A/N: This was somewhat inspired by 1x10 'Left for Dead'. This is also my first attempt at Tiva, so please don't take it too seriously. Enjoy!
Disclaimer: I do not own NCIS and I am in no way affiliated with the show and/or its creators.
Content warning: It might be slightly nsfw near the end, so read with caution.
Little pains and remedies thereof
The silence was unnerving; like agreat calm it hung over the office, foretelling a storm, the great blast that everybody knew would come. The signs were obvious. They were stated like the evening news with clarity and unwavering certainty by the one who was responsible. Nobody had known when or where it would happen; only that it would happen.
How he had come through security was unclear. Someone as heavily armed as he ought to stand out and so the team suspected the lobby was already bathed in blood. The squad room was next. A sickening smile spread onto the man's lips, sending shivers up the spines of even the hardiest of them.
Out of the corner of his eye Tony saw Gibbs swallow uncomfortably. Ziva stood strong on her two feet, but in her stillness he saw her chest rise and fall rapidly with every beat of her heart. McGee was the most fazed of them all. His expression was one of terror and fear. His thoughts were with his sister, or perhaps with Abby who hid herself behind the office barrier as if she believed it would somehow safe her. A scientist ought know better, Tony thought.
He brought his eyes back to Ziva who had moved in front of him. He did not like this and contemplated shoving her aside and behind him. His ninja, however, was so on edge he knew he would die at her hands before the blast. He chose to trust their collective unconscious, an almost palpable connection between the five minds.
It would save them.
It had saved them before, Tony told himself. He needed this mental reassurance. He already saw himself taking one for the team, tackling this man in order to preserve the lives he cared so much about. He knew they would not forgive him if he did such foolish thing, although it was honorable in his own mind. But their mentality had always been the same: none or all. And this would not change, not even in the face of immediate death.
They expected the blast when it came. Years of interrogating criminals had taught them to read a person's features, to foresee their actions, to anticipate and to act before they had the chance to. Everybody threw themselves on the ground; whoever had the chance to cover their ears did so. Bodies were shielded by skinny arms or the bodies of others.
Tony was not aware of much else but a weight on top of him and a terrible ache in his chest. He never believed until he was there to see it, that in a fraction of a second so much could be destroyed. But when he came up after a few seemingly endless moments to look after his team he was taken aback by how much had changed in an instant.
The desks no longer stood where they did before. They were either burned or pushed over; one had fallen apart completely. Paper had been reduced to ashes. Glass littered the floor. The skylight was no longer intact and in this terrible moment Tony allowed himself the thought that he had never liked it anyway. That he was alive did not entirely register until he spotted McGee on the other side of the squad room, freeing himself of debris and ashes. His forehead bled and his white shirt was singed and stained. His desk had pressed him into the barrier and so saved him from any substantial injury.
It was not much longer until Abby came up, coughing and choking and crying for the team. Tony could not hear her. His ears rang, flooded with sound and heat that was not really there. Through the smoke he decided that the ashes made a good addition to her outfit. He would advise her to wear it sometime again. Gibbs was nowhere to be seen, but then Tony spotted the shuffling of feet not far from him and Gibbs emerged, seemingly all right.
Now onto this obnoxious being who had made herself comfortable on top of him: even in his state he was unable to bite back a sarcastic remark. The voice, when he tried, did not come however and so he turned to give her a look. Anything he would have said or done disappeared from his mind when an unconscious Ziva rolled from on top of him.
Tony was quick to react and caught her before she hit her head on the edge of a damaged desk. Her face was untainted and peaceful; she must have turned her back to the blast. He almost believed she was sleeping. But when he withdrew his hand and found it bloody he knew she was not sleeping. Tony shook her and even dared to slap her cheek. (He knew it was bad, for she'd not let him do such a thing in any state.) He coughed as he pushed himself up and called for the "Boss!" He did not hear his own voice, only a dull, sluggish sound in his head.
—
The team was up and running again not an hour after it happened. McGee had suffered a minor concussion, everybody else was a little weak in hearing and the shock, despite having expected what had happened, sat deep. Only Ziva remained unconscious and Tony watched with a sullen expression as the doctors took to her. He wished they would be faster. He wished they would tell them already, tell him, "What is wrong with her?"
The doctors had not much to say to him. "She will be all right," they promised. "She is going to wake up very soon." Soon did not come for a day and then two, and before he knew it three days had passed. Tony began to feel angry at the doctors; why had they lied to him?
Just as he was about to lash out at them on the Saturday eve, a sign came. At first he believed he had only imagined that her hand moved. 'Get yourself together, Tony. It was on top of her stomach all this time – you are imagining things!' But then he remembered he'd held it throughout difficult nights, had caressed the back of her hand with his thumb or played with her fingers when he felt especially bored; he had never dared to touch more of her than her hand in fear of making her injuries worse.
She awoke a few hours after he'd first noticed she'd moved. It was long into the night when she stirred and startled him out of his slumber. Tony smiled at her when her eyes opened and gave her hand a good squeeze.
"Hello there, sunshine."
Ziva frowned and glanced around the room before finding his eyes. "It is dark, Tony," she croaked through dry lips and throat.
