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Tony was not the only one who was a slow healer. Ziva knew that.
After all, she had only just begun to heal after that last undercover case, the one where she had acted too late, and... well. That was over now, baruch Hashem, and she need not think of it any longer.
Now she should think of Tony, who was not healing quickly at all.
The Director - no, Jenny - Jenny's death was as much Ziva's fault as Tony's. Assuming it was their fault at all. Ziva was an Israeli Jew, and she knew guilt; it was in her nature. But this... this was not their fault, not really. Jenny had been a headstrong woman, and she had been trying to protect them all, especially Gibbs.
Jenny had loved Gibbs. Even Tony saw it.
Given how thin Jenny had become lately, Ziva wondered if she was ill, and had preferred to risk death by assassination than a long illness in the hospital.
She rather thought so.
But Tony would not see it this way, and so Ziva accepted the drink, and stayed with him to see if she could help him.
If he would accept help.
They were partners, and friends of a sort, and while she was not sure he trusted her implicitly, perhaps he trusted her enough.
Enough to believe, perhaps, that it had not been his fault.
"Nothing is inevitable," Ziva said, but many things were likely. Breaking Rule 12 was very likely in any situation like Gibbs and Jenny had experienced; well... most probably Rule 12 had been made after Paris, after Gibbs had already broken it. With Jenny.
And so when Tony's eyes started to look wet, as though he was near tears, she moved to him and put her arms around his shoulders. "Not your fault, Tony. If it is yours, it is also mine. It was not our fault; Jenny chose to protect us, to protect G-" And Tony kissed her.
She was not surprised, nor was she offended. He needed human contact, much as she had in the aftermath of that last undercover assignment. She had chosen to take her comfort with a relative stranger, but she understood that for Tony, this was an indication of trust.
So she kissed him back.
He pulled away after a moment, eyes apologetic, breathing quickly. "Ziva, I..." But she put a hand to his mouth.
"It is all right; it is survivor guilt, yes? Need for feeling alive." She could hear her accent, stronger than it had been of late.
Tony nodded, and kissed her fingertips, and let her go. "I knew you would understand."
Ziva sighed. "We should go upstairs to Gibbs, to face the melody, yes?"
"Face the music. Yes."
Tony reached out and squeezed her hand.