NCIS
History Is Made At Night
A/N: This is a story I wrote about a year ago that I never got around to publishing. I really feel like I need to get back into writing so I'm posting this now. I have a couple of chapters already written but that doesn't mean this will be updated regularly or that the updates will be this long. I'm kind of bad like that ;-) But in my defense, I do work full-time among other things. Excuses, excuses. The idea came to me and it wouldn't leave. It's been written and re-written umpteenth times. I have to admit I like it better now than I did when I wrote it so either I'm better than I think or my taste has gone downhill. Just joking. Anyway, please enjoy.
Summary:When Tony kills Jeanne after she reveals a secret, it's game on. If the guilt doesn't kill him, La Grenouille might. But with Ziva on his side, how can he lose? Slightly AU, set after Season Four.
Disclaimer:I do not own nor am I affiliated with NCIS in any way, shape or form.
Chapter One: Eyes Full of Guilt and Sorrow
Tony had just sat down to eat his dinner. He lifted the steaming hot pizza up to his mouth and practically salivated in delight when the doorbell rang.
"Oh come on. You have got to be kidding," he groaned. The doorbell rang again and he gazed longingly at the pizza as he laid it back down in the box. He slowly meandered from the kitchen to the front door. He swung the door open and was greeted by a smiling face. "Jeanne. What are you doing here?"
"Not happy to see me, Tony?" she asked sweetly.
"I'm just a little surprised," he answered, avoiding the question. Something about her alarmed him and if he was honest, he wasn't happy to see her. She had given up on them and he had moved on.
"Aren't you going to ask me in?" she asked.
"Sure. Come in," Tony said. He stepped to the side, unblocking the door, and Jeanne quickly swept in past him. "Do you want to sit down?"
"No. I'm sure I won't be here long," she answered.
"Can I take your coat then?" he asked.
"What I have to say really won't take that long," she replied.
"Then say it," he suggested.
"I know I said in my note that I wasn't coming back but I did a lot of thinking when I was in Africa and I wondered if maybe I made a mistake," she replied. "I missed you and I missed us. I wonder if maybe I wasn't a little hasty in leaving."
"Really?" he asked. He smiled at her, hoping that the smile made it to his eyes. "I missed you too, Jeanne."
"But not enough to come after me," she noted.
"I didn't know where you were," he shrugged. "When you told me to choose, you didn't really give me a choice. You were there, wherever there was, and I was here."
"Have you moved on?" she asked.
"Not to someone else but I have moved on," he replied.
"Oh, I see," she said. She didn't look quite as upset or as desperate as someone who wanted a second chance should. "Do you think we could get back there though? I mean, in time?"
"Maybe. I don't know," he answered. He looked thoughtful for a second. "You know, you left your diary here. I think it's in my study. I'll go and get it before I forget."
It was a pretty clumsy story as cover stories go but he had a gut feeling that he needed back-up and he needed it now. There had been a threat made against Jenny Shepard's life that day and his gut was telling him that Jeanne's appearance wasn't a coincidence. How she factored into it, he wasn't sure, but she certainly wasn't here to get him back.
He pulled out his phone and dialled it was he walked down the hallway to his study. He hung up after a quick conversation with Ziva and then made a big show of rifling through the middle drawer of his filing cabinet.
"I suspect you have help on the way," Jeanne said from behind him. She leaned against the doorjamb looking like Grace Kelly with her in a perfect chignon and her trench coat firmly belted.
"I know you're not here to get me back, Jeanne," he answered. "Jenny Shepard's car was blown up today, just like mine was. She wasn't in the car when it exploded but her driver was. I don't believe that you being here is a coincidence."
"When your car was blown-up, someone was after me," she reminded him.
"Yeah but someone left an expensive bottle of Merlot on Jen's doorstep, the kind your father likes to drink. I suppose that's another coincidence?" he asked.
She chuckled and shook her head, "Do you think I had something to do with it?"
"Your father knows all the right people and you may have been just angry enough about what she did to you to try to kill her. So yeah. I think you had something to do with it," he replied.
"And now I'm here to finish the job, is that right? First get rid of Director Shepard and then you. Is that what you're saying?" she asked, cocking her head at him. "You know you royally screwed me over, Tony DiNardo. I actually thought I had a future with you."
"If it's any consolation, I wanted one with you," he answered as earnestly as he could.
"If that were true, you would have come after me but you didn't. You chose to stay at NCIS," she pointed out.
"That's not fair. They're my family. You don't just leave your family," he argued.
