Disclaimer: If I did own NCIS, I wouldn't be writing for free :P

Spoilers: 10x24 "Damned If You Do," sort of.

Dedication: To takemetomycitybythebay, belovedradiance, and the Anon on Tumblr who was kind enough to give me a prompt. If this fic seems a randomly strung-together series of events (which starts with a visit from Gibbs and ends with many discussions between Tony and Ziva), it's because I based it on three prompts, lol. It also turned out slightly different from the prompts; that's because I had to try and make it run as fluidly as possible. I think it turned out okay, so I hope you enjoy it!

-Soph

The Turning of the Page

The loud clang of the doorbell resonated throughout her already-pounding skull, making her groan.

"Oh, god," murmured a male voice from above her, and it took her a few seconds to register that the voice belonged to Tony. "Go answer the door already, Ziva."

Ziva bolted upright before Tony was done speaking. She ignored the urge to retch, choosing instead to rub a hand over her face and say weakly, "I fell asleep here."

"Yes," Tony answered dryly. The doorbell rang again. "Ziva!"

"Why do I have to answer your doorbell?" she griped, pressing the tips of her index fingers hard into her temples as she tried to calm herself down. "It's your doorbell."

"Because you're already on the floor," Tony returned, and her hangover-addled brain had to concede that he did have a point.

"Fine," she muttered, stumbling into a standing position. "Ergh, remind me never to fall asleep drunk at your place again."

"Where's the fun in that?" Tony yelled after her in a half-slurred, half-tired voice as she walked off. She was still grumbling when she got to the door and wrenched it open—

And all the words left her mouth when she found her former boss standing in front of her.

Her arms came alive in a flurry, flattening down her hair and her shirt; smoothening down her pants; trying to make herself look like she hadn't been doing the hanky-panky with Tony—and she hadn't, but ohmygod it was eight in the morning and she was dishevelled and she was answering Tony's door and why wasn't Gibbs saying anything?

"Gibbs," she said, stumbling over her own tongue, "what—I mean, uh … Tony, uh … do you want to, uh…?"

"'Come in?'" Gibbs suggested helpfully.

She almost said sure out of reflex before common sense kicked in and reminded her to check and see if Tony at least appeared more decent than her.

He was already asleep once more, his mouth wide open and one arm drooping over the side of the couch.

Inwardly swearing, Ziva turned back to Gibbs and held up a finger. "One moment."

Then she stalked back into the living room, repressing the urge to hit Tony over the head with a beer bottle and instead shaking his shoulder to wake him up.

"Whaaat?" Tony moaned.

"Gibbs is here."

The speed with which he sat up mimicked Ziva's very well. "What?" he asked, this time in alarm. "Are you pulling my leg?"

"I wish I was, but no. You better get up."

"But Gibbs…" Tony spluttered.

"Right here," the man himself volunteered cheerfully from behind Ziva. She spun around, grimacing.

"This is not what it looks like," she started.

Gibbs shrugged. "Hey, I'm not your boss now. Do whatever you want."

"I know, but I—it was probably inappropriate to let you see this."

"Not like you're both naked." Tony and Ziva cringed before Gibbs continued, "Okay, forget about that. Need to talk to you two about something."

"Sure," Tony spoke up for the first time. "Uh, Bos—"

"Not ya boss anymore."

"Okay…. Anyway, Boss, I'd offer you a seat, but as you can see, Ziva and I got … a bit carried away with the alcohol last night."

Gibbs snorted by way of acknowledging the understatement. And then he dropped the bombshell: "I'm going away. South American country—which one, exactly, I'm not allowed to say. Just wanted to let you know you might not be seein' me for a while."

Ziva gaped. "'For a while'?" she asked, hating how stunned she sounded. "How long a while?"

Gibbs shrugged again. "Months. Years."

"There's a big difference between those two," Tony observed.

"Yeah." Gibbs gave a single nod. "But all of you have one another. Not gonna worry about what will happen now that you've stupidly given up your jobs."

"It's not us we're worried about, Boss," Tony answered, ignoring Gibbs' gibe.

"But we need you," Ziva cut in.

