take them back.

Ziva saw him sit at the table and begin pulling out the food. It did sound good. But food wasn't to be trusted. Even though logically she knew that it wasn't true here away from that darkened place.

Gibbs knew the war raging in her mind so he ate a few spoonfuls of soup from his own bowl before sliding it across the table indicating it was safe.

"Gibbs I know you would not..." her eyes found his trying to make him understand but not truly understanding herself.

"Ziva, it's okay. Now sit, please."

It was the please that finally allowed her to sit. Her legs were aching and the cease in movement was a welcome relief. Settling stiffly into the soft chair in the hotel suite Gibbs had rented her was painful, her muscles nearly making it impossible to hide the discomfort. She didn't want him to see her pain, to know why she hurt but he saw everything always had.

"I've been where you are tonight Ziva or at least as close as a man can get." Gibbs didn't force her to look at him instead he focused on his food. "I can help you if you let me. Or I can go."

Ziva almost shouted at him not to go, he was keeping the darkness at bay, the fear, the time to sleep. She wrapped her hand tightly around her spoon forcing back the urge to reach for his hand to stop him from standing. Instead, she ate and this time her stomach didn't clench in fear. The soup was warm and hearty, the chips were full of salt and tasted like home and Sundays playing poker with the team. The root beer bubbled down her throat tasting nothing like the stale metallic water she'd grown used to.

"You have no idea how glad I am you're back. I should have looked for you sooner.." Gibbs had failed her and he knew it. He'd let his anger at her cloud his judgment. They had danced around each other for so long that when she'd left he'd felt as though she'd betrayed him. When in reality he'd given her no reason to do otherwise. She'd made her mistakes but he often wondered how much of how he'd behaved had driven her to it.

Ziva's head snapped up "I never gave you a reason to look for me Gibbs. I left. I made poor choices." She felt her stomach rebel and pushed the food away. "I cannot eat anymore..."

"It will keep in a few hours try some more. I'm going to grab my backpack unless you want to hand it to me." Gibbs wasn't going to make any abrupt moves. Ziva was hanging by a thread. Something like an apology skirted through her eyes as she reached behind her and grabbed the bag off the floor. "I brought you some pajamas they are made of very fine cotton and they fit close so they won't rub against your skin."

Gibbs hadn't failed to notice the rawness of her skin. Wasn't hard to guess how it had gotten that way. This time shame washed through her brown eyes, shame that he'd seen her effort to rid herself of memories of the desert hell they'd found her in. Her eyes skipped away from his but not before he saw a soul searing pain that made his hands clench tightly. She hadn't allowed him to take her to a doctor, had refused even for Ducky to take a look at her. He knew why and the hot anger that poured through him at what she'd been through was nearly too much. He hid all of what he was feeling, knowing she didn't need his anger to add to her own.

Ziva unzipped the bag and the first thing she saw was blue fabric that felt a lot like heaven under her fingers. It would feel even better against her body. She couldn't look at him couldn't face him knowing he understood why her skin was raw, why it glowed red, she still felt far to unclean to face those bright blue eyes.

"When you're dressed Ziva bring your hairbrush to me," He saw her start to protest and then stop. For a long moment she just watched him and then nodded.

Gibbs was sitting on the edge of the bed when she came out. She'd expected that, she hurt and being on the bed would feel far better than sitting in the chair. That he knew this made her chest ache with unshed tears. Still she couldn't look at him so she sat next to him and handed over her hair brush. His hand carefully took the brush moving slowly, every movement controlled and telegraphed for her benefit. He knew the line she was walking, was aware that she was hanging on by a thread. Gibbs grabbed a bottle of detangling spray. Spraying her hair lightly he brushed her hair in slow short strokes. For a long while they sat in silence, simply breathing as he worked at her hair

"I am not weak."

"No you're not." He gently worked the brush, making the effort not to pull hard or tug. "I trust you Ziva, I've trusted you with my life, with my history and now I'm going to trust you with a secret." Her hair was gnarled, tangled even more than he'd anticipated but if it took all night he would untangle it for her.

"I was on a mission. We were recovering a very important piece of intel. Things got hairy and it was necessary for me to lead the enemy in a different direction than my team."

Gibbs didn't try to hide the emotion clouding his voice instead he focused on Ziva's hair. With infinite patience he gently worked at the tangles of the hair that had grown overly long. "I was alone without backup when the bad guys found me. There were six of them and only one of me. I almost made it away. For a long time I analyzed every move I made thought perhaps if I had fought just a little harder but in the end it didn't matter they overpowered me anyways." Gibbs was surprised when his voice faltered; he'd thought he'd gotten past the pain of feeling weak, helpless so terribly out of control. Maybe it was the way Ziva was shaking so close to him, the pain radiating from her that brought his back to the surface. Taking a deep breath he felt Ziva turn and met her warm brown gaze. The pain there was so raw and so much like his own that for a moment he simply stared. When she swallowed hard and turned away again he went back to brushing her hair.

"They locked me in a cell with no windows, no light, for days they tried to extract information but I refused to give it to them. They got pretty creative and yet still I managed to give them nothing but rank and serial number." Gibbs felt the terror of those days wash over him and his stomach turned at the thought of what Ziva had gone through. "They only had me about a week before my team found me. My team and I were tight back then and when they found me, well the way they found me we agreed we'd never talk about it, we'd forget it ever happened. But I haven't, you won't forget either Ziva but you will heal. I've never talked about this with anyone...It's not something a man talks about." He swallowed hard trying not to sink to far into the memory. "I never even told Shannon."

