No ownership.
Also: a reaction to this season finale. Because all I can say is that the writers of NCIS have their conspiracy theorists in overdrive. I will wait to see how this pans out, but meanwhile I give you a Ziva and Gibbs moment which does not involve denials of trust. Set sometime post- Hiatus.
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"Because," Abby explained seriously, unpacking the evidence box deliberately, "justice delayed is-"
"-Justice denied," Ziva pulled another box towards her, and begun to sift through its contents, "Yes, this quote, I have heard before."
Ziva was not really paying attention to the conversation; her slackening grip on English grammar was proof enough of that.
"My point was that we prove that wrong, sort of." Abby gestured expansively at the lab, herself, and the yellowing case file, her ponytails bobbing. "Because these guys, they think they've got away with it, and then," her expression became slightly bloodthirsty, "we catch them!"
Ziva squinted at a sealed envelope, and absentmindedly brushed a lock of hair out of her eyes. "I do not think that was the meaning intended originally with that statement."
The conversation lapsed congenially into silence, and Ziva had taken the moment to reflect on Abby's… eclectic taste in music.
Ziva lay the envelope down, and made some notes. Without looking up, she said calmly. "I do care, you know."
Abby looked up, confused. "About what?"
"About people." Perhaps realizing that was absurdly vague, Ziva amended, without making eye contact, "About people I work and am close with." She paused, and glanced at Abby's blank expression.
Ziva rolled her eyes a bit impatiently. "About you all, Tony, and McGee, and Gibbs."
"I'm sorry about that. I mean, I told you-"
"Ducky thought so, too. " He had doubted for a moment. Or he would not have tried to backtrack. I'm not implying you don't care. Ziva snorted mentally at the memory. Of course you were, Ducky.
Abby tilted her head considering, "Ducky did? When?"
"After Gibbs was injured." Her face was carefully neutral, matching her language.
Springing up and coming around the table. Abby smiled, "But you do care about us and Gibbs." She hugged Ziva, who had had the foresight to brace herself. Abby sighed. "We should hug more often."
"I do not hug people often," pointed out Ziva, "I am not demonstrative that way."
Abby turned back to the box. "You should try it. I hug Gibbs all the time." She paused and raised her arms dramatically, "Love delayed is love denied!" She turned, "Stop being in denial, Ziva!"
Ziva raised an eyebrow. "It is more than a river in Egypt, yes?"
Abby stared.
"I know I got that one right. The Nile is in Egypt, and although it is not the most original pun, it seems to be used frequently."
Putting her hands on her hips, Abby gave Ziva her best Gibbs stare. "Don't go changing the subject, Officer David."
In retrospect, Ziva realized that her laughter at that moment had been a mistake. Abby had taken it as a challenge.
888888
The lights were dimmed, the desks empty. Mostly empty. He was still there, too. Probably because he had the same variety of obsessive tendencies mixed with personal tragedy to drive him as she did.
She looked up at him again, noting that her fingers rested normally on the keys while he hunted and pecked with his two pointer fingers. She smiled, as he stood to get a file. And made up her mind.
It was more of a reflex, she would rationalize later. She was relying on information she had collected and instincts honed by years and years of vigorous training lead her to act on said information. Also, it would get a certain persistent colleague to stop nagging her. All fine and excellent reasons.
On these instincts she rose, circled her desk, and silently approached him as he rifled through the files, making sure to leave enough room for him to turn around without hitting her.
He was unsurprised when he turned to see her. Part of working with a Mossad officer was learning to not be surprised when she turned up in surprising places. Including directly behind him.
"Can I help you, Officer David?" He asked with his normal level of exasperation.
She looked at him for a long moment. He found himself slightly uncomfortable; Ziva had never learned to look at someone without being predatory. Her head tilted to the side, and her eyes swept up and down him. He did not even bother to try and read her (frankly bizarre) body language, and settled back on his heels, slightly amused, to wait her out.
Her arms flew around his neck and he stiffened. Generally, when Officer David's arms flew anywhere near a person, it was cause for alarm. It did surprise him when after a moment he realized she was hugging him.
He reacted correctly then, and relaxed, a lopsided grin momentarily gracing his face. Though still confused, he dropped the file and wrapped both arms around her. He could count on one hand the number of times he had touched her this informally. Two of those times counted among the most painful memories of the past fifteen years.
Moments like this tended to occur in his basement, a place he considered sacrosanct, but also a world apart.
The grin was replaced with a gentle expression when he realized that despite the fact that she had initiated the embrace, she was far more uncomfortable than he was. Her body was rigid against him, and he could almost feel her struggling against years of muscle memory telling her to shift from this position to a chokehold. Mere moments later, she broke away, avoiding his questioning stare.
"Ziva, what the –" He asked not unkindly, though he could not keep the tone of shock from his voice.
Looking fixedly at a point somewhere behind him, she said haltingly. "I'm sor—That won't happen again, Gibbs. It was just something." She wriggled a bit, wishing she had not just done that. "It was a suggestion. Of Abby's. More of an order. It won't happen again." She reiterated.
When he did not respond, She turned away, bending briefly over her desk to pick up her backpack and switch off her desk lamp, and then headed briskly for the elevator, perhaps more briskly than usual.
As she pressed the down button, he called after her, barked after her. "Ziva!"
She turned slightly.
He crooked a finger. And though she hesitated, she returned to him, shamefaced, stopping just out of reach of a head smack.
He crooked the finger again. She studied his posture, but as usual he was unreadable to her, except that his body language did not seem to promise violence of any kind. She really did not want to have to hurt him.
"Come here, Officer David." Maybe, had he been Israeli, been speaking Hebrew, she would have been more certain of the meaning behind that command. English, she had always thought, was a remarkably unexpressive language.
She stepped closer to him, this time looking him in the eye. There were many things that Ziva was ashamed of, things that she had done in her lifetime, but hugging Gibbs ranked very low in that list. Given the time to think, albeit mere moments, this was not one of the things she would hang her head for.
Face still expressionless, he held open his arms to her.
When she hesitated, he smiled slightly. "Abby has good ideas sometimes." He nodded slightly, and smiled more broadly. "C'mere."
She stepped into his embrace, somewhat cringingly.
His arms went around her, careful not to startle her. One hand behind her head, bringing her face to his chest, a movement to which she gave no resistance. She moved her arms slowly to his back.
"You're not very good at this, are you, David." He murmured into her hair.
She shook her head slightly. "I am not really, no, perhaps I ought to have practiced first."
He chuckled slightly. Only Ziva would treat affection as a physical exercise to be perfected.
His other hand rubbed her back gently, and she allowed herself to relax a little into him, noticing with interest how she fit against the crook of his neck. Tentatively, she gave him a squeeze.
It was harder that she had intended, and he felt slightly like a recipient of the Heimlich maneuver, but he understood the intent, and he held her to him a moment longer before releasing her.
She stepped back, gave him a nod, and started again for the door.
"And Ziva?"
She stopped, and turned to him.
"Ziva. Don't think you have anything to prove."
She raised an eyebrow. But he did not clarify.
"Have a good weekend, David."
"You too, Gibbs."
This time she made it to the elevator. Smiling.