Gibbs, to her surprise, chuckled and shook his head. "Ziver, you're all grown up. Don't need me to watch out for you anymore." He nudged his head towards the couch. "'Sides, you got DiNozzo. Man's a good partner. Don't let him go."

Her lip trembled. Her lip trembled and her eyes suddenly grew hot because she'd already 'let him go' when she quit, and now the only father figure she had left was going away.

But as if telepathic, Tony appeared just behind her in a mute show of support.

"Not happy you're going, Boss," he said.

"Told you, not your b—"

"Always will be," Tony interrupted, and his tone was forcefully casual when he told Gibbs, "Don't know how to make you anything else."

Gibbs' lips twitched in an appreciative smile. "Take care of yourselves."

Ziva reached out with impulse, gripping Gibbs' hand tightly with both of hers. "You will come back."

It was not up for discussion.

But Gibbs merely gave his shadow of a smile again as he said, "I'll try my best, Ziver."

xoxo

The mood was very much more sombre after Gibbs left.

Eventually, though, Tony squeezed her shoulder and said, "C'mon, Ziva," and they cleaned up the beer bottles in silence.

The previous night had been fun. It'd been a night of movies and takeout dinner and more alcohol than either of them should've consumed, but they had been more relaxed than they'd been for months; Ziva had greatly enjoyed the reprieve. After Eli and then Israel and then Bodnar and then Germany and then Bodnar again and then the snake of a DoD investigator and just her and her penchant for always throwing away what other people could only wish for, she had been feeling trapped—stuck and unable to breathe through the thick air that was merciless guilt weighing her down. Last night, Tony had offered her a way out of all of that, and she had for a moment forgotten her pain.

But in the harsh light of a morning that came accompanied by bad news, she remembered that Gibbs had been in trouble because of her.

Gibbs had been in trouble because of her.

And now Gibbs risking his life to avoid more of the trouble that had been because of her.

She would never be sure how her partner managed to do it—was Tony even looking at her?—but the clinking of the empty bottles onto the floor told her, even before she physically felt his hands wrap around hers, that Tony had been waiting for her to fall.

And he was now shushing her, his voice soft, the concern in his warm eyes not nearly enough to keep her tears at bay. "Hey," he said, "it'll be okay."

"How will it be?" she asked, her voice thick. "Gibbs is-… He could be in danger, and it is … it is because of me."

"How is it because of you, huh?" he asked calmly, almost as if he'd been expecting her to turn the blame inwards. "It's not like you loosed Parsons on him."

The weak joke did make her laugh a little, and she brushed her cheek hard. "If I had not set the ball rolling with the investigation—"

"Then Parsons would've found another excuse," Tony finished. "The man's ambitious, Ziva. And I'm not saying Gibbs was totally innocent in this, but Parsons just wanted heads to roll. That's how he works."

"How can you be so calm about this?"

"Parsons didn't succeed," Tony answered simply. "And between you and me, Gibbs has been to South America way too many times for me to worry. He will come back, Ziva. He always does."

And her fingernails dug into his palms as she nodded and fervently tried to believe him. "Do you think he blames me?" she asked quietly.

"Not for the tiniest of moments." Tony pressed a kiss to her forehead. "No one could ever fault you for wanting to do what we had once done to differing degrees, y'know."

They weren't talking about the present day anymore, she knew. She was transported back to a time of sand and dryness and Couldn't live without you, I guess, and that made her breath hitch, and her, choke on her own words."Thank you."

"You already thanked me," he told her, but she shook her head.

"I do not think I could ever thank you enough for what you and Gibbs and McGee have done for me."

Tony breathed in deeply, his voice as light as he promised, "If it's the last thing I could do, Zi, I would make sure you were okay."

She couldn't really stop the teardrop that caught his finger on its way down. "Tony…" She pressed her lips together and held on tightly to his hands; tried to stop the question that threatened to spill from her lips.

But in the end, she had to know.

"Tony," she began fearfully, tentatively. "What … what are we?"

He stiffened. "I don't know," he answered remorsefully, and she couldn't say, honestly, whose regret was greater.