"Gibbs...you do not"

"For you Ziva I will because you are not weak and neither am I. The man in charge was a real bastard and when he realized no amount of pain would make me talk he decided humiliation was the next way to go. They took off all my clothes..." Gibbs felt Ziva sob and felt his fist clench around the hairbrush, he forced his mind away from thoughts of killing a man already dead. "Four of them held me down and my torturer began to undress. He told me in graphic detail what he planned to do...I actually felt his skin against mine ….. that's how my team found me." He felt Ziva let out a long breath, physically felt her relief for him and almost sobbed himself. This beautiful creature that'd been through so much was grateful he'd been saved in the nick of time even when she hadn't been. It took long moments of silence and breathing before he could make that work in his mind. Looking at the clock he realized more than an hour had passed since he'd begun brushing Ziva's hair. Looking down he saw that he was nearly done. Her hair fell long against her back, shining warm against the light blue of her pajamas. She smelled clean and fresh washing away the smells his memory had conjured.

"You survived Ziva and no matter what happened in that place you are still you." She was quiet still facing away from him her fingers worrying the edge of the blanket they were sitting on.

"They raped me." Ziva hadn't said the words yet, not out loud, not even to herself. She felt Gibbs' reaction in the way he pulled her close to him. She doubted he knew he did it and while she should have been startled by his touch, should have pulled away she instead leaned into him. He felt safe with his familiar scent and gentle touch.

Gibbs swallowed hard on the lump of bile that rose in his throat. He'd known or rather assumed but to hear her say it was like a body blow. He didn't realize he was crying till he saw the moisture against the coffee brown of her hair. "Do you want to tell me about it?" His mind screamed not to ask he didn't want the images, didn't want to picture her that way and yet she needed this and the images were already there.

"I..." Ziva didn't know how to answer. She trusted him knew she needed to get it out but how could he hear the details and ever look at her the same again.

"Ziva you don't have to tell me. If you do, know that nothing you tell me can change how I feel about you, how I look at you." He revealed far too much with his simple words. She knew it and he knew and yet he needed her to know. He saw her shock of his understanding, watched the way her eyes still wouldn't fully meet his.

"They had me for months Gibbs, after a while they got bored with the usual torture techniques. I was lucky I was only available to Emil and his closest men." She felt Gibbs's hands clench in her hair felt his anger and rather than scaring her it wrapped around her like a warm blanket. He hurt for her and somehow that helped. "It went on for a while but then suddenly about a month before you all showed up it suddenly stopped. I think perhaps that was when they found out who my Father was."

Gibbs didn't know what to say, knew that no words could make her feel better. He continued brushing her hair even though it was free of tangles now. He wasn't sure if it helped her but it soothed him, gave him something to do with his hands. "I'm sorry" it wasn't enough but it's all he had.

"Thank you."

"For what?"

"For not telling me I will get over it, that I will be fine."

Gibbs chose his words carefully "You will never "get over it" Ziva. You will get past it but it will always be a part of you. I'm not fool enough to tell you otherwise."

Ziva turned to face him and her face was wet. He hadn't realized she'd been crying. Unable to stop himself he reached out to stroke her cheek. He saw her start to flinch and then stop herself. He smiled and she smiled back.

"You probably do not want to hear this but it bugs me. They always used condoms. Why would they do that Gibbs?"

Gibbs really wanted to beat the hell out of something; instead he noticed that Ziva was touching his hands with her own; tracing the calluses, and cuts like they were a talisman. "I don't know Ziva. Maybe they were worried you would get pregnant and didn't want to deal with a ….prisoner in that condition." His first instinct had been to soften his words, but she didn't want that she wanted honesty.

"I had not thought about that. They were very careful to avoid me when I was on my period. It is a Jewish thing."

Gibbs nodded, when he'd found out Ziva was to be on his team he'd studied the religion and knew what she was referring to. He would have commented but Ziva yawned and her eyes blinked slowly. "You should sleep Ziva"

Ziva pulled back and stared at night through the window shuddering. "I do not think I can. I am afraid of the dark. They would put me underground when...whenever. I am afraid to sleep." She looked away from him ashamed to admit such a thing.

Gibbs stood pulling the drapes on all the windows and came back to the bed. This time he sat up by the head headboard, toeing off his shoes he waited. "You need sleep Ziva, trust me." This time when he said the words she didn't flinch just watched him carefully.

Ziva watched him lying casually against the headboard, hands out in front of him, open to show she had nothing to be afraid of. Somehow she wasn't afraid, she should have been but Gibbs didn't scare her. She made her way up the bed and lay next to him. She wanted very much to ask him to hold her but she found she couldn't speak the words. So she curled next to him savoring the feel of his warmth.

Gibbs saw her silent question and knew also why she didn't ask. He smiled to himself and ever so gently slid down till she was tucked in against him. He wrapped an arm around her and felt the sigh of relief puff out of her. Any other time holding her so close would have brought his body to instant arousal but the softness of her breathing and the trust she was showing him cooled him. He was surprised at how quickly she fell asleep. For a long time he savored the smell and feel of her, knowing she was safe and home. It wasn't long till he drifted off himself.