She smiled, watching as he spread the blanket on the grass lawn of the Mall.

Picnicking on the Mall was a Georgetown resident right of passage. Somehow she had managed to live here for years and never once ate her meal in the heart of the nation's treasured monuments and memorials.

"M'Lady," Tony bowed deeply and gestured for her to take a seat on the OSU stadium blanket he had pulled out of the trunk of his car.

"This is certainly more casual than Tapatini's," Ziva said, smiling as she lowered herself to the ground, cautions of her still bruised ribs and her sore back.

Tony reached into the brown bag at his side, pulling out a small container of brown goo, a loaf of bread, and another container of what appeared to be fruit chunks.

"You said casual. A picnic is casual!" While his tone was intended to be joking, there was a small amount of uncertainty in his voice that Ziva was able to hear.

Ziva chuckled, opening the lids on the containers and sighing deeply as she smelled the fresh herbs in the hummus and the yeasty aroma of fresh-baked-bread.

She reached for a piece of pineapple, his favorite, and held it up for him as he turned a worried look towards her.

"This is perfect," she said, popping the fruit into his mouth with a small smile. "Thank you."

He nodded and chewed the moist fruit, trying to smile around the mouthful.

"This looks divine," she said, her voice almost purring with pleasure.

He grinned at how she seemed excited about something for the first time since they had returned home.

Tony ripped off a chunk of bread, scooped some hummus onto it and held it out towards Ziva.

Instead of taking the piece of bread from his hands, she leaned down and bit off a portion.

She smiled as she chewed and Tony thought he recognized a small amount of apprehension in her eyes. Was she afraid he'd reject her?

Never. The thought required no analysis in his mind and he took a small sigh of pleasure in that knowledge. He knew without a doubt that even in the most tumultuous portions of their friendship, hw would never truly reject her.

He felt his face crease into a smile and he popped the remaining bite of bread into his mouth, winking at her before turning his head towards the sunset. The orange and red glow reached beautifully across the sky, back lighting the Washington monument.

"I would like to go to the firing range," she said, breaking the silence they had settled into as each gently made their way through the picnic spread.

Tony merely nodded without missing a beat. "Sure. How's tomorrow sound?"

"You will be at work tomorrow."

"Yep." He nodded again. "I'll get a ride in with the boss. You can take my car."

Ziva frowned as she looked at him. "Really?"

"Why not?"

"Tony – its your car! You don't even let Gibbs drive your car."

He snickered. "That's because his car is so much better than mine. Seriously. His dad did a kick ass job on restoring that baby."

Ziva grinned and rolled her eyes. "If you are certain."

"Yeah. Just try not to drive like... well... like you. Pretend you're McGranny."

"I will try," she merely replied, reaching out and pulling a strawberry from his fingers and popping it into her mouth before he could protest.

"Next time, I'm going after it," he muttered before acquiescing and settling for a blueberry instead.

They settled into silence again, Tony easing down and stretching out on his side, his elbow propping himself up.

"If you're free on Saturday, Abby has appointments for you both at the Mandarin Oriental Spa,." he said when the sky had become almost entirely tinged with orange and dusk had begun to creep across the sky.

She must have looked stunned, prompting him to continue.

"I made an appointment for you to get your hair cut. And a massage. I thought...." he paused, not knowing how to explain himself. I thought you looked like shit and needed to get patched up. Smoooooth, DiNozzo.

Ziva tucked her wild hair behind her ear as much as she could. "Thank you," she said, simply.

Tony nodded, relieved he did not have to explain himself.

"Often I think you take better care of me than I do," she said, her voice almost a whisper.

"That's probably true," he said. "But that's because you spend your time taking care of everyone else."

Her brow furrowed as she frowned at him.

"Its true," Tony continued. "Tell me the last time you've worked a case where you haven't personally made sure all the lose ends are tied up."

"That is our job," she said.

"No- our job is to catch the bad guy," he countered. "It is not our job to make sure the four-year old who just lost both her parents has a friend until social services arrives. It is not our job to buy groceries for the elderly veteran who's government caregiver was murdered," Tony paused a second and reached up, touching her chin with his fingers and guiding her to look at him. "Those are admirable things, Ziva. You do those things because of who you are, not because its your job."

