Okay, so I showed this to my cousin before posting it, and she giggled for about ten minutes before finally proclaiming "It's cute!"... so, hopefully that will be a common reaction... well, you don't have to giggle for that long. It is a bit angsty at first, but it's kinda fluffy towards the end. Haha, when I wrote angsty, I thought of potter puppet pals on youtube: wizard angst! (sorry Gracie)
AND! Thanks in advance to all of you BRILLIANT, KIND, SWEET, LOVELY readers/writers who send me all those wonderful reviews (I want to see how many gigglers I get).
Tony sighed as he stood outside her door. There were no noises from within, but he knew she was in there. He was still attempting to gather enough courage to knock. He'd used up the little he had coming to her room in the first place. Actually knocking and following through with his plan was a whole different story.
He looked up and down the empty hallway. The guest quarters at Mossad were actually pretty nice. He still couldn't help checking for bombs or assassins when he first entered his own room. The beige hall seemed to mock him as he stood on the wrong side of her door. He'd been there for ten minutes now. He imagined what Gibbs would think... and immediately winced as he imagined the head slap that he would have received approximately nine and a half minutes ago, had Gibbs truly been with him.
Finally, Tony took a deep breath and rapped sharply on the door with his good arm. He waited, his heart pounding. Would she simply look at him and slam the door? Would she hear him out? Would she actually kill him this time? Questions swirled around in his head as he waited with baited breath for her to open the door.
He was almost ready to give up when the door swung open, revealing the stunning woman he had worked with for the past four years. She simply stood there in her sweatpants and sweatshirt, looking at him. He opened his mouth immediately to begin making excuses, but something made him stop. There was something wrong. He simply stared at her for a moment, and she stared back.
"Ziva?" Tony asked hesitantly. Her eyes. That's what it was. They were red, bloodshot, and... lifeless. She held a crystal glass full of amber liquid. "You okay?"
Ziva stared at him for a few more moments before replying simply, "No." With that, she moved out of the doorway, turning around and heading back into her room. She left the door open in invitation. Tony cautiously stepped through into her room and shut the door.
His eyes widened as he took in her room. It was much bigger than his, with a kitchenette and a sitting room. His only contained a bathroom and bedroom with a couch, more like a hotel room than the apartment hers resembled. His eyes found the couch and the table in front of it.
His heart ached as he took in the nearly empty liquor bottle sitting in the middle of the table. Looking at Ziva he wondered why he hadn't realized it before. Her eyes were slightly unfocused, framed by dark circles. She hadn't been sleeping. Drinking would only temporarily numb the pain; it would be back tomorrow. He of all people would know. He sighed. He knew her well enough to know that she'd been at it for a while, so she would probably be unpredictable, and possibly violent. Not that she wasn't like that when she was sober...
She simply looked accusingly at him. "What do you want? Why are you here? To wipe what you did in my face?" she snapped. Even drunk, she spoke clearly, though her accent was a bit more pronounced.
Automatically, Tony corrected her, though he winced the moment the words were out of his mouth. "Rub. Rub it in... sorry, not helping."
She opened her mouth, but Tony cut her off, afraid of what she would say when she finally did start talking. "Look, I know you're really mad at me and everything, and I don't blame you a bit, I would be really mad at you too if you'd randomly shown up at my apartment when I wasn't there, and then I came home to you and my girlfriend lying on the floor, and she was dead and you were hurt, and breaking all sorts of rules, supposedly, but I would hear you out, I would listen to what you had to say, and I know it's not exactly your nature to be patient and forgiving, but I really would like to explain." Tony gasped for breath. He'd been too terrified to stop, afraid she would hit him or something.
Ziva gazed at him with lifeless eyes. His heart broke for her. That look was going to kill him where he stood. He couldn't stand to know he'd caused it. Her eyes weren't full of hatred or anger or grief, just... nothing.
She sat down on the couch and poured herself another glass of brandy.
"Fine."
Tony gingerly sat on the chair across from her. She only glared at him half-halfheartedly. He took a deep breath as he prepared to start his story.
"Ziva, we, well, Abby, tracked where Abin Tabul's laptop had connected to the Internet. Your address was on the list. I wanted to give you a chance to talk to me, to tell me what was going on, to explain why we kept finding such incriminating evidence against you. I went to your apartment. It was after midnight so I expected you to be there. You, uh, obviously weren't. But he was. He answered..." Tony trailed off as he gained the courage to look up at Ziva to see her reaction to his explanation. He was shocked to find a single tear tracing a path down her cheek.
