Disclaimer. First off sad but true I don't own these characters. DPB does. Shocking, isn't it?
A/N Many thanks to Jacey05, TonyZivaFan and
ZivaFan for their advice and willingness to go through the amount of drafts that I generate. This is a one shot based on a little conversation I had with my partners in crime. It looked as though Tony and Ziva have had some sort of fight in Singled Out. And, we know that Tony and Jen have a secret mission. And well, that's in part what the fic's about so you'll have to read it.
Also. I'm not sure exactly what Tony's calling the undercover operation. It could be a proper noun, but to me it sounds like 'le gran oui' or "Le grenouille.' I picked the later, mostly because I like the idea of his secret mission being called, "The Frog."
One last note. I promise. I gave myself a tiny cameo. See if you can spot me.
Demons
I never thought I'd have to break into my own apartment. Ziva muses as she pockets her lock picking tools. Her house keys, along with her car keys and car, are still at the FBI impound.
"Nice work Ms. Peel." Tony says from behind her.
"What?"
"Ms. Peel. You know, the Avengers?"
"No." She says too tired to zing him with a decent come back. She steps into the short hall, Tony just inches behind her. She's grateful for his presence, and yet her stomach churns with acidic emotion. This is wrong. You shouldn't be here with him. His mystery girlfriend has no idea he's with you. But I don't want to be alone tonight.
She removes her shoes and tosses them into the closet. Tony braces himself with one hand on her shoulder as he follows suit. She flinches and forces herself to relax. He doesn't mean anything by it and simple touch isn't cheating.
She has never been able to figure out what they are together. Some days she wants to smack him for that. Some days wants to tackle him to the ground, to make love until neither one of them can stand.
After Gibbs' abrupt departure they'd both stumbled out of the building together and found themselves at her home. She really had intended to cook dinner for him. Not seduce him on the kitchen floor. Not that he'd needed convincing.
Suddenly she'd found herself in a situation she'd not quite encountered: half way between a girlfriend and just a good time.
She'd anticipated their nights together with every fiber of her being until….Until he found himself a girlfriend. She thinks, surprised at how angry she still feels with him.
One beautiful summer night he'd arrived late, again. They ate dinner in a pained silence: the summer breeze blowing sweet and soft through the curtains.
"What is it?" Ziva asked. "What are you up to that makes you so secretive lately? You're always late. Are you up to some big mission I don't know about?"
Tony looked startled for a split second. He said in a low voice. "Not quite. I don't know how to tell you this other than to say it. I have a girlfriend."
For a second the both worried that she might throw her steak knife at him. She opted for a right hook instead. Tony covered his bruised eye protectively. "You can't choose who you fall for." He said. He left her standing without a backwards glance.
Tony grabs her from behind and pulls her to him. "You cold?"
She breaks free of his grasps and rubs her arms briskly. Now that the crisis is over, the chill of deep fear courses through her body. "Just a bit." She says.
She looks at the little blinking light on her answering machine. Ten messages. She fast forwards through several from McGee and until she hits on one from her father. His sonorous voice fills the small hall. Without waiting to hear what he had to say, she deletes it.
Tony brushes past her and disappears into the bathroom. She hears water running in the tub before he emerges. "Why don't you take a bath and warm up? I'll order us a pizza."
"Okay." She says, careful not to touch him as she slips past him in the doorway.
She gives a small sigh of contentment, happy to be home. Her bathroom is spacious and surgically clean. Cream colored bath sheets hang against bare beige colored walls. A mirror flush with the wall and framed in white hangs over a pedestal sink. A decidedly modern lamp hangs over the sink and lends a soft glow to the room.
She strips and stands nude in front of the mirror and groans inwardly. Her side shows the rough imprint of a boot. Her ribs are tender to the touch, bruised but unbroken. Her face isn't bad she thinks. The black eye will soon turn green. It's easily covered with makeup. She's definitely had worse. But it is her eyes she thinks, that show her pain. Face it Ziva. You're lucky to be here. She blinks but the expression in her eyes doesn't change.
She walks across the soapstone floor, the chill of the tiles beneath her feet pulling her back into reality. She bends over the tub and adds a few drops of lavender oil to the running water before she slips in. The heat does little to dull the growl of fear still low in her stomach.
The bathroom door opens and Tony steps in. She makes no attempt to hide herself. He already knows what she looks like. And he is always appreciative. She muses.
He stops in his tracks for a moment and looks her over. Look but don't touch DiNozzo. She's off limits. Forbidden fruit. Good God, what's it been? A month? More? I miss her.
The realization stops him cold in his tracks for a second. I miss her. He feels awkward and scummy for lying to her. Several weeks ago Jenny had approached him, asking his help in carrying out an undercover operation. Top Secret. Suddenly he'd had to devote all of his spare time to Jenny and the operation " Le Grenouille." As well as to a certain young woman of Basque heritage. Jeanne. She believes the deception as well. Hell, some days I do too. This is not going to be pretty when it's over.
