Title: Thoughts (Green Eyes)
Author: dizzy - in - the - izzy
Disclaimer: I do not own NCIS, but I do own the dreams I keep having that are like episodes of it. Wonderful, wonderful dreams.
A/N: So, uhm, I guess I consider myself a full blown Tim/Ziva writer now. Seeing as though I spent all of Saturday morning, from 12 to 4 AM, writing this and revising it and fretting over it and just... being completely OCD, I consider myself a full blown one. I don't really know how else to explain it. I obtained this idea randomly, while thinking at night, and then this happened. I was inspired by Green Eyes by Coldplay, and if you listen to that song, I'm pretty sure you'll agree with me that it's a perfect song for these two. a;lksd;fj I spend so much time thinking about this omg.
If you find any errors... you will seriously receive a cookie. I edited this about fifty times...
It started out with a thought, an idea that popped into her head one night in bed. She was alone, as usual, and she started to think. It had been a long time since she'd shared a bed with someone and actually slept peacefully. She usually stayed awake, or woke up occasionally, just to watch them. With Michael it was the worst, and the rare occasions that Ray was ever able to stay with her, she usually was up all night (and not for the reasons one would expect). It took her some time, but she eventually concluded that the last time she'd slept thoroughly was back when Tali was alive. She'd laughed at herself, but then a sad feeling washed over her. In her mind, she'd gone over the people in her life. She instantly crossed some off the list, citing age, personal lives, or relationship. But then she realized that it didn't matter her relationship with the person, as long as she felt comfortable with that person, they were allowed to be on her list.
But then she realized that it wasn't just about being comfortable. It was about complete trust, to understand her feelings and the loneliness she felt. She'd long ago realized that being alone and feeling lonely were two different things. She didn't mind being alone. She hated being lonely. It was the emotion she didn't like, not the state of being.
That night, she'd realized exactly the kind of person who she knew she could sleep peacefully next to.
It started out with a thought, and ended with a solution. Except, when she realized who fit the description, she realized it might be a challenge.
But that didn't mean she couldn't try.
"Tony, that sounds sexist."
Ziva smiles as Tim and Tony argue. Something Tony said obviously angered Tim, and now they engage in a healthy argument. Ziva actually likes this argument, and finds herself listening. Tony had referred to a victims girlfriend as a chick, and it seemed to bother Tim.
"It is not, McGee. I was simply referring to her," Tony defends, glancing at Ziva. She shakes her head, and suddenly she's being pulled into the argument.
"Well now, what does the ninja chick think about this?" Tony asks, his hands going under his chin. She shakes her head again, ignoring him and moving over to Tim's desk. The younger man looks up at her, offers her a smile, before turning his attention to his computer. Ziva doesn't have anything to do, so she picks at her nails behind her friends desk. Tony gives up on trying to get her to answer, mumbling under his breath. When he gets tired of the silence, he gets up and disappears.
"Where are you going?" Tim yells after him.
"Abby."
The partners shrug at each other, and Tim goes back to his computer. Upon looking, Ziva sees that he's typing an e-mail. She doesn't want to read over his shoulder, so she picks up a book off his desk and reads the inside cover.
"It's a very good book, if you want to borrow it," he doesn't have to look, he knows she's interested. He looks up at her, turning his chair to face her. She balances herself by placing her foot on the chair, offering up a smile.
"I might have to, it sounds interesting."
A conversation begins as Tim tells her what he thinks, but doesn't give away anything. They segue onto other books, and they spend a good while talking about recent books they have read. Ziva finds herself smiling more than she usually does, enjoying the conversation. It isn't often that she has the luxury to have a conversation as such with Tim. And that's probably because their time alone doesn't extend much outside of work. It's become rare, and she doesn't approve.
When Gibbs walks back in, they stop talking for a moment. They wait for him to give them orders, but he simply shakes his head.
"Go home, shopping, whatever, there are no cases even close to being ours. Be on call," he says, and the pair looks at each other. With almost identical smiles, they quickly pack up their stuff to leave. She waits for Tim to catch up with her, and he smiles at the gesture. They are over at the elevator when she speaks.
"Well, since this is a sudden change of plans, do you want to go grab lunch?" she asks her friend, and he checks his watch.
"I'd be delighted to," he gives her a smile and things seem alright.
Almost an hour later, they sit in the only available seat in a crowded diner. It's a booth that had just recently opened up, and they took it gladly. It's small, but cozy and Ziva can't contain the smile on her face.
