Just a bit of Tony/Ziva Valentine's Day angst.
Ziva shouldered her bag as she exited the plane, walking quickly out of the terminal and toward the baggage claim, her heart pounding with every step she took forward.
She hadn't flown in months, not since she'd left American soil to reconnect with her roots, and she wasn't sure if it was the trip itself or the anticipation of the meeting to come that had caused the butterflies in her stomach to take flight.
She wasn't even sure if he'd even be there when she arrived, and that thought alone had been nearly enough to make her turn around and head back to Israel several times, but she kept telling herself that she'd come this far and she couldn't give up now.
She'd packed light, and soon she found herself outside, the cold, crisp breeze blowing her hair into her face. She'd forgotten how cold it could get in February.
A line of cabs was waiting just outside the airport and she stepped to the first one, greeting the driver with a smile and telling him her destination. Ziva sat back and relaxed as she looked out the window at the familiar sights and sounds, her anxiety growing with every tick of the meter.
Not for the first time, she wondered what she would do if he wasn't home, or if he was with someone else. They hadn't spoken since he'd left her in Israel over four months ago, and not because she hadn't wanted to, but because she didn't know what she would even be able to say. The closer she got to his apartment, the more she was convinced that it was a bad idea to just show up and surprise him at 7:00 in the morning on Valentine's Day. It was a Friday, for crying out loud, he would probably have to leave for work soon. And there was no way she was going to go back there … not yet, anyway.
This step was hard enough on its own, if she was being honest with herself.
The cab rounded the corner and she felt her heart jump practically into her throat as his building came into view. This is it, she thought, her heart pounding wildly. The driver slowed to a stop and she gathered her belongings, taking a deep breath as she handed the required bills over and stepped out of the cab. She stood still just a moment, hearing the cab roll away behind her before she took her first step toward the building.
To tell the truth, she hadn't been completely comfortable with dropping by unannounced even before she'd left the States. Tony had always been very selective with who he chose to let inside, and she had gotten the feeling that he was still reluctant to share his space, even with her.
And now that it had been so long since they'd so much as exchanged a text message, she was fairly certain that this would turn out to be a Bad Idea.
She opted for the stairs, anything to delay the inevitable. She couldn't wait to see him, true, but she was terrified of what she might find, and the terror was starting to win out. She took each step slowly, deliberately, taking deep breaths and trying to force herself to calm down.
Ziva, who had always had such control over her emotions, was terrified. She stopped at the second floor landing, whispering, "Be brave," to herself, a mantra that had always served her in the past. She had never been one to run from her fears, and she wouldn't stop now.
She continued up the stairs to the third floor, where the door to the man she'd missed since the moment he'd gotten on a plane stood just meters away. She took another deep breath and started down the hallway. I can do this, she thought to herself as she arrived at his door. "I can do this," she said repeated out loud, her words giving her the strength she needed to knock.
She waited several moments without a response before knocking again, but there was still no answer, even after a third attempt. A door opened behind her, and she turned to see Tony's neighbor step out of her apartment in a bathrobe. Crap, she thought. I didn't mean to disturb the neighbors.
"He's not home," the woman simply said, without greeting. "I saw him leaving yesterday afternoon with an overnight bag."
"Oh," was all Ziva could think to respond. "Thank you," she added as an afterthought. His neighbor nodded and went back into her apartment, the sound of the deadbolt engaging dragging Ziva from her trance, and she couldn't help but feel that the locking sound was some sort of symbol.
This was a bad idea, she thought, but she couldn't just leave. She reached into her jacket pocket and pulled out the envelope she'd brought just for this very scenario, and stopped just short of sliding it under his door.
Ziva sighed, and put the envelope back in her pocket. Perhaps it would just be better this way. She pulled out her phone and called a cab, and headed back down the hallway, willing her tears not to fall until she'd left the building.
They didn't listen.
The gardens surrounding the little house in Be'er Sheva hadn't changed much with the seasons, but the air felt fresh and lighter than the last time he'd been here. For that matter, his heart was feeling lighter than the last time he'd been here, as well. Last time, he'd been terrified that Ziva would push him away, and his heart had felt as tied as his hands had been.
Now, he was here to make a change. He'd promised Ziva he would change with her, and he had, even if he was not technically with her.
Coming back to Ziva was the last change he needed to make in his life to be happy with who he'd become, so he'd made the decision to take some time off work and to spend it with her, and do whatever it took to convince her to love him the way he'd loved her, even after all this time. It had only been four months, but it felt like an eternity without her. He missed her.
He'd been remarkably confident that he would be able to convince her to come home the last time he'd been here, and this time, he had decided that he wouldn't try. He'd been shooting for the stars, he knew, and he'd put too much pressure on her. This time, his only goal was to persuade her to let him stay in her life.
And up until about ten minutes ago – when he'd gotten dropped off at the house – he had been pretty sure of himself.
However, now that he was making his way toward the door, duffel bag in hand, Tony had started to become nervous at the prospect of not only seeing Ziva, but whether she'd forgive him for, well, intruding upon her new life of solitude and self-reflection.
It wasn't just the afternoon heat that was making him sweat, he realized.
Ziva was not an easy person to get close to, and when she wanted to be left alone, there was little Tony or anyone could do to penetrate her shield. When he left in October, he'd decided to give her the space she needed. If he were being honest, he'd always tried to give her the space she needed, and while he would sometimes push her to open up, he was always grateful for anything she would give him.
But he'd taken it too far this time, by letting her be the first to make contact after their separation last fall, because she hadn't. She'd practically disappeared off the face of the earth.
And if he was being completely honest with himself, he wasn't even sure if she would still be in Israel after all this time. There wasn't exactly any way for him to verify her whereabouts. He was starting to doubt whether or not she would even be here – or if there would be any sign that she'd ever been here.
