Title: Another Taste of Devouring Rush
Disclaimer: I do not own NCIS or its characters.
Author: me, Malin, pacificbluegirl
Rating: T
Summary: Ziva's sent out on a special assignment only to come back shaken up, battered and bruised. It will take the entire team, their entire family, to finish the job – together, but complications arise and nothing appears to be quite what it seems... Team fic with Tiva.
Authors note: After mainly writing band fic (McFly) and the past three years hardly even doing that due to other commitments (Law School), I have to admit that I feel slightly rusty returning to this world and the challenges within it, but I am excited and lately very inspired, and I'm hoping that a few of you will want to join me. Timingswise this is post Somalia and Mr and Mrs Cockblock (aka Ray and EJ... you can tell I'm a fan (of sarcasm)) but I suppose before the season finale.
I'm quite wordy. I don't really do short chapters. It's not my style. Coffee breaks mid chapter might be a good idea.
Enjoy – and if you do, I'll be happy, happy if you review.
Chapter one
A grey, dull band of light is moving slowly across the floor as the wet afternoon is dripping down outside, pooling and rushing in streams down the wet city pavements. It's late afternoon and as the weak light escaping in through the windows in Abby's lab pushes ahead slowly as if shoved across the city by the hands of time and when the shadows has chased it so far that it is just about to touch the toes of Ziva's shoes a steaming hot cup of tea appears in her line of vision. She nods in gratitude and acceptance to Ducky and carefully cradles the hot drink as he straightens back up, steps back and lets his gaze linger on her for a moment.
"I will get you some toast," he says softly and ignores the way she shakes her head, no, where she's sitting on the floor, knees pulled to her chest and back against one of Abby's walls.
"That is not necessary, Ducky, but thank you..." she trails off, her vision just slightly lifted off the floor. The old man just smiles sadly at her and turns around to fetch her some anyway, and she knows.
Tony is hovering in the doorway, in the dark shadow of the storm that is pulling and tearing at the world outside. He hasn't said anything, hasn't stepped out into the dusky light since she slid down the wall, her limbs too tired, her head filled with a white static noise she can't quite push away. She knows he's there all the same, lingering, worrying, pacing. She rests her chin on one of her knees and he glides to the side, slowly, slowly still not quite approaching her, but never leaving her side either. Heavy raindrops are sliding down the glass of the windows and the light from Abby's computer makes them cast dark shadow streaks down her cheeks and if he didn't know better he would think she was crying. He almost wishes she was, because then chances were he would know what to do. He would push through whatever it is that is stopping him now, he'd hold her until she pushed him away, or maybe until she gave in and didn't push him away at all, and either way he'd be able to just act, do something, anything. He could never hold back when she cried, could never let his fear of rejection stand in the way of offering her comfort.
Ducky reappears with a plate with a slice of toast. Ziva smiles tiredly at him and repeats again that there is no need – she is not hungry. Tony thinks that she hasn't even touched her tea and Ducky nods but says that she ought to eat something anyway. He pats her shoulder before he once again turns to leave, but not before shooting Tony a long look, his eyes saying something Tony can't quite read. He wants to ask. He wants to know what they all know that he doesn't! Something is crawling under his skin, the same sensation as when he realised they'd left Ziva behind in Israel, the same feeling of helplessness and panic that brushes against his consciousness, just flutters past in his chest, whenever they're on a pursuit or at a crime scene and things go wrong and she disappears around a corner or out of his field of vision, if even for only a split second because he doesn't ever let her go far, doesn't ever lose her if he can help it. That's the only reason he's not storming upstairs now, into the bullpen, in search of Gibbs, maybe McGee and definitely answers. He doesn't want to let her out of his sight.
Ziva pushes the bread around the plate absentmindedly, but jumps and almost loses her grip on the plate as a car screeches past outside, the noise having startled his ninja. She's looking tired and he instinctively takes a big step towards her before he has time to process what the noise is. He stops in his tracks, freezes momentarily, looking at her, his green eyes wide with concern and he longs for her, wants to reach out and touch, to reassure himself that she's there, and whole, not broken.
