I'm sure that the dramatic Ziva-returns-from-Somalia-with-many-unresolved-issues storyline has been done 100 times. That being said, 101 times won't hurt anything. And am I the only one who felt that there were waaay too many missing scenes in the first several episodes of this season?

The rain beat a steady dance upon the large, plated glass windows of the apartment building. Singular drops splattered and richocheted off, collecting into a thin sheet of water that moved steadily down the glass. Outside, trees shook furiously, branches churning and whipping wildly as if trying to shake their own leaves away and into the fierce current of wind that surrounded them. Cars inched slowly down the roads, their drivers straining to see the faint blurred edges of figures through the opaque windshield that not even the rapidly-whirling wipers could clear. Occasionally a blinding flash of light would tear through the clouds for the briefest moment before plunging the city and all its inhabitants back into the semi-darkness. A fleeting second later, a roll of thunder would grind loudly past.

Ziva stood quietly at the window, watching all of this take place. Her hair was tangled around her face and her eyes were flat and dim with lack of sleep. In stark contrast to the raging tantrum outside, her apartment complex was nearly silent, the quiet broken only by the light drip of the kitchen sink in the far corner of the room. The apartment was neat and clean, but entirely bare and devoid of any personal possessions. Four empty walls broken only by the front window surrounded the dark-haired woman. Two large brown boxes in the doorway to the other room held all of her earthly belongings, but she could not find the energy to unpack even them.

She lifted her hand up to the window, touching the glass only by her fingertips with a feather-light touch. Tracing the path of an errant stream of water, she ran her finger slowly down to the window sill. She stared blankly at the point on the sill where the water vanished. Coming back to the present with a slight jump, she clenched her fingers together tightly and brought the hand back to her side before watching the rain again.

It really was as perfect, she mused silently, as if someone, somewhere, had designed the weather to match exactly to herself. She'd heard comments before from others about the weather reflecting one's mood upon occasion, but this was quite something else. She watched as another streak of lightning broke through the sky.

Ziva didn't like the nights. They were quiet, removed, and she was alone. With nothing to do, she fell into a depression-like period, black and painful.

"Couldn't live without you, I guess."

She drug the words back up into the front of her mind. They were her saving grace, her sole hold upon reality. Whenever her thoughts turned to Saleem, to Somalia, to Mossad, or to Michael, she pulled out Tony's words. Perhaps hiding from her memories was not exactly healthy. But at the moment, blocking them seemed to be the best idea. Someday, sometime she might pick painfully through them. But not yet.

"Couldn't live without you, I guess."

Doped up on truth serum as he'd said that. She hadn't believed it at first. Magical truth serum was a genie in a fairytale. It didn't exist. However, when she herself had received a large dose, weeks before NCIS had even thought about coming, she had learned the harsh truth. The serum was a bit like floating. It was comforting. There wasn't any good reason to not tell the whole story. She had begun to talk, to decide how to best explain her story as Saleem wanted it. But then she'd stopped, not knowing why, only that while she had no real reason to hide the truth, she had had one before. A relatively important one that involved no words, only silent faces watching her. The faces, both old and young, were all familiar. While she had told herself so many times that NCIS had given up on her, she had not given up on it. The ethereal images of Gibbs, Abby, McGee, Ducky, Tony, and even Jenny had never left. It was only then that she had realized that her former team, a set of misfits, really, meant so much. And so she'd had the strength for just a bit longer to withstand Saleem. It had been enough to push her through that worst bit, before they'd given up on her providing information and locked her in a dark, dank cell. Dark, like the room that she was in now. She could turn on every light that she had, but refused the notion. She could not live her life forever afraid of the dark.

"Couldn't live without you, I guess."

What had Tony meant by that? There was no point in pretending coyness to herself; could she take his words at face value? Did he ever wonder how she had interpreted his own words? Perhaps, like her, he constantly turned the conversation over and over in his mind. Or maybe not, and she was simply being pathetic again.

There was a moment, when something was said, in which one could question what had been meant, exactly. Once one passed that moment, however, it was nearly always too late. She could not ask him now what he meant by that. And, at the time, she had been too wrapped up in her own despair.

"Out of everyone in the world who could have found me, it had to be you?" She had asked incredulously. That was what she had said. They had torn her from the brink of death and thrown her a glimpse of light, and that was all that she could say.

