A/N:
If you can guess why Ziva didn't come back, bonus cookies for you.
And I think this will be my favorite of all six t/z ff I currently I have in progress...
Oh, I hope you like it ;)
(tony/ziva) Letters from the Sky
Chapter 1. From Where You Are
"Whoa, Boss. Say that again?"
That can't be right. No way he'd heard that right…
Twice. He'd only seen her twice in the past five years; both on an over-sized, pixilated screen in MTAC, and only once in real time.
And no, the picture of her in that black bikini left folded up in his wallet didn't count.
The first time, he'd been alone. It'd been over a month since his return when Ducky had made the comment about Ziva almost dying, and there being footage of it somewhere on a ZNN feed. According to the words that scrolled across the bottom of the screen, it'd been a bomb blast; and apparently everyone else had been made aware of it, as well as Ziva's subsequent safety, the summer prior.
Then again, lack of information is the price you pay when you're on a ship half way across the world.
Ironically, as it turned out, he'd been docked, more than a few times, closer to where Ziva was in Morocco, than to his existing teammates in D.C.;
if he'd known that...
It'd taken Tony all of five minutes to clear MTAC after leaving Ducky, clearly flummoxed at his rushed state, in autopsy. Volume muted, picture zoomed in as far as the screen would allow, he watched, again and again, until his cell phone flashed Gibbs for the fifth time. To say Tony had become well acquainted with the rewind button on the remote would've been an understatement; he had the small callous on his right thumb to prove it.
The second time he'd seen her, although undeniably under better circumstances, brought the same end result: no questions answered; no reason why. He should've been angry with her, fuming even, that she'd found the time to keep in contact with Abby and not him, her partner of almost three years. He hadn't talked to her, seen her, in nearly two years. Nevertheless, the mere mention of her name had him bounding the stairs to MTAC by twos, determined not to miss any inter-continental face time with the Israeli beauty. With an eye-scan taking seconds too long and one last attempt to pummel his short locks into submission, he cracked the door open far enough to hear her voice resonate through the speakers; it was lower than he remembered; gravelly. He listened until he just couldn't take it anymore, a sudden burning need to see her, and walked the carpeted pathway that led to the main-screen; her chocolate orbs were still beautiful and bottomless, and to his dismay, tired, but it was quickly forgotten when he crept from the shadows and they flickered up, instantly fixed on him.
"Well hey, thanks for joining us, DiNozzo." Gibbs had forgone the headset, and the well-deserved head-slap, and Ziva smiled at the weak reprimand, deftly tucking a strand of unusually straight hair behind her left ear; or would that be her right? Tony never had figured out the whole mirror-image thing, but for some reason, right then, it seemed important.
Just as it was important that her shirt was a rich purple that simply paled in comparison to her honey-tanned skin, and that her Star of David pendant was twisted two, no three, times on the thin gold chain.
Later that morning, Tony would decide to break the caffeine addiction that plagued him; the one that made him feel more like Gibbs with each passing day; the one that kept him in line at Starbucks rather than getting to work early. God only knew how much time he'd wasted when he could have been just looking at her. Had he known about the case, about her, he'd have been early.
She sat there reading the highlights from a report, a report that somehow had something to do with them, adding her own personal flourishes, the kind that never officially made it onto paper; the kind that she specialized in. When she tilted her chin back up, giving a weak smile that signified their time was coming to a close, Tony was, for the first time in maybe two years, speechless. It took a few seconds before Gibbs tore through the open silence.
"Alright, Ziver," he sighed. "Thanks for calling. I know it's late down there."
She visibly glanced at her watch. "Actually, it is only four o'clock."
But, yeah, she did look tired. For it to be four o'clock in the afternoon, she looked damn tired.
She didn't belong there, amidst whatever war she was battling this week; she belonged at NCIS.
She belonged with the team, sitting at her desk, across from him.
She belonged somewhere safe.
"Well then," Tony said, finding his voice a few unnerving notches higher than usual, "get some sleep, 'cause you look like crap."
Jesus, he was even starting to sound like Gibbs.
"No," he defended quickly. "I didn't mean for it to sound like that." His smile faltered and Tony cursed under his breath, but Ziva rolled her eyes, just like he remembered she did, and he took it as a good sign; maybe after two years, he hadn't completely crammed his foot in his mouth.
It was a wonder she didn't come back.
"Gibbs?" she asked, a mischievous glint in her eyes, "Would you mind?" She nodded in Tony's direction.
"Aw, what the hell?"
Slap.
"DiNozzo!" he yelled, solely for dramatic effect. He looked at his Senior Field Agent with a low chuckle before facing the screen with a wink and heading out.