They discuss meal ideas over the chatter, and a small voice distracts Ziva. She looks around, and finds that there is a small girl (about the age of five) leaning over the wall behind her. The girl's parents are having a discussion and it's obvious they are ignoring the child. Ziva smiles.
"Hi honey. What are you doing?"
The girl hides behind opaque plastic between the booths, and now she has caught Tim's attention. He turns to look at her as well, his arm moving to the back of the seat. Ziva glances at it.
"Nothing," the girl says, staring at the pair. She pops up and hides behind the plastic again.
"Are you bored?" Tim says, his voice taking on the same tone Ziva's had. The girl nods, and he simply smiles.
"Did they give you a kid menu?"
The girl disappears, and she comes back holding a piece of paper and crayons. She holds them out, and Tim takes them. He looks over the paper, and Ziva simply stares.
"You've done everything," he observes, and the girl nods.
"I don't have anything else to do," she says, and Ziva sees the wheels clicking in her friends head.
"There is free space on the back. How about you draw a picture? I'd love to see it," Tim's voice is so soft Ziva wonders where he hides it. The girl takes back the paper with a smile and disappears. Ziva can see her sitting at the table, ignoring her parents, her head down close to the table. She turns back to Tim.
"You are good with kids," she states, and he shrugs.
"They have such simple minds. I could see she's bored, and her parents don't look very observant," he looks over his shoulder at them, and she can see a little hint of annoyance at them. She smiles.
They place their orders with the waiter when he comes by again, and they enjoy light conversation as they wait. His arm hasn't left the wood behind them, and he's leaning comfortably in the corner. She shifts her weight to be a little closer to him, and she doesn't know if he notices or not.
They are speaking about the upcoming holidays when the girl returns, a smile on her face. She touches Ziva's shoulder, and she smiles at the child.
"Are you done?" The girl nods, and Ziva takes the paper she offers.
The girl has drawn two people sitting on a green and brown hill. Ziva takes a moment to figure out what they are doing, but the little girl is ahead of her.
"You are enjoying a picnic," she says, and Ziva looks up at her.
"Me?"
"Yes, you guys. You're on a picnic," the girl says, pointing to the brown. Ziva had thought it was mud, and she now smiles. It's supposed to be a blanket. The girl explains what they are eating (carrots, pie, and chocolate) and that they are in a park.
"A big, big, big park. And there are swings," the kids eyes sparkle, and Ziva cannot help but smile back.
"It's very pretty, thank you for showing it to us," she says, but the girl refuses to take it.
"It's for you!" she exclaims, and Ziva pauses. She looks at the drawing again, before smiling at the girl.
"Well then, thank you. I love it a lot."
"Will you hang it up?" she sounds hopeful, and almost as if she expects a no. Ziva beams at her, letting her know she's okay.
"I will put it up at my desk, just for you," she says, and the girl beams back. Her father calls the girl back to the table, and she disappears again. Ziva looks up at Tim, and finds he's smiling warmly at her. She almost blushes, it's such a soft look.
"What?" she asks, and he simply shakes his head. She grins at him, now curious.
"Nothing," he says, and she nudges his side.
"I can see it isn't nothing, and now I must know."
He looks at her again, and this time he looks serious. But the warmth is still there, and she feels comfort.
"You… just… you were really good with her. I half expected you to lie, but you sounded so sincere about hanging up her picture," he says, and she returns the smile.
"I have never had a child draw me a picture. It's sweet, and deserves to be hung up," she responds, and he smiles a little softer. She doesn't know how, but he does.
"You're good with kids, Ziva."
His statement makes her thoughts about the rest of the day disappear, because it's not just his smile that's soft and warm. She smiles back, and they continue with their lunch, waving at the girl when she leaves.
She's sitting on her couch, reading a book and listening to music, when it hits her. The sudden urge to be around people. She's been by herself in her apartment all day, as it's Sunday. She rarely ever has to go into the office on a Sunday. And now she kinda wishes she did. And she has to swallow the feeling in her throat.
Hurrying, she puts on clothes and heads for the door. She doesn't know where her feet are taking her, but she knows the exercise is helping to calm her down. She ends up at a park, and she sits on a bench. She's calmed by the sounds of kids, people, and dogs making noise all around her. There are babies in strollers, sand boxes, while older kids run around the playground. A couple teenagers sit on the grass, picking at it and talking. There is a group of ten-year-old boys playing tag.