"Wh-what..." Tony chokes on his own words, almost scaring himself with the way his voice cracks, unfamiliar-sounding in the once silent room, and he clears his throat awkwardly before trying again. He licks his lips, swallows hard, fighting against the lump that's lodged itself in his throat. "What did he do to you?" He's angry, and in his head his voice is a lot more steady but by the time the sentence tumbles off his tongue he doesn't think it sounds at all like he's intended. He wants to crack some sort of joke, masterfully puzzle his words together, create wit out of tragedy but it doesn't feel right and the way he's overprotective of her, and feels like it is his job to be just that and today he has somehow failed, eats away at any attempt at humour today.
Ziva turns her gaze towards him slowly, and takes in the way his eyes are clouded with concern, his features soft with care and his forehead wrinkled with confusion. She attempts a small smile, but he doesn't smile back and she briefly lets her mind wander, just for a split second, to that day in Tel Aviv, to harsh words and distrust, and how she wasn't sure of him – of them.
She's not sure of many things in this very moment. She sighs and wants to disappear; feel less, forget what she's seen, forget what she's done. Just escape. Without letting her mind linger on it though she knows it's there, the idea that if she did escape she would want, maybe need, Tony to come with her and it scares her that she's reached such a point. She's attached to him in so many ways, and as he cocks his head slightly, waiting, begging with his eyes for an answer, she can hear an echo of his words from Somalia in her head and knows she could not live without him either.
"I am fine, Tony", she says finally, distracted by her own thoughts still, by her own inner confession.
"You're scared." It's a statement, not a question, and she frowns at him, and can see how he's thinking that he shouldn't have said anything, that she will lash out at him, maybe laugh even and tell him he is being ridiculous, but she knows he is simply observing her and it is all he has.
"Not of what you think. I am not scared of him."
Thunder breaks across the sky outside, he shuffles closer to her, a defiant look on his face, like he's set on shielding her from the storm that's raging just outside their world, and she reaches out for him. She stretches her hand out for him to come down to her before she can register what she is doing or why exactly, and most importantly before she can contemplate how it will make her look (weak, dependent on him) and what it will make him think (that she is lying, to him, to herself; that she is indeed scared).
He sinks down next to her, glances at her face quickly, relieved that she's letting him in and letting him close. He knows he doesn't always do much to come across as someone that would like to be her shelter in the storm, and more to come across as a constant obnoxious seven year old on speed, but the idea was never, still, to make her doubt his dedication to her and to them; their team. He shifts slightly on his spot on the floor next to her, before reaching over, letting his fingertips brush lightly over her knuckles (grazed and an angry purple, bruises just starting to form) with a touch so feather light she sucks in a small gasp. The caress is over as suddenly as it began and she feels a smile tug at the corners of her mouth as he grabs the slice of toast, takes a large bite and waits until he's swallowed it before he utters a nonchalant "you done with this?" and before giving her a chance to reply adds a "I'll just help myself!" and a signature grin. He chews the bread slowly, his gaze still lingering on her and she watches him, back. She knows he's observant enough, though you wouldn't think so observing him most days, to assess her physical health from where he's sitting, propped up against the wall right next to her, warmth radiating through his crisp, white (expensive) dress shirt. She lets her smile grow as she takes in how he is momentarily relaxed knowing she has wished for him to stay, right there, with her.
Tony can feel his phone vibrate in his pocket, and despite ignoring the phone and whoever is calling, it still throws him back into reality and he is reminded of the fact that the working day is not over and any moment now someone could, and most likely will, walk in to disturb them. He finishes off her toast slowly, deep in thought. What did she mean?
"But you are scared of someone? Ziva I don't even know what's going on here. I need you to fill me in and I'll fix it. I'll fix whatever it is." The sincerity, and concern in his eyes, is something Ziva would pretend to be rare if asked. She would laugh dryly if someone praised him for being earnest and emotionally present, she would roll her eyes and claim he is as shallow as a shower, but truth be told she knew there was more to Tony than that. He had proved it to her, more than once, and in their line of duty she had to know that every day to trust him with her life, and her with his. She swallowed hard, the truth was that if anyone else would say to her that he was shallow and emotionally disconnected she would stand up for him in a heartbeat, her eyes would flash dangerously and she would bark at them to not underestimate him. It was all part of who they are together, as a team – the banter, the games, tricks and pranks. The remarks, the shoves, kicks and sarcasm. The flirting, the lingering touches, the looks...