"You don't just lie to the supposed love of your life and then not come after them," she countered. "What you did was wrong."
"I know it was wrong. Believe me, Jeanne, I am sorry. But you hurt me too," he said.
"Not as much as you hurt me," she whispered. She slid her hand into her pocket and pulled out a gun. Her eyes seemed to practically come alight with anger. If looks could kill, he would have been dead before she could have pulled the trigger. It wasnt just her eyes that were angry, it was her entire being. Mind, body and soul. "And you're not sorry enough."
"Jeanne, put the gun down. There has to be some other way," he said. He was not to proud to beg for his life. Tony turned to his left and backed away so he was close to the wall. He held his hands up and tried to stay calm.
"Shut up," she yelled. She waved the gun at him. "I'm holding the gun and believe me, I know how to use it. You think I didn't know who you were all along? My father is an arms dealer with contacts in major government and intelligence organisations all over the world."
"Then why go along with it?" he asked. He had a feeling his face had paled and his throat was definitely dry.
"Because I needed to get close to you so I could get close to someone you know," she replied.
"So you are after Jenny," he stated. "Why?"
"I'm not saying a word," she answered.
"You're going to kill me anyway so you may as well tell me," he pointed out. "Why do you want the Director?"
"Because she keeps getting in the way," Jeanne replied.
"And I guess it's a 'get her before she gets you' thing," Tony elaborated.
"Very good. You are such a talented agent," she beamed. "She is smart and driven and would do anything to take my father down. And thanks to your sloppy work, we now know everything we need to know to take her down."
"You aren't going to kill her, are you? You have something else planned," he stated. "You knew she wouldn't be in the car when it blew-up. It was a message."
"Like I said, you are a very good agent. We have everything we need to take her down, painfully and slowly," she grinned maliciously. "I'm just sorry you won't be there to see it happening."
"Neither will you when Gibbs finds out what you're doing and what you've already done," he spat.
"I'm not worried about Gibbs," she said, shaking her head. "I am a little scared of Ziva though."
"You should be. She's a trained assasin. And when she finds out that you killed me, she will make sure that you are good and dead," he snapped.
"Don't worry about little old me," she taunted. "There is no way that Gibbs or your Ziva will ever know what happened here."
"They will know. They'll find out," he told her seriously. He challenged her with his eyes but she rolled hers back at him. She walked over and kissed him hard on the lips before taking ten steps back. She aimed the gun at Tony's head but her aim was off and the bullet lodged itself in the wall by his head. She'd obviously been planning on just the one shot and she lowered her gun. Before she could aim again, Tony pulled his own gun out of his pocket and shot her three times in the stomach. She looked at him in shock and sunk to the floor, her hands pressed against her front. He was kneeling at her side in a second and had his own hands pressed against her wounds.
"You shot me," she gasped. She chuckled lightly at the irony and he could see the pain constricting her features.
"You tried to kill me," he shot-back. He pressed hard against her front but the blood was seeping through too quickly. "I'm sorry, Jeanne."
"Sorry?" she asked. Her eyes were burning with tears. She reached up and stroked his face. "I'm sorry, Tony. I really loved you. Love you, I mean. I love you and we could have had a future."
"You can survive this. People get shot all the time. But we will never have a future," he said. "We never had a future."
"My father is going to kill you," she gasped. She groaned and her body began to shake with the shock and the pain. She gulped greedily, trying to suck in as much air as she could. She coughed and he saw the telltale smear of blood on her lips.
"Don't give up, Jeanne," he begged. He was not a hard man and despite everything, he did not want her to die. "Don't die on me."
"It's too... late. I... I have nothing... nothing left. You took... the last thing I had," she sputtered. Her glassy eyes locked with his as she took one last shuddering breath.
His hands were still pressed against her abdomen. He lifted her up into his arms and was met with a wet mess. The bullets had gone straight through her body. There was no way she could have survived and it was his fault. His agents instincts, his keep yourself alive instincts, had kicked in and he had killed the woman he used to love.
Ziva lay on the couch watching television. She did not have the same peaceful feeling she normally had when she was winding down after a case had been closed. In fact what she felt was the same feeling she had had when Tony had been undercover as Tony DiNardo and the team had watched 'his' car blow-up. She had been restless all day, restless and on edge. It was as if she was waiting for something to happen and even the mindless drone of 'How I Met Your Mother' (not a particular favourite) could take her mind off it.
The show finished and the next came on. That was when Ziva finally closed her eyes and felt sleep come over her. She had been out only five minutes before her mobile phone rang. She sighed and flipped it open without checking the caller I.D.