He chuckled and shook his head, "I was talking about you."
She tried to sit up despite the pain she was obviously feeling. Her face twisted as she pushed herself into sitting. Tony was initially going to stop her but he knew she would not appreciate it. Instead he helped her by supporting her back with pillows. "What happened?"
"You don't remember?"
Ziva shook her head. She tried to recall what had happened. The last thing she could remember was going for lunch with McGee and then her memory went blank. She looked up at Tony expectantly.
"You have a concussion, a few bruised ribs. Shrapnel got stuck in that stubborn head of yours but you will be fine." The images came back to her and she nodded. Tony did not need to explain any more. His elaborate telling of her injuries triggered the memories and she remembered how she had thrown herself on top of Tony, had buried her face in his neck to protect them both.
"How long have I been sleeping?"
"Three days."
Ziva swallowed. She had not expected this. Three days had gone to waste during which she could have helped, could have found the one responsible. (Oh, wait. He was already dead.) She looked up to Tony.
"Is everybody all right?"
"Yes."
Ziva kicked herself free of the blankets before looking down at herself. She only wore a hospital gown and her legs were littered with bruises and one or another cut. She was attached at the arm to an IV. She sighed. Tony watched with great curiosity as she took to her surroundings and herself quietly. "I'll get you someone that can take that out." He only reluctantly left, but he knew she was uncomfortable.
Ziva was not patient (pardon the pun) enough to wait and so skillfully freed herself from the needle before Tony returned with a nurse. By the time he came through the door she was already sitting at the edge of her bed, searching for shoes or anything else she could wear on her feet.
"What are you doing?" Tony asked as he settled by her side. The nurse took a look at her arm and the now detached IV and realized the job had been done correctly. Ziva knew how to handle basic hospital equipment.
"I'm going home," she said matter-of-factly.
"The hell you are. Get into bed."
She raised an eyebrow at him and a mischievous smile spread onto her lips. He sighed at his unfortunate choice of words and shook his head. Before he could rephrase, however, she had already gotten up and steadied herself at his shoulder. Her fingers dug into his skin but he did not react despite the pain that he felt.
"Ziva, this is not a good idea. You are injured."
"I am fine," she insisted.
"You can barely stand on your own two feet."
"That is what I have you for."
—
They found themselves on her couch thirty minutes later.
He had taken her home without any further argument and despite his better judgment. Tony knew he could not reason with the stubborn but he'd insisted to stay. Ignoring her protests he had made himself comfortable in her apartment and fetched them water and crackers while she changed into something more comfortable than a hospital gown. He liked her in it, but he kept this to herself.
Now he was sprawled out on one end of the couch while she kept herself small on the other. They sat in silence for a couple of minutes before, "Do you have any movies we could watch?"
Ziva glanced at him, "Yes. They are in Hebrew." Tony sighed and she continued, "I have another movie that I like." She scrambled for the disc and he watched as she moved around her apartment a little less gracefully than he was used to. Tony saw that she was in pain. She was hardly able to stretch for the top shelf and she tensed with every step.
"The Truman Show, really?" Tony asked in disbelief when she settled back onto the couch and the movie began to play. "Out of all the movies in this world, you have The Truman Show?"
She glared at him, "I can put in The Sound of Music, would you rather watch that?"
"The Truman Show," Tony redeemed himself, "what a fantastic movie!"
Ziva narrowed her eyes at him. "I thought so."
He glanced at her often during the movie. He noticed that she was unable to find a comfortable position. She twisted and turned and after an hour of this he could not take it anymore. "What's wrong?"
She immediately stilled, forcing herself into something that looked comfortable but could not possibly be. "Nothing is wrong. I felt an itch."
"An itch," he echoed sarcastically, "for the entire last hour?" Tony scooted closer and took a good look at her. She refused to meet his eyes and instead kept them trained on the television screen as if she was actually paying attention. She almost had him fooled; almost. "Why do you do this?"
"Do what?"
"Pretend that you're all right when you aren't. Why can't you say that you are in pain?"
"I am not in—ow!" Tony poked her side not very gently before she had a chance to even finish her sentence. This earned him a punch in the shoulder in return but he had proven his point and not even the pulsating pain in his arm could dull his success. "Why did you do this?"
"Why are you lying to me?"
If this was a game, Ziva did not like it. She crossed her arms over her chest, one hand subtly rubbing at the spot he had poked. He felt mildly guilty about worsening her pain but it was necessary in his head. He needed her to talk to him, if only today. Ziva was not down with a common cold or something that would cure itself in a day or two. She suffered substantial injuries and should not even be out of the hospital!In an emergency he would have to force her back to the clinic.
Tony regretted having given in. He should have convinced her to stay, should have made her stay in the first place.. But he was but putty in her hands, especially because in that instant when he saw her unconscious next to him he believed he'd lost her. His reasoning was hardly plausible, but he wanted her comfortable, happy and pain free. He reached for her. She let him.
"Where does it hurt?"
"Everywhere."