The affection, dedication, loyalty and unstoppable need to protect and keep safe.
"What happened?" Tony asks again, more urgency seeping into his voice now and she snaps out of her own deep thoughts realising that she never did answer his question. "Please, Ziva," and he reaches out to tuck a strand of her hair behind her ear.
She's almost comfortable, right where she is though. She's with him, inside, the rain is pouring down outside still but she is warm and dry, in company that is familiar – company she sometimes claims is too familiar, but she does not have to return to her own thoughts, her own memories of the events of the day. She wants to reassure Tony, without actually having to speak any more of the matter. She is fine, after all. She will always be fine; has seen worse, done worse... been worse off. She feels so much better though, now that he's stayed with her, and she sighs, realising that she owes him, if not an explanation, then at least a final reassurance that she is in fact okay.
"Vance called me in late last night..." she starts and Tony frowns at her. In Tony's opinion, and let's face it, experience, most of Vance's ideas are bad ideas. "The CIA-" she continues and Tony cuts her short, can't stay quiet any more,
"Don't tell me...!" he twists around on the floor, now fully facing her, his arms flailing in the air, dramatically, "Please, tell me that punk isn't back? And cooking up plans with Vance, well that's just perfect... just brilliant..!"
"Punk? Tony, Ray isn't some disrespectful teenager."
"Okay scratch the teenager part. Still leaves disrespectful and it still doesn't mean I think he deserves to be anywhere near you! In fact I will gladly kick his ass all the way back to where he came from myself! Where is he?"
"Tony. This had, well has..." and Ziva sighs, closing her eyes momentarily, before opening them again, "nothing to do with Ray. Vance wanted me to help them. They suspected an internal leak at first, but came to the conclusion that the security breaches they had experienced were linked to a terrorist operation, something in the planning stages. I was not told much, should have asked... should have insisted to know exactly what would be going on but from the information released to me it did not seem too complicated. They had tracked him for months, said he always worked on his own and when they found the apartment he was operating out of they found pictures, Tony..."
He narrows his eyes at her, processing what she's told him. Her hands are absentmindedly rubbing up and down her own legs as she curls up tighter next to him, her body closing up but he holds her gaze and her eyes are big and deep, still open to him. Thunder breaks out across the sky, the lashes of rain hitting the pavement outside so hard that it appears to be sucked right back up into the angered sky again, and the bright white light of the lightening cuts across her face in the dim lab, making her dark pupils and long eyelashes draw him in, almost hypnotise him as the stark contrast to her still, more than usual, pale complexion almost knocks the breath out of his chest.
"Pictures of what?" and his voice his deep and calm now, his words rolling with the sound of the thunder.
"Pictures of me," she states and he notices how her eyes cloud over, like someone is stirring warm milk into strong hot chocolate, dots of gold dancing where sugar melts. He shudders at the thought of someone, anyone – a complete stranger to them, someone wanted by the CIA, keeping pictures of her. He shifts in his seat, for a second has to tear his eyes from hers as in his mind he curses this stranger for even daring to lay eyes on her, on his Ziva, and he's almost scared that she will read his mind, hear him refer to her in that way (and kill him for it, or at the very least break a few of his bones) and it isn't until she speaks again that he dares to look at her.
"They did not understand the connection, but thought that I could lure him out in some way if he had some sort of interest in me."
"They wanted to use you to get to him?"
"I do not know Tony. All know is that I was supposed to meet with an agent of theirs. But the meeting could never actually take place. The agent, he disappeared four days ago."
"What? Did they expect him to miraculously resurface at the promise of a date with you? Is it some CIA thing to be obsessed with you?" Tony ranted, deep down realising that he was not helping, but feeling like he would suffocate if he just sat there, saying nothing at all, with anger, concern, and frustration building up inside him.