She breathes a sigh of relief and sits back. Her shoulders slump and she sighs.
She has no idea what came over her, but she decides it's over now. She's around people, and the sounds and the laughter makes her feel safe. She's still wary of those around her, but she finds herself smiling. She is watching a little boy cry, as he's fallen and gotten hurt, when a figure sits next to her.
Ziva turns and finds an 80-year-old woman sitting there. The lady smiles, holding her bag in her lap.
"This seat isn't taken, is it?" she asks, and Ziva shakes her head.
"No, no, you may sit. I do not mind," she responds, and the woman smiles.
"I'm Mary, by the way," she holds out her hand, and Ziva shakes it.
"Ziva," she responds, and Mary tilts her head.
"That is a very interesting name. Is it a family name?"
"No, more of a cultural," Ziva offers, and Mary smiles. Her hat sits on her head precariously, and she reaches up to fix it. Ziva fights the urge to help, but when she sees Mary struggle, she reaches over and fits the hat to the old woman's head.
"Thank you, I do not know what has gotten into this hat recently. It doesn't like me, apparently."
Ziva laughs with Mary, enjoying the company.
"Are you waiting for somebody? You look alert," Mary observes, and Ziva has to smile.
"No, I… I was just enjoying the sights," she offers, but Mary doesn't believe her.
"You look very wary, dear. Are you sure?"
She can hear the concern in the woman's voice, and it's something about the place, time, and circumstances that bring Ziva to tell Mary she had a moment of panic when she suddenly felt very alone, and Mary nods as Ziva explains. She offers a smile when Ziva's done.
"I understand, honey. I come here to hear the children play, as my grandchildren live very far away. I rarely see my family, and I enjoy seeing families here. It's comforting."
Ziva feels something surge in her stomach, but she swallows.
"I feel the same," she offers, and the grandmother smiles.
They spend the next couple of minutes talking about family, and Ziva is delighted to listen to Mary tell stories about her children and grandchildren. She tells a story of the onetime her oldest grandson got over his fear of the ocean and spent his day in the surf, ending up looking like a lobster. Ziva laughs along, not feeling a bit alone.
"Do you have children, my dear?"
The question catches Ziva off guard, and she twists her hands together.
"No, I do not."
"Do you want children?"
"Even if I did, I do not think it would work," Ziva admits, and Mary looks confused for a second.
"Children have a way of working out, honey. Even if you adopt, they are a blessing and you rarely feel alone once you have them around you."
Ziva swallows, but smiles. She doesn't want to tell Mary about her job, and her past, but she knows that somehow Mary has guessed this. She's about to speak when a dog greets her. She instantly smiles.
"Jethro!" she exclaims, and she pets the dog. It's then she remembers that if Jethro is there, so is his owner and she grins up at Tim as he jogs over.
"Hi, Ziva. I didn't expect to find you here," he looks between his partner and the old lady next to her. Mary smiles up at the man, noticing the look Ziva suddenly has on her face.
"Are you here to play with Jethro?" Ziva asks as she pets the dog.
"Yeah, he needs a lot of exercise," he turns his attention to Mary, holding out his hand, "Hi, I didn't mean to intrude."
Mary just smiles, taking Tim's hand.
"No, no it is find young man. I was just keeping your friend company," she smiles at Ziva, who smiles back, "and if you want to take her away, I wouldn't mind in the least."
Tim doesn't miss the subtle clue, and he smiles. Ziva stands up, thanking Mary. Mary gestures to Ziva, and hugs Ziva close.
"You be good to yourself, okay?" Mary says, and Ziva nods.
"Thank you, again. I hope you see your family soon."
Tim follows Ziva as she moves away, Jethro following them. He runs ahead, heading for the grass. Ziva notices a ball in Tim's hand and smiles.
"He looks very happy to be here," she observes, and Tim throws the ball. Ziva is surprised at how far it goes, and Jethro chases after it. Tim just smiles at her.
"How did you meet that woman over there?" he jerks his head back, and Ziva smiles.
"Mary, she found me. I was sitting there, and she sat down next to me. We had a small talk about her family," she says, taking the ball from Jethro when the dog returns. It's slimy and covered in dirt, but Ziva just smiles. She chucks the ball up into the air, and the dog is off again. Tim laughs.
"She seemed very nice."
"She was, very nice."
