Someone was talking about something on tumblr that led to me thinking something and you get this. It will have a second part so don't shoot me.
It's not the easiest thing to do, telling someone goodbye, and over the years, Tony DiNozzo has told his fair share of them. He had to say goodbye to his mom, to Wendy, to Kate, to Jeanne- the list goes on and on in the back of his mind, reminding him how most good things always end.
He just never thought this would.
He'd spent weeks looking for her, days trying to figure out what to do once he'd figured out her location, and it'd taken him a few hours to find her once he'd actually landed on Israeli soil. When he saw her, though, it was worth every second spent.
Not much was said when they first laid eyes on each other. They stared for a minute or two before she finally blinked and said, "Hey."
Just "Hey". Nothing special, nothing enlightening. He hadn't realized exactly how much he'd missed her voice before she'd spoken, and he'd hugged her before he'd registered the movement, pulling her body close to his and holding her tightly.
She'd been shocked at first, possibly still rather surprised to see him there at all, but after a moment, she'd wrapped her arms around his waist and relaxed against him, her face pressed into his chest.
There'd been a long silence as they had stood there, neither really wanting to let go. Her fingers curled where they rested on his back and he let out a shaky breath, hoping that she hadn't noticed and knowing that she probably had. She'd looked up at him without moving out of the embrace, giving him a small smile. "You found me."
He had chuckled a little at her words, shaking his head just the slightest. "Of course."
"This is pretty," he says as she leads him into an orchard. There's a light breeze blowing through the trees and he's following a few feet behind her, hands in his pockets. She turns, and her face falls at the sight of his. "You must like it here," he adds as an afterthought.
She purses her lips and crosses her arms over her stomach. "I do." She takes a tentative step toward him, her eyes desperately pleading with him. For what, he isn't sure, but he hates the expression it leaves on her face. The question he wants to ask is burning on his tongue, and despite trying to clear his throat a few times, he can't quite get those words out.
Instead, he gestures again to the area around them. "Do you come here a lot?"
She looks around and he's relieved for the moment that he doesn't have the weight of her gaze on him. The wind blows her wild curls around and he's struck for a moment by how absolutely stunning she is. Maybe he's just a fool for her hair.
"I suppose. It is very peaceful. I feel it will... come in handy when-" She trails off, looking back at him.
"You're staying here, aren't you?" The words slip past his lips before he can stop them, and her sentence cuts off abruptly. He clears his throat a little at the sound of how rough his voice is, but the action does little to rid himself of the knot forming.
"Tony, I... I have-" She struggles with words that won't come out, and he can't handle the weight of that.
"No, you don't, Ziva." He cuts her off, fighting tears now. She opens her mouth to argue back with him, but he doesn't want to hear her excuses. "No, just... come home with me." Her expression flickers and she closes her mouth quickly. "Just come home with me. We can figure this out. We can do something. You don't have to stay here. It's not where you belong."
She steps closer, her eyes soft but he knows she isn't wavering. "You know that I cannot do that. It..." She trails off, turning away from him as if to hide her tears. "I wish that..." She shakes her head, wrapping her arms around herself.
He moves slowly around her until he's facing her again. He stands there for a moment, unsure of what to do. Then, he reaches for her carefully, tugging her arms free from around her waist. They fall to her sides, but she doesn't look up at him. "Ziva." Her name falls from his lips and she glances up, tears soaking her cheeks. He reaches up, wiping them away. Once her face is dry again, he lets his hands travel down her arms and to her waist.
She watches him closely for a moment before slowly lifting one hand to his cheek, letting her fingers run over the beard he's grown out. A small smile graces her lips as her other hand follows, her palms curling around his face and moving down to his neck. He loses himself in the feeling of her hands, so gentle and loving. Tears sting his own eyes now, and taking a breath requires more work than it should. He lets out a heavy sigh, letting his forehead drop to hers. Her hands continue to linger over his face and neck as his grip on her waist tightens. There's so much he wants to say, so much he wants to tell her to convince her to leave with him, to let him protect her from the world. In the end, no words are found so instead of speaking, his lips find hers, and it's then that the first tear falls down his face.
He kisses her slowly at first, but the desire and want they've built up over the years is monumental, and it isn't long until she's pressing her body close to his, her lips demanding and unashamed. She whimpers into his mouth and he can feel himself breaking at the sound so unlike anything he's ever heard from her. They break apart when the need for oxygen becomes apparent, their breathing heavy and ragged.
"I'm fighting for you, Ziva," he whispers once he's caught his breath, knowing that deep down, that's something she's always wanted.
