Okay, so I was bored and went quote surfing. Try it sometime, what you do is, go to Google (or another search engine) type in quotes about… and then some suggestions will come down. Pick one or use your own. Anyway, this quote seemed like a story for either Bones or NCIS. NCIS is more fun to write about. I also have been dying to make a real angsty Tiva story. Here it is.

Disclaimer: I do not own NCIS. If I did, I sure wouldn't be writing fan fiction on a Saturday night

"What is love? Love is when one person knows all of your secrets… your deepest, darkest, most dreadful secrets of which no one else in the world knows… and yet in the end, that one person does not think any less of you; even if the rest of the world does." ~ Unknown

It was cold.

That's what Ziva thought when she walked into her bedroom after a long shower.

It had felt cold for a long time.

Ziva had felt cold ever since she was rescued from Somalia.

The cold was inside her.

That's what she had figured out. The coldness stemmed from the numbing sensation.

No one else knows of this coldness.

She puts up a good front at work. They all believe she is back to her old self.

Well, not all of them.


He looks at her and she stops feeling cold. The heat and intensity of his gaze blasts away the cold.

But not for long.

It comes back more intense each time. She shudders when it does and Tony notices. And that's what scares you.

He knows too much.

She told him more than she has told anyone else. It worries her.

Anyone else that she has been that open with promised never to leave her. They do anyway.

She is scared and runs. He comes after her. It is a dance that has been going on for years.

A dance fueled by passion, anger, and fear.

Fear of the unknown, of plunging into something deep and unfamiliar territory.

She wonders what would happen if she told him everything.

Each night she goes to bed, her heart aches.

She is alone.

Up until she was partnered with Tony, this never bothered her. She never had thought about it. It wasn't in her training.


She has never really stopped to figure out her feelings. It is a difficult process, she decides

The need consumes her.

The need to feel his skin. The need for him and all that he promises.

A haven for her.

His eyes and actions promise safety.

The waking up in the middle of the night.

Her nightmares consume her as her amount of sleep lessens. She looks at the scars not seen by others.

A knock on the door startles her.

It's him.

He comes and asks her if she is okay. The concern his voice carries alerts her as to why he is here. His eyes show compassion.

She melts.

She does not see the pity she was so used to. It is not a case. Not some mutilated corpse. He looks at her.

He does not speak. It is deathly silent.

She still has not answered him.

She is speechless.

The lies that gracefully slip from her lips do not come.

She is exhausted.

Not just physically. Emotionally and mentally.

He is still staring.

She opens her mouth to ask him to leave.

That is not what comes out.

Everything that she has not said and what she has never told anyone spill from her mouth.

She begins to sob. Big, heart wrenching sobs.

She cries for her family. For what she has left behind. She cries for the people she has killed and has watched die. She cries because she expects him to bolt.

He is still here. He is holding her like he will never let go.

She doesn't want him to.

She continues to cry and his arms tighten around her. It's like a shield.

He is shielding her from the world.

After what seems like forever, she stops.

He does not release his grip.

They move to the couch, still embraced.

Her bone-deep exhaustion catches up to her.

Her sleepless nights come crashing down on her.

She falls asleep.

The next thing she knows, it is morning.

She slept through the night.

More importantly, Tony is still here, arms around her shoulders. He is snoring and she does not move.

His arms banished the nightmares.

She does not think they will come back. If they do, he will be there.

She has not told him.

She loves him and did not say it. Now he is sound asleep.

She whispers it.

She can only hope that he hears it.

In his sleep, he smiles ever so slightly.

She smiles and snuggles into him. She thinks of nothing else but the feeling of his arms.

Time seems to no longer exist.

As Ziva drifts off to sleep in the arms of the man she has bared her soul to, two things come to mind.

The first?

He did not run.

The second hits her right as sleep takes her.

It is no longer cold.