They are quiet for a moment, coming to a stop in the grass. Jethro returns, and this time Tim seems to throw it farther. She watches him, and is surprised as how easy he chucks it. He smiles at her when he sees her watching, and she looks away.
"What do you do on your weekends, Tim, besides play with Jethro?" she blurts out, and she almost takes it back. But the look on his face is understanding, and it's almost as though he expected it. She wonders when she became so easy to read.
"Read, watch some television, clean, mainly. I'll write sometimes, but now it's just short essay type things, and the occasional observation. I don't do much else, really."
The idea that he does almost the same thing she does with her weekends keeps her mouth glued shut, but she offers him a smile. It takes her a moment to formulate a sentence.
"Sounds like my weekends," she says quietly, and he bumps his shoulder to hers. She smiles a little, but then they are quiet again as they both think about what the other has said.
She lays awake in bed, her eyes staring at the ceiling. She's tired, so very tired, and she hates the insomnia. She wants to curl up in a ball and get warm and sleep. Groaning, she reaches for her laptop. With a growl, she opens it and goes to the internet. She's not against using Google to find a cure to insomnia that doesn't involve pills.
She's halfway through reading an article when her phone rings. She stares at it at first, completely disbelieving. But when she sees the number, she grabs it faster than she should have.
"Ziva," she says, and she hears the breath on the other end.
"Did I wake you? Sorry, I shouldn't-" she cuts him off.
"No, Tim, I was awake. I could not sleep. Are you okay?" she asks, worried that he isn't and that is why she's getting a call. She hears him speak to Jethro, before answering.
"Yeah, actually, I was just having trouble sleeping and I don't know…" he trails off, his voice sounding a little regretful. She huffs, shutting her computer.
"You want company?" she waits for his response, not against driving to his house. It isn't that far away anyway.
"I… maybe," he struggles to get the words out, but Ziva can hear it in his voice. He's lonely. He's tired, and he's in an apartment alone. She smiles, getting up.
"I will be right over Tim," she hangs up before he can respond.
Forty minutes later, Tim opens the door to find Ziva there. She's holding a water bottle and a bag. He takes a second to look at her, in a pair of jeans and a big black t-shirt. He revives himself quickly though, letting her slip past him. He doesn't dare ask what is in her bag, and he follows her into the kitchen. She pulls out a thermos, and a magazine.
"You look very tired," she says, looking at his eyes. There are dark rings under his eyes, and he shrugs.
"I've had some trouble sleeping. It happens," he said, shrugging it off. She decides to go along, and she hands him the thermos. He looks at it suspiciously.
"I brought you some tea, as it can sometimes make me fall asleep."
"It didn't work tonight?" he asks, and she purses her lips. She shakes her head before moving around him and into the living room. He follows, sitting down next to her on the couch. He opens the thermos and takes in the smell. It's warm and sweet and he can't help but yawn. His body is tired, but his mind isn't. No matter what he tries, his mind won't calm.
They don't talk, both of them just glad for company. She reads through her magazine and he drinks the tea, looking at her from time to time. He begins to feel warm, from his stomach out. The tea settles into his chest, and he allows his body to slump over. She notices, and carefully puts down her reading material.
"Come, you do not want to fall asleep here," she whispers, and he hazily follows her order. She helps him stand, and supports his arm as he walks to his room. She wait a moment before walking in, and smiles when she sees that he's purely collapsed onto the bed, face first. She pulls off his socks, before working the covers out from under him and over his body. She still doesn't feel tired, but she does feel better somewhere.
As a fleeting thought, she places a kiss to his temple before leaving.
Hopefully, she'll follow his lead and finally get some sleep.
There was nothing good about a missing child. Nobody, ever, enjoyed the bullpen environment when a child was in danger. Tony would keep his mouth shut, and work as efficiently as ever. Tim did extra searches, jumping through every hoop and finding each loophole he could. Ziva always found herself worried more than usual, and she found herself a little more intimidating towards anyone in her way. And then there was Gibbs.
"Anything, anyone?" he snapped, and they all looked away from the plasma. Tim moved to his desk quickly, going over the odd financial records of the mother. Tony added in that the mother had won custody, but only because the father didn't want to fight. And Ziva added her two cents, and Gibbs seemed satisfied. He listened as they debated, before pointing at Tim and Ziva.
"You two, find the dad. Tony, go talk to Ducky about working up a psych evaluation on the mother. Now!"
