Touch

by ma-cherie-cote

Touch can be a form of comfort, a need to ensure safety and love all at once. His touch though, his touch always brought her back down and gave her a high. A high where she felt consoled and addicted, whirlwinds of fear and love, pulsing her emotions into an undeniable force that she had never felt until she met him.

Touch can be a form of comfort, a need to ensure safety and love all at once. Touch can be consuming at times, make you feel as if you're falling off the edge of the world in Columbus's reassurance that in fact, the world is round. Touch can make any moment sentimental, sending shivers down your spine and mark your flesh with small, round bumps. Touch can be characterized differently depending on who you socialize amongst, but for her…touch was healing. Not just any touch though, some could make her body frill with fear and worry. His touch though, his touch always brought her back down and gave her a high. A high where she felt consoled and addicted, whirlwinds of fear and love, pulsing her emotions into an undeniable force that she had never felt until she met him.

Five years ago….

Light radiated through one open window, the rest covered with plastic, rigid coverings in shades of gray. She peeped one eye open, her head pounding in complaint at the action. The sound of swishing air filled her ears and darkness overtook her once again when she felt it too hard to breathe through her bruised ribs.

She was on a plane,

she was alive,

and she was going home.

A warmness filled around her body, a feather light touch at the curve of her hip where her shirt had rose up. It was a familiar touch, one she hadn't felt since Gibbs had retired and journeyed to Mexico. The touch traveled along the newly scabbed scar along her stomach, around her belly-button and returned to the curve of her hip. Stirring, she moved her body creating an angle between them and opened both her eyes to the world. The warmth settled and she felt his large, dirt ridden hand tighten around her.

Her curls cascaded over her back when she rotated her head around to face where the touch was coming from and she jumped once she realized how she was situated. He gave her a small smile, trying to reassure all her doubts of being safe when he saw how large her eyes grew when realization dawned on the fact that she was laying with her head on his lap. He found himself rubbing small circles around her waist and watched her brown pupils stare up at him. Worry grew on him. She could still be upset at him for killing Michael and going against her father, or worse. She could be pissed that he threw himself into danger and went into that death camp. Or the third option made the pit of his stomach queasy and want to empty all the little bile he accumulated in his time of the desert. She could be afraid of where her head lay, be afraid of man now if those men at the camp did what they all hoped they hadn't. His sexual charged tigerous could be ruined of all that existed in her once before if she was in fact violated. Fuck, there was that acid rising in his throat again.

He waited for a moment before speaking since it was clear she wasn't going to initiate any first words to him.

"Hey, we have about 3 more hours until we land back in D.C…" Tony's hand came to a halt on her hip. Any other time he would have been puzzled at her for not responding, but this time was different. Large, brown oceans of emotion stared at up him, silent and closed lips licked together in contempt to take away the dryness.

"Here," his left arm came around her head and placed a white straw between her two lips, dried blood on them and cracked.

Ziva sucked on the straw lightly, her throat moistening from the water. God, how long it had been since she went without a drink. She slowly sipped for a minute, before taking her mouth away from the straw, eyes still locked on him. Tony set the drink back down next to them and returned to rubbing her dirt marred skin on her hips with his thumbs.

She laid their contently, her body fighting with her mind and soul. She wanted to run, wanted to escape his gentle touch because he had betrayed her four months ago. He went behind her back, thinking he was protecting her when he really was not, ending up in the death of her boyfriend and the almost death of her. If it was not for him, she would not have left the states. She would not have ran from everything and accepted another mission from her father, despite not being acquainted with Mossad. But, he had come for her. When all hope was lost and she accepted that it was in fact her time to die, there he was. The burlap sack came off her face and there his face was, that grinning asshole in bare flesh before her. She wanted to kill him right there, especially when he questioned how her summer was in that tone that made her fists curl up at her sides. Who could have been so stupid as to come after her in a death camp filled with terrorists and men plotting to kill anyone that came in their way? No one. No one, but Anthony Dinozzo Jr would ever be cocky enough to take on that thrill and fuck, she knew for him that it was such an adrenaline rush to be in the face of death and still have that stupid smirk on his face.

But, that pinching feeling in her chest came as soon as Saleem had left the room and Tony admitted that he felt an absence in his life since she had left.

Couldn't live without you, I guess.

It gutted her. She had not ate anything other than the nibbles of a few crackers the men in the camp had given her every so often, but she still felt as if she could unload the bile building up in the back of her throat as he spoke those six words.