"They think that the disappearance of the agent is connected in some way to this man. The meeting with me was set up via the internal agency diary, and confirmed by him, or someone, through an encrypted email sent from Agent Carter's phone. They deliberately set the meeting up in a place where their suspect would feel safe to get close to me, maybe even approach me – and if so, confirm his link to the disappearance as he would only know of the meeting that way."
"Judging by how you got back here," and Tony's eyes briefly scans over her bruised hands and arms, only allows himself a fraction of a second to look at the angry red and purple marks taking form on her neck, "he did more than approach you."
Ziva tugs at her sleeves, self-conscious all of a sudden, and shrugs. "I told you I am fine. I could take him, I had it under control..."
Something about the tone of her voice sets Tony on edge and he scoots, if possible, closer to her.
"If he had been alone, as Vance promised I believe I could have. But he was not. It was a long, narrow alleyway, behind a block of warehouses, seemingly abandoned and I got there just as the storm gathered above," she finds herself leaning against Tony now, is thankful for the fact that he is tactful enough to not make any slick remark, or make fun of her in this moment. She is happy to share his body heat as she remembers the way the wind picked up, angry, heavy clouds heaving with rain and tension above. The air was thick and humid and despite it being early afternoon she found herself wishing the street lights were lit as the clouds drained her world from daylight. It wasn't that she was scared of the dark, but she was aware of how unfamiliar the situation was. She felt out of her element, without her team, without back up.
"I could feel him around me. He was walking in a circle, just watching me and I was under strict orders to bring him in if I could, but I was not allowed to take him down. I could under no circumstances shoot him. I did not think I would need to."
"What about self-defence by paper clip? Please tell me that was allowed!"
"There appeared to be no need," she continued, and there was a hint of a smile lingering on her features before it faded and she continued. "He did not appear a threat, mainly fascinated by me if anything..." and she frowns, deep in thought for a moment and Tony watches her, wishing he could read her mind.
"Did he-?"
Ziva knows what Tony is about to ask, can almost smell the testosterone pumping through his veins as his jealous, overprotective mind imagines this stranger interacting with her. She interrupts him, not wanting to answer.
"It started to rain, so much rain Tony, and..." she's hesitating, Tony notes, but doesn't ask, doesn't want her to cut the story short altogether. "Something he said threw me off all of a sudden, I was no longer focused as I should have been." She appears regretful, and angry with herself. Tony wants to know what happened, exactly, but she doesn't let him ask before continuing. "If it had been just him, but there was two more then, two more men and I was too slow to catch my breath, unable to, as I fell onto my back," again, she is thankful he's not cracking any sort of jokes at this moment, and he can see it in her eyes and gives her a look as to say 'I'm not that much of a bastard' and she smiles at him, softly, it being her 'I know'.
"You know, it is strange, how my mind could play such tricks on me, bringing me back to such a far away place when nothing really was the same."
Tony thinks he knows what she's saying and he is not sure he wants to hear more then, not really, but at the same time cherishes any moment when she opens up about her past experiences. He knows that it is not healthy for her not to. It is not healthy for anyone.
"It was wet and cold, I struggled, but as the men pinned me down and the rain rushed over me I almost thought I was drowning."
She's sharing an awful lot for being her, and for it being him listening. At least in one go, and Tony wants to reach out and hold her hand, maybe. He thinks about what they have been through together in the past that has not changed so much between them as it has exposed what was almost instantly there between them. He knows all of a sudden that Gibbs is standing in the doorway, behind them. Without looking he can feel what is in his eyes. A quick, fleeting, light and angel like image of Kate burns behind his own eyes in that moment, knows that Gibbs is angry where he is standing, feeling like someone has taken something, stolen something precious from him – again.
He doesn't take her hand. He doesn't quite know what is stopping him, and it certainly isn't the silent presence of Gibbs (and not the ghost of Kate, lingering in that swift pause, between each beating of his heart). Instead he whispers, "you're safe", just under his breath and Ziva thinks she can hear the 'here with me' he's omitted. It is in a way an unusually intimate moment between them, and she knows too – she has after all, despite her bruised skin and torn clothes, not had the ninja knocked out of her, that their boss is standing just out of their field of vision. She wonders if Tony knows too, or if he wouldn't have said what he just did if he knew.
