This has been on my computer for ages. It happens far before the series, when Ziva is with Mossad and Jenny is still a field-agent (and alive). Oh, and for those who might be offended: this seems femmeslash for a few lines, but isn't. I do imply on Ziva seducing females, but that doesn't háve to mean she isn't straight. It's Ziva, you know. She does everything for the job.
So, I hope you enjoy this little addition of mine to the world of fantasy. And please, leave me a review! I always write something back :)
After more than 36 hours of driving without a break, Jenny and Ziva finally left their before-loved-now-despised vehicle. They had been on the run for a group of heavily armed militants from Serbia, and Ziva hadn't wanted to take any chances. Jenny had remembered from long past times what damage these people could do and had let her. But the car, a small one like the ones you don't find in the US, didn't have the space for them to stretch their legs or backs, and the springs… well, by the time the second night had fallen, they had both agreed that there probably were none.
They had parked at the side of the road where a sinister looking hotel was with a sign that Ziva said meant 'vacancy'. Jenny believed that instantly; who would want to stay here, if there was any choice at all? It looked more like a haunted house than anything else, and that was not a good thing for your sleeping behaviour when you were in the area where Dracula was said to have lived.
But it was a hotel, with beds, and as long as Jenny could stretch all her body parts, she was happy. Ziva didn't seem to be so bothered by the endless hours spent cramped in the car. However, this was Ziva they were talking about, and with her, seeming to be meant practically nothing. She was good company though, Jenny had discovered. Her stories lacked in specifics, probably Mossad second nature, but were so exiting and magnificent that Jenny sometimes wondered whether Ziva made them all up. Jenny had no regrets about deciding to run this op with Ziva instead of letting one of her own fly into the country. No one she knew could have gotten them alive out of the situation back in Serbia. Ziva's driving was terrifying and made for circumstances like this she probably encountered much more often than Jenny.
While Ziva spoke with the owner of the hotel – someone who could fit in a horror movie just as easy as the house – in a language Jenny was only slightly familiar with, Jenny stretched her cramped limbs. Rudimentary Russian had been part of her job-education in the time the threat of a third world war was still not yet believed to be fully over. But rudimentary didn't do it compared to Ziva's close-to-fluent Russian, especially after not practicing for a long, long time.
'He lets us in.' Ziva said and paused.
'What?' Jenny asked, sensing that there was more.
'We have to be – how do you say that? That nobody notices that we are different.'
'Low-profile.' Jenny suggested.
'Yes. He suspects that we bring something bad with us.' Ziva said while lifting her bag from the trunk.
'Why else would we stay here?' Jenny grinned.
'True.' Ziva smiled back, and walked towards the hotel, her bag swung nonchalantly over her shoulder.
They entered the bedroom not long after that. Jenny threw the thick, dark curtains wide open so the evening sun could reach the room and both their faces. The orange sunlight fell on the bright-white sheets of the two narrow and no doubt hard beds. Jenny stretched again. 'I think these knots in my neck won't ever go away!' she complained while moulding her neck with her own hands.
'They will.' Ziva said matter-of-factly, when she routiniously unpacked her bag. God knew how many times she had done that very same thing in her twenty-one years.
'How do you know?' Jenny said, still in a childish nagging tone. She felt silly for behaving like this but man, that car had almost broken her into tiny pieces.
'Lie down.' Ziva said and waved towards the bed. Jenny frowned.
'I know how to untie knots.' Ziva said before Jenny had the chance to ask.
Jenny's dignity told her not to give in to this appealing offer of the fifteen-year younger woman, but she did, after trying to move her head from side to side and failing miserably.
The beds were as hard as they had appeared before when Jenny lied down on one of them. Ziva walked over to her and in one fluent motion, sat down astride Jenny's back. Something cracked and it could be the antique bed or Jenny's mangled spine.
'Some people would consider this as a very wrong position for two women to be in.' Jenny chuckled.
Ziva grinned widely, though Jenny couldn't see that. 'Then some people would be wrong.' she answered and pushed the wide neck of Jenny's shirt down her shoulders. She dug her thumbs into the skin of Jenny's neck, and Jenny winced. Ziva was not held back by that sound; she knew that some things ought to hurt. She continued from the centre out, untying every knot, straightening every cramped muscle. Sometimes Jenny winced when Ziva untangled a very tight knot, and sometimes she moaned in relief when Ziva put a muscle into its right place.