His hand ran down the slope of her back gently, feeling the ribs through her skin and shirt. He traced her spine and finally rested his hand on her sacrum, rubbing circles there until she relaxed forward. Her shirt emphasized the hills and valleys of her body. He now not only felt her bones but saw them too. With careful fingers he continued to caress her back, hoping it would help her pain.
When it seemed she became more comfortable with his touch, he grew bolder. His hands came over her shoulders and briefly brushed past her collarbone; then all the way down until they curled around her hips. It was the small sounds that fell from her lips that encouraged him to continue. They were not sounds of pain but comfort, and if he would not know any better, pleasure.
"Is that good?"
"Mhm."
The movie ended, but neither Ziva nor Tony cared. The credits ran with a comfortable tune and it eased her further into comfort. He felt her let go of every tension and it became much easier to mold her. His hands now took the liberty to travel further than her back and shoulders, but down her arms and around her sides, too. With every time he pressed into her skin she fell deeper into her forward stretch, deeper into her relaxation.
He did not know when, but when he caught a glimpse of her profile many minutes later he knew she had fallen asleep. There was a tension in her lower lip that she only ever eased when she was asleep, when there was no need to bite down into her own flesh to keep herself from speaking or feeling or crying out in pain. Her expression was peaceful when she slept.
It was such a rare sight that after Tony moved her gently onto her side and threw the blanket over her, he continued to watch her for what felt like an eternity before he too fell asleep on the other side of the couch.
—
She woke up before him. The sun shone through the window, tickling her awake. At first she was confused. The last few days had been altogether surreal (non-existent if she was being honest) and to wake up on her couch added to her confusion. Then she found Tony on the other side of her couch, sleeping in what had to be a terribly uncomfortable position. She did not want to wake him though and so returned the blanket to him and moved on towards the bathroom with quiet steps.
Ziva had not showered since the explosion – not that she was aware of anyway and so decided to take the time before he woke up; before he could insist on getting into the shower with her just in case she would slip.
He woke up not much longer and began to wander the apartment in pursuit of her. He found her in her bedroom. Tony no longer lost his senses entirely at the sight of Ziva's bare body, although it never failed to inspire a reaction in him. He took note of her bruises and wished he could knead them out of her skin like he had the pain last night. He bit his lip and took a step back before she could see him.
"Are you decent?"
"You ask this like you do not already know," she stated casually and slipped into an extra large shirt. Then she opened the door completely and startled him into a backwards jump. Ziva noticed the redness in his cheeks but decided to say nothing. "It would be kind if you knocked next time."
"Knocking is awfully overrated," he said and flashed a grin.
She raised an eyebrow before brushing past him. He took a moment to collect himself before following her into the kitchen.
"Are you feeling better?"
Ziva considered this, "I am." Tony came up behind her and momentarily crowded her against the counter. "I am, I promise. Thank you for last night."
Tony decided that she was honest; she would not thank him otherwise. He let her go and continued to watch her as she went about the kitchen in the process of making coffee. Grace had returned to her movements and he flattered himself with the thought that he had done a good job the previous night. Plus, she was almost naked so he did not have a reason to look away.
"Here," she said as she handed him a cup of coffee. "Get your head out of the butter."
"Gutter."
He had no name for the look she gave him then. It was something between confusion and annoyance, but it challenged him all the same. He maintained steady eye contact as he took a sip of his coffee. Her eyes did not waver either. This continued for a long moment until she eventually slipped out of his sight.
Tony considered following, but he'd already gotten himself into trouble today and so settled onto the couch instead. He was admittedly disappointed when she returned wearing more than she had before. Ziva had obviously been comfortable in her own skin (despite the bruises and cuts) to wear only an over sized shirt, and he had ruined that for himself, really, with hungry glances.
But who could blame him? This was Ziva, and she was beautiful even in her pain.
To distract himself from her and the guilt he was mildly feeling, he found his phone and began to type away.
"What are you doing?" Ziva asked before taking a sip of her coffee.
"Updating Gibbs," he said.
"Via text message?"
"Updating McGee to update Gibbs," Tony corrected himself.
This answer satisfied her and she leaned back into the couch. She pulled the blanket over herself as she waited for Tony to finish. "Did you sleep all right?"
"Actually," he said, seeing his chance and taking advantage of her question. "You know how my back feels about the couch…"
They both knew that he was not being serious. He would do anything for Ziva and it was not necessary to guilt trip her into doing anything for him in return. He made such a remark only because he knew she would see right through it, would not take offense in it and understand what he really meant.
And Ziva gave in only because it had pleased her immensely when he'd dug his hands into her back and it was a favor she happily returned. He was in pain too, although she knew he definitely exaggerated. She crawled into the space between his back and the couch and took a handful of his muscles.
A pathetic sound left Tony's lips and Ziva could not help the smile, "Too much?"
Man that he was he shook his head, "No."
Ziva decided upon a gentler approach when she continued, minding his comfort before her wanting to get back at him for sneaking up on her while she was naked. She would get to that later and it would be beautiful – perhaps not so much for him.
For the moment, however, it was important that they healed.
And heal they did when they found themselves tangled up in each other's arms, chasing and remedying the little pains together until there were none left.