DISCLAIMER: NCIS is not mine.
Michael is dead, and Tony isn't sure how it happened, because she is gone now, still here—a loss of brown curls and a dangerous smiles, but they are dark somehow now—and when she meets his eyes, they are filled with hate. And he isn't sure how, because the word is spinning, and there is blood—on her shirt and his hands—as no, NO, and the sound of gunshots still echoes in his head when he closes his eyes.
And she has him pressed against the concrete, and the smooth metal of her weapon against his leg, his chest, and he can feel the cold through his clothes. But her glares hurt more than the gun pressed against him, ache in his shoulder, and it feels like a reminder of the broken promises he has shattered over time.
Now Tony is in Israel (her home) in a small room, filled with reminders of bloodshed and long-ago battles and smooth desert storms, and Eli taunts him, and tries to break him, but he hides his talents between jokes and fake smiles (Eli doesn't know), and so he knows how to play this man. But Ziva's father asks him if he is jealous and he replies with a taunt to bide his time. But his comment makes him realize how little he actually knows this woman, and so he isn't surprised at the flash of guilt.
And Tony understands Gibbs' decision on that airplane terminal; brown hair whipped across darker brown eyes and hurt expressions. He understands there was a choice. And he can nearly feel the betrayal she felt, like the sting of a slap across the face, and he wants to cry for her.
But he is so angry, so very angry, because Gibbs sent her away. He could have fixed things—an apology here, a smile there (because they are never broken for long), and she would be safe. But Gibbs has chosen wrong. And Tony would have chosen Ziva, for that is the only way to get her away from her father, and that old life she hates so much. Gibbs doesn't understand this.
And there are consequences, as there always is with a choice. And now Tony is lost, because the Damocles went down, taking her with it, and it is his own fault, and he doesn't know what to do anymore because the world is spinning and blurry and he doesn't know how to make it stop.
He doesn't understand how life moves on without her. And it is after beer and blonde, unnamed women, sitting cross-legged like a five year old in an alley somewhere that Tony comes to a conclusion.
Revenge.
And it may be the alcohol, or maybe just the hell of that last couple weeks, but he has become so angry at everything, so he brings the idea to the Director, with more thought and effort that he has every put into a report.
But Vance shoots him down and it reminds Tony of a neglected childhood and the woman whose death he is trying to avenge, so he doesn't like that. But Gibbs saves the day—with unused favors or the reminder of unpaid debts, and the next thing he knows, he is in a green jeep and there is so much sand. Later, Tony will feel guilty, but he needs Tim, and maybe he has gone a little crazy, and he doesn't think of the consequences, because nothing matters except for her.
And he came for revenge, or maybe a quick and heroic end, but he knows it is her the moment he sees her. And he is still surprised to see those brown eyes beneath the hood and dark matted hair. But it is her, her, and he is so relieved he wants to crush her to him, and he didn't care before, but now he wants to live more than anything in the world.
She asks why he is here, and at the moment Tony doesn't know, so he says that first thing he thinks of: "Couldn't live without you, I guess." And he doesn't remember ever being more honest than that.
And suddenly there is Gibbs, and sniper rifles, and faraway hills, and a need to protect, and they are safe, but her eyes are oh-so-broken and Tony doesn't know how to fix her.
They are back at NCIS (home) and he is so abruptly tired, but he is too happy to sleep, and there are a million movie references swirling around in his brain, but he doesn't think he has ever seen a movie that had an ending as good as this.
Because he got her back.
Home (his couch) has never felt so good knowing that she is on American soil and not dead, not lost in the middle of the ocean on a sunken ship, or bound in an African terrorist camp, and so he finally lays on his bed and falls asleep, and the last thing on his mind is that he didn't know Tim was so good at playing dead.
And he doesn't have nightmares that night.