In all their years working together, he had only once seen Ziva cry. She was always the strong one, no matter what. When Jenny died, he knew she had cried, but she never let him see. Not when she'd told him the story of her little sister's untimely death. He hadn't seen her cry yet this case, not even when the doctor came to tell her Rivkin was dead. Not when Gibbs had told her her apartment had been blown to pieces.
But here they were, in Israel of all places, sitting across from each other, her drunk and crying, him stunned and confused. "Ziva?" he asked quietly. The tear was joined by another, and then another. Tony cautiously rose from his position in the chair. He slowly walked over to her, and reseated himself next to her. Not too close, but as close as he dared. "Ziva?" he repeated.
She blinked and looked up at him through tortured eyes. "I killed them," she said so softly Tony wasn't sure he'd heard her correctly.
"What?" he asked, puzzled and slightly worried. Who had she killed now?
The tears began coming faster now, thought they remained silent. "I killed them. All of them," Ziva whispered,barely louder than the first confession.
"Ziva, what are you talking about? You haven't killed anyone recently... have you?" Now he was really concerned. If he hadn't been so freaked out he probably would have laughed at what just came out of his mouth. Never thought he'd say that with a straight face.
"All of them," Ziva repeated. "Micheal, Tali, Jenny, Ari...all of them."
Tony paled. Of all the things she thought she would do tonight, blame herself for Rivkin's death wasn't even on the list. Ziva started crying harder.
Tony immediately pushed off the couch and crouched in front of her, grabbing her arms with his one good hand. Dangerous, he knew, but he had to convince her she hadn't done anything. Ziva did nothing, refusing to even look at him.
"No! No, Ziva! What are you talking about, you haven't done anything!" he said vehemently. She just shook her head.
"No," she whispered. "Micheal was in D.C. visiting me and you said yourself, the only reason you came that night was to talk to me. Tali and I were on an undercover opp together. I told her to go check a room, and the bomb was in that room. Jenny relied on me to keep her safe in L.A. and she ended up dead, alone, in the middle of a desert. I was trying to help Ari get out of the country, but instead I shot him, my half brother, to save a man I'd known for three days. I'm a curse! Everyone who gets close to me ends up dead."
By now she was full out sobbing. Tony was frozen in shock. She'd shot Ari? Gibbs told everyone Ari had followed him into his house and Gibbs had shot him. She never said anything to convince them otherwise. No one knew she'd even been there! And he never knew she blamed herself for Jenny's death as well. He had blamed himself, he still did, but he never thought she would share the guilt. She was the one who insisted they go after Jenny in the first place.
Still in shock, Tony maneuvered his way back onto the couch and wrapped his arm around Ziva. When she didn't resist, he pulled her into his lap so he could cradle her the way he had long ago cradled his younger sisters when they were upset.
Rocking back and forth and whispering soothing words to Ziva, Tony contemplated what she'd said. His heart ached with the knowledge that she viewed herself as a curse. She was anything but a curse in his mind. She was beautiful, smart, dangerous... and excellent at hiding herself behind the protective walls she'd built up over the years. Every death, every accident, every kill, every heartbreak added another layer to those stupid walls. Looking down at her, he cursed himself. Who knew how many times he'd unknowingly helped her build them up.
He wished he could destroy those walls, so he could see the real Ziva. Staring into her face, though, he knew that the Ziva he had come to know over all those years was the real Ziva. Her aggressiveness, her teasing, her moments of kindness. Looking back through the years, he couldn't imagine the team without her. How much he would have missed her smiles, her laughter, the way she knew him so well. She could tell when he needed time to himself, and when he needed someone to talk to. No one but Gibbs knew him like that.
It was the same the other way as well. He knew he pushed her sometimes, but it usually helped in the long run. Admittedly, as of late, that hadn't worked out so well. He missed their friendly banter, which had recently turned into straight-out fights. He was sick of them refusing to speak to one another, avoiding the other's stare, even though they sat not even ten feet away from each other. Lately it had seemed like so much more space than that.
Suddenly he regretted every stupid insult he'd thrown at her, every unfounded accusation he'd made, every unkind thing he'd said to her. He wished they could go back to before he found out about Micheal, before he'd begun to doubt her loyalty, before he hurt her like this. Seeing her broken and sobbing in his arms was almost too much to bear. He wanted to break down as well, take away her pain and make it his own. He loved her too much to stand by and watch... love... he loved her.
For a moment, Tony simply sat there, frozen in shock at his epiphany. He blinked slowly. I love her?He found himself surprised that it was so easy to accept this realization. I love her.
