As a writer, I can't tell you how many times I've looked at or thought about Ziva's exit and said, "That's not how I would have written it." So I decided that maybe from Tim's – I mean Thom's – perspective, that's not how he would have written it either. Immediately Post-PPF, angsty.
NOTE: some of this takes place in a Gemcity novel (that should be fairly obvious, but just in case anyone gets lost).
After learning that Cote de Pablo will not be returning for Tony's exit storyline, I became overwhelmed with both grief and anger over everything that has taken place. I started this ages ago, and I only reached in and pulled it out of my folder because I'm feeling sad and angry and I needed to find some sort of release in the written word. I haven't written with this much emotion in a really long time. That said, ANGST WARNING.
Tony was back at work the day following his return from Israel, something Tim wouldn't have recommended, but he didn't seem to want to talk about it (or the fact that Ziva hadn't come back with him), so the younger agent left it alone.
Tony was tired, jet-lagged, and more than a little snappy by the end of the day, but Tim couldn't really blame him because after all, he mused, she wasn't supposed to stay behind. Tony was supposed to bring the girl home, the triumphant hero returning with the woman he loved. The bullpen had been quiet and Tim had to admit that he missed the sound of the constant bickering between teammates, but there wasn't anything he could do except let time heal this wound.
He suspected it would take longer for Tony's wound to heal, but that was to be expected, after all, anyone would have to be blind not to notice how much he cared for Ziva.
He was almost to the elevator when he realized he'd forgotten his jacket. When he turned around to retrieve it, he saw a glimmer of light reflect from the small chain in Tony's hand as he gently fingered the Star of David necklace before dropping it into his desk drawer and slamming it loudly.
That's not the way I would have written it, he thought.
"But I do not understand why you would follow me here, after everything that has happened. You know what I have done, yet you come here. Why?" Lisa sat down gingerly on the edge of the sofa, her brow furrowing in confusion.
"Can't you see?" Tommy began. "I don't care about all that. What you did in the past – that's in your past. I don't hold it against you." He was pleading with her, and he felt a tear welling up in his eyes. He wouldn't cry, the indomitable Very Special Agent Tommy DiMarco. Or should he? Should he bare his soul to her, show her that he wouldn't be leaving without a fight?
"You should care." She interrupted his thoughts and he snapped his head to meet her gaze. Of course I care, he wanted to say. But not like that. Not about the past, but about you.
"I care too much, Lisa, I can't let your past prevent our future."
A small gasp escaped her lips, the shock evident at his words. Did he just …? Before she could respond, he continued, "I love you, Lisa. I should have told you a long time ago. And I can't leave this country without you. Please come home with me. Slowly, she inched toward him on the sofa, her eyes alight with tears. How could he love me, she thought, after everything I have done?
"You mean that," she said simply, a hint of question to her tone. She almost didn't want to believe it, almost couldn't allow herself to believe it.
"Yes, I mean that," he responded, reaching up to run his finger through her hair, those wild curls he'd loved since the moment he laid eyes on them. "I want you to come home with me."
"But…"
"But nothing, Lisa, I am not giving up on you. Please don't give up on me. Or us." His eyes pleaded with her, an edge of desperation in his voice. She leaned forward, her forehead touching his, and without a word, she slowly pressed her lips to his, reveling in the familiar taste of Tommy. He wrapped his arms around her and sank into the embrace, clinging to her tightly.
When they pulled apart, Lisa was the first to speak: "I do not understand it, but I will not question it anymore. If you want me to come home, then I will come home – but I will not be returning to work."
"It doesn't matter what you do, as long as you're with me," he replied, and he leaned forward to kiss her again.
The desk across from Tony's sat empty for a few weeks, a constant reminder of the empty presence of Ziva still lingering in the air, and while McGee had somewhat gotten used to the early morning silence, the sullenness of his friend – and now, partner – reminiscent of the very man he'd sworn not to emulate, was getting to be a bit stifling, and more than once, he caught himself looking wistfully at the empty desk.
Tony, on the other hand, seemed to be denying that it even existed. McGee was worried about him, to be honest, and although Tim was well aware of the five stages of grief, it felt as though Tony's breath caught in his chest whenever the elevator dinged, and Tim watched the slight slump of the shoulders whenever she wasn't the one exiting from it.
Tim didn't even pretend that he wasn't watching Tony with interest, after all, the older man hardly acknowledged his existence.
Gibbs strode in with a younger woman, a short blonde wearing a pair of dark blue jeans and a striped gray shirt, inviting her to sit down. That's Ziva's desk, Tim thought, panic rising in his chest, and the boss said nothing, just sat down and began to work. When he finally caught the boss's eye, he sighed heavily and cleared his throat, in an attempt to grab Tony's attention.