"Last night, I had fun and got a good night's rest for the first time in a long time. Perhaps you could blame the alcohol for my dreamlessness, but…" She stopped and swallowed back her tears. "I am not fond of qualifying things. When you qualify something, you can only have a certain idea of it, like a dog can only look like a dog and not any other animal. I don't know how to qualify what we have. I do not know how to fit what is complicated into something simple, something with rules and boundaries and roles that are conformed to."

"Then don't."

"Yet if I don't … I will never know where I stand with you."

"You are my best friend, Zi," he replied, and her heart fell. But he amended, "You're the most important person in my life. And I don't know how to explain what that means for you—this is supposed to be unconditional, y'know? I don't expect you to fit into any role. I just want to … keep in the direction that we're going and hope that someday we'll be more—just more than what we are right now."

She sniffed. "What if I wanted that? Right now?"

"Then I would gladly take it."

His soft words had her looking up, barely daring to hope. But his eyes, that indefinable mix of blue and green and grey vivid with care, returned her gaze steadily. She attempted a smile, and he pulled her into his arms and tucked her chin into the curve of his shoulder.

The complicated stuff could come later, she decided. Right now, the decision to return his embrace seemed pretty simple to her.

xoxo

"Breakfast?" he suggested eventually.

"Bed," she answered ruefully. "The … tears … have made my headache worse."

Tony clucked his tongue. "How 'bout breakfast in bed with a side of aspirin?"

She laughed, only to regret it when the pounding in her left temple pulled her face into an involuntary wince. "I should be getting home."

"You could stay." When she looked up at him, he elaborated, "I have aspirin."

She smiled again, this time shyly, and turned her face into the ever-soft cotton of his shirt. "Okay," she mumbled.

xoxo

"Y'know, Gibbs is right," Tony said as he settled her breakfast tray in her lap. His eyes bore into her. "I'm trying my best to be here for you."

"I know," Ziva whispered, her voice breaking.

He sat down at her feet and laid a hand on her knee, his own breakfast tray neglected on the coffee table. "I'm not mad at you anymore for pushing me away; I need you to know that," he said, rubbing a thumb over the fabric covering her leg. "But I also need you to know that it hurts me when you push me away."

Ziva bit her lip. "Why me?" she blurted. "Out of all the people in the world … you had a music teacher, incredibly beautiful and incredibly talented. A French arms dealer's daughter—"

"Well, thanks for bringing them up."

"I am only trying to make you understand that I couldn't be further away from the ideal."

"Ziva," Tony sighed. "I don't have an ideal. I have you, and you are more than enough for me."

"Will it be so ten years down the line?" she asked incredulously, and it wasn't until he stared wide-eyed at her that she realized her inadvertent confession. Ten years down the line. That was simply too much hope for the likes of her. "I'm—I'm sorry," she stammered. "I did not mean—"

He pressed a finger against her lips. "When Gibbs comes home—whether it be months or years later—when Gibbs comes home, I don't want him to have to say that I am less of a partner than I was when he left."

She averted her eyes, feeling shame roll through her. "So, this is because of—"

"No," Tony answered evenly. "He called me a good partner for a reason, Ziva, and it's because I've … been trying to fit what I do around you. You are my priority, Ziva. You've been so for years. I don't think that would change in a decade or in a century."

She laughed softly, the wetness in her eyes blurring her vision. Blinking hard, she took a deep breath and looked at him. "Are you sure about this?"

"Yes," he answered without hesitation.

And so, she took the plunge.

"Then count me in," she whispered.

xoxo

"You should get a new bed," she informed him hours later, after she'd borrowed his master bathroom for a shower and now stood at his bedroom doorway towelling dry her hair, and he grinned at her from where he was watching a movie on the living room couch.

"Are we going there already?" he asked lewdly, and she scowled at him before going to sit by his side.

"I am merely saying it is a thought. You should take a shower, too." She wrinkled her nose. "You smell of alcohol."

"You don't seem to mind," he retorted. "Hey, I didn't ask you earlier, why'd you seem so shocked when you woke up here? It's not the first time you've stayed overnight."

"Yes," she said sheepishly, "but having been given permission to sleep here is very different from having passed out and imposing—"

"You'll always have a home here, Ziva," he told her.

It was difficult to rein in her smile. "I know now," she answered.

And this time, she really did.