And now, here in present day she felt that bile rise again while his touch eased her down from her thoughts once more. No man had ever touched her so light, full of remorse and uneasiness when his eyes traveled down her body. She knew he felt sick and felt he was to blame when he peered over her body in his lap and thought about what blood covered marks and scars could be on her body underneath the dirt and shabby clothes she wore.

Flinching, she began to rise from laying down above him. She could not lay here any longer. The guilt in his mind was overtaking her and she knew she had to run. Run from this feeling, run from his touch because nothing was no longer making any sense.

Tony sighed, easing her up with his arms.

"You okay, kid?" Gibbs came over, taking her in his arms as she started coughing. The elder man took her into his arms, bringing her over to the other side of the plane where he sat. Ziva slipped into the seat next to him, leaning back against the worn material. She suddenly felt a loss inside of her, the warmth that was once surrounding her before, was gone. Gibbs handed her the water and she used all the energy she had to grab the drink in her hand and place the straw into her mouth. Almost dropping the bottle from her hands, Gibbs caught it and placed the bottle back down, muttering a curse at how stubborn she was. She leaned back once more and her eyes drifted towards where she just sat with Tony. He was staring straight back at her, a glint in his eyes that she could not pick out for the first time which was odd when she had once read him like an open canvas… or maybe it was book? Whatever, she was too tired to think about idioms now anyways.

Deep circles covered his eyes and he looked drained from his time in the desert. But, what scared her more was the way he was looking at her, the way his eyes seem to tell the whole story of what he felt…what he had been feeling for some time since she left them all on the tarmac in Israel. Infuriated with him being so concerned and feeling like he was being clingy towards her when she wanted nothing to do with him, she closed her eyes once again while the small amount of energy she cooped up was quickly parting her body.

And now here they were again,

Three years later…more complicated than they had ever been. Things had changed since the building was blown up, Tony and Ziva stuck together in the elevator. It wasn't per say that things have evolved, they had just grown deeper, wiser. The "post elevator them" was stronger, more open to each other and their feelings, no matter the depth or complicatedness of the situation. Neither of them had been seeing people and to be honest, they didn't even care to. Were they content the way they were? Maybe. But, did they want things to keep moving in the direction they were going? Of course.

Then the inevitable happened. Yeah, that again.

Fuck, Tony groaned. He knew the man was one of the most wanted and hell, he had caused a lot of pain in their lives and he always wanted him to pay for his sins, but shit. How the fuck could this have happened?

What the hell had the man drank when he had come into the bullpen, anyways? He had some stupid fur hat on that looked ridicule on anyone, not just directors of Mossad. Thankfully, no one else had been in the bullpen, just Tony which actually made him shiver. Had Eli waited for everyone to leave so he could have a private conversation with him?

Eli's voice was threatening as he told Tony in a clear whisper "Do everything it takes to make sure she's happy," Tony bit back a nervous laugh, "I must believe that you are a good man, I see the way you look at her and how you make her smile. I want you to protect my Ziva, take care of her for the rest of her life. I know she feels the same, yes?" and before Tony had knew it, the elder man was quickly gone. He left nothing, no trace of sign that he had been there, but a stumped Tony standing behind his desk, his words echoing. The rest of the team, excluding Ziva and arrived back shortly to the bullpen. Gibbs was irritated based on the fact that he could tell Tony's attention was currently elsewhere till Ziva had walked back to her desk and grabbed her coat, taking a quick glance at the screen.

There had been something in her eyes that night she had walked out of the bullpen after Gibbs had put up on the screen the picture of the suspect wanted for murder. Something that made him uneasy by just the look in her eyes. She knew.

"ABBA!"

And fuck, he would be lying if he didn't say that he had to hold back everything in him to not grab her when he heard her piercing scream in Hebrew and watched her tiny body fall to the ground a few feet in front of him. The uncontrollable sobs that escaped her, shaking from her body as she held the bloody man on the ground. All he could do was stand there and watch, feet stuck to the massacred ground without jeopardizing (yes, that word again) everything they had built back up in their relationship. He knew she needed to be alone in this, needed to be the warrior she always put up to cover her vulnerability so, he made sure Boss and no one else came in while she had her moment to mourn. Christ, the tears were evading his eyes and he had to turn away when Gibbs left as he heard her faint whispers conceding the man that ruined so much in her life.

He didn't want to always be on the sidelines, always watching from a far. He wanted to be there, up close and personal. And in that moment, he wanted to change things forever with the voices of her deceased father resonating through his mind.

