AUTHOR'S NOTE: I have actually not watched the seventh season of NCIS as I live in England and it hasn't aired yet, excruciatingly. However, I know what has happened from fanfics, Tiva clips and so on. I just don't want to watch because when I do there won't be any more to watch! I have read all summaries though. So to make a long story short, this is my excuse for any discrepancies.
With this story, I wanted to explore how Ziva gets over Somalia and how Tony now thinks they are in a right place, for a relationship. I will say no more.
I do not own NCIS because if I did Tony and Ziva would be together and Jenny would still be alive.
Ziva slammed down her phone. Across the bullpen, Tony looked up, surprised. He hadn't seen anger like that since her return.
"Another one bites the dust," she said glumly. Her eyes were closed and she was massaging her temples. This was so out of character that Tony's curiosity intensified.
"What's up?"
Ziva looked around. McGee was downstairs in the lab helping Abby and Gibbs was on a coffee run. She stood up and walked over to Tony's desk, and leant against it. Since Somalia things had been different. She no longer flirted with Tony or flaunted her sexuality. But a bond had been created between them, and so she felt she could tell him this. He was mature.
"Since...my return, I have been having some trouble dating," she was looking directly into his eyes now and there was desperation there. She let her eyes drop. "With intimacy especially."
This was the first time Ziva had insinuated that she might have been touched by Saleem, in a way other than the slaps, kicks and cuts that she had so obviously sustained.
"I understand that once you reach a certain point in a relationship, sex is something that follows, but Tony I just..."
Anger licked Tony's insides as he looked at Ziva. Those men had no idea. None at all. That Ziva was so much more special, precious, than a date like that. She deserved better, needed better.
"It takes time, Ziva."
"I have had time."
"Let me help you."
She gave him a confused look. But how could he...unless?
"How?"
"Come to my apartment after work, and I will help you."
"Tony..."
"What? Are you afraid Gibbs will disprove?"
"No," she paused. Perhaps she had admitted that too quickly. "But I need to think about this, I need to prepare..."
"What does that mean? Shave your legs? Wash your hair?"
She just looked at him. The thing she hated, and loved, about her partner was that he could always read her. She didn't care what Gibbs would say or what would change between them. He was right, she needed this. But it drove her wild with nerves. Her hair needed a wash, she wanted to pluck, perfume and exfoliate every inch of her body. For Tony. What remained of her sexuality stemmed from her image. And she wanted to live up to all those words that had been spoken a world ago.
Before she had been broken
"Just drive home with me tonight before you over think this."
She nodded. She was desperate.
The day passed slowly. Tony half regretted what he had said earlier. This could completely destroy the little confidence they had rebuilt after the disaster of Somalia. But then...when he looked inside himself, he could see that he had always expected it to come to this. Even though the night was meant to hold no connotations, Tony knew that by committing this act, they were moving forwards. As a relationship. He had meant it in Somalia. He couldn't live without her. It was just a case of them both reaching the same place at the same time. And now they were there.
Ziva could feel his eyes over her for the rest of the day. Gibbs glared at them both beadily, but seemed to sense that this was not a head slap situation. But she could tell he was worried. She was worried. With Tony, she knew she was not ashamed. She was not frightened of "commitment" that could rise from this because she knew that it wouldn't. They had done it before, for release. Tony was going to help her.
No, it was the act itself she was afraid of. Every time a date leaned in, she would force herself to kiss, to except. But when their hands would start to trail, she would tense further. And then she ran.
Gibbs gave them an early dismissal. It had been a paperwork day, and everyone was tired. He was uncomfortable though. He kept them half an hour later than he would have done usually, just because he was trying to read the strange electricity that was running between his two senior partners. Contrary to Tony's belief, he wasn't physic. Just a reader. I t wasn't electricity but...anticipation. Got it. He got up, and leaned down at down, with his hands on Tony's desk. And just looked into his eyes. Satisfied, he walked away. "Go home," he called. "Get some rest."
The ride home was tense. Tony drove, and the silence was filled with the radio. They walked up to his apartment door and paused while he unlocked it. Just as they stepped inside his phone rang. He glanced at the caller ID.
"Just a college buddy. Make yourself at home." He flicked open his cell.
Ziva walked among his things as though in a dream. She hadn't been to his apartment since before Michael. She traced her fingers across the spines of the DVDs, and smiled down at a picture he had framed of the team. She walked into his bathroom. She washed her hands and looked in the mirror. She'd have a bath. It would relax her. God knows, she was in no rush.
As the water ran she riffled through his bathroom cabinets, smiling at the bottles of cologne and moisturiser. At the top she found a have empty bag of disposable pink razors. She smiled. Sex just wasn't the same with stubbly legs.
She slipped off her clothes and slid into the bath. She sank under, allowing the scalding water to wash over her. Baths were never too hot these days. They purified her.
