His eyes softened at the sight of her standing in his doorway. Gently, he took the dripping umbrella from her hands and leaned it against the wall. He stepped out of the way. She walked past him wordlessly, moving toward the dimly-lit living room down the hall. As his eyes followed her, he released the breath he didn't realize he was holding, letting the door shut behind him with a quiet click.

He sauntered down the hall after her and joined her on the couch, being careful to leave a little space between them. Very casually, he muted the television and took a sip from the beer on the coffee table. He dragged in a long breath to calm himself, but it didn't help much. Giving her a look, he murmured her name, "Ziva."

Ziva shook her head, staring directly ahead at the flickering television. Her eyes were blood-shot, and her hair was tousled. She was dressed in a pull-over and a pair of baggy sweats, and she looked as if she had just rolled out of bed. Tony figured that at least she was in a better state than she was in back at the office.

He stared at her profile, a strangling emotion filling his chest.

"All right?" he asked her very softly, wanting to touch her hand but wondering if she'd let him.

It took awhile before she found her voice. "No, Tony, I am not all right."

Tony made a sound of discontent and asked her, "Is there anything I can do?"

A glimmer of amusement touched her eyes and she said, "I think that is the first time you have asked something like that."

He was grateful to see something other than grief on her face, but he grumbled a little, hiding his relief, "There's no need to act so surprised. It's not that out of character."

She didn't reply, and Tony continued genuinely, feeling his voice grow tender again, "I mean it though, Ziva."

"I know," she sighed, scooting toward him. Their thighs were touching, and she leaned her cheek against his arm.

Tony froze, his eyebrows pulling together while alarm shot through him. He was taken back by the gesture. This wasn't like her - It took him a moment and a deep breath to realize that he was wrong. This was her, but she was hurting, and his heart ached because of it.

Without thinking, he wrapped the arm around her, pulling her closer to him. It was an instinct, just like the hug in the elevator hours before. There were no hidden emotions behind the movement - It wasn't awkward, and there was no tension. It was comforting to feel her next to him, warm, breathing, and so very alive.

He almost lost her more times than he could count, and right then, with his arm around her and her head against the side of his neck, the reality of Mike's death set in. The man who stumbled out alive when Jenny died, the one who had a nub as a finger, the man who was tough as nails and who called Gibbs Probie was dead. Murdered.

An irking, selfish part of Tony was glad that it wasn't one of the team.

He felt guilty for even letting the thought cross his mind, but the idea of McGee or Abby or Gibbs or Ziva being in his place in autopsy made Tony's stomach clench in physical pain.

Closing his eyes, he pressed his lips to the very top of her head, his nose being filled with the overpowering smell of Ziva. He felt the tension in her body ease, and it made the helpless feeling in his gut go away. Tony savored the intimacy of their closeness because, after all these years, finally let him in. A thick layer of trust and understanding had settled between the two of them - Three years ago, if anyone were to tell him that Ziva would show up at his apartment wanting to be comforted, Tony would have probably doubled over on the floor laughing.

Tony didn't linger over the details because, at the moment, she was nestled against his side, relying on him for reassurance, and suddenly the mixture of reasons why Ziva was in his apartment in the middle of the night became crystal clear.

"It's ironic," Tony said, voicing his thoughts because she was being open with him and it was only fair that he was open as well, "You being here is ironic."

She made a sound, tilting her head up to look at him.

He swallowed with difficulty under her gaze, saying, "We've come a long way."

"We have," she agreed after giving him a long, searching look. "It took time."

"More time than it should have, and I know that it's a little too late, but I'm sorry, Ziva."

She shook her head, closing her eyes and leaning her forehead against the warm skin of his neck. He let his eyes flicker closed as well, a wave of pleasure flowing through him. "No, Tony. We have been over this. I am sorry." Tony couldn't think of a reply, and she continued, "This may be too late as well, but thank you. For everything."

"You don't need to thank me for anything, Ziva," he told her immediately. "You don't. I have your back, remember?"

"I know you do. You always have..." Ziva took in a long breath of air. She felt comfortable with admitting something to him too,"I could not stand being alone tonight."