She knows she can't stare into Tony's concerned eyes forever, almost wants him to break the silence with something witty and insensitive if only to kick them out of this trance but he doesn't. He's uncharacteristically sensitive and she quietly finishes the story, tells him (and Gibbs, now) of how they struggled in the rain, how she fought when one of them drew the knife on her and leaves out the wandering, rough, hands and what exactly was said that distracted her in the first place.
"But wait, who was sent out there with you? Who was backing you up?" Tony asks as she finishes and she shakes her head.
"I... I was told-"
"He lied." Gibbs interrupts then, announcing his presence. "If I had known the fool was sending you out there on your own I would never have allowed it!" His words are sharp, angry, but his tone of voice is almost strangely soft, begging almost, of forgiveness maybe. Ziva nods, she knows Gibbs would not have risked her safety like that. "And restricting you in the way you could defend yourself, the bastard could have had you killed and I-
"Gibbs..."
"No, none of this is your fault Ziva." Gibbs takes another step towards them and Tony looks up at him from his spot on the floor, next to her.
"I let them play me. I was trained to handle more than three men! I could be ruthless when I wanted to, needed to. This time I was overpowered." There is a sadness in her voice that Tony does not like, but he doesn't know what to say, for what he thinks might be the first time in his life. Gibbs simply cocks his head slightly and looks at her before speaking again.
"What you used to need, is not what you need now. You can't compare who you needed to be then, and who you have become. Remember, Ziver, you are not disposable here, you're irreplaceable and you are allowed to care about your family in the same way."
Tony silently observes the exchange between his partner and his boss, his mind racing to try to keep up with it all. Gibbs is being so soft and stern at the very same time that he is absolutely convinced he must have missed something. There is something going on that he does not know about, something that has pissed Gibbs off enough to speak to Ziva in that way he only speaks to them when he momentarily steps out of the boss shoes and into the dad shoes.
"What about the guy? I saw him earlier, you brought one of them in!" Tony cuts in then, still trying to piece everything together.
"Yes," Ziva nods, "I managed to fight him off, I brought him in. He is in custody." She is short and down to the point, and Tony wants to ask how the hell she managed but there are more pressing matters and before he has a chance to ask she addresses the issue herself. "But the second man, and the suspect, the man the CIA wanted me to meet-"
"Sounds like he was more eager to meet you," Tony mutters, disgusted.
"Perhaps," Ziva considers, "he will get a second chance, and I will get a second chance at bringing him and his friend in."
Tony grits his teeth, angry at the thought of this guy still out there.
"Boss," he turns to Gibbs and heaves himself up off the floor, grimacing slightly as his joints protest.
"Getting old, Tony?" Ziva teases, and he extends a hand to her, helping her up too, and for the first time in what she thinks must be hours, she's actually ready to move from her spot on the floor.
Tony glares at her with mock annoyance, secretly enjoying that she's teasing him again. He notes that some colour has returned to her cheeks. He turns back to Gibbs once she's up and he's made sure she's stable on her own two feet. Only then does he let go of her hand, letting his hand find the small of her back instead and she doesn't mind the gesture, not today.
"So two of these jackasses are still out there somewhere? And we have one in custody?"
"I don't care what the Director says, and I do not give a crap about what CIA says, we are done playing this by any of their rules now," Gibbs says, determination and authority back in his voice, but the softness still lingering in his eyes when he's watching them. It flashes past quickly before his eyes turn stern and serious, "this might have been out of our jurisdiction to begin with, but the second they brought Ziva into this they made this my damn business!"
"Want me to interrogate him, boss?" Tony asks, and Gibbs recognises the anger flashing in his eyes.
"We might need him still breathing, to get anything out of him DiNozzo," Gibbs says and Tony almost smiles at how Gibbs can read him, knows how angry he is in that moment, knows that the movie quotes and jokes are out the window the second someone touches his partner.
"Oh yes, because you're known for your gentle approach yourself," Tony smiles at his boss and Gibbs ignores his comment.