She wallowed for a while and then reached for the razor. Slowly she ran the blade down her leg, taking care not to nick it with the cheap instrument.
There was a brief knock on the door and Tony let himself in. She hadn't bothered to lock it. He nodded at her relaxing in the bath, and knelt down beside her and held out his hand. Wordlessly she handed the razor and lay back.
He took it, and expertly ran it over her legs, not missing a hair, lifting them to get her calves too. Ziva watched him and found it strangely therapeutic. He frowned as he concentrated, oblivious to her stare.
"All done," he said satisfied.
"Thank You." He went over to the rail and brought her back a towel. He held it out for her as if she were a child. She stood, and he wrapped her in it, holding her briefly against his chest. She tensed. And then relaxed. This was Tony.
He led her through to his bedroom. He felt her tense even at the sight of the bed. So he opted for a different approach. He sat her down on the it and then sat behind her, and gently rubbed her towel over her body, drying her off.
Ziva relaxed. How clever. In this way she could still feel Tony's hands through the towel but the cloth still provided protection from the things she feared. He was taking it slowly, easing her in. She appreciated it.
Tony stopped rubbing once he had covered every inch of her body. He then got up and fetched her hairbrush from her bag. He looked at her when he walked back towards the bed. She looked so much like a lost child, swamped by the towel. She was still so thin. But she looked at least a bit more relaxed, and watched him interestedly as he returned.
Tony stopped. He needed to know. "Saleem raped you, didn't he?"
She looked away. She was silent.
"Perhaps it would help you to admit it."
"This was a bad idea." She stood up in one fluid motion.
"No." He caught her on her way and kissed her, grabbed her mouth with his own. It was insistent. She looked up at him with those deep pools of emotion. They rippled. She led him back to the bed. He sat down behind her again and took her hand. He covered it with his own.
"You can tell me to stop anytime, alright?"
"I won't," she said simply.
He ran her own hand over her body, his own touching her skin every so often and making her jump. But not with fear. He kissed her shoulders, her back, her neck. She leaned into him, her mouth open with the pleasure of the touch, her eyes rolling back. She slipped her hand from under his.
He knew he needed to be gentle, but he knew how to touch her too. Five long, long years of watching her, even when she was fully clothed and oblivious, told Tony exactly how to make her moan. He was a reader just like Gibbs. But a sexual one.
He would massage her breasts, until she was used to the softness of his touch, and then flick her nipples suddenly to make her jump. He ran his hands down her contours, along her legs, constantly avoiding the place but getting tantalizingly close. When he at last brushed her inner folds, she bucked, trying to make him touch her sweet spot. Tony himself got hard at the way she was so hot, so into him. He thought of trying to control it but relaxed. He knew Ziva would probably be offended if she didn't find evidence of her sexuality's effect.
He circled slowly, brushing her sweet spot. She moaned, pushing her arse into his lap, straining. Finally, he let his fingers enter her. He wanted to be careful here, he didn't want to ruin the moment by being rough, though he knew the Ziva before Somalia would have had it as rough as it comes. Especially with him. She took the decision herself. She took his hand with her own, and it moved it, expertly. He got the message. With a few more circles and brushes he finally made her come, jamming his fingers into her while furiously stroking her clit.
She shuddered, and fell back against him. They stayed there a while, until their breathing slowed. Ziva spoke.
"Yes, I was raped by Saleem. Many times. Not just by him, but his men as well."
"Ziva, I..." he didn't know what to say.
"I know Tony, I know." She turned towards him and placed her palm on his cheek. She kissed him again, like in the men's bathroom, but this time on the mouth.
"As I said before Tony, you have always had my back. Though I think this time, it has taken on a whole other meaning."
They both laughed, and once they had started they couldn't stop.
"I think you are cured Ziva," Tony said finally when they had controlled their laughter.
She looked up at him, warmth in her eyes, and nodded.
A few weeks later, Tony and Ziva were finishing up the paperwork on a case. It was late, and Tony had just finished. Ziva had already completed her share half an hour ago, and he looked around, sure she had not gone home without saying goodbye.
She appeared, the waft of her scent hitting him first, newly-applied eye make-up on her face. Simultaneously, the elevator doors binged, and a man stepped out with a visitor's badge. He looked around, and smiled when he saw Ziva. She smiled back.
"I'll just get my coat," she said. She paused in front of Tony' desk.
"Thank You again Tony," she said, touching his hand. Her eyes were those emotive pools again, rippling. She knew she was hurting him. He nodded speechless. She turned and linked arms with the other man, laughing as he greeted her.
He felt Gibbs' presence behind him.
"Go home Tony, It's late." Gibbs touched him briefly on the shoulder and left.
DiNozzo men don't cry.
DiNozzo men don't cry.
DiNozzo men don't cry.
But they did.
Hi hope you enjoyed it. Please don't judge Ziva – she knows Tony is ready but now she isn't. Tony misread the situation. Does it work? Tell me and review...