Ziva David wouldn't be Ziva David if there wasn't a strain of fire in her. Tony should've known, she would have only wanted revenge against Bodnar and she had got it. As mind boggling as it was, Tony's stomach only churned at the thought of Ziva being wanted for murder rather than the fact he knew she had went to find and kill Bodnar. He couldn't lose her again, not before he had told her and crossed off that simple bucket list wish.

So, he had followed her back to her apartment that night after they witnessed Bodnar ricochet through the sky and land on the sailor dock below. He didn't give a damn that she would want to be alone, he didn't want to start losing her at this point. She was already becoming secretive, quiet and hidden right in front of his eyes.

Turning her key, Ziva opened her apartment door and disappeared inside leaving Tony to show himself in. Anyone watching could figure out that she was pissed at him.

"I am not a little girl, Tony. I am fine…you did not have to walk me to my door." Reprimanding him, she walked quickly into her bedroom and disposed of her bloody clothes on the ground.

"I'm not here to walk you to your door, Zeevah. I'm here to make sure you're okay," He followed her into her room, looking around at the bare walls. He winced when her voice raised once again.

"Tony! I am fine! I did not mean to kill Bodnar, he slipped!" Her eyes widened in response of her tone and she grabbed a towel from the bathroom to cover her naked body.

"Yeah okay, whatever! Do you think I really don't know what happened? I know you, Ziva. Like it or not, I do. Hell, I don't give a flying fuck if you killed the guy, I just want to know you're okay. I just….I just want you to trust me," Tony shot back as his voice cracked at the end, his eyes filled with rage that she was lying to him.

"Damn it, Tony! Do I have to fucking write a book to let you know that I am fine?! I have told you multiple times now, I am fine. I am just a woman who lost her father. It is not a big deal like you are making this out to be," Her body started to tremble and she moved into the bathroom, hiding from Tony.

"It is a big deal! I know I hated the sick bastard, but he was still your father. I'm not stupid, I was there when you saw him on the ground, Ziva" He sighed as she shut the bathroom door and heard the water start before he continued, "I know the way you looked at him with innocence when you were a little girl….you told me."

"We all look at our fathers with innocence when we are young, yes?" He heard her question when she shut the water off.

Bath, he groaned. She was already shutting him out.

Silence filled the apartment for the next twenty minutes. Tony sat back on Ziva's bed, waiting patiently. He could hear the splish and the splash of the water in the bathtub as she washed the blood off herself.

The brunette lowered herself into the warm water, her body engulfed into the clear water turning it red. Cuts on her face stung when she dipped her head under the water, holding her breath as long as she could to hide from reality. When she couldn't hold onto her breath any longer, she rose up allowing the water to cover her body from her collarbone and down. Her arm was still sore and bruised from the crash, along with her hands from fighting Bodnar. What was becoming of her? Was she going back to that fierce killer that she once was? What would happen if people did actually believe she hadn't meant for him to slip off the side of the ship? She could feel herself losing the grip of reality, emotions flooding her as she thought about the man in her apartment. She listened to see if she heard him go out and turn the TV on like he normally did, but there was nothing. She did not want to shut him out, keep distance from him after everything they had been through and taken on together, but she did not want him thinking he had to take care of her. Flashbacks of Somalia raced through her mind and the flight home kept coming back to her. The way his arms held her on the plane, the way his hands rubbed small circles on her waist and the simple way his touch made her feel safe. Hell, she would do anything to have that back. It wasn't just a simple want this time, it was a pure craving at this moment. An actual need that she had acquired whenever she felt harmed or uneasy. She wanted to feel safe, wanted to feel his touch linger along her body and prove to her that it was going to be alright. They were going to be okay.

He could bring her down, he could grasp reality for her through his touch and make her body shake from the act. She had never know a large man's hands to be so gentle, so full of love from one graze of touch on her skin. Every man that she had ever been with, romantically or business purposes, were never that tender with her. Ray couldn't even bring her skin to goose bumps the way that the man currently in her bedroom could. She craved for this intimacy now, to get back the moment she ran away from on that plane so many years ago.

Tony's mind was whirling all over the place as he sat on a knitted comforter of her bed when his thoughts were interrupted with the sound of a small sob. Wet, curly brown hair and clad in nothing more than a towel, she stood in front of him, dripping water onto the carpet of her bedroom. Tony looked up at her, his heart shattering at the sight. Her bottom lip was puffed out, quivering and her body trembling heavier than before. Tears were escaping down her olive toned face over the marks left from her fight earlier that night.

