Savor time
The smell of dust flew through her nostrils, making it hard for her to breathe. She tossed and shivered under the covers. It was cold, very cold. She was afraid to fall asleep because she would probably freeze to death while she was sleeping. The noises coming from the outside gave her a start. There were shooting, and yells, and clangs.
But this wasn't why she couldn't sleep.
She was tensed up. Her whole body was awake, ready to face a sudden danger.
They could come any time. And she could do nothing. All she could do was wait, and hope that she would be safe for the rest of the week, and then she could move. She moved every week. It wasn't safe for her to stay in the same place for more than a week. They were after her; they had been after her for weeks, and they wouldn't stop.
Suddenly she heard a clang coming from the kitchen. She got up at once and took the gun that was on the bedside table. She held the gun to the door and she started to move slowly. She walked out of her bedroom and went to the kitchen. There was a light coming from the chink under the door. She breathed in slowly and burst open the door.
"Tony!"
"Oh, I'm sorry, Ziva. I didn't want to wake you up. I just dropped the kettle."
They were sitting at the table, slowly drinking a cup of hot tea.
Tony casted glances at Ziva, who was obviously avoiding his stares.
What was wrong with her?
He couldn't stand her silence anymore, so he spoke.
"So… how is my tea?" He smiled widely.
Ziva put the cup down and finally looked at him. "Good," she whispered, looking right into his eyes.
Tony gazed back at her, putting his cup down as well.
After a few moments, Ziva started to feel uncomfortable with his stares.
"What?" she asked him, looking away.
"I was about to ask you the same thing," he said simply, with a small smile on his lips.
She didn't say anything for almost a minute. She kept looking at the fridge with a sad shadow in her eyes.
"I'm tired of running away." she murmured, more to herself than to Tony. "I'm tired of moving every week. I'm tired of living in warehouses. I'm tired of doing nothing all the day. I'm tired of being far from home."
Ziva turned to face him. "How long is this going to last?" she asked him, wearily.
Tony sighed and his fingers started to play with the cup on the table, nervously. He bit his lips, looking at the table. "I don't know, Ziva."
They gazed at each other for awhile, then Ziva suddenly got up.
"I'm going to bed. I'll try to sleep for a few hours."
"Okay" Tony said, looking at her, worried.
She smiled at him and she left the room.
The weeks went by in blur. Ziva could barely remember the warehouses she slept in because there were so many of them.
They had been hiding from the assassins for three months now.
Three months were spent far away from the NCIS headquarters, from their home.
Three months spent alone, the two of them, with no company but the other.
They had been three hard months. But when he thought about it, he couldn't help smiling. He had shared wonderful moments with her. There were nights when she was distant, quiet. Most of the time she was happy to laugh at his jokes and she would chat with him and have fun with him all day.
They had talked a lot in those months; they had talked about a lot of things. They had spent days on the dusty couch, talking about memories, and feelings, and anything that would cross their minds.
They had never been so close before. And he couldn't help smiling when he thought about that.
One day, they came.
They arrived with guns, and bullets, and clangs.
Tony and Ziva were watching a movie in her bedroom when they heard the first shot.
They shared a quick glance, then Tony said, "Go, go down the trapdoor. I'll reach you in a few moments."
"What are you going to do?" she asked, anxious.
"I'll call Gibbs. I'll tell him that they're here. But you go, go!"
She moved a square on the floor and she glanced at him one more time. Then she let herself down the trapdoor.
It was even colder downstairs and it was very dark. She moved close to the wall and she stopped as soon as she reached a wooden box at the back of the room. She hid behind the box while touching the gun that she held at her waist. Then, she started to wait.
He arrived less than a minute later. He sat next to her, panting.
"Where are they?" Ziva asked him.
"They must be entering right now," he said, breathing deeply.
The shots became got closer and closer. The assassins weren't afraid to waste bullets. Obviously they had plenty of them.
Tony and Ziva stayed there for a long time, listening to the noise of the shots without saying anything.
Then they heard a men shouting: "Hey! I just found a trapdoor here!"
They quickly looked at each other, but it was very dark and they didn't see the worry in each other's eyes.
The assassins were moving the square upstairs. Ziva started shivering.
"Do you remember the day when we got trapped in that container?" she asked, raising her head, staring at a ceiling that she couldn't see.
"Yes" he said, understanding what she meant.
"It will be just like that day… the box, the shots… and we're trapped. Just like that day."
"So we'll live."
She waited a second, and then she whispered: "Maybe"
Suddenly, she felt his lips on hers. She couldn't see him, but she could imagine his closed eyes in front of hers, and his wet mouth savoring each detail of her lips with love and fear.
Then their lips parted from each other and they started to fight for their lives.
He saved them.
He arrived with McGee just a few moments before their bullets ran out.
He shouted, "Federal Agents," right after entering the basement, right before shouting the men who were trying to kill them.
He shot the first assassin, and then he shot the second, and the third.
The assassins fell to the ground, dead.
Tony and Ziva looked at each other, finally able to see their faces. He smiled at her, and she smiled at him.
They lived.
