The Windmills of His Mind
Tony's thoughts when he learned that Ziva was presumed dead in the mortar attack.
The words of Tim and Abby hit him like a ton of bricks. DEAD, she was presumed DEAD. Vance had received a call from Mossad Director Elbaz.
DEAD. His breath hitched, his mind raced, he had to sit down. He swiped at the tears forming in his eyes. DiNozzos don't cry. He felt the hand Tim laid on his shoulder in a gesture meant to comfort.
DEAD. Abby's hug, again meant to comfort, as the tears spilled from his eyes. DiNozzos don't cry; his mind mocked his emotions. He heaved with the effort to breathe, the feeling that he was drowning so overwhelming. His lungs screamed for air, for a breath of freshness, for …
DEAD. His heart raced; maybe he was having a heart attack? He gulped a breath, no longer caring that each breath came with a sob. He was broken beyond repair. Nothing could fix this one. His heart had been torn to pieces, his life shattered, no meaning left for him to cling to with the hope that she would eventually return to him as she had promised.
DEAD. No, not Ziva David. She was invincible, she had survived far worse; she had come back to him each time. He pictured her on the tarmac in 2013; the tears in her eyes, the taste of her lips, the feel of her body pressed to his. He reached into his pocket and pulled out the last tangible piece of her that he had; her Star of David. As he threaded the fine gold chain through his fingers, he could feel her skin. Oh, the sensations of their night in the olive grove… Fresh tears spilled from his eyes, he no longer cared what the others saw.
DEAD. He raised the pendant to his lips; a memory of her lips on his. He was only slightly aware of the others moving out of his bedroom, their voices hushed as they left him to discuss what to do. He could tell that Tim and Abby were concerned and that Senior was at a loss. There was nothing that they could do to help him, but he could not find the words to tell them so. And he didn't even care; he was beyond caring about anything other than that SHE was gone…
DEAD. He laid back on the bed, curled into the fetal position, his hand with her necklace under his cheek. He stared at nothing, his eyes filled with tears that would not stop. He let out a sound that was a moan and a scream and a sob all mixed together, like the thoughts in his mind, a jumbled mess. He heard rustling at the door but didn't move. Nothing mattered; he shut his eyes letting the images of Ziva take over. Her wild curls, her smile, her laugh, her body with its curves that invited his touch…
DEAD. His mind heard her speak his name, the love in her voice tearing his heart yet again. Oh, how he had loved when she said his name, and when she moaned it when they made love. How their bodies had fit so well together as if they were made for each other; he hadn't even considered sex with anyone after he left her in Israel. He belonged to her and her alone. His body, his mind, his heart, his soul; they were hers and hers alone and always would be.
DEAD. He may as well be; his world and his hope had imploded beyond repair. DEAD. He closed his eyes; come take me, he thought, I'm ready. I need to see her, to be with her again…