She found herself in front of his door, hiding under the tiny overhang from the pouring rain.

Rain, how appropriate.

Wait, how did she get here? Her clothes were soaked, her hair was matted to her head and neck, and she had a crumpled piece of paper in her hand.

Crumpled paper?

The letter. The heartless one from the man in second command at Mossad.

She remembered reading it, feeling her heart shatter.

Sort of.

She remembered tears, anger, sadness, whiskey.

And now she was here. And why?

Because she missed him.

Almost.

The whiskey had made her forget for awhile, but now her emotions hit full force.

He hadn't done all that much for her. Sure, he taught her to survive, but not to live. He taught her to be heartless, emotionless, cold. And he'd torn their family apart.

Her mother's death, then Tali's, and then the order to let Ari away after he killed Kate.

Had NCIS made her soft?

No, it had taught her to be human, she remembered, thinking of Tony's words.

A moan of grief overtook her and she slumped down on the step.

If he never cared, if he ruined everything, why was she crying?

Why did her heart hurt?

Why did she want to see him?

She barely registered the door opening, or Tony calling her name. All she was aware of was her grief, her pain.

When she finally snapped back to reality, she was sitting on Tony's blue couch, wrapped in a towel. He was sitting on the coffee table in front of her, his concerned gaze boring in to her.

He gently took her hand, eyes searching hers for an answer.

"Ziva?" he asked quietly, gently.

That was all it took.

More tears formed in her eyes, and she began to tremble.

"My father is dead."

Her head fell forwards and she sobbed, Tony holding her hand the entire time.