Tony had not acknowledged Gibbs' presence, or the woman's, for that matter. When he looked up from his desk and saw another woman sitting at his partner's desk, Tim could almost feel the betrayal radiating off of him. When Gibbs invited them to, "Meet Agent Bishop," Tony stood up wordlessly and stalked out of the bullpen, heading quickly toward the bathroom. Tim glared at their team leader for his callousness, but stood up and shook the new agent's hand, introducing himself and trying not to resent the girl immediately, no matter how hard he wanted to. It hadn't even been this hard replacing Kate.
It was insensitive to think about replacing Ziva right now, but they had a job to do. Not for the first time, he wondered why Tony hadn't taken a bit more time off before returning.
I wouldn't have written it this way, he mused.
Lisa's desk sat empty for three weeks after Tommy and Lisa had returned from Israel. Lisa stopped in to give her final resignation notice to Director Chance, then collected her belongings from her desk, with the rest of the team's help.
"What are you going to do now?" McGregor asked, helping her carry a plant to her car, a fiery red Camaro she'd purchased before the summer.
"I do not know, Jim," she began, shrugging. "I have not decided yet, but Tommy has promised to help me find my way."
"Well, we'll miss you on the team," Jim responded, gathering her into a hug. Lisa seemed peaceful, somehow, like something major had been lifted from her shoulders before coming home from Israel. "Welcome home."
Lisa smiled. "Thank you. Now you should get back up to work, before Tibbs starts wondering what you're doing down here!" He laughed, and waved goodbye as she got into her car and sped off, her tires squealing as she made her exit from the parking lot.
It was a Tuesday when Jim returned from lunch with an extra sandwich for Tommy, exiting the elevator to where he, Tibbs, and a short blonde woman were standing around Ziva's desk.
"Your desk," the boss said gruffly, and as Jim strode to the center of the room, handing Tommy his sandwich, the boss added, "Meet Agent Emily Pope, our new team member."
Jim reached over to shake her hand, stammering, "Jim. Er, Agent McGregor. Welcome."
"You have some big shoes to fill," Tommy said, shaking the younger agent's hand with a wistful smile. Jim smiled inwardly at how gracious the Senior Field Agent was being, despite how much he obviously missed having Lisa working opposite him.
Tommy seemed relaxed though, like a huge weight had been lifted from his shoulders ever since he'd returned with Lisa two weeks ago. He'd been gone so long that Jim had wondered if either of them would ever come back, and the bossman had hardly spoken at all since Tommy's abrupt departure.
Everything seemed well now, though, with Lisa and Tommy finally together, and the team finally being rebuilt after months of being in a fractured state. Tommy couldn't stop talking about all of the great new adventures he and Lisa had gone on together (which Jim suspected were actually just dates, but he wouldn't rain on his friend's parade), and even the stone-faced Agent Tibbs couldn't help but smile at how … happy Agent DiMarco was.
Things were different, but Jim couldn't really consider them to be anything but good.
If Tim had had any sense at all, he would have noted today's date on the calendar and called in sick to work today, because apparently Tony hadn't had the good sense to do so, despite the fact that today was not going to be a good day by anyone's estimate.
Ziva's birthday.
Tim watched as Tony picked up his phone and stared at it for what seemed like an eternity, as if deciding whether or not he should make the phone call. Just do it already, Tim thought, but dared not speak to the Senior Field Agent.
Today would be a day best spent out of Tony's way, and despite her new status as Probationary Agent who was more than a little green, Bishop seemed to have at least picked up on that much. Tim didn't think she had any idea what was going on with Tony today, but she didn't ask, to her great credit.
When Tim looked back at Tony, he was surprised to see that he held his phone to his ear. So he had made the call. Good for him. He hoped that Ziva would answer and at least be grateful that Tony hadn't forgotten her – he never had before, but then again, all of this was uncharted territory between them, and Tim had gotten the impression that Ziva was not interested in any sort of long-distance relationship. Or any relationship.
Tim's silent reverie was broken by the sound of a mechanical voice saying something in Hebrew, and although Tim hadn't learned (not for lack of trying) the language, he had a feeling he knew what the message said.
Ziva's birthday, and she was gone, in every sense of the word, and Tim watched helplessly as his friend tossed his phone onto his desk and put his head in his hands, covering his face to hide what could only be described as despair.
I never would have told the story this way, he thought.
Everyone had gathered at their favorite restaurant/bar to celebrate Lisa's 31st birthday, having missed her 30th celebration due to a rather taxing investigation that Agent Tibbs wouldn't let them away from.
It had hardly mattered, as she'd still had the chance to spend the day with the people closest to her, but chasing after a madman wasn't exactly how she'd wanted to celebrate.