How had he not seen it before? Thinking back to all their years together, he tried to figure out exactly how long he'd loved her. He couldn't pick out a single moment, but several stood out in his mind.
Meeting her for the first time in the bullpen. He inwardly snorted, remembering when she took her hair down, watching him with dark eyes, knowing exactly what she was doing to him. That night, when she brought him coffee to ward off the cold rain he'd been oddly happy to see her, even though he knew he shouldn't be. When she'd told him about her little sister's death, his heart had ached for her then too. At the time he hadn't understood why he was so concerned.
The time they'd gone undercover as assassins. He remembered the look in her eyes as she'd pulled him closer, urging him to kiss her. He remembered thinking it wasn't right, they couldn't, shouldn't, but he was powerless to resist her. He'd teased her the whole time to disguise the fact that he was extremely glad the two of them had been chosen for that particular assignment. He'd loved the chance to give in to the tension that haunted him day after day, and not have any consequences.
That time they'd gotten stuck in that stupid metal container in the navy yard. He remembered being slightly panicked about being pretty sure they were going to die, but oddly at peace, knowing he was with Ziva. He knew she was frightened, despite her protests. He'd tried to get her to open up, to talk to him, but he was mostly unsuccessful. He smiled remembering how just before help showed up she'd apologized. That was a rare event.
The summer that Gibbs had "retired," leaving the team to Tony. He and Ziva had had movie nights twice a week. When Gibbs had returned, those nights that Tony cherished had become much more scarce. They hadn't given them up completely, but sadly, they had recently become few and far apart.
Jenny's death. It was a particularly difficult time for him. She was there for him as he blamed himself, she helped him deal with his guilt, and tried to convince him it was wrongly placed. He remembered earlier that sad day when he'd found her tanning by their hotel pool. He smiled. He still had those pictures.
When they'd all been reassigned after Jenny's death. He remembered the look on her face when Vance had told them all their fates, when he'd told her she was going back to Israel. He remembered his time as agent afloat, how the thought of her, and the rest of the team was the only thing that kept him from doing as he had threatened and jumping off the ship. When he saw her again, smiling at him in that bar in Cartagena, he'd been so relieved. She'd survived her time back at Mossad, and she'd returned to him safely.
The time they broke into the facility housing DOMINO, when they'd been forced to hide in the closet. He'd stood so close to her. When they'd gotten cornered by the guards, how scared he'd been for her, and how panicked he'd been when he'd awoken to find her nowhere in sight. Then the next day, when they'd been in the elevator. When she'd come so close to admitting that she'd panicked when she heard the gunshot and seen him fall. He'd said he was tired of pretending, and she'd said she was too. He'd been too wrapped up in his own anger and feeling of betrayal that it was too late before he found the double meaning in her words, and in his own. Then, days later, when he saw the tears slide down her face as she watched Gibbs tell Amanda her sister wasn't coming back. He knew she was thinking of how her own little sister wasn't coming back either.
The day that Ducky told him Ziva had almost died before returning to NCIS. When he'd found that ZNN video, he'd been so afraid, even though he knew she'd be fine. He'd been jealous of the man he'd seen help the paramedics lift her into the ambulance.
And then... her face, that day at the hospital, when she'd been told Micheal was dead... killed by Tony's bullets.
The whole time he'd been undercover for Jenny, when he'd thought he loved Jeanne. Maybe he had, but it wasn't like this, it wasn't like how he felt about Ziva. This was so much stronger. Tony tightened his arm, holding Ziva closer. He was finally at peace, finally admitting his feelings to himself.
After a while, Ziva calmed down. She did nothing to remove herself from his embrace, though. Tony took that as a good sign. He waited another few minutes before saying anything.
"Ziva?" he asked softly.
"Yes?" she answered after taking in a shaky breath.
"You aren't a curse. You're a blessing. What would we have done all these years without you? Who would have helped us get through Kate's death? Who would have solved all those cases that you were a crucial part of?" Tony said, trying to make her see just how special she really was.
"You," was her simple, determined reply. "You never needed me. You would have done just fine without me."
"No, Ziva, we wouldn't have. If you hadn't come, Gibbs would most likely be dead, or without memory still, and who knows how many times you've saved my butt, or McGee's. Abby would probably still be depressed over Kate. I know I would. You distracted me. You helped me not focus on only Kate, you helped me realize that the world really did still revolve without her."
"I was a distraction," she said, only focusing on that one part of everything he'd said.