It wasn't in Ziva's nature to be silent when offered compliments. It wasn't a situation she knew how to handle.

So she did what she knew how to do and what had kept her safe and sane during that week on the ship- she kept her mind busy, effectively switching conversation topics with Tony.

"I owe you an apology," she said, not pulling away from his touch.

Tony frowned. "Didn't we do that last night?"

She shook her head. "Not all of it."

"Oh."

"What I said last night was true: It was becoming impossible to work with you."

Tony finally pulled his hand away and shifted, feigning his casual pose.

"But that is not what I want to apologize for. I should not have taken my anger out on you," she said simply. "I was mad at you, yes. But had Michael been honest, had my father been honest, I would not have had a need to be mad at you."

"Its fine," Tony said, offering her forgiveness where he could.

"It is not fine," Ziva shook her head, "I should have known something was going on. And, honestly Tony, I did. I had a gut feeling – like you and Gibbs have. But I wanted so badly to be wrong. I wanted it to be more than just another assignment for Michael. I wanted it to be real."

He chuckled halfheartedly. "It was real, Ziva. There's no way that it couldn't have been real." He continued when he realized she was frowning at him. "There's no way anyone could get that close to you, to be that intimate with you, and not love you."

Ziva looked down and blinked, refusing to allow any tears to well in her eyes. "In Mossad, we are taught to not let feelings interfere. I'm sure he was able to separate the two."

"All the training in the world couldn't have stopped it. You're damned easy to fall for," he said simply.

Tony's words, so clear and honest, made her bring her head up and meet his gaze.

"As are you."

He shrugged and rolled over onto his back, regarding the dusky sky and the night's first stars with teasing eyes. "I'm tellin ya- its the DiNozzo charm. More addictive than chocolate."

She found herself grinning. Only Tony could make her go from serious to laughing in a few moments. Only Tony could take her heart-felt apology and accept it without dwelling on it. Only Tony could make her feel this whole.

She grabbed a piece of pineapple from the bowl and reached over, sweetly offering it out to him.

He wrapped his lips around the fruit and sucked, catching her off guard and pulling the fruit and her fingers into his mouth. He gently caressed the tips of her fingers with his tongue.

It was sensual and ticklish all at the same time and Ziva felt herself torn between laughing and blushing.

He made the decision much easier when he lobbed a blueberry at her, hitting her square in the nose.

The round blue fruit bounced off her face and onto the grass, forgotten.

"Tony!" She gritted his name through her teeth, trying not to laugh. Ziva pushed the bowl out of the way and reached for him in a playful attack.

They wrestled in what was, possibly, the gentlest wrestling match ever, both conscious of her still battered body. He resorted to tickling her sides with deft fingers, making her dissolve into a very uncharacteristic pile of almost-giggling girl.

The tussle was short, but allowed them both the chance to touch and be touched in a safe way. They were redefining their boundaries and learning the rules now that the game had changed yet again. He watched as she became winded and he slowed his tickles and shifted so she gently slid sideways to the blanket. She rested her head on his chest, her body perpendicular to his.

They both regarded the evening sky.

Ziva folded her hands on her chest and tried to imagine a better way to end her day.

He reached over and covered her hand with his own and was shocked when she shifted, lacing their fingers together.

"Can we do this every night?" His voice was so quiet, she almost didn't hear the question.

Almost.

"No," she replied, turning her head to look at him. "But I wish we could."

"How about once a week?" he counter-offered.

Ziva nodded, squeezing his fingers. "Once a week. Or until you get distracted for some blonde babe," she teased.

"Not goona happen," he said.

"Oh?"

"I like brunettes, first of all," Tony clarified. "Secondly, there's this woman at work who I've got a thing for. She's had it rough lately- really bad ex boyfriend. Daddy issues. You name it. But I think she'll be back on the dating scene in a few weeks."

"But she will not interfere with our weekly picnics?" Ziva asked, deciding to play along with his rather cute inferences.

"She'll understand," he said simply. "I mean, you really can't stop a guy from hanging out with his best friend, can you?"