A/N: A Post-Dammed If You Do piece, focusing on the effects of Ziva's last spoken line in the episode when she says she's "Never depended on happy endings." A small multi-chapter fic.
Part I
He's genuinely surprised when she opens her door. It's two days after they all resigned and as much as he'd tried not to think about her and what she said, it had all but consumed him in those forty-eight hours. He doesn't know why he's so surprised but he is.
"Ziva," he startles.
"Tony," she counters and she turns her head to the side, surveys him and determining that he seems relatively fine, she leans her head against the side of the door and regards him with a careful smile.
"I wasn't expecting you."
"I live here."
"I know that," he smiles. "I just thought you'd be out…enjoying our…free time."
She sighs and shrugs. "It doesn't feel … free …or…" She stops mid sentence and comes to a quick realization before stepping back and waving him in. "I don't know why I let us just stand in the hall."
Tony digs his hands into his pockets and looks around her apartment. It's rather disorganized for a place that Ziva David inhabits. The box filled with her desk effects sits haphazardly emptied on the floor and he notices her spare gym clothes from the locker room strewn over the back of the couch.
She disappears into the kitchen and he follows, taking a seat in a chair as she pops herself onto the counter.
They stare at each other for a moment and it's not lost on either of them how sad and all together lost the other looks.
And then he remembers why he came in the first place.
"Can I ask you a question?" he says.
Her eyes perk up a little because he seems so earnest in his request. "Of course."
"What you said the other night…I've been thinking about it."
"That is a statement," she observes.
"Did you mean it?"
"Mean…what?"
"That you've 'never depended on happy endings.'"
"Oh." She says. And the seriousness of the conversation he is looking to have has just fully dawned on her. She knows, though, that she must be honest with him because she feels they've only just barely regained their footing and it's not something she can afford to loose. "Yes, I meant it."
He nods and purses his lips, because, he'd figured she'd meant it. Ziva meant most things that came out of that mouth of hers. But…he'd kind of hoped she hadn't because…for some reason…it made him quite sad.
"Why do you ask?"
He doesn't realize that he's been studying her tiled floor until her question snaps his head upward. And then his eyes widen because she looks so open and raw before him. He ponders his reply carefully.
"That's just a … substantial thing to say."
"It is the truth," she shrugs.
And her eyes, though he didn't think it was possible, have grown sadder.
"You want the truth, right?"
"Always."
They lapse into silence for a moment and he wonders why his answer sounded more like a promise than a response. He's been in deep for too long now, he supposes.
"Last fall," she begins, "After we caught Dearing and…before my father showed up…that felt like a movement towards a happy ending I did not deserve, anyway."
"Don't say things like that." He cuts in with conviction. "You deserve a happy ending. You know that."
She laughs then and it's sad and sarcastic.
"I don't know how you can say that after recent events."
"You're my…my best friend," he shrugs, "I'm always going to think you deserve the best."
Following her now ex-partner's pattern, Ziva spends forty-eight hours mulling over her conversation with Tony. Namely, she can't seem to get the conviction behind his words out of her head. She tries – hard, but she can't.
And like her now ex-partner – she absolutely despises the recently added on prefix because he is her partner and always should be – she is genuinely taken a back when he opens his door in response to her triple knock.
"Not expecting me to be here?" he asks.
"No," she shakes her head, "Shouldn't you be off rooting for the Rangers now that the Capitals are out of the playoffs."
Ziva smiles a little as he bubbles just a bit with affection that she knows when his adoptive home town falls in sports, he will, albeit, slightly reluctantly turn back to his New York teams.
"They're not playing tonight," he says and she knows he's playing along, "Chicago and Detroit are."
"And who would you like to win that game?"
"I think Chicago's a nice town, but the Rangers," he pauses and raises a brow at her, "when they beat Boston could trample Detroit."
"I see," she nods and then shakes her head in confusion, "But I still don't understand why you are not…with your … buddies."
