i've got spots; i've got stripes, too. (ncis)
tony, ziva, and the desert
Tony doesn't do too well in the desert
no copyright infringement intended. title from ani difranco's in or out. written for inflightdata.
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I function better with the sun in my eyes
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Tony doesn't do too well in the desert. His skin is peeling, his mouth is dry, and something about the food isn't agreeing with him. He's all for sand, but he prefers it on a beach, next to a yawning stretch of sea shore, not in his hair/shorts/unmentionables.
Ziva keeps her cool, even in this ridiculous heat. The dust doesn't faze her, and she moves smoothly across the sand, unperturbed by the local cuisine, or the fierce sun, or any of the hundred inconveniences that have plagued Tony ever since their plane touched down in Cairo.
They're walking through the Khan el-Khalili market, Ziva a few paces ahead, when Tony realises what it is about the situation that's got him wound so tight: Ziva is at home here, relaxed and camouflaged. Freed from the restraints of the American culture she's never quite adapted to, she is a stranger to him once more, and she has the upper hand here in a world where Tony will never be able to hide.
She turns then, some trinket in her hand, and she smiles at him, and suddenly all the geography in the world doesn't matter because it's not the place that makes the person, it's the person who makes the point, and Ziva is unmistakably Ziva, both here and back home.
end.