They all scrambled away, moving towards their desks. Ziva waits for Tim to get the fathers address, before he jogs to catch up with her. They are quiet until they reached the car, when Tim finally speaks.
"I hate missing kids."
His voice expresses all she needs to know, and she reaches over to squeeze his arm gently. It seems to calm him, and she sees the storm on his face. His face is so expressive; she finds she only really needs to watch his expressions.
"I do too," she whispers, settling into the seat. She hadn't even bothered to ask to drive, and she was tired. It has been a week since she helped him fall asleep, and in that week, she's gotten less and less sleep. Now, she is running on stolen naps in autopsy.
"I don't understand why anyone would want to hurt a child," Tim growls quietly, and Ziva could see the stress on his face. He's angry at the situation, they all are. Moreover, he looks a tad tired, but not as tired as she feels.
"There are some sick people in the world, Tim," she says, and this time she watches the look of familiarly at the use of his first name. He stops at a stop light, waiting. She can still see the stress in his face, so she decides to take the conversation off the case. She asks how Jethro is, and they are off on another conversation. She smiles as calm replaces the stress on his face, and she sits back to listen to him talk. It's calming, the soft sound of his voice.
"Are you okay, Ziva?" he asks suddenly, and she looks up. They are still driving, but he's looking at her out of the corner of her eye. She doesn't remember where they are. She has obviously dozed off.
"I am fine, why?"
He gives her a look, and she huffs. She doesn't want to particularly talk about it, but she decides this is Tim, and he's easy to tell stuff too. That, and he has the empathy thing on his side. She is more than sure he'll understand what she means.
"I have not had good sleep lately, and it is interfering with my ability to do my job," she says, and he bites his lip.
"It's interfering with everything else too, honestly. You look like a zombie," he said, and she knows he is trying to be kind. She nods, shutting her eyes. She doesn't know why she is suddenly tired, as she's never been one to sleep easily in a car. She lets out a breath.
"I do not know," she whispers finally, and she feels water in her eyes. She really needs sleep.
Tim doesn't notice, or he doesn't say anything because her eyes are closed and she cannot see his reaction. She is about to open her eyes when his hand touches hers, holding it for a moment. He squeezes her limbs, runs his thumb over the back, and then lets it go. It's the contact that pulls at her wall behind her eyes, and she turns her head so he can't see the tired tear she lets slip from her eyes.
She decides that it's time to get sleep, and her body drifts into a nap. Tim lets her sleep, smiling as she curls up against the door. He doesn't mind going to talk to the father alone, as he cares more about Ziva's mental health than anything else.
She weaves her way through the streets, running red lights and driving on the wrong side of the road. It is Saturday morning, two hours after midnight. She's tired, angry, and done with letting her thoughts get the better of her. She's done thinking that it's a stupid idea, and she's at the point where she just might break down if she doesn't have sleep. She pulls up at her destination, getting out of the car in a hurry. She locks it, and shivers in the night air. She's wearing her pajama's, which consists of her black t-shirt and a pair of running shorts. She runs up the stairs, her bare feet connecting with each. She didn't bother putting on shoes as she'd run out the door.
She comes to the door and stops, her doubts getting the best of her. She almost turns around, but stops. She's come this far, and if she has to go any farther alone, she's going to collapse. She turns the knob and is shocked it's unlocked. She expected to have to pick it, but she doesn't care. She moves inside, shushing Jethro as he growls. When he sees it is her, he jumps up and greets her. She pets the dog for a moment before looking around. It looks as though Tim has been able to fall asleep, but a light coming from the bedroom tells her otherwise. She's about to make her way to the room when a figure walks out.
Tim stares at her, his eyes squinting to see. He's wearing a pair of sweats and a confused look, his torso bare. Ziva reminds herself this isn't the time to check him out, but she does anyway. She looks at his eyes, finding one huge question mark staring back at her. He also looks worried, and she remembers her attire. Her hair is a mess from the window being down, as she didn't want to crash her car.
They keep staring at each other, and even the dog notices the current. Ziva moves first, making her way over to him. He's still looking worried, and when he sees the look on her face in the light, it becomes worse. He sees her bare feet, her bed shirt, and the shorts. He sees a woman in front of him that needs sleep, and is obviously not thinking straight. He reaches out to her, and she falls against his chest, a heavy sigh emitting from her body. He feels her tremble slightly, before he wraps his arms around her. He thinks he feels a tear on his chest, but he shakes his head. This is Ziva. She doesn't cry. However, he's wrong, because there is another. He decides it's the lack of sleep, and it fits. She keeps herself close to his body, her arms holding him tightly. He doesn't make to move, as he's worried. When she finally loosens her grip, she looks up at him. He can see desperation, loneliness and exhaustion, and he touches her cheek.