He smiles at her. "I ordered pizza. Should be here in half and hour or so."
She nods. Tony sits on the edge of the tub. He is surprised that Ziva of all women is unable to see through his deception. "You're one tough chick." He says.
Ziva notices that the smile that doesn't reach his eyes. "Comes with the territory." She closes her eyes and leans back, a folded towel between her head and the ceramic rim of the tub. Her skin has turned lobster red but she still feels cold at the core. On the outside she is perfectly still. On the inside her mind tumbles. Tell him to leave Ziva. Do the right thing. Any other night, definitely. Face it. Tonight, you need him. Gibbs is gone. McGee? Abby? They don't know you like he does. No one really does, now do they?
Tony stares at her slender body. Her naked form still has its usual effect on him. To distract himself he looks around her bathroom. It's been a month since he was last with her. Somehow he expects it to look different. It feels as though years have passed.
He smiles to himself as their first night together replays through his mind. After dinner he'd started an investigation of her bathroom. He'd discovered that almost every product in her bathroom was unscented and that she kept a small zippered bag of makeup in her medicine chest.
He was examining her tube of lip gloss when he felt her arms go around his waist. "Now that you know what I have in my cabinets. Perhaps you'd like to take a look at my nightstand? I have some interesting items you might enjoy."
He grinned at her and strode confidently into her bedroom. The heavily weighted drawer of her nightstand slid open slowly. He stuck his hand in, it moved past various bottles of oils and Holy! A vibrator collection? He searched with his fingers until he came in contact with something soft. He extracted a large white feather and held it aloft.
Ziva was just millimeters behind him when she spoke, her voice warm on his neck. "If you're a good boy I might let you use that later."
"How about now?" He said, spinning to meet her delighted smile.
"I like the top," She said, her breath sweet on his lips.
"It's all yours sweet cheeks."
She smiled wickedly. Her lips brushed his and he parted them to her. She kissed him fueled by lust and adrenaline.
Ziva leans forward and adds more hot water to the tub.
Never has he known a woman who can keep quiet as long as she. "So." He says, breaking the silence. "How does it feel to be framed?"
"Do I really have to explain it to you?" She twists in the tub, her breasts pushed against the side. She notices that his eyes stray south. For a split second she wants to pull him in with her. But she doesn't. "That's not the question you really want to ask now is it?" She says.
"Eschel."
"Was my partner."
His eyes meet hers and for a moment she thinks he can see her soul. "In the biblical sense?"
Her eyes grow wide and she feels the sting of tears. She turns and slips under the water.
Tony watches her. Tiny bubbles leak from the corners of her mouth and break at the surface. Her eyes open she stares up at him. The effect is eerie. He knows she is trying not to cry. That is an act he has never witnessed and hopes never to see.
When at last she breaks the surface she speaks in slow measured words. "I might have been an assassin, but I never took pleasure in it. When we were in Paris he…" She trails off. She says in a voice just above a whisper; "They were civilians who didn't deserve to die."
"So you left him."
She nods. The corners of her lips turn up with another memory. "The fight was worthy of one of your movies. He couldn't walk straight for a month."
I got off easy with a punch. He thinks."What about you?" The smile has reached his eyes now.
Playfully Ziva splashes him, lightly flicking water out of the tub. She's done talking. Time to change the subject.
He splashes her back. "You look like hell."
"Geez. Just what every woman wants to here. Better watch what you're saying. You're turning into an old man."
"Old man?"
"Ever since Gibbs left. You've aged. A couple more years and you'll be all grey by forty. You'll have to start dating women in their thirties. Maybe you should tell the new girlfriend to give you a break?"
Their eyes meet for a handful of heartbeats as they register what she's said: New Girlfriend.
The kiss is awkward. Ziva leans over the side of the tub as he leans in. His hand grasps the back of her head as he pulls her in to taste her once more.
No. She thinks. But she can't get the word out. She moans into his mouth as his tongue battles hers.
In the distance the incessant ringing of the doorbell sounds.
"Dinner's here." Tony says, breaking off contact with her mouth. "I'll wait for you in the living room."
X
He stretches his feet out over her coffee table. He selects another slice of pizza from the box and bites into. He likes the feel of her apartment. It's uncluttered and well thought out. Wool Persian carpets cover the floors. Dark red roman blinds hang in every window. Her furniture is unfussy and comfortable. Some pieces look to be antiques, other new. Between the living room windows stands a dark well-loved piano, completely free of dust and ornamentation. Framed photographs of landscapes from all corners of the world hang on her walls. She has only one of a person: Tali.
He hears her bedroom door slide open with a soft whoosh. Ziva appears clad in her pajamas; a red flannel top with black cats on it and black silky pants with "Meow" written in glitter across her backside.
He laughs. "Is it laundry day or something?"
"I can go walk around in that red number you like." She smirks.
"No thanks." His hand slides a pillow into his lap. The memory alone is enough to inspire him. She knows this and thankfully ignores it.
