Title: Proud To Be An American?
Pairing: slight McGee/Ziva, but more friendship
Rating: FR7
Genre: Angst, Drama, Friendship
Cat: Gen
Spoilers: Tag to Rule 51
Warnings: None.
Summary: Ziva questions the decisions she's made in becoming an American.
Author's Note: Written for the Season Seven Finale Rewrite challenge on NFA. Part of the challenge was to change something in the episode, so that will explain part of this story.
"Congratulations again, Ziva," Abby said, smiling brightly as she wrapped her arms around Ziva, who, once uncomfortable with the other woman's touch, reciprocated the hug with a laugh.
"And I would like to say well done," Ducky added, and Ziva leaned in to kiss him on the cheek.
"Thank you both," she said, smiling, and accepted the handshake Palmer offered her, as well.
"Uh, Doctor?" Palmer said then, and Ducky turned to him. "We should get going . . ."
"Ah, yes, duty calls," Ducky said, sighing. He turned back to Ziva. "Do you need a ride back to NCIS?"
"I can give her one," McGee chimed in and Ziva nodded her agreement.
"Very well. Abigail!" The cheerful lab tech looked up from the tray of appetizers she had been studying and waved goodbye as she walked out with Ducky and Palmer.
McGee waited until they left before turning to Ziva. "So, you're finally an American. How's it feel?" Ziva was silent, watching the door, and McGee frowned, but kept his voice positive as he said, "Well, I'm happy you -"
"I should have known he would not be here," Ziva interrupted, her voice soft.
McGee feigned ignorance. "You mean Tony or . . ." He looked up then, his expression changing to surprise. "Gibbs."
Ziva sighed, closing her eyes and shaking her head. "Can you please just take me back to NCIS now?"
"What's the rush?"
Ziva's head flicked up at the voice and she stared at the new guest. "Gibbs. I did not think . . ."
He shrugged a shoulder. "Sorry I'm late."
Ziva stared at him for a few more moments, then nodded, looking at the floor before meeting his eyes again. "Well, the ceremony is over. McGee, I am ready to leave." She turned to him and waited for him to say something.
After a few moments of silence, he turned back to her. "You're not going to . . ."
Ziva rolled her eyes. "I should have went back with Ducky and Palmer and Abby," she muttered, and McGee sighed.
"Okay, let's go," he said, holding his hand out as if to place it on her back, but she walked from the building before he could. He met Gibbs' gaze briefly. "Boss . . ."
Gibbs nodded slightly. "Just go, Tim."
McGee frowned at the use of his first name, knowing this was more than a simple brush-off on Ziva's part. He nodded back at Gibbs and hurried from the building, knowing Ziva was apt to hotwire his car and leave on her own if he didn't show up soon.
When he reached the car, he saw Ziva simply sitting in the passenger seat and wondered for a moment how she got into the car, since it had been locked and he had the keys, but then remembered it was Ziva and knew he had his answer. He unlocked his door, since she hadn't bothered, and slid inside, giving Ziva a brief glance before putting the key in the ignition and starting up the car.
They had been driving for a few silent minutes when McGee decided to speak. He opened his mouth, but closed it again as Ziva said, "I do not want to talk about it." Her voice was quiet, and she then turned to look at him, a small smile on her face. "Thank you for your concern."
McGee wrinkled his brow in concern, but didn't say anything. At least, not until they reached the NCIS parking lot and he shut the car down. The engine idled to a stop and he stared at the steering wheel for a moment, then spoke. "Tony would have been here if he could."
Ziva reached for the door to open it, but McGee had locked them. She gave a bitter laugh. "That won't keep me from going, McGee."
"I know," he said, and there was no humor in his voice. Ziva fell silent again. "Why won't you talk to me?"
"What am I supposed to say, McGee?" Ziva suddenly said, flipping to face him, her eyes wild. "Am I supposed to tell you that I waited that whole ceremony for Gibbs, for Tony, for people I thought cared enough and wanted me here? Am I supposed to tell you that when they did not show up, I doubted my place here? Like I had made a wrong decision somewhere, that maybe I should still be in Israel?" She stared at him, the ferocity in her eyes turning to grief.
But rather than offer words of comfort, McGee shook his head in disbelief and looked back to the steering wheel. "And it doesn't matter how the rest of us feel," he said softly, but his words reeked of anger. He glanced up at her. "We want you here, Ziva. I want you here." He shook his head again. "But it doesn't matter what I want. It never has." He let out a sigh and pressed a button, unlocking the doors. "You can go now."
Ziva didn't make a move to leave, or say anything. McGee risked another glance at her and found her facing forward again, a glassy expression on her face. She must have sensed him watching her, because she spoke. "You're right."
He sighed, running a hand over his face. "No, that was horrible of me to say. You're hurt and I just go and act like a jerk . . ."
Ziva shook her head, turning to look at him again. Some life had returned to her eyes. "No, I needed to hear that. I have taken you for granted, McGee. And for that, I am sorry." She looked down at her hands. "Tony has been . . . difficult since Somalia, and I am never quite sure how Gibbs feels about anything. I already knew I had your support." She looked up again.
"And you just wanted to know you had theirs, too," McGee finished, and she nodded quickly, turning away so he couldn't see her face. She raised a hand to her face and he knew if she wasn't crying, she was trying to hold back tears. He hesitated, then reached a tentative hand over to rest on her back. She stiffened for a split second, then relaxed. He relaxed, as well, and continued. "Well, Ziva, trust me when I say you have it." He paused. "You wanna go back and talk to Gibbs?" Ziva shook her head and McGee nodded. "You gonna be okay?" She nodded quickly again, and he heard an almost inaudible sniff. "You need a hug or anything?"
Ziva let out a watery laugh at that, and then slowly turned to face him. He saw the tears in her eyes and gave her a sad smile. He waited for a minute, then reached for the door, when he heard, "Would you?"
He turned back to her, surprised, and saw the depth of emotion in her eyes. He nodded. "Yeah, I can do that. Come on, get out. It'll be easier standing up."
Ziva laughed again and pushed the door open, squinting against the bright sunshine as if exiting a dark tunnel. McGee did the same, slamming his door shut and walking around to the back of the car, waiting for Ziva to join him. She just stood by her open door, however, staring at nothing in particular, her hand resting on the top of the window. McGee let out a breath and took the initiative, finishing the walk around the car and standing slightly behind her.
"Ziva," he said, and she slowly moved her head to face him, but made no further movements. He sighed and closed the gap between them, gingerly putting his arms around her and waiting to see if she would settle into his embrace.
And she did after a minute, wrapping her arms around his torso, resting her cheek against his chest, a breeze ruffling through her hair and the sun beating down on them. McGee rested his head on top of Ziva's and ran a hand down her back, kissed her temple and sighed again.
"I got you, Ziva," he murmured, and felt Ziva nod against his chest.
"I know," she said into his shirt, looked up at him briefly and returned her head to his chest.
And in that moment, she knew she'd made the right choice.
THE END