"David," she said.
"Ziva? It's Tony," he said. He had said only those three words but already she knew. This was the phone call she had been waiting for all day.
"Tony, what's wrong?" she asked. She snapped off the couch and was searching around for her coat. "Where are you?"
"I'm at home," he answered. "Can you come over?"
"I'll be right there," she said. She gave up trying to find her jacket and found a puffy khaki vest.
"Ziva..." he said.
"Yes, Tony," she replied. She shrugged one arm into the vest and then held the phone between her shoulder and her ear as she shrugged the other arm in.
"Just hurry. And be careful," he whispered.
Ziva let herself into Tony's house quietly. There was a light on in the kitchen but the rest of the house seemed to be dark. She immediately tightened her grip on her gun as she carefully peered around the corner.
"Tony?" she called out.
There was no answer. She made her way across the living room and peered down the hall. There was a slither of light coming from the end room, his study. Ziva ran quickly down the hall. She paused and pressed her ear against the door. There was no sound coming from the room. Gingerly and quietly, she opened the door. She swung herself around and found herself training her gun on Tony. He was kneeling on the floor, a look of utter disbelief on his face.
"Tony, what happened?" she asked. She holstered her gun and went to kneel beside him.
His hands, clothes and the carpet were covered in blood. The bullet-ridden body of Jeanne Benoit was cradled on his lap. He looked up at her, his eyes wide, and his face fell.
"I killed her," he answered. He wiped his hand across his face leaving a streak of blood. "I killed Jeanne."
Gibbs was there ten minutes later with Ducky, McGee and the members from another Major Case Response team led by the imposing but very brilliant Agent Decker. They moved quickly to the study.
Ziva left Tony sitting at the kitchen table and went to talk to Gibbs. She stuck her head into the room and waved Gibbs over. He and McGee were standing just inside the door watching the proceedings.
"How's DiNozzo going?" Gibbs asked.
"He's still in shock. I took his statement," she answered. She gave him a quick rundown of what had happened. "Gibbs, can I ask you a question?"
"You're going to anyway," he pointed out.
"Why are you doing all of this if this was an act of self defence?" she asked.
"Until ten seconds ago we didn't know this was self-defence," he reminded her. The tone of his voice let her know that he never thought it was anything different. "Someone attempted to kill one of our officers, David. Not to mention made threats against our director."
"Of course," Ziva replied. She looked around and saw a pile of evidence bags. She marvelled at how quickly the team had worked. Jeanne's body had already been placed in a generic black body bag and was on a stretcher, ready to be wheeled out. The room was a bigger mess than she had previously noticed. There was a large puddle of blood in the middle of the room. There were papers strewn across the room and little bits of plaster dust had settled on the floor. "What a mess. Poor, poor Tony."
They moved out into the hallway to give Decker and his team some room. Ducky and Palmer wheeled the stretcher out, ready to accompany the body back to the hospital morgue. NCIS wanted to wash their hands of the tragedy as quickly as possible. The team moved against the walls so that the stretcher could pass through. Upon seeing Ziva, Ducky stopped to join in the conversation.
"How is young Anthony doing?" he asked.
"He will not admit it but I can tell he is rattled. I do not know if it has really hit home yet," she answered.
"It'll hit," Gibbs said.
Ziva looked up at him and cocked her head. Ducky nodded emphatically and opened his mouth but unable to deal with one of his tirades Ziva quickly went on.
"I know, Gibbs. I'll be there. He will not have to go through it alone," she proclaimed.
"I know you will be," he answered. He looked at his watch. "Give us another half an hour and then I reckon we'll be done here."
"They work fast," Ziva said again. "I'd best go check on Tony."
"Give him our love," Ducky called out as they resumed wheeling the stretcher.
"And tell him we're thinking of him," McGee added.
Gibbs walked over to Ziva and lowered his head to her ear.
"Just take care of him, David," he said.
"I intent to," she said back.
"Intend, Ziva. The word is intend," Gibbs sighed.
Ziva sat on the edge of the bathtub as Tony showered. She stayed there even when the tap stopped and she had handed him his towel.
"Have you ever killed someone you loved?" he asked when he had dried himself. He stood before her with a white towel wrapped around his waist. His hair was dripping and left droplets on his shoulders.
"Yes," she whispered. "It is not something I enjoyed."