"Come," he whispers, pulling her towards his room. She lets him sit her down on the bed, pulling the covers up over her. He pushes her gently, and she falls back against the pillow. He then moves around the bed, and gets under the covers. The lone lamp that is lighting the room gives everything a soft appearance and she gladly curls into Tim's arms. She lets out a couple of deep breathes, the tension that has built up in her body releasing. Nights of no sleep and days of too much work have caught up with her, and she doesn't know how to explain her actions other than moving closer to him.
He doesn't seem to mind as she remains in his arms, and her body becomes heavy. He is aware that this isn't the first time she's started to fall asleep in his presence, and he squeezes her. She looks up at him, her eyes half lidded. He kisses her forehead softly, and massages the base of her scalp. Her eyes flutter for a moment, and then she's out, asleep in his arms. It seems so easy, but Tim knows that it wasn't.
It's been months and months of seeing a tired Ziva, and he somehow knows why. He's observant, and he has seen the look of loneliness in her eyes. He also knows that it isn't as bad when he's around, or when she's with Gibbs. She may not admit it with words, but she loves her family, and the feeling of being loved. He knows for a fact that he rarely feels lonely when he's around the team, and that it's the nights that are bad. And he's sure she feels the same.
With a yawn, his body becomes as heavy as hers is, and he decides that he can think more in the morning.
It's midday when one of them stirs. In fact, neither of them would have woken up if not for Jethro, whining at the end of the bed. Tim hears this, and wakes up with a start. He remembers the night, and looks down at the sleeping woman in his arms. She's out, her mouth open slightly and her body as heavy as ever in his arms. He gently slips away from her, throwing on a jacket to take Jethro out. He shivers in the morning air, waiting as the dog does his business. He looks at the parking job Ziva did, amazed that she even made it to his house in one piece. He had been so worried when she'd shown up, his heart and head in a mess of emotions. And now, she lay in his bed, asleep. He knows when she wakes up there will be words, but now he is just glad she's sleeping. Weeks of none aren't good for her, and she is catching up.
When he reenters his bedroom, he quickly sheds his shoes and sweatshirt before getting back into the bed. Ziva hasn't moved, her body still and calm. He wraps his arms around her again, and there is a moment when he can see himself doing this again, but he stops. He lies there, waiting for her to wake up. He doesn't want to wake her up too soon, so he lets his mind wander and his arms continue holding. He can hear the world moving outside, despite the thin layer of snow on the ground. It's getting closer to Christmas, and he knows that the snow will just get worse.
She moves suddenly, and he looks down at her. She's twitched, as a piece of her hair is tickling her nose. He moves to sweep it back, but she twitches again. Her eyes flutter again, and he moves his hand down. She blinks at the light, her hands coming up and rubbing her eyes. She takes a moment to sit there with her hands over her eyes, before she looks at him. The sleep is still in her eyes, and a smile spreads over her face.
"Good morning," she whispers, and he can definitely see this happening again. He squeezes her, and she yawns. Her arms move around him again, and she can feel the cold on his back. She realizes that he might have been awake for a while, but true to character, he's stayed to make sure she woke up safe.
"How did you sleep?" he murmurs, and she smiles. She moves her face to rest against his shoulder, breathing over his cold skin. She feels him shiver.
"I am sorry for this," she says, and he moves her chin so she'll look at him. He looks amused, and she doesn't know what he's going to say.
"Are you kidding me?" he says, and she frowns. He laughs slightly, before placing his hand over her cheek.
"Ziva, you've been a zombie these past weeks, trudging through your day just to trudge through the night. You look exhausted, disheveled, and despaired. I've spent most of my restless nights worrying about you, and how you were going to be the next day. I was surprised and shocked when you showed up, sure, but you looked so…"
He doesn't finish, but she knows.
"I wasn't going to turn you away, let you down, leave you to deal with whatever it is you're dealing with on your own. You're always welcome here, you know that."
It's something about the care in his voice that makes her chest tug. She wants to curl back up into his embrace, the thing that has kept her warm and safe all night. But she doesn't. She looks up at him and smiles.
