A/N: I have no idea where this came from, but by gods, I think I got it.

Disclaimer: I don't own Ziva or Tony

Pinky

I stared at her, its all I could do. She looked so broken, so not Ziva. The woman before him couldn't be Ziva, couldn't be the Mossad ninja assassin who saved their lives multiple times. This wasn't Ziva David.

But it was.

It was the side she never let people see.

Yet she was showing me.

Tears silently rolled down her pale cheeks, drained from color after a nightmare tore her from what she thought was her only safe place. Her dreams.

But even there they seemed to get her.

I didn't know what to do. How do you comfort a killer? No, not a killer, your best friend? I did the only thing that I could think of and opened my arms to her. She watched me with calculating eyes, hesitant to whether or not reject my offer. It was so fast, but at the same time, it felt like time slowed down.

She fell into my arms.

Her feminine hands clasped his button down shirt; my arms automatically encircled her small form. She was shaking slightly, enough for him to notice. Sobs echoed in the empty bullpen. I held on tighter.

She cried harder.

It felt like hours, in reality only a few minutes, that I held her. She got quiet and eventually pulled away. Her eyes stayed glued to the floor, until I held out my pinky. I didn't know if she knew what I was doing, but she intertwined her pinky with mine.

She wasn't fine.

But she was getting there, and I was going to help her.

The End