Established Zibbs.
As they lay in bed that night, Ziva seemed more tense than usual. As had been her custom since her rescue from Somalia, she carefully kept to her side of the bed. Gibbs rolled to his side toward her, and felt a knife to his heart as she visibly tensed a little more.
"Trouble falling asleep tonight?"
She nodded.
"How 'bout a shoulder rub?" he asked.
She thought silently for a long moment. "What if I …" She couldn't finish her thought.
"Then I'll stop. And I'll make us both some warm milk – with a shot of bourbon."
She gave a small smile, then nodded her assent.
Without moving the rest of his body, Gibbs began gently rubbing one shoulder, then the other, with his right hand. He laid his hand on the back of Ziva's neck, lightly rubbing at the knots there, as well. After he felt her begin to relax, he asked. "OK to move down your back?" She nodded, hating the fact that she was grateful he'd asked first.
He moved slowly down over the top of her shirt – his shirt, really. Since her return, she always slept in one of his old NIS t-shirts and a pair of soft yoga pants. His hand continued to search for spots of tension and then gently rubbed them out.
"You doin' OK?" He asked softly.
She turned her head toward him, still resting it on her folded arms. Her eyes were open and she gave him a small smile. "Yes," she answered.
He continued down to the small of her back, then slowly made his way back up to her neck and shoulders. Her muscles had definitely been more relaxed, so he was surprised when he felt her tense up again. Then she spoke in a low voice.
"The doctor gave me some cream to rub on the scars, but I cannot reach my back. You could rub some on…if you want to."
That explained the tension. She wasn't sure he'd want to - and probably wasn't sure she could actually handle the reality of it if he did.
"I want to. Where is it?"
Ziva reached into the drawer of her nightstand and pulled out a small tube. She held it out to him.
He paused while they both still had a grip on it, willing her to look at him. When she finally raised her eyes to his, he said, "Promise you'll tell me if you need me to stop."
She dropped her gaze, so he put a finger under her chin, gently bringing her eyes back to his once more. "Promise?"
She nodded.
"Tell me." There was a pause.
"I promise."
Gibbs moved slowly and pressed a kiss to her forehead.
"Want me to leave your shirt down?"
She thought for a moment. Her tension increased once more, but she said, "You can lift it if you want."
"What do you want?"
She sighed. The sound was so forlorn, it broke his heart. "I do not want to keep hiding from you, but…I am afraid." There were tears in her voice.
Gibbs tenderly brushed the backs of his fingers along her cheek. A single tear rolled down her face.
"There is nothing you could tell me or show me that would make me stop loving you or stop wanting to touch you."
Ziva gave a slight shake of her head, clearly not believing him. She did not let on how desperately she wanted to.
"How 'bout I raise your shirt up some and we see how that goes?"
She nodded. She pressed her face into his hand that was still resting against her cheek, surprising him. He felt a small surge of hope.
"Remember – you promised." Another nod.
Slowly Jethro lifted her shirt to just below the middle of her back, his eyes on hers, looking for the least sign that she needed him to stop. Their gazes still locked, he squeezed some cream onto his hand and lightly placed his fingers on the small of her back. When she didn't flinch, he began moving his hand, slowly and carefully over her back. The scent of the gel-like substance was surprisingly pleasant.
When he felt her body begin to relax again, his did, too. Her eyes drifted shut, but he kept his eyes on her face, not wanting to miss even the slightest reaction. He could feel thin ridges in her skin where she'd clearly been whipped, and knew it was probably worse higher up. He was careful to keep his reaction off his face for now, but his heart was heavy with this evidence of how she'd been tortured.
He continued until he reached her shirt. He paused. "OK to lift it higher?"
Ziva nodded.
He lifted it nearly to her shoulders, watching her face. He waited.
"It is all right for you to look, Jethro, " Ziva said softly. Her eyes opened to find his. "I think I need you to look." There was fear in her eyes, but also a grim determination he'd seen before.
Slowly he turned his gaze toward her back. Her once-unblemished beautiful skin was now marred by long scars of varying widths, testimony to the various straps Saleem Ulman and his men had used on her. More than once, from the looks of it.
He felt her watching him and was careful not to close his eyes, not wanting her to think he found her repulsive. Nothing was further from the truth. His fingers trembled with the force of his emotion, though, and he was unable to stop the slow tears that began rolling silently down his face. Jethro put more of the ointment on his hand and set the tube on his nightstand. He began rubbing it into her skin with a gentle, soothing touch – unsure of whom he was trying to soothe more, her or himself.
As he worked, he felt the urge to kiss her scars better, though he knew that was impossible. Besides, the physical pain from these injuries was long gone. But still…
His head bent toward her back, seeming of its own volition. When he realized what he was doing, he stopped and whispered, "Can I - ?"
She answered with a soft "Yes," and he bent his head to press a kiss as soft as a butterfly's wing onto the scar nearest him. He repeated the action with each and every scar until he'd kissed them all. As he did, his tears mixed with the cream he'd already rubbed onto her skin.
When he'd brushed every inch of exposed skin with his lips, he rested his cheek and hand against her back, speaking volumes without words.
After a while she stirred, rolling onto her side and reaching for him. She cradled his face in her hands. "Look at me, Jethro," she commanded in a soft voice. He met her eyes, finding a tender smile on her face and tears running down her cheeks, as well.
He found he could no longer hide the pain he felt for her, but it seemed he didn't need to.
"He hurt you," he whispered hoarsely. "That bastard hurt you." Sobs begged to break free from his chest.
"Yes. And you killed him for it. For me." Her answer was quiet, but strong, and she looked him straight in the eye.
"I should have found you sooner."
"Jethro. You thought I was dead." He closed his eyes against the remembered pain of that. "It is a miracle you found me at all." She continued to look deep into his face for a moment, then cradled him to her chest.
In that moment she realized that she was not so broken that she couldn't be the strong one in this, the one to comfort him. It was a powerful revelation.
He did sob, then, as she held him. He wrapped his arms tightly around her waist, as if he would never let go. She whispered soothing words in her native tongue, and just held on.
She had not considered that, in trying to protect them both from these feelings, she'd actually been hurting him more by putting up walls between them and leaving him to feel as alone in his pain as she did in hers.
When his tears had run their course, Ziva pressed a kiss to his hair and lifted his face. She wiped his tears with her thumbs and looked into his eyes.
"No one has ever loved me like you do." She paused. "I have done nothing in my whole life to deserve you, but I am not letting go of you until you say I must."
"Promise?" he husked.
"Promise."
Their mouths moved inexorably closer, meeting in a soft kiss that was almost chaste. Gradually, though, the heat built and the kiss deepened until they were both breathing harder. They slowly pulled apart.
She snuggled her face into his neck. "I have missed you. So much."
"Missed you too, Ziver."
She cuddled close, completely relaxed against him for the first time since her return. He carefully wrapped his arms around her, thankful he could hold her like this again, at least for tonight.
Jethro smoothed her t-shirt back down, his hand lingering with soothing touches. He didn't kid himself that it would be all smooth sailing from here on out, but, like her scars, Ziva was healing. She was forever changed, inside and out, but the memories and scars from her ordeal would continue to fade and eventually she would recover. She'd already begun.
A/N: This is my first posting - thanks for reading! Let me know what you think. And a HUGE "Thank you!" to CSIGurlie07 for her support and input - couldn't have done it without you!!