"I'll speak to him, you two get McGee up to speed – and both of you," his eyes hardened, "you don't take any fucking orders from Vance or anyone else. Anyone wants anything done you run it by me, understood?"
"Yes boss!" Tony said and Ziva nodded.
As Gibbs turns around and walks back towards the elevator, on his way to let Abby know it's okay to reclaim her lab, and to have another word with Vance (he hasn't decided yet if that will include putting a bullet in his knee cap for sending out his agent without his full permission) he calls back to them over his shoulder, "Ziva, I don't need to see you here for the rest of today, if you want to call it a day – if you do, it's the safe house tonight, Tony, you too!" then he disappears.
Tony turns to Ziva, Gibbs' question still hanging unanswered in the air. Ziva knows Gibbs was serious about Tony going too, and she wonders why, if maybe he knows... either way she is sure Tony doesn't know and she contemplates her options.
"You don't have to stay Ziva," he offers, thinking that's what she's considering and she shakes her head, chuckling.
"Have to? I want to. I am not leaving you to have all the fun without me," she winks at him but he can't let go of the feeling that there is something else than the opportunity for a good adrenaline rush that's keeping her there, with him. She starts walking towards the elevator and he hurries after her.
"Safe house? Why? I mean I can see why the boss would want you locked away, but me? Then again, he probably wants you to have a big, strong man guarding you, it's okay, I would be available for such-"
Ziva elbows him in the ribs as they step into the elevator and he falls silent with a huff and a wince. He rubs his ribs, glaring at her as she laughs, mocking him.
"Big and strong? You? I could crush you, blindfolded, with my hands tied behind my back!"
"Ah, I will retort with something very witty in just a moment Zee-vah, just give me a minute to imagine this kinky role play we have going on here first! Is there black lace involved or are you naked?"
"Sit!" Gibbs shouts across the room as Steven paces behind the table in interrogation. The blond man snickers at him, bravely. Cocky bastard, Gibbs thinks and looks up into the man's eyes, his features stony and serious. Steven Jenkins drops down onto the chair nonchalantly and raises his eyebrows in anticipation and question.
"You sound tense," he shoots Gibbs with a smug grin and the agent is losing his patience already – but is determined to not show it. He needs to get something, anything, and he's not known for ever not getting what he wants in the end. "Is this the best welcome party you've got on offer? I was expecting someone with better manners. Someone a bit nicer."
"You have five minutes to tell me what I want to know, or I let Agent David's partner loose in here, and with your little stunt this morning, as you can imagine you've pissed him off! Today, I can assure you, I am the nice one."
Steven folds his arms across his chest, sinks back against the back of his chair. He stretches his legs out under the table, crosses his ankles and chuckles, amused, when Gibbs scolds and kicks his feet back. The chair shifts slightly and if he's rattled by the sudden forceful shove he doesn't show it. He simply shuffles forward in his seat, leaning on the table top instead, looks at Gibbs briefly before picking at his nails.
"Oh, Very Special Agent DiNozzo, he's still alive then is he? Fancy that..."
Gibbs narrows his eyes at the young man, slams his fist down onto the table top.
"Why the hell wouldn't he be?"
Steven seemingly ignores Gibbs' outburst and continues, almost as to himself, "...then again, the night is still young."
To be continued...
AN: Abby, McGee, Palmer and Ducky – all coming, I promise. In the upcoming chapters.
I wasn't going to post this tonight. Thought I would put it off for another day or two... but then I went to the gym for a couple hours, and I don't know about you but when I'm at the gym my head is full of Ziva. In a very non romantic way (ha, well okay maybe a little, come on she's hot...) but more in a "would Ziva be able to do another set of reps? Hell yes! So can I? Of course" kind of way. Anyway, so by the time I was done I was not only sweaty and gross (and hungry) but also set on posting this tonight. For Ziva, and my own sanity.
If you read it all, then thank you and well done! I know it was long... but didn't want to wrap the chapter up any sooner as it didn't feel natural. Anyone that got through it and liked it (or hated it) please review and let me know – what are you currently listening to? Who inspires you in the gym? What are your plans for the summer? Feel free to tell me any of that stuff too, in a review. ;)
Malin x