"I do," she whispers, and he looks pleased with her answer, though he looks like he has more questions. She decides that now is as good a time as ever to lay it all out.
"Do you ever feel…" she can't think of the words, and he kisses her forehead. She feels it then, and she runs with it.
"Do you ever feel complete loneliness at night? As you are trying to drift so sleep, and you don't know if you can, and you suddenly think to yourself that it'd be easier if there was someone there to curl up next to?"
He knows there is a real question behind the ones she just asked, and he rubs his thumb over her eyebrow.
"Sometimes," he chooses his words wisely, "at night, I think of how nice it would be to have someone there to curl up with, and to come home too. Just, to be with someone who wants to be with me."
She nods at his words, smiling to herself.
"Is that the reason you haven't been sleeping?" he asks, and she squishes up her face.
"Yes… and no."
He waits for her, and she shifts.
"I have not shared a bed in months, and I realized recently that I love the feeling of sharing a bed. Yes, it does have to deal with the loneliness at night, but I realized how wonderful it would be to share a bed again. And I share your feelings, of wanting someone to curl up with at night because they want to curl up with me as well."
Tim listens to her, and he shuts his eyes for a moment. He lets her words sink in, and then listens as she speaks again.
"Do you ever think about what it would be like to settle down and have a family? Marriage, house, children?"
He opens his eyes to look at her, not sure how to respond. The obvious answer screams at him, but he doesn't just want to give her a yes. He wants some other words, to make his response as meaningful as hers. But she's Ziva, and she can see the answer in his eyes. But she waits.
"I think about it a lot, actually," he finally says, "and it's on those nights when I can't sleep that I think about it the most."
They lay there, arms around each other, for another minute. It passes in silence, and it's then that Ziva sees what she needs to see. Her views, his views; they have lined up and are even. He's the man she thought of back when her mind had strayed, a random thought about wanting to have someone to be with for the long haul. He was the person who'd popped into her head. He has always been her friend, someone she can trust. And she does, trust him. But she also knows he is full of love, and compassion, and an ability to care for others sometimes more than himself. He is smart, as well, and he knows what he wants. He's the gentleman, the one that chivalry isn't dead with yet. She's known in the back of her mind that he wants the same things she does, and that he's more than capable of doing so.
Smiling up at him, she lets out a sigh.
"I realized many sleepless nights ago exactly what I wanted. I came to see that it wasn't just a what, but a who. Because that who fit, and I would rather have the person fit than have to mold," she says, trying to make sense. But he understands, and he smiles at her. A feeling passes between them, and she snuggles into his chest again. He's never thought she'd be so cuddly, and wanting this much closeness. He can't blame sleep deprivation either, as she has just gotten ten hours of deep, meaningful sleep.
"If you are in for the long haul," she whispers suddenly, her hands moving to his chest, "then I am as well."
He feels something flip in his stomach, and his arms instinctively wrap around her tighter. He kisses her head again, and he feels her lips make contact with his neck.
There are still things to talk about, and many more hours of sleep needed, but Ziva lets any words in her mouth die off. She can feel the security of Tim's arms around her, the validity of his words, and the silent but evident promise in their embrace. She knows he agrees with her statement by the feeling of his lips on her head, a promise she knows he will never default on. He's dedicated, loving, geeky McGee, the man who's changed the most yet seemingly remained all the same. He's always been as dedicated, loyal, loving, and geeky as he is now, but his courage, his self-esteem has change with time. He's matured, just as she has, everyone has. Her ideas on life have changed a lot since she showed up at NCIS. She smiles.
There is time, so much time, to work things out. There are days, weeks, months, years, to talk about each other, and their wants, but they silently agree to soak up the moment. Ziva finally has the sleep she's needed, the man to help her, and the sense that her future is not as desolate as she'd been seeing it. And she knows that he's happier than he lets on, as his ideal life, his dream, is there and coming true. She laughs at all of it for a second, and he looks down at her, confused. She shakes her head, though she's still smiling.
"I was just thinking," she mumbles, and he waits again. She can't believe how patient he is.
"About?" he says quietly, one of his hands working up her back and into her hair.
"All of it," she says to his neck, before looking up. He doesn't look so confused, and she sees that he shares her sentiments. He smiles at her, that warm smile he gave her in the diner, all those days ago. She still has the picture, but she forgets about that as his lips connect with hers, and the last threads of doubt and exhaustion leave her body as she tightly holds onto the man that has become her rock.