"Ziva," he sighed, desperately wanting to show her that she meant everything to him and the team. "You were a good distraction. I never would have recovered the way I did without you. I was so depressed when you returned to Tel Aviv last summer. I couldn't stop thinking about-" Tony cut himself off abruptly, realizing what he was about to say. He really didn't think now would be a very good time for a declaration of love. "You mean so much to all of us. We wouldn't be who we are today without you. I can't even imagine a team without you."
Ziva sniffed, and shook her head. Tony knew she couldn't be swayed when she was drunk, and that she would fight every single thing he told her, even if her argument was extremely illogical. Sighing, Tony repositioned her and stood up with her still in his arms. He winced, but otherwise ignored the pain in his broken arm.
"Tony..." she muttered, confused and sleepy.
"Shhh..." Was his only reply. She obeyed and closed her eyes. He carried her down the hall to her room and gently lowered her onto the bed. He was glad she was already in something she could wear to bed. He couldn't imagine how awkward it would be if he had to change her, though he was fairly sure she was asleep at this point. As he pulled away to find the blanket, his breath caught in his throat. How he'd managed to overlook it was beyond him. She was wearing a bright red Ohio State sweatshirt. His bright red Ohio State sweatshirt. He'd been wondering where it was for a while now. Why was she wearing it now, of all times?
He sighed as he turned for the door. Why had he fallen for such a confusing woman? One moment she hated him, the next she was wearing his sweatshirt. As his hand touched the doorknob, she suddenly moved, sitting up.
"Tony," she whispered into the darkness of the room.
He looked at her, not saying anything.
She looked back at him with a strange look on her face. He'd seen it before. She was warring with herself, between what she wanted and what she knew she shouldn't do. He wondered what she wanted. A few moments later he had his answer.
"... Stay," she requested, sounding broken. He knew he should refuse, turn and walk away, but he also knew that if he did he would never forgive himself, and memories of her broken voice and tears would haunt him all night. Sighing, he made his decision and shut the door. On his way back to the bed, he shed his shoes, coat and tie.
Minding his arm, he settled in behind her under the blanket. She rolled over so they faced each other. He studied her face in the minimal light from the window behind him. Even red and blotchy from crying, she was still beautiful. She said nothing, closing her eyes and almost immediately falling into a deep sleep.
Tony lay next to her for hours, watching over her as she slept. He didn't feel the need to sleep. He knew it was jet lag and that he would regret it tomorrow, but he couldn't give up the opportunity to watch her, so relaxed and peaceful, and not asking him what he was doing. He listened to the even pattern of her breathing, noting with some amusement that she didn't snore. He'd always kind of thought that time undercover was a ruse, something to annoy him. He'd noticed as that night had worn on that her snoring had gotten quieter. Now, it was nonexistent.
At three o'clock, he removed himself from her arms. Going back into the living room he eyed the bottle. He knew she wouldn't have packed it, and he didn't think she'd left to buy it. Frowning he surveyed the room and almost instantaneously found the source. In the corner, there was a shelf full of liquor bottles, not unlike the one Jenny had had when the director's office had been hers. He sighed. All the bottles were full, which meant that the almost empty bottle had been as well.
Remembering his time as an agent afloat and the number of liquor bottles he'd smuggled aboard, he knew she probably wouldn't remember a thing when she woke up. Considering how she'd felt toward him earlier, he didn't think it would be a very good idea to be there when she woke up.
He wanted to cry, knowing that all he'd said would be as if it hadn't existed, as well as all that she had said. He doubted they would have had such a conversation if she'd been sober. She never would have opened up like she had.
Tony put the bottle down and returned to the bedroom. Ziva had pulled the covers closer to herself, and her beautiful face was creased in a frown. Tony watched her the entire time he struggled to redress himself. When he had finally pulled his jacket on and given up on the tie, he went to the door., hating himself. As he reached for the doorknob for the second time that night, he heard her whimper softly and murmur something in Hebrew. He glanced over his shoulder at her tormented, sleeping face, lit by the hall light.
He couldn't leave her like this. He slowly made his way to the bed. He reached out and tenderly dragged his fingers over her cheek. Her face relaxed under his touch. Unable to resist, he leaned over and placed a gentle, lingering kiss on her forehead. She didn't move or react. He didn't expect her to.
With that, Tony turned away and softly shut the door behind him. As he made his way quietly through Ziva's rooms, he turned off the lights. His heart breaking, he took one last glance around the quarters and relived the night. He closed his eyes and let his mind stop at the parts he wanted to remember forever. He left, but not before he whispered what he'd longed to all night.
As the door closed behind him, the words echoed in the otherwise silent room. "I love you."
Back in the bedroom, Ziva smiled in her sleep.