Final chapter is up. Sorry it took so long. Sister's birthday party, all day shopping spree today. Real tired, blah, blah. But its here and its done. Now I can carry on with my other fic 'Its a Family Life'.

Disclaimer: I promise no deaths occured in the making of this chapter Mr Glasberg. You can have them back. ;)

She doesn't know what she's doing there. Comfort? Someone to talk to? She's really not sure. She's contemplating leaving... He doesn't need the extra stress. They've all had a long day.

She supposes knocking on his door does kinda make the decision clearer. She wants to be there.

The door swings open in a fast forward motion, and the look on his face tells Ziva that he isn't surprised she's there.

He doesn't say a word when he steps back and lets her in, going straight into the kitchen.

Her gaze lingers on him for a moment, before she trudges into his living area, and plops herself down on his couch. She sheds her shoes and jacket, and waits wordlessly for his return.

He doesn't return, and her concern begins to rise, the hairs on the back of her neck prickling. He needs me.

She launches herself out of the living area quickly, and comes to stand at the doorway to his kitchen. He's stood by the kettle. Two cups out. A steaming kettle. He's visibly tense. That much she notices. His arms are spread, his hands clenching the counter, his knuckles whitening at the force.

She feels for him. She does. They almost lost McGee today. Then discovered they may have lost Ducky too. It was a frightening reality check. Many agents lost their lives.

She's not sure what she can do to help him.

His head dips forward then, and that's what pushes her into action.

She strides across the kitchen and presses herself against his back, hesitantly placing both arms around his torso. He stiffens. She presses harder into him in response.

His voice is barely above a whisper when he speaks, but she hears him loud and clear. "Our home is gone."

It does sting. They've all lost something they treasured. It's not going to be easy to rebuild their lives again. "We can make a new one." She knows it's a lame attempt at cheering him up, but she can't think of anything else.

"It's not the same."

"No."

"The memories are gone."

She agrees and disagrees with that. Yes, the place that holds their memories is gone. But that doesn't mean that the memories are gone. They can make new ones.

"We can make new ones."

"Its. Not. The. Same." He's finally snapped. He'd held himself up for her all day. Now it was her turn to be the leaning post.

She's quiet for a long time, not really sure what to say. What can she say? "I thought we were going to die in that elevator."

That makes him grasp her hand with his own and give it a soft squeeze. He'd had the same thoughts. The mere idea that he'd almost lost her once was painful enough. Today was just another reminder.

"Just reminded me of Paris."

There it is again. The sharp intake of breath. She's done that so many times today he thinks he's getting accustomed to it. "I'm sorry."

He grips her hand harder at that. He doesn't understand why she's apologising. "I still... hear, your screams... See the, fear, in your eyes... It killed me."

"I did not mean for that to-"

"I know." He lifts his other hand to cover both of theirs on his chest. He feels her to start to pull away slightly. It's not exactly the best time to discuss this, but he can't help it. He needs to get this out before it eats him alive any more than it already has. "Doesn't make it any easier."

He feels a damn spot on the back of his shirt where her head lays. She's crying. I made her cry. "That was the first time, I had slept better, since they-" She stopped mid sentence, and yeah, he got it. This is hard to talk about. More so for her than him.

"I didn't know what to do.. I'd never, seen you like that before... It scared me, I-"

She clenched her free hand tighter around the fabric of his shirt, balling it up. "I am sorry. I never meant to put you through that."

He twisted around in the embrace, and gripped her shoulders. "No. You have nothing to be sorry for. If I could go back and change things-" He paused; "Did you have any more nightmares after?"

She took several breaths, and gripped his wrists. "Some."

"You never would've told me, if it didn't happen in Paris would you?"

She tugged on his wrists and stepped out of his embrace, and he immediately missed her warmth. "No. Because I wanted it to be over. Whether I like it or not Tony, it happened. I cannot change it, but... I am, grateful, for what you did."

He brushed his knuckles softly over her cheek, wiping away a tear that had unwillingly escaped her eye. "I'd do it again, anytime for you."

Her eyes softened slightly at his gesture, and she leaned into his feather light touch across her cheek again. "I know."

It takes them a little while to settle into a routine, and to say that the night ended with them both sprawled on the couch, Ziva on top of him, sleeping, whilst he stroked her hair and watched the remainder of the third film for that night, was going to happen, then yeah, a couple of hours ago, they wouldn't have predicted this turn of events.

Things are changing now; she had a final breakdown of emotions during the Sound of Music earlier, with tears and clenched fists, and the urge for him not to cry, lost out.

To be honest, the whole day hadn't gone the way any of them had expected.

Tony was grateful for at least one thing that happened today. He could cross No. #19 off of his bucket list. He'd finally touched upon the subject, and the best thing was, Ziva hadn't shut down or walked out on him. He curled his arms tighter around her waist and torso, and one thought crossed his mind as he drifted into unconsciousness; I'm never letting her go, ever again. Not for anyone.

Relaxed now! :)