"I know," she tells him in response, and he can hear the "but" at the end of the sentence even though she never speaks it.
"Please, don't do this to me." His voice breaks through the pain flaring up in his chest, and he opens his eyes to see that her own are travelling over his face, as if memorizing every contour. "I can't leave you tomorrow. I can't do that again."
Instead of responding, her hands find his, intertwining their fingers. There's a new desire behind her eyes now as she tugs slightly, prompting him to follow her back to the small house hidden behind an orchard where no one would ever think to look.
She wants him to come with her, wants him to follow her.
And, just like always, he does.
The guilt settles in once the high wears off and they're both lying underneath a single black sheet, their legs and arms tangled. She's completely silent where she is, tucked into his side and tracing patterns into his chest with her index finger. The quiet is maddening, and he wants to say something, anything to break the deafening silence. He can't find any words, however, so the silence plays on, the only noise the sound of their steady breathing.
He keeps thinking that making love to her like that will only make it harder, and that maybe they shouldn't have done that. He also knows with certainty that it was probably inevitable anyway. He moves his head to the side and glances at the clock, noting that they have a few more hours until a plane lands a few miles away to pick him up. Only him. Not her.
He sits up suddenly, and it takes a moment for her to follow his actions. He feels her eyes on him, but he can't find it in him to look up at her. She's still for the longest time, it seems, and then her forehead is resting on his shoulder. "I am sorry, Tony."
His breath catches and a low groan escapes him because she's apologizing to him. She's saying that she's sorry for loving him like he knows only she can. She's asking for his forgiveness for giving him something he's always dreamed about. He closes his eyes, trying not to sink into a state of depression before he's even left her. He lifts his arm and wraps it around her, holding her close to him. "Don't apologize, Ziva. I wouldn't take it back for anything."
The words are said to be comforting, but as soon as they're said, he knows that he meant it. She sighs, pressing her face into his chest. "Would you hate me if I told you that I love you?" Her voice is so low he almost doesn't hear her, but the words reach his ears anyway. His heart tugs painfully in his chest and he pulls her even closer.
"No, Ziva, no." I could never hate you. I love you, too. The words echo in his mind but get stuck in his throat. She seems to accept that, however, pressing a kiss to his collarbone before slipping out of his arms and heading to the bathroom. He is left staring in the direction she disappeared in, wishing that someone upstairs would listen to him and do something to make it so he doesn't have to get on a plane without her. It takes him a few minutes, but he eventually makes himself get dressed while he listens to shower water run, and then he sits on the edge of the bed for the longest time, listening to the steady stream hit the bottom of the shower.
When it stops, he feels like his heart does, too.
Their goodbye comes much too soon, and as they stand a hundred yards away from a plane headed back to the United States, he clings to her waist and does his best not to break down and sob. Her arms are wrapped around him tightly, her face pressed into his neck as she takes shaky breaths.
"I will miss you," she says quietly, her fingers playing with the fabric of his shirt.
He swallows, his eyes stinging with moisture as he presses a kiss to her head. "I'll miss you, too, sweetheart." He's pretty sure that the pet name has never been used so seriously before, and her breath hitches a little as it's uttered.
She pulls away slowly, a few tearstains on her cheeks. He brings his hands up to cup her face, kissing her with everything he has in him. Her lips mold themselves to his so perfectly that he can't help but think they were meant to. That thought is too painful, though, so he focuses instead on how her mouth feels against his. He memorizes the feeling of kissing her, of her arms wrapped so snugly around his waist, of her tears hitting his fingers.
He finally is able to pry himself away from her, and as he starts to walk toward the plane, he stops short, turning back around. "Would you hate me if I told you that I love you?"
She's confused at his sudden stop, her hands clenched together in front of her. He walks back to her, grabbing her face and kissing her one last time. When he pulls away, she's breathless. Her eyes ask burning questions, but he presses a kiss to her forehead, whispering against the skin there.
"I love you, too." The sincerity in his voice is strong, and she trembles slightly at the weight of his words. It's even harder to pull away this time, and when he does, this time he forces himself not to look back.
He just does hear a sob escape her as he walks away.
She moves around a couple times over the next few weeks, but then she can't find it in her to move again because her body starts protesting against her, making her sick at random times during the day and night. She isn't sure what it could be and assumes that she's simply caught a virus.
It isn't until about a week later that she realizes it's been a little too long since her last period. She gathers up some cash and finds a small store that sells what she's looking for, her heart pounding the entire time.
An hour later, she's sobbing in the floor of a cheap motel bathroom, her arms wrapped tightly around her waist and a pregnancy test with two pink lines on the screen lying beside her.