"I figured that you weren't here for a couple drinks and a pizza," Tony joked lightly. His expression turned into a frown, and he said, "I mean... I don't blame. Mike is dead, and he was nearly bulletproof... Jonas is still out there, waiting and plotting. He's been watching us, and I have no doubt in my mind that he knows where every single one of us lives -"

She moved out of his grasp, putting enough space between them so that she could look at him fully. Ziva's eyes were weary and watery. He placed a hand over hers in a weak attempt to soothe the pain she was in.

Tony winced when he registered that he probably shouldn't have said that aloud. He sighed at their situation. He was exhausted and confused and scared. It took a lot to make him - and her - to worry enough to lose sleep over it. He mumbled, "I'm glad you're here, Ziva. Really, I am. It's easier to not be alone."

"I can't believe he's gone." Her voice was as quiet as an exhale of breath, but he heard her loud and clear.

Running his thumb over her soft skin, he said, "It makes this real, doesn't it? He brought it to our front yards, and now we're out for blood." Tony ran a hand through his hair, ignoring the tightening in his chest and silently vowing to Mike that they would make sure he didn't die in vain. He was thinking out loud, "I hope Gibbs is holding it together."

"I can only imagine how he feels," she whispered quietly.

"And I think that the worst thing about this is that - It could have been us. Mike was just at the wrong place at the wrong time." Tony felt a sinking feeling in his stomach that confirmed his suspicions, "Or maybe, it could be us next."

He chuckled, just a little, "I don't know about you, but I'm getting a little sick of getting accused of murder and having a dozen close calls a year. I swear that everyone else never have half the problems we do."

"We have not been accused of murder in awhile, though."

He could help but laugh because she was right. It had been almost a year since either of them had been accused of it. "Even still, I think we somehow pulled the short end of the stick."

She sighed, her short-lived smile fading as quick as it had shown up.

There were things that he wish he could tell her, emotions that he couldn't quite put into words. He was glad she was with him. Tony would have preferred a happier reason, but all the same, she was there. A part of him constantly missed her, but he didn't know how that could be possible when they spent most of their days together.

Of course, he knew why he missed her, even if he didn't want to admit it to himself.

There were still complications, really. CI-Ray and EJ, respectively. He half-wondered if she actually loved Ray, but Tony didn't want to think about it because it would be easier for him not to know. And Tony liked EJ, but it wasn't enough. They got along well, and the mutual level of understanding was a nice touch, but as time went on, it became painstakingly obvious that there was something crucial missing from their relationship.

Naturally, he knew what it was.

Tony looked at Ziva. He had known for years, but denial and roadblocks always kept the two of them apart. She knew too - There would be moments, glimmers of - something in her expression that screamed it at him. It was just lust or attraction or anything physical anymore. Over time, without either of them really realizing it, they grew to depend on each other.

It took the shock of nearly losing her to make him understand that he needed her.

Tony brought a hand up and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. She turned her head to look at him - she had changed the channel to the news when he was lost in thought - and smiled sadly. He could have done it then - blurted out every feeling he had for her - but he restrained himself and grinned back shyly. He brought his arm down from the cushion behind them and massaged the back of her shoulder casually.

They sat in silence for a long time, watching the muted television, his hand continuing to rub her back because he couldn't stop himself. She scooted closer again, finding the now-familiar spot against his neck. He reveled in how natural it felt, sitting on his couch, curled together, and he wondered why it took them so long to get their acts together. Tony wished that he could see the expression on her face, knowing that seeing her face would give him the courage to tell her how much she meant to him.

But then again, she probably already knew.

He sighed, kissing the top of her head and inhaling deeply again. As much as the looming danger should worry him, he couldn't really bring himself to care. There were so many things wrong in their world that he didn't feel bad for choosing to ignore them for awhile, not when he actually had something going right for once.

His grip around her tightened, and he suddenly very felt thankful to be alive. In some ways, they hadn't drawn the short sticks after all.

She moved closer to him, and he was convinced that he was right.

They were given this chance for a reason.