"Ow! What was that for, Zee-vah?" Tony grunted as Ziva, smiling in satisfaction, removed her elbow from his newly-bruised side.

"You grabbed my shoulder. It was a reflex, no?" she said silkily, suppressing a laugh.

"Well, can you reflex a little softer, Zee-vah?" Tony complained. "I was just going to see if you wanted to stay and watch an American classic, Miss I'm-an-American-now."

"Yes, and if I asked every person in this building, I am sure about two of them would have heard of this 'classic.' "

"Don't laugh, Ziva David. This is a true classic. I'm sure even McCaveman has heard of it."

"Well, it never hurts to be a little more American, does it?" Ziva leaned in a little closer. "If you answer my question."

Tony grinned. "Try me?"

"What possible reason could you have for being here, in the office, at night, on a Thursday, to watch a movie? How late are you possibly going to stay?"

Tony's smile sunk a little. "I'm going to stay all night."

Ziva's eyebrows contracted sightly, her face questioning. "Hot date with a janitor, Anthony DiNozzo?"

"Not quite." He breathed in slightly. "It's the anniversary of Kate's death. I hold my own little. . .vigil for her every year. Stupid, right?"

"Not at all," Ziva murmured, suddenly serious. "It is good to honor the dead."

"I'm glad somebody understands. When Gibbs first realized that I do this, he smacked me on the head. 'Move on DiNozzo,' he said. 'She's gone.' "

His eyes were sad. "I have moved on, but I don't want her forgotten. She was the closest thing I ever had to a sister." Tony laughed. "She annoyed me like a sister. But she didn't deserve what she got. Don't get me wrong, I wouldn't do anything to change these last four years but. . ." he stopped, his eyes glazed. His words were becoming uncontrolled, uncensored, ". . .if I could just go back and I could be the one to kill that bastard!"

Ziva froze. Tony, in his resurrected anger, didn't notice.

"He didn't deserve a gunshot to the head! If it had been me, not Gibbs, he would have suffered for what he did. . ." He looked up, and his eyes caught Ziva's. They were filled with sadness.

"What, Ziva?"

She spoke softly. "Tony, the punishment fit the crime."

"What? Are you defending him? He was a. . .a. . !" Tony stuttered to a stop and then said, with a touch of remorse. "Of course. He was your brother. I'm sorry Ziva; I forget. He was so different from you."

His anger was diverted by the moisture that was filling Ziva's eyes. The fire he felt over the death of the partner who was like his sister could not be compared to the distress he felt over the partner who was slowly becoming so much more. She never cried, at least never in front of him. Even now, the tears remained unshed.

"We weren't all that different," Ziva muttered, her eyes far from Tony's.

"Tell me about him, Ziva. Because right now, whatever you see, I can't. He was a monster, you––" He stopped, partly because he feared further abusing Ziva's brother's name and causing her to shed her tears, and partly because, in the flurry of adjectives that fit Ziva filling his mind, he could not choose one that concealed his feelings.

Ziva nodded. "You're right. The Ari who killed Kate was a monster." She paused. "My brother was not. My father made him who he was when he killed your partner. Death and war and pain and I-don't-know-what-else made my father that way. But as a child, Ari was my role model and my competition: my brother, and a good one."

"Tell me." Tony repeated.

Ziva started her story, her mind drifting into memories of an innocent time and the turbulence that made it all go wrong.