"Really? Ziva David, the great Mossad killing machine actually had a kill or two she didn't enjoy. Who knew?" he spat. Ziva tried to keep her expression neutral because she knew that it was just Tony's way of dealing with the night. She could not let him know when and if he had hit a nerve. "All those guns and knives and weapons. What are you trying to prove? Are you trying to get Daddy's approval? Because from what I hear about his children, unless you're already dead he couldn't really care less about you. I have to say, I'm surprised you care what he thinks. You are always so cold and distant and emotionally closed-up. You don't feel anything about anything and you don't care about anybody."
"That is enough," Ziva ordered. She had never heard so much anger or bitterness come from her own mouth and in only three words, but he deserved it. "Tony, you have already killed someone you loved tonight. I will not let you lose a friend too."
"That is so generous of you," he replied. Ziva raised herself up to her full height and glared at him. He returned the look. They held the electric gaze for at least a minute before Ziva broke the silence.
"You should put on some clothes, Tony," she suggested. "I would not like you to get pneumonia."
"I wouldn't like it either," he agreed. "Hey, Ziva..."
"Tony, I know you didn't-"
"I was just going to say could you please close the door behind you," he interrupted. He felt her recoil next to him and when he looked at her, he saw that her cheeks were red as if she had been slapped across the face. When Ziva didn't move, he brushed past her and started rummaging around in his closet. He went back into the bathroom and Ziva pushed past him, slamming the door behind her.
Tony stood staring dumbly at the door. He immediately felt bad for what he had said, even if deep down he knew it was true. He sank to the floor, still in his towel, and covered his face in his hands. He was the one who had made a mistake and he had no right to bring Ziva down too. After all, she had come to him when he called.
Ziva sat on the edge of Tony's bed and waited for him. It wasn't long before he left the bathroom clothes in a light blue t-shirt and blue-grey track pants. His eyes flickered in surprise when he saw her.
"You're still here."
It was a statement, not a question. Ziva nodded.
"I promised Gibbs I would not leave you," she said. Tony took a seat next to her.
"I didn't mean to kill her," Tony said.
"I know," she replied.
"I just aimed the gun and shot. The next thing I know she's bleeding out all over the damn carpet," Tony continued. "I didn't mean to kill her."
"It happens," Ziva replied, keeping her voice light. She didn't want to make Tony feel any worse than he already did.
"She told me loved me right before she died," he continued.
"She was just trying to make you feel guilty," Ziva said. Tony looked up. Ziva braced herself for an angry onslaught but he gave her a sad and guilty look.
"I'm sorry. For what I said," he said quietly.
"It's probably true," she said. "Some of it, anyway.
"Doesn't mean I had a right to say them," he replied. "Ziva, just please forgive me."
"You are forgiven," she said in a tone he couldn't quite read. She refused to meet his gaze.
He slid a finger under her chin and tilted her up.
"Look me in the eyes and tell me I'm forgiven," he demanded softly. Ziva closed her eyes. When she opened them, Tony could see the hurt in her eyes and it surprised him and saddened him to see it there and to know that he had put it there. He absent-mindedly stroked the side of her face. "Oh, Ziva."
"I do forgive you," she said finally and she meant it. "And the part about me not caring is not true though. I care a great deal for you."
She removed his hand from her face and stood up. It was difficult for her to do. How she wanted to stay there with Tony's hand on her face and under his unwavering gaze. But it was wrong. Especially when his ex-lover was currently lying dead in his study.
"Where are you going?" he asked.
"I'm going to see if they are done," she answered. "Will you be okay in here for a moment?"
"Yes. I'm a big boy. I can take care of myself, ninja girl," he answered. He paused for a moment. "Ziva?"
"Yes, Tony," she replied. Her tone was patient.
"I don't know if I can stay here tonight," he said. She nodded.
"We will go back to my place. Pack your trash," she said with a half-smile. "I will be back in a little while."
Tony packed a bag quickly. As he did, he heard voices and footsteps traipsing past his door. Soon there was silence. He opened the door only to be met with darkness. He could hear the rest of the team out near the front door and he went towards them but compulsively, he turned around and walked up to the study. He put his hand on the door handle and left it sitting there.
"I would not go in there if I were you," he heard Ziva say behind him. He turned around to find her standing in the doorway to the living room lightly framed in the light from the other room. She looked at him both sadly and knowingly. "She is not in there anymore. Ducky had her transported to the hospital morgue."
"Not to NCIS?" he asked.
Ziva shook her head. She would not have the honour of having Ducky do her autopsy.
"Is your bag packed?" she asked. Tony nodded and motioned to a jumble of black bags sitting just outside his bedroom door. Ziva went and picked one of them up. "Then let's go."