'Gosh, Ziva, where did you learn this?' Jenny asked when she finally started to feel human again.
'Well..' Ziva began, tracing the line of Jenny's vertebras along her neck. 'If you know that pushing your thumb right here…' she very gingerly touched a spot at the base of Jenny's skull 'would make you writhe in agony, you know it is very sensitive. Just like this.' she pulled Jenny's hand from under her chin and stroked the soft spot where wrist and hand met. Jenny shivered involuntarily, and Ziva smiled. There were so many buttons yet to be pushed. She placed a soft, teasing kiss on the skin she had exposed by pushing the neck of the dark blue t-shirt down, and made a trail between Jenny's shoulder blades and up to her neck and jaw. Under her, she felt Jenny's soft muscles stiffen slightly and smiled again.
When Jenny turned around to face Ziva, it wasn't unexpected, but the serious, almost concerned look in her eyes was.
'Did I go too far?' Ziva asked, her voice small and her eyes down. Jenny's response made her unsure. She'd read the signs, and they all said the same except for this one. Though she tried to deny it to herself, Jenny's response bugged her more than just professionally. Not being able to seduce the pretty woman she had grown to respect and even love in some form felt like failing at her second best game – her first being to terrify, something that she didn't want to try on Jenny.
'Ziva.' Jenny said while gently shoving Ziva off her stomach. 'Don't do this just because you think it would help the op, as in me being attached to you. It won't, and these are things you should save for someone you truly care about. You are more than just a good soldier Ziva, you're a very special person beneath all that.'
In every other situation, Ziva would have made some cheeky remark or would have murdered the person in front of her, or… well, she would have done something. She wouldn't sit silently, helplessly next to the person who said all this, pushing back long-lost tears. Sincerity was written on Jenny's face so clearly that it stunned Ziva into silence. She took a deep breath to steady herself, and another one, and another one. And before she knew, she was sobbing loudly. Jenny wrapped her arms around the strong, infallible woman who had just been reduced – or grown, depending on the view – to the little girl she once was.
They sat like that for several minutes, until Ziva's sobs slowed and her breathing relaxed.
'Shh…' Jenny murmured and stroked Ziva's thick hair. 'It'll be alright.'
She felt Ziva's muscles clench under her arms, and heard her breath quicken again.
'Don't worry honey.' she said, trying to prevent the outburst that would no doubt follow. It was not enough. Ziva stood with a start and walked, almost ran, to the other side of the room. She halted when she almost hit the wall face-first and turned on her heels, her eyes wide with fear, fear of the unknown. She stared Jenny down for a minute, who didn't turn her gaze away. This girl, Jenny realised, was so much more damaged than she appeared, even if you considered she could be a cold-blooded killer on cue.
'What's wrong?' Jenny asked, though she knew that fairly well.
'I…' Ziva started, and trailed off. 'I cried.' she finished, looking disgusted.
Jenny cocked her head. 'And?' she asked.
'I do not cry.' Ziva answered as if that was a perfectly logical statement.
'Everybody cries.' Jenny replied.
'I do not.'
This time, a look was enough to contradict.
The mission had come to an end. Jenny had grown fond of the woman who was now waving her goodbye. Ziva had never really opened up to her, Jenny doubted that she ever would, but the wall of pretending was now down. They had talked, laughed and been afraid together. Something beautiful had been built, something that neither of them would ever forget. Jenny saw how Ziva looked just that little bit brighter when she was standing there. There were no tears in her eyes; Ziva would never be one to cry in public, if at all.
The lady behind the desk asked for Jenny's luggage and absent minded, Jenny handed it over. Her eyes were searching for Ziva, because she had disappeared in the short moment Jenny put her suitcase on the band conveyor. She was gazing in the distance when Ziva suddenly appeared in front of her, seemingly having crept through the entire queue.
'Ziva!' Jenny said warmly. Ziva didn't respond. She just stood for a moment, and then wrapped both her arms tightly around the shorter woman. Jenny was startled by this move, that was very non-Zivaish. She felt Ziva's breath in her ear, and did she feel a tear there after all? No, probably not. Imagination.
'Jenny?' Ziva whispered, her voice thick.
'Yes?' Jenny whispered back.
'Will you, if you ever, ever have the chance, get me out of here?' Ziva asked, not only her voice but also her frame shaking.
'I will.' Jenny promised, moved. 'I will.'
And she would.