It starts with a thought, something that strikes him as he wakes up. His arms are heavy, as they have been for a year and a half, and he smiles. He doesn't open his eyes, savors the thought and the fact that this thought has a quick solution. Well, it cannot be entirely quick, as part of the solution still lies asleep in his arms. He smiles again.
It's been a fun eighteen months. He can clearly remember the look on his bosses face, the acceptance as Tim explained. He half expected a swift kick in the ass, but instead he got a light head slap and a threat on his life if anything went wrong. Well, there wasn't a direct threat, but it could have been.
But nothings gone wrong. It took one month for Ziva to finally recuperate, to finally be solid again. She fell asleep upon arrival home and woke up right on time. Her days improved, and he saw genuine happiness in her eyes.
Everyone did.
He lies still, waiting for her to wake up. It's Saturday, and a glorious one at that. The sun streams through the window, and he feels the warmth of it on his skin.
She stirs, and her eyes flutter open. Her automatic response is to smile, and she's been smiling every morning for eighteen months. She gives him a quick kiss before snuggling back into his chest. He smiles to himself.
The thought pushes itself back into his mind, and he debates rolling over to grab the box out of his nightstand. It's an inner struggle to let her go in the morning.
"Good morning," she whispers, and he makes up his mind. He rolls onto his back quickly, reaches into his nightstand and efficiently grabs the small box. She watches him, admiring the muscles in his arms and chest. She's can clearly remember the first time she saw his shirtless body, even though she was hazy from exhaustion.
He rolls back over, and wraps his arms around her again. He's holding something though, and she has an overwhelming urge to see. But he holds her still, and she looks up at him. He's smiling like a madman.
"Do you remember a Saturday, one year and six months ago, when you woke up just like this, for the first time?"
She nods, and he grins at her.
"Well, before you woke up, I had a fleeting thought. I could clearly see myself waking up as I did then; your body curled up as close as it could be to mine, and the blankets tucked around us. And I put it aside, because I still wasn't sure. And then you woke up, and I knew that my fleeting thought was not that far off. We had a conversation about the future, in which we both realized that our ideas were similar. We found that both of us wanted the somebody, the long haul. And you told me that if I was in, you were."
She nods at all of this, and his smile becomes that warm smile he's been giving her since their day in the diner, the smile that she's come to realize is one full of love. To think she still has the picture…
"About two weeks ago, I decided that the long haul wasn't going to be complete if I didn't fix one thing."
She tilts her head, her sleepy mind a little hazy.
"The long haul will be worth a lot more if I had a wife to enjoy it with," he says tentatively. She hasn't seen this sort of hesitation in him, in this room, since he asked if she really wanted to do more than just sleep. However, the words he says hit her, and she reaches around to grab the box in his hand. She knows what it is now, and she looks up at him. His eyes are waiting, and she can see the worry on his face. Why he's worried, she hasn't any idea. She told him once, many times, and she knows she'll tell him again, that she loves him. But she knows where his nervousness is coming from. With a smile, she kisses him. He brings his hands up to her face, and holds her there. He pulls back, a short gasp for air coming from his chest. She smiles.
"I think you are right. The long haul would be much more worth it with a husband," she murmurs against his lips, and he's kissing her again and she pushes the box up under her pillow, and allows him to flip them over so she's laying on his chest and there is a laugh in her throat. When she pulls back, it bubbles up and the excitement is evident. His eyes sparkle, and she feels light, and as he pushes her over again, this time attaching his lips to her neck and his fingers to tickle her sides, she smiles wide.
It started with a thought, an idea that popped into her head one night. It begins again with a thought he has, an idea and a hopeful wonder he finally convinces himself to act upon one morning.
Through her laughter and his lips on her neck, she realizes that even though they'd kept them both up for months and months, thoughts weren't that bad after all.
Green eyes, you're the one that
I wanted to find.
And anyone who tried to deny you
Must be out of their mind.
Cause I came here with a load,
And it feels so much lighter now I met you.
And honey you should know,
That I could never go on without you.
A/N: So, uhm. The second to last sequence is by far the longest, and my favorite thing to write. I almost made it about a thousand more words, to be honest. But, after some deliberation, I decided on leaving it where it is at and now I like this a lot. I don't even know though, I wanted something about sleeping, and how they are two kinds of people who want to settle down and be with someone for the long haul, and so this came out and the song didn't help omg
Reviews are much appreciated, as always :)
-Izzzzy