Ziva- I'm not alright 10

Gibbs got in even early than usual – 0600- and sat down at his computer, immediately reviewing the evidence log and background of Ratib. Abby arrived about an hour later and he came down to her lab with her, smiling as she greeted all her machines and then listening as she briefed him on the physical evidence from the crime scene. He fetched her a caf-pow as a thank you, gave her a kiss on the cheek and then headed back up. Something she'd said had awakened a suspicion within him, and he could feel a theory building. But, that theory was definitely going to need some caffeine, so he left to grab coffee. When the elevator doors opened on the squad room for him again, McGee was just booting up his computers.
“McGee.”
“Morning boss.” McGee hid a yawn, and Gibbs pointedly dumped the second coffee he'd brought up on the junior agent's desk.
“I need you to check something for me.”
“Sure, boss, what exactly is it?”
Gibbs leaned in and explained, McGee nodding in understanding.
“But I thought we were checking out Mossad?” He asked when Gibbs was done.
“For this morning, Mossad had nothing to do with Ratib.”
“O-kay.” McGee replied in a tone that said 'I don't know why we're doing this but I also know better than to ask.'
Gibbs smirked slightly to himself as he detected this, and went to his own desk.
“Oh, and boss? Does that mean Ziva can work today?”
“If her and DiNozzo ever get here.”
McGee grinned. Having to work with an angry Ziva decapitating paperwork across the room from you was somewhat difficult, especially when you knew she knew you were keeping secrets from her. Then, noticing Gibbs' glare was on him, he hurriedly began typing.
About 15 minutes later the elevator doors slid open to reveal Tony and Ziva. Or more specifically the inside of Tony's mouth. He was yawning rather loudly. “Shut up, Tony!” Ziva elbowed him in the ribs.
“Sorry, I'm just a bit..” he yawned again “...tired.”
Ziva spoke softly as they walked out together, “I'm sorry, Tony. I shouldn't have kept you up, it was stupid. It wasn't important-” Tony interrupted her by placing a finger on her lips, the way she sometimes did to him. He didn't say anything but his eyes said everything he wanted her to hear.
After she'd been crying for a few minutes, held close to him, Ziva pulled away. Staring at the ground, she mumbled in a hoarse voice “I'm sorry.”
“What for?” He asked, still holding her, though now at arms distance.
“For...this.”
“Crying isn't weak., whatever...” Tony was going to add 'your father taught you' but doubted that would improve her mood.
“I do not deserve to cry. I am not the one who was tortured.”
“Have you never been tortured?” He couldn't help being curious; somehow he'd always assumed she had a pretty rough past.
“Once, but that is next to the point.”
Tony looked her up and down despite himself, wondering the evidence of her having been tortured was, as he absent-mindedly corrected the idiom. “It's 'beside the point', Ziva.”
“They mean the same thing!” she cried exasperatedly. “All I'm trying to say is you should not be pitying me. I was not looking for your pity.”
“I'm a generous man. I give it away for free. And you look like you need it right now.” He immediately regretted this last sentence as she turned herself away, pulling out of his grasp. However she made no move to wipe away the tears that were still trickling down her cheek. Tony cursed as he realised he was making a mess of this. “Ziva, although you didn't care then, and I'm not gonna deny it, the fact you did that stuff, the fact it was normal to you kinda freaks me out, you care now, and you didn't really have a choice. I know I struggle with them sometimes, but orders are orders. Particularly somewhere like Mossad.. I didn't know you back then, but I know you now, and the Ziva I know is caring and thoughtful, for all her threats and infliction of physical pain on her poor innocent partner and-”
“Enough Tony.” Ziva cut in, but he could see a slight smile breaking through her tears.
“Come sit down.”
He went and sat on her sofa, patting the space beside him. Slightly reluctantly she came and sank into the soft cushions, carefully keeping some distance between them. His hug earlier had taken her by surprise, and had released emotions she had tried to forget, as well as making her vulnerable enough to haltingly verbalise her feelings. Despite what Tony had said, Ziva still felt she was weak for crying, and she was slightly annoyed she had not got the rejection she felt she deserved.
Watching her, Tony could see this, and felt a sudden anger at those who drilled her to be like this, those who controlled her and used her, trained her to be a machine without emotions. She had more to deal with than most people he knew; her past was not exactly happy, and to top that she'd had the outlets for her emotions cut off. He knew it was stereotypical to think Mossad tried to 'ban' feelings, but from the way she acted he could tell that was true, at least to some extent. Tony was also fairly sure her father would see emotions as weak, useless things, not to be encourage in anyone, not even children. She'd said she had to grow up fast, and that just added to his suspicions about her father's attitude.
“Tony, do not worry about me. This is not a big deal, I shouldn't have made it seem like one.” Ziva noticed his troubled expression and reached out, touching his cheek as she said this and holding his gaze; clearly doing everything in her power to make it seem genuine.
“It wasn't nothing. And you shouldn't have to try and persuade me it was.” He sounded angry and Ziva's forehead creased slightly.
“Why are you mad?”
“I'm not mad... it's just...” he trailed off, but she wasn't going to let him get away with it.
“It is just what?”
“Sometimes, Mossad annoys me.” Tony muttered, realising exactly how strange that sounded, but Ziva seemed to get what he meant.
“You think they are cold, controlling. That they try to force everyone to be emotionless; cruel, even. You think they are too ruthless and that they do not encourage things that should be encouraged, like pity, mercy, happiness... all those values that are deemed so important.”
“Basically...” he winced, then tried to sound light-hearted, “Yup.”
“They may be... some of the things I have said,” she flashed back to her feelings of being trapped earlier that day “but Tony, Mossad's situation is so different. They do not train us to distance ourselves so that we can become killing machines; they are trying to prepare us for the fact that we will lose comrades, friends, family. They try to prepare us for the uncertainty, the risks and the worry that would otherwise consume us. Everyday, you walk in to work , and when your co-workers come in and you greet each other, you feel relief. Because they are still alive. But other days you come in and there are people missing; empty desks, and you fear the worst. And then you find out, they have been killed in another suicide bombing, a shooting spree, a rocket attack. That is what makes you desperate enough to kill or torture; the fear it could happen again.”
Gibbs' double head slap snapped both of them out of the reveries concerning the previous night. "Quit staring at each other and work. Now."