Summary: Ray has returned, the truth has come out, and Tony finds it necessary to make Ziva a promise. Written with the assumption that several hours have passed since Ziva found out about the truth and confronted Ray about it.

Disclaimer: I finished my thesis! Hehe. I would sell it to buy NCIS, but paper isn't worth much... (unless it's an NCIS contract, of course. I can haz one?)

Spoilers: Ray arc; minor 7x24 "Rule Fifty-One". Allusion to Rivkin; references to 8x24 "Pyramid" and 9x01 "Nature of the Beast", and 6x02 "Agent Afloat". Implied pre-canon relationships on Ziva's side ... lol.

Okay... I know I've written a fic where Ziva finds out about Ray's lies before, lol. In my defense, even though the general structure of this story is pretty similar to that one, the thought processes that underlie their conversation and actions are pretty different. Don't diss before you've read.

Also, this is still not ... you know, very Tiva-ish Tiva. Give me a break; she'd just broken up with Ray! Haha :)

Enjoy; please review!

-Soph

Priority

It's not from her that he first hears about it. Gibbs is the one who tells them – him and McGee – about Ray, about how the CIA bastard had been working with her father for months, behind her back. When he hears the news, his blood boils. He wants to hurt Ray so badly that the urge to hunt down the man just about sends him grabbing his Sig.

And then he looks across the bullpen and realizes, with sudden fear in his heart, that he has not seen her since that morning. He casts an alarmed look at his boss, and a nod from Gibbs gives him leave to whip out his phone and dial her number in a hurry.

To his surprise, she actually answers on the fourth ring. "Tony," she says, and he hates that her voice sounds so broken. The urge to kill Ray intensifies. "Do we have a case?"

"No." He wants so much, so much in that moment to be already by her side. "Ziva, where are you?"

There is a pause before she answers. "I'm outside the Navy Yard." Another long pause. "I take it you have heard. About Ray."

"Yeah." It's his turn to pause, and he licks his lips. "Where outside the Navy Yard?"

"You don't have to look for me," she tells him quietly. "I am not hurt and I won't do anything stupid."

"I gotta see for myself, though," he admits even more quietly, and regrets the confession the moment it exits his mouth.

It turns out to be the right words after all, because she sighs and tells him she's hiding out in a café just outside the gates. He promises to be there within ten minutes.

xoxo

It takes him just seven minutes, and the sight that greets him when he approaches makes his heart clench painfully. She is sitting with her back to him, but he can tell that she's utterly dejected; she's slump down in her chair with her head bent over something she holds in her hands. An untouched milkshake, of all things, sits on the table before her.

He walks over and resists the urge to just pull her into a hug. Drawing a chair up to her instead, he settles into it and gazes at her. She doesn't look up. She simply takes a deep breath and reaches over to press into his hands whatever she was holding.

He stares at the little velvet box. Simple, unmarked. Completely nondescript, and yet is meant to hold the one thing that is of the utmost importance in the world. "Engagement ring," he whispers, and he doesn't know why he is suddenly feeling so heartbroken when she's the one who looks it.

"Box." She takes it back. "Engagement ring box. No ring."

"Oh my god," he says hoarsely, and wonders if Ray could be so callous as to play with her heart like that.

She shudders against her will and nods bravely. "He never planned to marry me, did he?"

He can't help it just then. Disregarding the aluminium armrest that presses into his stomach, he leans over and takes her into his arms. She shudders violently once more as she buries her face into his shoulder, and he strokes her back.

It is barely a few minutes before she leaves his embrace, straightening up and looking at him for the first time; and even though her eyes are completely dry, her cheeks are suspiciously pale and tear-stained. She gives him a joyless smile. "You should go back to the Navy Yard." He starts to shake his head, but she interrupts with, "I am fine."

"No, you're not," he tells her firmly, and a flash of annoyance crosses her eyes at his stubbornness.

"I am as fine as you can expect me to be, Tony. What do you want, for me to smile like today is the happiest day of my life?"

"I don't expect at all for you to be fine," he answers sharply, trying to ignore the way her words twist something in his gut. "That's kinda why I'm here."

Her face crumples a little, and she looks away. She swallows a few times. "I really am fine. After all … what else is new?"