"I made dinner," Ziva said. She stood in the archway between the kitchen and living area, a glass in one hand and a wooden spoon in the other.
"I'm not hungry," he replied.
"That's nice, Tony. You will eat anyway," she said, her voice not inviting any argument. Tony sighed and followed her and into the brightly lit kitchen. Her four-piece table had been set for two and whatever she was cooking smelled delicious.
"What is it?" he asked. His mouth was watering and he was suddenly ravenous.
"It is just chicken with pasta," she shrugged. "I did not have much in the kitchen."
"It smells awesome," he said. He smiled for the first time. He took her glass out of her hands, took a swig and grimaced. "That's not water in there, Ziva."
"No, it is not," she answered. She scooped some pasta onto both their plates and then put the chicken on top before adding a generous scoop of the tomato-y sauce. She took the glass back from Tony and drained it. She held it out for Tony. "Refill?"
"I'm on it," he replied. He moved effortlessly around her kitchen and made their drinks as Ziva moved the plates to the table. He walked back over to the table and he put one of the glasses in front of Ziva.
"It is funny," Ziva said. "I've already eaten tonight but all of a sudden I felt ridiculously hungry."
"I know what you mean. Until a minute ago, I wasn't hungry but now I feel like I haven't eaten in three days. Actually, I'm not sure I have eaten in three days. I never got around to dinner. I was... interrupted," he replied. He sat down and they both took a bite. "This is amazing."
Ziva swallowed her mouthful before she answered, "Thank you, Tony."
He smiled at her and she smiled back but their faces fell at the same time as if they suddenly remembered what had happened to bring them here. They chattered while they finished their meal. Tony insisted on washing up while Ziva cleaned up and changed. He did the dishes then went into the living room to wait for his partner.
"NIS?" Tony asked when Ziva came in wearing a baggy grey jumper and track pants.
"Naval Investigative Service, yes?" she asked.
"Yes but why do you have it?" he asked.
"It belonged to Gibbs. He let me wear it one day," she explained. She sat down on the couch next to him and crossed her legs. "I just never gave it back."
"I have one too," Tony admitted.
"I think that he has a secret store of them anyway," Ziva replied. She yawned.
"You should go to bed," he suggested. "I can sleep on the couch."
"There is no need for that," she shrugged. He grinned at her but even though it was half-hearted, she couldn't help but smile back.
"I guess it's not like we haven't shared a bed before," he joked.
"No, it isn't, my furry bear," she agreed. She picked the remote up off the table and switched the television on. "You want to watch a movie? You can choose."
They lay in bed, their backs touching lightly. Both were unsure if the other was awake but neither moved. It was one of those conundrums where one wondered whether the other person was aware they were touching and although the position was getting a little uncomfortable, they couldn't move. If the other person realised they were touching they would pull away. And neither of them wanted that.
But whether they knew the other was awake or not, neither of them moved.
In the middle of the night, Tony got up to go to the bathroom. Ziva stirred next to him and he paused until he was sure she had fallen back asleep. After he was done, he caught a glimpse of his reflection in the bathroom mirror. His expression was less troubled than it should be but his eyes betrayed him. They were eyes full of guilt, not just over Jeanne, and sorrow. He paused to double, triple and quadruple check that he was clean of all of Jeanne's blood. Jeanne'sblood. The blood of the woman that he once thought he loved. Of course, he knew now that he was just caught up in the mission and the thrill of falling in love with the forbidden. Still didn't change the fact that he had killed her, not exactly in cold blood but almost. It was close enough from where he stood. He had been fired at before and not killed the shooter. But this was different. Never had he been shot at in his own house. Never had anyone wanted to kill him quite as much as Jeanne. He knew he should stop making excuses for her and stop blaming himself for her death.
He was just doing what any other human would do and it was his right. If he was shot at, he could shoot back. It was eat or be eaten, to shoot or be shot and he chose to shot. He chose to keep himself alive.
Ziva shook him awake in the middle of the night.
"What?" he asked. He was flat on his back and he could see the shadows of branches on the roof.
"You were having a bad dream," she replied groggily. She rolled over so she was on her stomach. She lifted her head up and looked at him. "We all would have done the same thing. In your position."
"So what? That makes it right?" he snapped.
"No. It does not mean you should not feel bad about it either. You took a human life. If you felt good about it, I would be worried," she replied. She sank back down onto her pillow and rolled onto her side.
And with that sentence, Tony felt a little bit better. Because she was telling him it was okay to feel bad.