"You should have left me alone." Definitely true, but wrong, so very wrong for that situation. Because, again, there was only a brief window of time in which one could clarify what was meant. She would not walk up to him now and explain what she had been feeling. Dwelling hopelessly on a single topic was all well and good, but admitting that to another person was simply not done.

The storm outside had abated somewhat. Rain no longer gushed from the heavens like an overturned bucket, but rather dropped down at a stately pace. Her emotions, though, had failed to settle so precisely.

"I did not ask for anyone to put themselves in harm's way for me. I do not deserve it."

"Is that what you're doing out here? Some kind of monastic experience? Penance?"

"It is justified."

"Get over yourself."

"I have." And she truly had, realizing that she would rather die painfully alone than to see any of them injured for her sake.

Her legs began to ache, but stubbornly she refused to return to her bed. It was only late afternoon, but she had been trying to sleep for the majority of the day, ever since she'd been released from the hospital. She stood still, unwilling to leave the hesitant peace that had finally found her.

Rain continued to splatter slowly down the window pane. For the first time in nearly an hour, she could clearly see the outlines of objects outside. There were the cautious pedestrians, caught outdoors without a vehicle and creeping from shop doors, and the traffic on the road beginning to speed up. And then there was a small black car parked across the road. A car with a person seated in the driver's seat. A car that she knew she'd seen before.

For the space of a heartbeat, she tensed in an emotion close to fear. But then she recognized the car and its lone occupant. She looked down at her clothes: an over-sized T-shirt and loose cotton pants. She looked back at the car.

Tony stared blankly out over the dashboard. The storm had finally slowed to a light drizzle. It was too bad, really. He'd been enjoying the sound of the pounding rain on the windows and roof of his car. He wasn't sure why he was even here, at Ziva's temporary apartment. She probably wouldn't hesitate to shoot him if necessary. And her idea of "necessary" and his were likely light years apart.

There was a light tap from the passenger-side. He flinched visibly and his head whipped around to the source of the noise. A woman stood, waiting, with her hand on the door handle. Almost on auto-pilot, he unlocked the door.

Ziva slid silently into the passenger seat. Her tousled hair was covered in beaded drops of rain that ran down her face and neck into the neck of the long, light-brown coat that fell to her knees. Pajama pants peeked out beneath that, ending in a pair of tennis shoes that she wore without socks.

She didn't say a word, and so neither did he. They both stared forward, watching the city streets repopulate and then dwindle as rush hour ended. The silence was strained and uncomfortable at first. He looked for something, anything to say. She searched for something that could explain what he needed to hear. Neither of them were successful, but over the course of several minutes, the silence finally turned comfortable. Ziva shut her eyes, drinking in the peace of the moment.

Tony sighed, "Ziva, I..." he looked over to her for the first time. Her eyes were shut, her head was back against the seat, and she was breathing slowly and regularly. The edges of his lips twitched up slightly, and for a little while he just watched her doze.

A moment later she shook her head sharply and opened her eyes. Tony quickly tore his gaze away, staring forward again.

What should she do? Ziva wondered. She could get up and leave. That would be the easiest. She still wasn't sure why she was even here. Or she could say something. She had barely acknowledged Tony's presence in the full week since she'd arrived back in the States. He probably deserved something. She knew, only too well, though, that you didn't always get what you deserved.

"Tony," she said in a soft voice barely above a whisper and then stopped abruptly. She hadn't thought out what to say, and now he was looking at her expectantly. She just stared at him, and he at her, each seemingly daring the other to look away first. It was Ziva who finally conceded, after about a minute. She shut her eyes slowly and then opened them to look down at the floor. She met his eyes again, nodded once, briefly, and pulled open the car door to leave.

The rain had stopped, but the clouds were still thick. Tony watched her leave, rounding his car slowly and crossing the road to end up back at her apartment. As she reached the other side, the sun broke free of the clouds, settling just above the edge of the horizon. Ziva paused as the sun's rays hit her, turning and lifting her face to the unexpected warmth for a second. As the continually-shifting clouds covered the sun once more, she opened the door to the apartment building.

She turned around and looked across the street to find Tony, still watching her. She entered the building, feeling light, as if some unseen object had been lifted from her, and thinking that, just maybe, there was still something left for her in this world.