this is a Tony/Ziva one-shot dedicated to my sister, who finally succeeded in getting me hooked on NCIS. **sigh** had to get this out of my system so that i could concentrate on my other story, which is my baby and my priority.
Ziva's POV on that favourite elevator scene in episode 6x08, "Cloak". i do not own any of these characters, or the show. all the dialogue is directly from the episode. makes a reference to season 4 and 5.
enjoy! :)
Tony jabbed away at the elevator floor buttons. The door didn't close fast enough for his impatient, irritated state, and so he slammed his fist into the general area of the 田lose doorbutton. Ziva slipped in just before the ding sounded to alert the closing of the doors.
"Oof," Ziva exclaimed as she turned around to face him. "That one hurt." It was uncertain whether she was commenting on the welfare of the elevator wall or Tony's hand.
"No it didn't." He replied without a glance at her, aiming a kick at the elevator wall before beginning to pace, leaving the silver doors to slide shut without having to be under his irritated glare.
"Didn't we get our fill of secret agendas and lying during the previous administration?" His voice was even, but heavily laced with irritation, anger, and disgust. He continued to pace against the left side of the elevator, keeping to his side as he left Ziva to watch him in her own corner on the opposite end. Her stomach knotted as she understood his reference.
"Look, I too hoped that things would be different by now," she replied testily. She hated when he brought Jeanne up, but she hated herself even more for feeling so pathetically lonely and miserable whenever she remembered how amazed he was with her. And so she closed herself up to mask the pain.
"Like to go up there and give Vance a piece of my mind right now." Tony's voice was still controlled, still even, still low. Yet he continued to pace, slowly moving closer and closer to his Israeli partner.
"The way you're losing it, I don't think you have enough to spare!" she snapped, trying to shove aside enough of her own personal irritation in order to console him. It wasn't really working. She knew what he was so upset about: it was bad enough the Vance had set them all up and used them, but for Gibbs to lie to them, too?
"I'd like to take that toothpick of his and shove it up his SecNav cigar." She had to admire his control; his voice was low now, just mumblings that could very well have been for his ears only. She chuckled bitterly.
"You've had enough of this job, then." She glanced at him mockingly from the corners of her eyes, knowing it would irritate him further. It was so much easier to deal with him when she could hide behind the tough shell of the Mossad agent she was!
"I like the job! I don't like the politics." There was the first crack in his control! His voice raised, spat out between his teeth in anger. "I wasn't kidding about that part earlier." He added in a mumble.
"If you had ever had some military training, then maybe you would've learned to follow orders."
"What, like you?" He spun around to glare at her. She stared back, pressing her lips together into thin line, angry at him, at Vance, at Gibbs, at herself. "We were given a direct order not to engage! I recall that you were the first one to throw a punch!"
"It was a reflex." She shot back.
"Hm, really? Then what happened after? Last thing I remember before the lights when out was you Kimbo-slicing through a room full of guards – was that a reflex?"
"Yes! It was! Gunshot when off, I saw you-" but she broke off, frantically stuffing that back into the confines of the dark, back corner of her mind, refusing to acknowledge it. She swallowed, calming herself before she said something she didn't want to admit to herself, much less to Tony.
There was a second of tense silence as the two stared at each other, mulling over the words that remained unsaid
"I'm tired of pretending." he whispered, not breaking eye contact.
She gazed into his green eyes, not quite sure what he meant. Was he talking about how Vance had used them? Or had she accidentally taken this conversation to a topic dangerously close to home?
"So am I," Ziva replied just as quietly, her emotions trickling out at the underlying truth of her words. She stiffened as her strength wavered and she involuntarily let her gaze dropped to his lips, heart pounding from anger and something else she did not want to think about.
"It's dinner theater for an audience of one." He told her, not even blinking. The high ding told them they had arrived at the destined floor, and she felt the doors open. "When the curtains go down." He stormed off without a backwards glace at her.
Ziva was left in the elevator shaft staring at the spot Tony had just vacated, hating herself for wanting him, hating herself for hurting him, and hating him for undoing years' worth of training to turn her into a fool.
this is my first NCIS fic. i don't know if i'l write more - it's my sister who gets all these ideas into my head and encourages them. please leave me a review; i'd love to know what you think of it.