The door to his bedroom creaked open and shut, and Tony bolted upright, groping in the drawer of his bedside table for his Sig. He always used to put it away in his dresser, across the room, but ever since he'd started the damn mission for Jarvis he preferred it closer. If the thing had gone on much longer, he might have ended up sleeping with it under his pillow like Ziva did. His ears were ringing and his heart in his throat as he sought out the cold metal in the dark.
"Relax. It is only I."
Ziva. The deafening echo of his heartbeat quieted down, and fear was replaced with anger. He pulled his hand out and slammed the drawer shut. "What the fuck are you doing sneaking into my room at—" he glanced at the clock, "three-fucking-thirty in the morning!"
"I did not expect to wake you," she replied, remaining by the door. He could not see her in the darkness, her form just a shadow, illuminated by the faint red glow of his alarm clock.
"You—why did you think that?" He wiped the sweat from his brow.
"You are not a light sleeper. Usually."
"Usually?" Tony sighed, laying back. "You've done this before."
Had he really slept through her sneaking into his bedroom before? He'd certainly dreamt about her sneaking into his bedroom. Being woken up in the middle of the night was always pleasant in those dreams. He felt the bed dip as she sat on the corner. Three-thirty a.m. was not the time to get into this. He filed it away for future query.
"Gibbs didn't tell you guys that I wasn't in the mood for company tonight?"
He'd finally been released from the hospital just before noon, and he was exhausted, though he hadn't been able to sleep much, instead planting himself mindlessly in front of the television until midnight.
"No, he did," she answered.
"And you decided that didn't apply to you?" he growled, staring up at the ceiling. He wasn't really sure why he was giving her such a hard time. He generally enjoyed her company. In fact, he'd come damn close to calling her up earlier in the evening, when he was lost in movie land.
"I did not expect you to be awake."
"And that makes it okay?"
She didn't answer him, staying planted on the corner of the bed. He could feel her eyes on him, and wondered if she could see him in the darkness better than he could see her.
"You're just going to sit there?"
"Would you prefer I did not sit on the bed?" she asked, slightly confused.
"You can be wherever the hell you want to be…on the bed, off the bed—"
"Oh, you meant what do I intend to do?"
"Well, I am not sure what to do now," she told him honestly. "I did not anticipate you would be awake for any of the time I was here."
He sighed. She was very good at talking around the heart of an issue.
"I just needed to see you," she added softly.
"Just see me?" he echoed. Was she really that concerned? When she did not answer him right away, he prompted, "Zi?"
"It has been a difficult day…" her voice was thick with emotion. "I…we… had not seen you since before the incident. And yes, Gibbs briefed us—and I knew you were okay, but—" It sounded exactly the way he'd felt when Cobb had kidnapped her in May. That overwhelming urge to be sure she was okay. "I should go," she choked, standing. "You need to sleep."
"Ziva." He heard the door creak open. "Ziva!" She paused. "You do not get to wake me up in the middle of the fucking night and then just—" He sighed in frustration. Why was he protesting her leaving?" She was leaving so he could get more sleep. But also because things had just gotten a little too personal for her.
"You wish for me to stay?"
"I…" Yes. But his mind was troubled enough without making things more complicated. It would be easy to lean on her, but he needed to find his own way out. And somehow, because she was Ziva, she knew all this.
He hadn't heard her move, what with her crazy ninja skills, but suddenly she was right at his side. "Sleep, Tony." She kissed his forehead, letting her lips linger longer than she needed to. One hand was in his hair, the other on his chest. His eyes fluttered closed. "Goodnight. I'm sorry that I woke you."
She started to stand back up, and he caught her hand, lacing his fingers with hers. Through the darkness, he could just make out her face, looking down on him with such concern. He was sure she could see the myriad of feelings running across his face. He couldn't articulate what he wanted, partly because he wasn't sure himself. He merely squeezed her hand tightly in his.
A moment passed, and he heard one shoe, then the other, clatter to the ground. Ziva released his hand and crossed around the foot of the bed, crawling into the empty other side.
He rolled to face her. "I am not ready to talk about this," he sighed, tossing some of the blanket over her.
"I know," she assured him, settling down on the pillow. "Sleep."
"I wish it were that easy."
She snorted a wry laugh. He knew she knew very well what this was like.
"I will be over here," she told him. Her tone implied that if he wanted her closer all he had to do was ask.
He reached out, finding her hand again. He pulsed it once in a silent thank you, unable to say the words aloud.