Title: Back to the Start
Fandom: NCIS
Author: Alidiabin
Words: 1,417
Disclaimer: I own nothing
Warnings/ Spoilers: 8x24
Parings: Tony/Ziva friendship, Ziva/Ray, Tony/EJ.
Beta: Anonymous033 (thank you so much)
Summary: Ziva calls Tony late one night and they go back to where it all started.

Back to the Start

Ziva woke up exhaling and drenched in sweat. Her nightmares had returned with full force after being kidnapped by Cobb, and she was not surprised. But she was surprised to see someone lying next to her; she blinked a couple of times and realized it was her on-again, off-again boyfriend Ray Cruz, and he was sound asleep. Ziva rubbed her eyes. She realized she was not going to get any more sleep tonight, and she did not want to wake Ray. She lifted the covers slightly, causing nothing but a groan to echo from her boyfriend, and slid out of bed. She grabbed her cell phone from her bedside table and tiptoed on the cold floor towards the lounge. She saw her keys to her red Mini Cooper sitting on the kitchen counter. She put her running shoes on, grabbed a coat, and rushed out the door, not checking if it was locked. Ray had a gun; he would be fine. She needed to get out of her apartment – it and its second occupant were suffocating her.

Tony's cell phone shrilly vibrated on his coffee table sometime around midnight. The noise startled him. He woke up and found that he was sitting on his leather couch, an empty plate on his coffee table along with an undrunk bottle of Scotch. He picked up the phone, wondering if it was EJ seeking comfort sex – something he was up for, not because he wanted to comfort her but because he wanted the comfort of two sweaty bodies up against each other after the tough month he'd had. To his surprise he found that the caller ID said Ziva and not EJ. The idea of comfort sex floated out of his mind.

"DiNozzo," he said whilst stifling a yawn.

"Tony, can you meet me?" Ziva said, turning a corner on a street that was known to her but not familiar at first sight.

"Where?" he said; the rational part of his mind was telling him it was late and he needed to get some sleep, but the much more powerful irrational part of his mind was bouncing around ideas on why Ziva wanted to meet him. Most of them were not pleasant.

Ziva paused as she drove past a familiar building. The Embassira Hotel. She saw the steps on which she and Tony had shared their first serious conversation that, if they had not been interrupted, would have probably led to a night of sexual pleasure to escape the pain of that time.

"The Embassira Hotel," she said.

Tony recognized the name but could not place it. "I will bring the espresso." Tony's mind worked it out and he remembered Ziva eating pepperoni pizza; her telling him about her Tali and how she volunteered for Mossad. Ziva hung up and he wondered which pizza joint would be open at the late hour.

She sat on the steps of the hotel shivering as the cool night air attacked her; she wished she had put more clothes on before she left her apartment. The grape camisole she had worn to bed to tempt Ray into sex, both to cement the new start in their relationship and to seek comfort after the difficult day, barely covered her; and the track pants she had slipped on as she left were the ones she wore on summer mornings to go running, not on cold winter nights. She pulled her coat around her tighter but still shivered.

Tony's car pulled up; he emerged dressed in a full OSU tracksuit and carrying a pizza box, and she felt a smile cross her face.

"Pepperoni," he said, holding the box up.

"Espresso," she replied, pointing to the two Styrofoam cups by her side. She held one out as a silent offering; he grabbed the one next to her on the ground. She smiled.

"So," he said as he took a bite of pizza. Ziva blew on the coffee and put it to her lips.

"I had a nightmare," she whispered. Tony was not surprised; the day had been a bad one for all concerned.

"Why aren't you telling CI-Ray all of this?" he asked, using Ray's nickname was not out of spite but habbit.

"He is asleep," Ziva said, "and he does not understand what I need." Tony noticed what Ziva was wearing and sex popped into his mind once again; it seemed like CI-Ray and Ziva were seeking intimate comfort.

"What happened?" he asked. Ziva crossed her arms.

"He is suffocating me," she replied, "he kept stopping and asking if I was ok; in the end I just gave up, saying I was too tired."

"He knows?" Tony asked, wondering if Ray knew more about her time in Africa than he did.

"About my time in Somalia?" she asked point blank. Emotions surged in her throat and she gulped, trying to suppress them.

"Yeah," he replied, amazed at her openness about it.

"On my last night in Miami I was going to give him what he wanted but I freaked out. Once I got out of the bathroom, I told him I was sexually assaulted and I do not play in tie-up games." Ziva said, not looking Tony in the eye. "He said we had only known each other two weeks and that he would wait."

"He should be glad you let him in," Tony said, thinking not about Ziva and Ray, but of his own romantic situation.

"Did I disturb you and EJ?" Ziva asked, chastising herself for ruining Tony's night.

"No, she wanted to be by herself," Tony replied. Ziva leant over him and took a slice of pizza.

"It is understandable," she said as she took a piece of pepperoni off the pizza and put it into her mouth. As she closed her mouth, a smile crossed her face.

"You're the worst Jew ever," he accused.

"Stop deflecting," she replied as she chowed down the rest of the pizza in a rather unladylike fashion.

"I'm not the one who ran away and left their boyfriend in their bed, to eat pizza in their pyjamas," Tony replied. "And no wonder you're cold in those PJs."

"You have a boyfriend," Ziva said, "does EJ know?"

"Look who's deflecting now," Tony said. Ziva finished her coffee and threw it into the bin a few feet away. The cup landed in the centre of the bin.

"You and I should play ball some time," he said.

"Basketball is a national sport in Israel," Ziva said. "I would beat you at basketball." Tony threw his cup at the bin; it landed in the bin but only just.

"See," Ziva replied. She began to do up her coat, getting ready to go home.

"Hey, do you want me to pick you up before Franks' funeral?" he asked, knowing, after Ziva's breakdown a few days beforehand over Mike's death, and the fact that he had lost his former partner and a man he had a great respect for in the space of a fortnight, that they would both need comfort.

"I am not going," Ziva said as she got up. Tony opened his mouth to ask why but realized he would probably get a collection of half-truths brushing over the real reason. So he decided sarcasm was the best route.

"You and Ray gonna rock the Kasbah?" he asked. She looked at him with a rather disgusted look on her face. "I know it's not going to be like 'Death at a Funeral' but I'm sure the spy nookie can wait."

"No, Ray has to do something and I need some space on my own. I saw Leyla at Gibbs' place; she understands." Ziva said. Tony suddenly felt slightly guilty about all his jokes.

"Ok," he said, getting up as she lingered, staring at his face

"Maybe," she said as she fumbled in her coat pocket for her keys, "maybe we could go to breakfast or something before."

"Breakfast," Tony said as he stood within her personal space. "I was thinking some coffee. Maybe Irish coffee."

"Tony," she said, "I am a Jew and you are Italian; when we mourn we eat."

"Pick me up at 8," he said.

"It is a date," she replied as she walked towards her car.

"Ziva!" he called as she opened her car door.

"Yes," she said.

"Sweet dreams," he said.

"You too, Tony." Ziva said as she got in. Tony made sure she drove off somewhat safely, before driving off in a different direction.