Ziva goes to her living room cabinet and turns on a small television. She has one specifically to play movies. She selects Steve McQueen, The Get Away. Like it or not Tony has rubbed off on her.
She returns to the sofa and sits, careful not to touch him. She grabs a slice pizza and concentrates on the business of eating. She can feel him thinking beside her. She's not sure what thought plagues him.
Tony watches the screen with out registering anything. He feels guilt lodged in his stomach like a living thing. I should have been there with you when the house blew. You should have been able to come to me. I wish I could tell you the truth. But I'm not even sure what that is anymore.
"I'm sorry." He says.
"For what?"
"The whole wanted by the FBI thing."
"Nothing you could have done." She says. And she means it.
X
The credits are rolling. They've spent the evening in silence, painfully aware that neither one of them is able to escape the pull of the other.
He stands up. "I guess this is goodnight. I can let myself out."
Ziva grabs his hand and surprises them both. "Stay?"
He blinks.
"On the sofa." She states.
"I know."
She smiles at him and walks off to bed.
X
He can't say what woke him. He checks his watch. It's only just midnight. He steels softly across the floor in the pitch dark to check on Ziva. He moves to crack open her bedroom door and collides with her.
He can't see her face but her voice is dry. "Do me a favor?" she asks.
"Hold you?"
"And then forget about it in the morning."
"I can do that." He replies.
She leads him by the hand to her bed. She pulls the thin coverlet over top of them. He holds her frigid body until she starts to snore.
She can see the Iranian woman in her dreams. Her knife plunges deep into Ziva's belly and twists. The pain takes her breath away. The blood is deep red in color. Her liver has been pierced. She has minutes, maybe. She tells herself to hang on. Hang on until you can say good bye. She pushes her hand to the wound to slow the life draining from her body. Her fingers sink deep into her insides. Her eyes blur just as Tony's face swims into view.
"Ziva! It's okay." He shakes her gently. She wakes, freezing cold yet soaked in sweat. It's not real. Instinctively she touches her stomach. Bruised as it is the skin is intact.
"It was a dream." He says. "Just a dream." He tells them both. He too has been dreaming, of finding her in the wreckage of the bombed out house; of having her die believing his lie.
They lay down, their bodies pressed tightly together facing each other. Tony caresses her face and knows that she's crying, silently in the dark. "Shhh." He whispers
"Shut up." She says.
In the absolute darkness they find each other's lips.
She needs him. She needs him to chase away her demons. She needs him, she admits, to make her forget the fear, the anger and the pain.
He needs her. He needs her because it's been too damn long since he's made love to her. He needs her, because for a moment he feared her dead. He needs her to make it better.
His hand works its way up the outside of her thigh to cup her backside.
"No." She says. At least she thinks she says it. Because he hasn't stopped and she isn't stopping him.
He deepens the kiss. Thought fades from her mind and she feels alive. She kisses him back as if her life depends on it. His hands sweep the contours of her body. His touch is heavy. She holds onto him, more a recipient than giver. His right hand goes down between her thighs to stroke her, to love her. Her mind is gloriously blank.
"You want the top?" He pants.
"No." she says. Her hand runs the length of his back and then down to torment them both. She uses the tip of him to caress her folds.
He kisses her broken earlobe. She moans and gently takes him in. They move almost without their usual frenzy, needing to prolong the emptiness of thought and the overriding sense of pleasure.
She pants, her thoughts drawn to their breathing, the smell of their sweat, their sex. Her arms stop roaming and she clutches him to her. Her body tenses and her internal muscles grab him. She screams until her throat feels raw.
It's some time after her scream that he groans with his own release. White hot nothingness fills his mind, his body hums with pleasure. He crushes the corner of her mouth with a kiss before his head hits the pillow.
She sighs when he slips from her recess, contented. She feels rescued, saved, and she doesn't want to admit it.
X
Ziva struggles up from sound sleep feeling the heavy weight of a male across her body. Tony. She'd know his scent anywhere. She smiles. Making love to him has always made her happy.
Making love to him.
Damn.
"Hey sweet cheeks." Tony mumbles into her chest. He sits up and looks at her. "What's wrong?"
She wiggles out from under him and sits up, hugging her knees to her chest. "Did we just…? Did you just… because of me?"
"We did." He says blinking and looking around the room. Broad daylight has pierced the gap between her curtains.
"What are you going to tell her?" She says.
"The truth." He lies. The truth is what I wish I could tell you. "Ziva. What happened…" His hand skims the surface of the blanket to rest on her knees.
She looks up at him. "Don't." She says.
"Do you still want me to forget about this?" His expression is neutral, unreadable even for her.
"I already have." She lies.
He rises slowly from the bed and searches for his clothes. He dresses. She doesn't move. He kisses the top of her head. "It's forgotten." He turns to leave and doesn't look back.
X
Okay. So let me know what you think. Seriously. I always appreciate it. You don't have to be a wordsmith, just let me know what you think. Thanks, Jeanne.