Tommy and Lisa were wrapped up in each other almost the entire night, for despite the fact that the entire team was along, they seemed to have eyes only for each other. They appeared to be truly happy, and everyone around them, in turn, was happy for them. They really had so much to celebrate at this point in their lives, and no one could find it in them to mind that they were so wrapped up in each other.
The meals had been delicious, and the entire team had laughed and joked over drinks and delicious food. None of them were ready to end the night, despite the fact that it was getting late and it was, as the boss man reminded them, a work night. "Let's just order dessert, boss," Tommy had insisted, and with Lisa and Amy agreeing emphatically, the Agent in Charge couldn't find it in him to turn them down.
When the plates of cake, pie, tiramisu, and even a non-dairy cheesecake – for Emily – came to the table, even Agent Tibbs had to agree that dessert was an extraordinary idea. They all dug in, sharing bites of their delectable dishes with one another and joking about how, "I should have gotten that one!" as they traded tastes. The night had been a rousing success, and Jim couldn't remember seeing the whole of his team, including Lisa, who technically wasn't on the team anymore, so happy.
And that was before Tommy DiMarco slid out of the booth and got down on one knee, presenting a pristine diamond to Lisa, asking her for her hand in marriage.
"I want to share this birthday and every birthday with you," he said quietly, staring up and toward her, his eyes alight with hope for the promising future they would share.
"Yes, Tommy," she replied with a smile, allowing him to take the ring and put it on her finger, "I will marry you."
Jim's heart swelled at the way that they held each other after they'd agreed to spend their lives together, and hell, even the stone-faced L.J. Tibbs couldn't keep the smile off his face as the rest of the people in the restaurant clapped and cheered.
It had been almost two years since Ziva had left, and while Tony had finally returned to some semblance of civility with the people around him, Tim was more than aware that there was always something … off about Tony, something that had never seemed the same without Ziva next to him. He was quieter, more reserved. He went out less, frowned more. From a distance, it might have appeared that Tony had matured, but Tim knew better.
Tony had aged, and there was a very real difference.
Nothing had been the same since she'd left the team all that time ago, and despite Bishop fitting in fairly well and adjusting to the rigor of the job, McGee really missed the way that things used to be. The joking, the teasing, the camaraderie, and – he almost hated to admit it – the flirting between Tony and Ziva.
Nowadays, even mentioning Ziva was taboo, though Tim ached to know how she was. To his knowledge, she hadn't reached out to any of them. She certainly hadn't reached out to him. They all missed her, he knew, but if she could only see how much Tony had changed, just how much his hair had grayed and his face began to harden as he'd closed himself off to almost everyone, maybe she would regret having left all that time ago.
Or perhaps she knew what would happen, and she really hadn't cared at all.
When Tony sat him down with a coffee and a couple of doughnuts – jelly filled, Tim's favorite – he suspected that the senior agent had to tell him something important. So when he heard the word retirement, everything in the last few months started to make sense. The way Tony seemed to be getting rid of old stuff that was hiding in the recesses of his desk, or the way he seemed to wistfully stare about the bullpen as though he was reminiscing about something from ages gone by.
Tony was planning to leave NCIS. "I need to find her," he said, and Tim stared at him earnestly. How many times had Tony uttered those words? How many times had he set out on a journey to find her, the only woman who could cause him to give up everything he'd ever known just on the chance that she might be thankful?
"What if she doesn't want to be found?" Tim almost regretted the words as soon as he said them, but Tony merely smiled faintly, his mind seemingly elsewhere already.
"I have to try." And that was all there was to it, after all, and Tim wished him luck. He shook his hand and then drew him in for a tight hug on his last day at work, watching with – he wasn't ashamed to admit – a tear in his eye as his partner and mentor of more than a decade left with a box of only his most precious belongings, Ziva's necklace glinting from where it sat in the corner of the box.
And just like that, he was gone, and in seven months when Tim finally heard from him again, he learned that Tony's hunt for Ziva had been less than successful, but he wasn't giving up, not yet … not ever … and Tim couldn't help but notice how weary Tony sounded, recognizing just how much of an ordeal it must be for him, traveling the world in search of a ghost.
He couldn't help it. If this were my story to tell, I would never have written it like this.
They had taken their time and planned out every detail, and Jim McGregor beamed as he made his way to the front of the church, pleased by the way everything had come together for the wedding of his two best friends.
He couldn't believe, after everything he'd known about Lisa, that she'd even want a big wedding, but she'd insisted on the full celebration. She told him, when he asked, that it was something she'd never expected to have in her life, and she wanted – no, needed – to have it for herself, to prove that she deserved it. That she could have her own fairy tale, her own happy ending.
It was nearly time, and Tommy strolled down the aisle, ready to take his place beside the altar. He reached over and shook Jim's hand, pulling him into a hug. Jim had never known Tommy to be a hugger, but he supposed there was a first time for everything.
