Couldn't get this off my mind, so I wrote it down at about half past two last night. And I have to say, when I got up this morning and read it again, I was actually surprised at how well I liked it :)
Unfortunately I own nothing!
He quickly tried to find the light, but had to squint as it suddenly was so bright. In his head he cursed that he had even agreed to move in at Ziva's until she was better. At first he had thought Abby had very much exaggerated when she begged him to do it because she just couldn't take it anymore. But in the very first night he already had to realize how bad she really was. She cried in her sleep, she talked, usually senseless stuff he didn't understand, but sometimes about Rivkin, about her father, even about Ari. Incoherent sentences, quiet murmuring, then louder again. And she screamed. Her screams were what bothered him most. There was so much pain and fear in them. Nobody knew what had really happened in Somalia – she had suppressed it. She just couldn't remember anymore (which maybe was better).
In the beginning her neighbors had called the police because of breach of the peace, but now they understood that it made no sense. Since then Tony had stayed with her every night and slept on the couch. The nights were worst for her. Ducky thought that she panicked when she woke up at night and realized that she was alone and in the dark again. Anyway – all they had were assumptions. Nobody knew what was wrong with her or how to help her. She probably suffered unbearable agony, but she never talked about it – not to any of them.
Now, too, she screamed. Frantically, scared for her life and in Hebrew. Whether she still was asleep or had already woken up he couldn't tell. It was like that almost every night. But this was the first time she dreamed in Hebrew.
He rolled off the couch (he certainly was too tall for it, sooner or later his back would kill him), and tiptoed towards her bedroom.
She lied in a half upright position on her bed, her hair dripped with sweat and stuck to her head, in the white of her eyes some veins had split. She had a knife in her hand (where had that appeared from?), and she held it dangerously close to her left wrist. One glance into her face and he knew she was in a kind of trance again. The knife touched her skin, a little blood dripped out. Within a second he was next to her, grabbed her hands and threw the knife in a corner.
She gasped for air as if she had asthma. Her skin was hot, like she had fever, and she was shaking like a leaf. He grabbed her shoulders and shook her. Her eyes were glassy, it took her quite a while to actually recognize him.
When she started to weep in a heartbreaking way he put both his arms around her and pulled her towards him. Her head sank against his chest, her tears dropped onto his shirt. And the worst thing was that he'd actually got used to seeing her like this – broken; messed up. And he'd got used to having her in his arms crying.
"Hold me…" Her whole body was shaking.
"I'm holding you, honey." If she had been in a normal state he would now have had a black eye for calling her that.
"Make it stop…it…it hurts, Tony…it hurts so much…" she sobbed.
"I know, Ziva. I know." Though he had no idea what she was talking about. He tenderly stroke her hair and back. His skin tingled where he touched her. Since he got to know her there had been this tension between them. He somehow had an extreme obsession for her; not just as an Israeli ninja killer she fascinated him, but as a woman too.
Her skin felt warm and soft when his hand slid under her shirt. Her hair smelled seductively of lilac. Suddenly his lips touched her forehead, her cheeks, her throat. He had imagined this moment so very often.
But then he felt one of the mysterious inflamed scars on her back which she had since they got her back from Somalia.
He had some qualms, not many, but still. It wouldn't be fair to seduce her if she was in this state of mind. He wanted her, more than anything else on the whole freaking planet – but she had kept her distance all the years. With her it was different than with the flings he usually had.
He wasn't sure what love actually felt like, but this could be pretty close to it.
He let go of her. She trusted him and he knew it – which was the reason he couldn't take advantage of her right now. Right now she needed warmth and affection (something he would have loved to give) – but if she abandoned herself to him now, she would regret it later. Right now she was helpless, and if he continued to undress her he knew she would give in, unable to elude herself. She wasn't all there. Not now.
Ziva groaned and sank back into her pillows. He just sat on the edge of her bed and stared at her. A broken beauty.
When she breathed more regular again after a while, he got up and wanted to return to the couch, when she groaned again.
He turned around. She looked at him with wide eyes, in fear and whispered: "Stay with me." He looked at her, his partner for years, frowned, then looked at the bed. This wasn't a good idea. He'd have to bite his lips so the pain would keep his hands from wandering. But he wasn't cold-hearted enough to leave her alone in her current state of mind.
Without thinking any more he turned off the light and slid under the blanket with her. She immediately cuddled closer to him. The scent of her hair was in his nose, her back pressed against his chest and her thighs touched his, what caused tingling again. Slowly he tried if he was allowed to put an arm around her waist and was relieved when he felt her regular heartbeat and breathing.
Ziva didn't wake up again in this night, nor did she have another nightmare.
Tony wasn't able to fall asleep.
This has only been my second story, so please let me know what you think!