Leaning forward, Tony spoke softly "Come here," He held out his arms towards her and she gradually walked between his legs, his knees holding her tiny frame in place. His thumbs came up gradually, wiping the tears softly off her cheeks. Her eyes connected to his dilated pupils, never leaving.

"You're so beautiful, Zee." Tony's lips crept up in a small smile as she sobbed, falling into his arms. One of his hands wrapped tightly around her waist while his other splayed across her back, up her neck and tangled into her dripping, wet hair. Ziva buried her face into the side of Tony's neck, tears continuing to pour through her brown pools.

"Shh," His hand rubbed slowly into the thick fabric of her towel, trying to comfort her. "I got you, you're safe. It'll be alright." He tried his best to ease the torn woman in his arms, "Everything will be okay, I promise."

"You do not know that," Ziva whimpered into the skin of his neck.

"Yeah, I do because you have me and I'll do whatever it takes." His voice trailed off in her mind.

They stayed in that position for almost an hour. Finally when Tony assumed she had calmed down, he shuffled onto the bed more laying with his back against her headboard. He took her tighter in his arms and she settled with her head on his chest, one leg tangled in between his. The towel she had been clad in was now falling off her, allowing him to see the skin of her stomach and waist. He placed his left hand on the skin visible, wiping his thumb lightly across her flesh. Ziva shivered, triggering a smirk to form on Tony's face and she snuggled into his chest more with her fist gripping the cotton of his shirt like she thought he would escape from her hold.

He kept the pace up, tiny circles brushed on her stomach and his thumb stretched across to touch her waist. His mind flashed back to Somalia, the plane ride home. He knew this eased her down, gave her relief when he touched her like this. As cocky as he wanted to be about the fact he could reassure the deathly ninja, the idea of him being the only one to relieve her filled his heart.

The smell of coconut and sandalwood filled his nostrils, strands of the ninjas soft hair fell onto his face. Her shampoo and conditioner, the aroma he had committed to memory when she strolled into the bullpen and unwrapped the scarf off her head. The scent that claimed his mind years later when she lay above him in the city of love, tower lights leaking in through the blinds. Wisps of hair falling onto his upper body when she screamed his name and withered in his arms. The hair sticking to the sweat on his neck while her nails dug his shoulders, her muscles clenched around him and her name rolling off his tongue in unison.

Memories started to fade and reality set in. Tony snapped out of it when he looked at the cock beside him and noticed how late it was. He leaned over, placing a soft kiss on her forehead after realizing she had fallen into a deep sleep on his chest. "I'll be here forever, sweetcheeks" He whispered, his lips lingering a bit longer on her soft skin.

If he hadn't been a fool this in love, he would have never noticed how much the hot breath of the woman in his arms on his neck would have affected him. Christ, if he could stay with her like that, he would be the happiest man alive. There was something about the way she laid in his arms, a feeling of security…a feeling of home. He knew she was never comfortable to show weakness to anyone, but she often let him see through her. She never had that feeling of being loved, being safe and he was determined to give her that. He needed her to need him…and he was finally feeling that she did.

Dances in Berlin, stolen diamonds on her ring finger and demons of her past would be part of their history, but it wouldn't be their future. Well, at least not a stolen diamond. He would make sure she got the perfect one and an even more romantic dance at their wedding without looking for criminals as they spun around in the odd toned lights.

The brunette stirred in his arms while he thought about their future, her hand caressing his cheek before dropping back down to his chest. She was dreaming again, but this time it didn't seem like a nightmare. Her lips were curled, a tiny smirk taking over her face and she rubbed her cheek into Tony's chest. Tony chuckled, her eyes flickering while she slept.

He would never admit it to her face, but her touch had some sort of effect on him too. Damn, his father never warned him about what to do when the one you love touches you. But, there was some sort of spark when her face rubbed against his chest and her hand gently touched his cheek. Did he believe in this kind of thing? No, not before. However, laying here with her was something different, especially with both of their vulnerability. It was like electricity, like her hand had millions of charged voltages that exploded as soon as she came into contact with his skin.

Touch meant something between these two individuals. It was a way of communicating, connecting their thoughts and emotion into one simple act that the cortex of their brains could not comprehend. They could tremble in each other's arms, something that was never shared with anyone else.

His touch gave her a high, a feeling of security and longing she dreamed of having as a little girl. Her touch gave him hope, anticipation of a great love story and the empowerment that he was the hero of the story…her hero.