The guests began to quiet, sensing it was about time, and the string quartet Lisa had selected began to play a classical tune as her bridal party started to walk down the aisle. Everything seemed to be going perfectly, and if Jim felt like the occasion was like a dream, then Tommy must be trying not to pinch himself. A quick glance his way confirmed his suspicions – Tommy appeared to be in a daze, a dreamy smile plastered on his face as he waited with anticipation for the doors at the back of the church to open and for Lisa to emerge.
The music changed and suddenly, there she was.
Tommy gasped beside him, and Jim noted the tears welling up in his friend's eyes. He was so overwhelmed with love for her that it almost brought tears to Jim's eyes, and he noted that as Lisa slowly walked toward them, she had eyes only for Tommy.
Her eyes, too, had that glint of tears.
Tommy held out his hands to her as she stepped up to the altar, and she took both of his hands in her own and faced him, her smile widening as she stood before him. All of the years they'd worked, argued, flirted, joked, tested each other, and made each other better came to this moment, and Jim couldn't be prouder that they were finally here. He could scarcely listen to the vows over the beating of his own elated heart, and soon Tommy was leaning forward to capture Lisa in a passionate kiss, their lives and hearts ever intertwined.
It was three years before Tim saw Tony again, and when he met up with the former agent at a café outside of the Navy Yard, he was surprised to see that Ziva was there with him.
Something like a million questions formed in his mind, but all he could think to say was, "It's good to see you," as he leaned in to hug first Ziva and then Tony. He wanted to know if they were okay. He needed to know, for his own sanity. He'd wondered over the years if Tony had ever found her, or if he'd given up and resigned himself to living alone and bitter, regretting all of the things that might have been.
Tony must have sensed the question in his gaze, and began to tell him what had transpired over the past few years.
It hadn't been long after Tony had told Tim of his failure to find Ziva that he'd finally gotten a good lead and found her, and when she saw his face she had been anything but welcoming. He had begged her to give him a day – just one day – and he had poured his heart out to her, telling her everything he hadn't told her in Israel when she'd left him. He had finally confessed that he loved her, and that had been the thing that had given her pause, enough that she'd chosen not to skip town and stayed, just long enough to try again, for a friendship.
He told of how he'd wanted to make sure she wasn't going to run again before he gave her back her necklace, and when she'd finally accepted it and let him put it on her, she apologized for having pushed him away, for having run away from him and home and everything they'd ever known. She had been hurting, dealing with some issues that she'd felt she couldn't work through with him nearby. She had always desired him – loved him – and she couldn't be her own person if she clung to him.
And so she had pushed him away.
Tony had told her how he'd suffered those years without her, how he'd closed himself off and become a shell of who he had been with her. How she had made him so much better than he had been before her, and after having lost her he'd become a bitter man, aging and stagnating. He'd told her of his determination to find her, to keep searching no matter what, and his vow that when he finally found her, he wouldn't forget to tell her how he felt.
When she didn't push him away immediately, he'd begun to hope, and he began to realize that she'd changed, too, and that her time without him had allowed her to heal all of the hurts that she'd felt she needed to shield him from. That there was just one more hurt left, and it had been the pain of losing him.
And then they had made a pact to try to be together, and they had.
They fought, yes, and it was hard, but they loved – fiercely. Every fight was a chance to work something out, to make their bond even stronger than it had been. And they'd made a pact, "A vow," Ziva corrected, to stay together, no matter what; that their love was worth it.
"We are back here because we need to ask you something," Ziva said, her accent slightly thicker with the years of not having used English. Tim had missed her, missed the sound of her voice and her gentle smile as she spoke to him.
He nodded, waiting for them to ask their question. After all this time, he would do anything for the people who had been his family for as long as he could remember. "We want you to be the witness. So that we can finally get married–"
"Eloped," Ziva interrupted.
"Eloped," Tony agreed, correcting himself as he squeezed her hand. Tim looked from Tony to Ziva and then back to Tony again, watching as Tony tilted his head expectantly, and he couldn't help the grin that spread across his face as he agreed to go with them, to finally bring these two back together after so long adrift.
"Well then, let's go." Tony stood up, pulling Ziva with him, and Tim looked at them, shocked.
"Now?"
"I believe we have waited long enough." Ziva spoke smoothly and Tim glanced between them, noting as he did so that their eyes still spoke only to each other, and after everything that had happened, he couldn't find one single argument against following them.
This is not how I would have written it, Tim thought to himself, but as he looked at the pair together, finally comfortable after years of difficulty between them, he mused, but maybe this way is even better.
I know I don't usually publish back to back like this, but I needed this tonight. I've been up for hours. It's 2:30 AM and I'm angry and hurt about everything that has happened (still, after all this fucking time), and I needed this small bit of cathartis in order to finally settle myself down enough to sleep. Please review if you are able.