He shrugs and then offers, "The same reason you were home the other night, I guess."
Both of their eyes drift to the floor and she wonders just what she's got planned to say next.
"Would you –"
"May I –"
At their mutual interruption, Tony smiles and takes a step back, opening the door for her. She follows him in and after slipping off her shoes, sinks back into the corner of his couch.
Two hours later, Detroit has lost and Tony is grumbling because even if the New York Rangers manage to beat the Bruins, which, if he's being honest with her, he doesn't think they'll be able to, they definitely will not be able to make it past Chicago. He resigns himself to rooting for Boston because that city has been through a lot the past month or so and maybe it would be nice for them to win the Stanley Cup.
"That's quite…generous of you, Tony." She's half poking fun at his rational and half looking to give him a genuine compliment.
His face lights up. "What can I say, Miss David, I'm a generous guy."
"Yes, you are," She agrees and then her face darkens and she knows he's noticed so she speaks her question. "Were you just being generous when you said that the other night?"
"Said what?" he asks.
She shakes her head. After testing the water, it seems a bit cold. She thinks she'll go back to the shore. "Never mind."
"That you deserve a happy ending?" he asks, "No. No, I wasn't being generous. You do, Ziva."
There's that conviction again. "You feel…strongly about this," she says.
He sighs and turns to face her. "I told you. You're my best friend . . . someone I . . . care about . . . a lot. I will always want you to be the happiest possible."
Her eyes are damp and misty now and she thinks that if she ignores that, then maybe he will too. "I think," she says, "I think you are the…best, best friend that I have ever had."
"I doubt that."
"Don't."
She's not home when he shows up the next night. And neither is he when she shows up on his doorstep. They've broken their forty-eight hour pattern and their turn taking pattern.
Because what Ziva doesn't realize is that she should have waited for Tony to knock on her door rather than heading to knock on his. And what Tony has yet to find out is that Ziva was going to show up at his house two nights in a row rather than hope he'd come to her.
They are at coffee with McGee when the dots are connected.
It has been just shy of a week since they all placed their badges on Vance's desk. Gibbs is nowhere to be found and Abby has been calling on the hour, demanding their return. It's been almost a week too long, she says. But they all, including Abby, know that's not an option.
"Do you think Justice will pick us up?" McGee asks. He only means it as a form of conversation. He assumes it's something they've all considered.
"Not us," Ziva says, "Me."
"Don't say that."
And McGee's slightly taken a back by the way Tony nearly jumps down her throat. "Easy, there," he says.
"It's fine, McGee," she shakes her head, "He's just…it's fine."
McGee nods and he's not quite sure what just when on before him – an occurrence he has actually missed since being out of the office – so he changes the subject. "So what have you guys been up to?"
"Ziva went out last night."
"Tony went out last night," she counters.
And the statements cause them to stare at each other, some sort of realization taking over. He's missed them, yeah, but he hasn't missed being completely confused by their interactions.
"I'm coming over," he says when they reach her car.
"Now?" she asks.
"Yes, now." He snaps, but her shock makes him soften. "Is that okay?"
"Yes, sure."
They make small talk when he arrives. They discuss McGee and how he's probably starting a book. They talk about the weather. And then he stands because he's about to boil over and, hell, he might as well go for it, so he begins to pace her kitchen.
"I hate being the 'best best friend' you've ever had." He panics when he sees the look of fear that that statement paints on her features so he stops pacing.
He comes to be beside her and squats down before her. "I don't want to be your best friend," he says and he swears there are tears in her eyes. "No, I'm sorry," he says. "I take that back. I love being your best friend but –"
She swallows.
"Ziva, this is most definitely the wrong time for this, but I want to be the guy who ensures you get the happy ending you don't think you deserve. I want to be more than your best friend."
"You…what?"
"Just let me try."
"It is not that simple."
"I said try."
Her eyes widen and she stands, pushing past him. "Stay here," she says. "I need a walk."
A/N: Let me know what you thought.