"What do you mean?" He frowns.

"I have a track record." Her eyes meet his, and they are no longer quite as dry. "With men. I … they have a habit of being married to their jobs. And I have a habit of wanting what I can't have. Which is strange, because coming from Mossad, I know what it's like to be dedicated to nothing but your work. I understand all that. I just hoped Ray would be different."

He breaks eye contact, guilt swirling in him a little bit because yeah, he has never dated her, but all the same he has on occasion been one to put his job before her. His mind flashes back to a time months before, when she had compared him with Ray. He had resented it then – as if he needed any more reminding of the CIA agent than he was already getting – but with the sudden clarity of hindsight, he understands now that she had been right. Even if she doesn't know it, she is, to him, the single most important woman on Earth. And yet … he had not deemed fit to pick up the phone and call her even once, during his assignment.

"I know it's selfish," she continues when he doesn't say anything, and he forces his attention back to the present. "And … I know it's stupid. Ray's CIA; I knew what I was getting myself into. I guess I forgot … I don't even mind that much that he was working with my father. I just wish he had told me. But that's all part of my life. The lies and assignments and secrets. It's not something I can change, so I need to accept it."

He feels something a lot colder than guilt grip his heart. "You can't accept it, Ziva. That's not – you deserve something better."

"It doesn't matter what I deserve. Everyone deserves better. But right now all I have is an empty ring box." She places it on the table and shoves her empty hands into her coat pockets. "I broke up with Ray. So … I have nothing. Perhaps some dreams aren't meant to come true. I just need to accept that."

"You can't give up on your American Dream so fast … I mean, you just became one of us," he protests weakly, because he doesn't know what else to say.

She smiles sadly. "Yes. But I can't spend my life dating men and wondering if each one is the One, only to have them leave me for a work assignment or something else. I can't take it."

"Not all men are like that."

"The ones around me are." Her expression turns horrified and she shuts her eyes. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean-"

"No, you're right." Her eyes snap open in shock. He clears his throat. "I'm sorry. I should've called."

She furrows her brows in confusion. "Called?"

"Yeah. Back when … you know, during my assignment. And … you know, when I was an agent afloat. I should've called you, Ziva. You deserve better from me."

Her expression softens, and she offers him a small smile. "You never had the obligation to."

"Yeah, but it didn't have to be duty." He hesitates. "You matter more than that."

She shakes her head. "Look, I'm not your girlfriend or your wife or someone important, and … I understand if you have to put your job before me, Tony."

"NCIS doesn't come before you." He runs a hand through his hair in frustration. "You know, I don't know why I never called or replied to your emails. Maybe it's just bad habit. But I want to break it – that habit. 'Cause … you deserve more. And hey, you want a man who puts you before his job and tells you about it…" He tapers off and gives her a sombre nod. "I'm sorry, Ziva. I know it's not much. Just, if you ever want me around…"

A slight smile curls the corners of her lips, and she reaches over to give his hand a squeeze. "Thank you, Tony. It does mean a lot."

"Yeah?" He blinks down at her hand, covering his. Slowly flipping his hand over so that he can lace his fingers with hers, he gives her an answering squeeze. "'Cause I know I'm not Ray. But I'm good 'til you find that man who will … you know, worship the ground you walk on and put you on a pedestal and shower you with roses every day, or whatever you want. And I'll be there to cheer you on when you find that guy 'cause let's face it, Ziva, the only point to being an American is to live out your American Dream."

She chuckles softly at that. "Will you be good after that?"

"I'm good whenever and for whatever you want. Just say the word."

"I will." He glances at her, startled by the shakiness in her voice. "I will hold you to that promise."

"I'll be expecting you to."

She looks away again. "You do know what you're promising, though? To be there … to put my needs before work."

"Yeah." And he falls silent, because he can hardly say that he would put her above all else if he could. In the end, he manages to add, "Always."

She stares at the ground for a few heartbeats. And then, she disentangles her fingers from his and slowly slips her arms around his body. "Thank you."

He hesitantly reciprocates. "Always," he repeats to the woman he loves more than life itself, and her grip around him tightens.

He strokes her hair and wonders how come his eyes are suddenly so wet.