The thought that she might be gone, really gone, terrified him far more than he'd been willing to admit.
Tony didn't remember the path to her house having been this long the last time he had been here, but then again, everything had seemed short about his last visit, especially the time he'd actually had to spend with Ziva. He was starting to regret having worn jeans, having forgotten that the sun would be beating down on him at – he glanced at his watch - 2:20 PM.
He wondered if she had a job. Would she be at home? Should he wait for her? He didn't know how to answer these questions.
He'd been so lost in thought that the door seemed to appear in front of him almost suddenly. He placed his duffel on the ground, wiping his hands on his pants and balling up his fist to knock. He shrugged, muttering, "Here goes nothing," before rapping on the door.
His heart began to speed up as he heard footsteps coming toward the door. This was it. He wondered how he would greet her. With a kiss? Wish her a happy Valentine's Day? Smile and just cock his head at her like he used to?
The door swung open, and an elderly woman stood before him.
Tony stood with his mouth slightly open, unsure of what to think, or even how to react. He didn't know a lot of Hebrew, but from what little he understood he realized that the woman was asking if she could help him. He managed to croak out that he was looking for Ziva David, hoping that this woman might be able to point him in the right direction.
She shook her head, saying something that Tony seemed to understand meant that while she knew Ziva, she didn't know where Ziva was. Or something like that, but the look on the woman's face seemed to translate perfectly.
Ziva was … gone.
Tony deflated, bending down to pick up his duffel bag. He smiled only enough to be polite, and thanked the woman, before turning and walking away from the house where they'd spent their time together before he left all those months ago.
"This was a stupid idea," he said out loud, shaking his head. "To come here on Valentine's Day like some lovesick fool in some movie and try to woo a woman who kicked me out of her life four months ago." He kicked a stone as he walked, frustrated, and not even caring that he was talking to himself. "Of course she disappeared."
Of course.
He'd purchased a return ticket to DC just in case this exact scenario played out, and he turned back down the road, dejected. He'd really hoped he would be able to cancel tonight's flight.
"Guess it wasn't meant to be," he sighed to himself as he continued his long walk back to the road.
Ziva was honestly sick of traveling by the time she arrived at her final layover, and really wanted nothing more than to curl up and sleep for approximately three days. She was exhausted and heartbroken, and that combination put her on edge.
Her flight back to Israel wouldn't leave until 10:27 local time, and she had about an hour and a half to kill, so she made her way to a shop in the concourse to purchase a book to read. She wasn't sure exactly what she was looking for, except for the romance novels. Screw the romance novels.
This was the shittiest Valentine's Day ever.
Hadn't she said once upon a time that she hadn't depended on happy endings? She sighed as she put another book down, picking up another and reading its summary on the back. She should have known that there would be no happy ending this time, either.
After browsing through several more choices, Ziva finally found a book that suited her tastes and paid for it. She meandered slowly out of the store, opting to crack open the book and start reading before she even made it to a seat.
She'd barely taken ten steps when she felt herself falling backwards, the force of some unseen entity knocking her to the ground. Really?! She thought to herself, her irritation growing, and a rage she hadn't felt in years boiling inside her. She started to pick herself up, ready to tear the man who'd run into her a new asshole, when she stopped short.
My eyes are playing tricks on me, she thought. It couldn't be. "Tony," she said, curtly, sure the man would turn around and look at her like she was insane.
He startled, recognizing her voice instantly. "Ziva," he said with all the intensity he could muster. He turned around, and they stared at each other, standing in the middle of the airport, neither wanting to be the first to even blink, for fear that the other was not real.
"So," Tony finally said, his eyes never leaving hers as he picked up his bag, "what brings you to gay Paris?"
"Layover," was her response, and her voice sounded uncharacteristically uneven. Like she didn't trust herself not to speak. How was it that she'd gone to see him, then missed him, then he was here? In front of her?
"What a coincidence," he answered, his mouth finally curling into a smile. "Me too."
They fell into step silently, their old ease with each other finally settling in. How funny it was, Tony mused, that after so long, they would still be so in sync?
Several minutes of silence passed. Tony had been running to catch his flight home, but Ziva was here. Ziva. He didn't care if he ever made it home again.
She stopped, suddenly, and he stopped beside her, looking at her quizzically. He watched as she drew a breath, then opened her mouth, as if to speak, then close it again. He didn't push the issue – he wasn't sure where he stood with her. She smiled appreciatively, and his unspoken vote of confidence gave her the courage she needed to speak.
"I had gone to your apartment. To see you," she said, biting her lip as she waited for his response.
He smirked, slightly, and responded, "I'm returning from Israel, myself."
It was instantaneous – one second, they were standing together, talking, and the next, they were wrapped up in each other, their lips locked as though they needed each other for sustenance. Tony tangled his hands in her hair and pulled her toward him, reminiscent of the last time he'd kissed her. He held her tight and promised himself that he would never let her go again.
Ziva let herself melt into the embrace, relief flooding her as she felt herself feeling like herself again, for perhaps the first time in months. When they parted, Tony's hands were still wrapped in her curls, his eyes looking lovingly into her own, and she couldn't help it when she whispered, "I have missed you so much."
Tony's smile grew into a grin as he responded, "Me too, my ninja. Me too." Ninja, she thought to herself, a smile spreading on her face. She'd forgotten that he used to call her that.
"Do you have to go back to, um, wherever you live now, tonight?" He asked.
"No." She responded, sliding her hand into his.
"Well then, let's spend Valentine's Day – what's left of it – in Paris. Together."
"Together," she paused, just for a moment. "Yes. Let's spend Valentine's Day together."
That wraps it up. I hope you enjoyed. Happy Valentine's Day to my followers and readers. I love you all!