Set at the beginning of season 10. NCIS headquarters have been rebuilt. Oneshot.
Disclaimer: I doubt anybody thinks I own any rights to NCIS...but just to be clear, I don't.
Things always seemed to have a tendency to go back to the way they'd been before for them.
After every trauma, every heartbreak, every senseless killing, they always seemed to find themselves seated back at those desks in the squad room. It was nice, in a way, knowing that whenever she looked at the desk across from her's, she'd see him. The constancy, something her life certainly lacked, was comforting. Granted, there had been times when he hadn't been there, and there had also been times when she hadn't been there herself, she'd give him that. But they always seemed to find their way back to those desks, in the end. That in and of itself always provided a sense of security.
Tonight was one of those times when Ziva stared at an empty desk. Thankfully, she knew that this time it wasn't because of an injury, or a fight between them, or another woman. Tony was making copies of a report he'd just filled out; he'd be back in a minute, back at his desk.
Something was different, though, this time around. While part of her longed for the stability which this all represented, another part of her longed for a change. Part of Ziva knew that the security contingent on the knowledge that he would always be there was also a result of her, and, she supposed, his, collective inability to change anything about their relationship. They were partners, friends, and nothing more, as many had suggested. They would have relationships with other people, and when these relationships inevitably failed, they would be there for each other. They had each other's backs.
But five months ago, in May, she'd almost lost him.
It was disconcerting that it had taken a near death experience to push her out of the type of thinking that had kept their relationship at friends, partners, and nothing more, the type of thinking that had been going on for quite some time, perhaps the whole time she' d known him. Yes, it troubled her that it had taken a terrorist attack and their entrapment for nearly five hours in an elevator to make her review in her mind, as she did now, every look, ever word, every touch over the past seven years, in a different light. Ziva found herself thinking of Tony from a different point of view, on a different level than friends, partners, and nothing more. And while this terrified her, maybe it was inevitable. Yes, all those years ago, when Jenny had died, she had told him that nothing is inevitable, but things were different now. So many things had changed, this they all had to accept.
Ziva knew she had to accept the unwavering truth. She was in love with her partner. This frightened her perhaps more than any mission she'd been on for any of the agencies with which she had been employed in her short lifetime. And why shouldn't it? This realization was a change, an alteration in the stability she had found in the past few years at NCIS. It was an alteration to the friends, partners, and nothing more categorization of her relationship with Tony. Why shouldn't it frighten her?
Tony's return to his desk broke Ziva's train of thought. He smiled to her as he sat down and proceeded to file the copies of his report.
They always seemed to find their way back to those desks, back to the same relationship. Things always seemed to have a tendency to go back to the way they'd been before. They and the relationship they lied to themselves about was always safe. But Ziva had faced frightening things before; she was brave.
She wasn't going to let her opportunity slip away. Ziva wasn't going to let Tony slip away.