Tony could hear Ziva laughing at him, and when he dared open his eyes, Gibbs was already walking briskly out the door. "Thanks for that," he snickered.
"It was deserved," she smiled, lips pursed as if she were trying to hide it. Hearing someone call for her, she turned away from the monitor and Tony recognized the man in the background from the ZNN clip almost two years prior; maybe her new partner, his replacement. "Sorry, Tony. I have to go," she took her bottom lip between her teeth, visibly stalling; and Tony was once again, just content in watching her, donning his patent DiNozzo grin. "But take care, yes?"
"Yeah, you too. Try not getting blown up anymore, huh? Worrying about you is giving me an ulcer here," he winced, clutching his side.
Ziva's eyes widened at his admission, and before he turned and the feed cut out, she whispered his name in a frenzied tone, "Tony!"
"Yeah?"
She leaned into the screen, staring daggers at the stenographer, who immediately pulled his fingers away from the keyboard.
Only Ziva could be intimidating through a computer screen.
"Happy Birthday."
...
Her well wishes for the following three birthdays were relayed through Abby, always a day or two in advance, and included little messages that confused the Goth, leaving her pressing for answers. Tony, however, was unwilling to tell Abs just how furry he was.
"Whoa, Boss. Say that again?"
That ccouldn't be right. No way he'd heard that right…
"I said, go home and grab your gear. Need a Q-Tip, DiNozzo?"
"Ah, no. But why am I-"
"Because we leave for Tel Aviv in four hours. So, go home and grab your gear." Tony's mouth dropped, processing the words as quickly as his coffee-less mind would allow. "Sometime today would be good, DiNozzo."
"Right, Boss." He stood from his chair, with Tim sluggishly mimicking his actions, weary about who would ask the obvious; and Gibbs wasn't giving them much time, taking long strides en route to the elevator. "Go ask, McGoo."
"Why should I ask? You ask."
"Just go…Oh my God, you're useless. Come on." They sped after him, and as the doors were about to close in front of them, McGee stopped the elevator with an interfering hand.
Tony waited until they'd dropped three floors, determinedly unwilling to look eager. He straightened his suit coat, eyes fixated on the buttons to avoid a Gibbs' glare, "So Boss, what's in Tel Aviv?" he asked casually.
"Sand," he shrugged.
Tony held back a huff of frustration.
Two more floors, and only one more to go…
"…and three dead NCIS Agents."
"I didn't know we had people stationed there."
"We don't. But we do have intimate ties with the lead officer on the case."
Ziva.
Ding.
Damn.
"And, DiNozzo." Tony turned back to the man still in the elevator; where exactly was he going? "Don't forget about Abs. She's got your papers."
Ding.
Great, now he had to take the stairs.
Music.
Really loud, incomprehensible music; either Abby was deaf, or she was going to be, really, really soon.
"AbbyNormal!"
"Tony Bologna!" He grimaced. "What? No?" Her lips twitched and she gazed away in thought as she switched off the radio. "I don't really have anything else that rhymes with Tony…"
"Keep tryin', Abs."
She was absent the white lab coat, but the low whirring of multiple machines told Tony she was busy doing something.
And one of them kept clicking...click, click, click, and it was already grating his nerves.
Maybe that was the reason for the music.
Tony smiled distractedly; he'd worked with Abby for years, and he still wasn't even close to understanding the intricate inner-workings of her mind.
"Oh. Yeah. Right," she giggled, handing him a thick manila envelope. "Maybe this time Gibbs'll trust you to not lose them again when you get back."
"I'm not really setting that bar too high. Thanks, Abs," he winked. Tony turned to leave, but she took hold of his arm above the elbow and he swayed back to face her, his eyes widening is question. "Abby?" his lips puckered.
"What's your plan?" she asked seriously.
"Plan for what?"
She punched him not so playfully in the arm. "What's your plan to get her back?" she asked seriously.
"Abby…" he whined; his lips pressed back together quickly when she lifted a fist and scrunched her face, ready to provide a second blow. "Abby," he said softly. "You heard Vance, and Gibbs. It was her choice not to come back."
Abby picked up a second remote and clicked it over his head; he didn't have to turn around to recognize the sound of her door snapping locked.
She was going to kill him.
He winced when she advanced, but she didn't maim him this time; instead, Abby embraced him in one of her signature hugs, her left pigtail tickling the back of his neck as she let her head rest on his shoulder. After a few seconds, she pried herself away, leaving her fingers, nails he noticed, adorned with little white-out painted skulls, wrapped around his forearms.
She looked at him sternly. "Okay," she said critically. "I'm giving you three days to call me with an update. You and I both know she didn't want to go back. Vance," she spat out spitefully, releasing her grip. "And it's not like Gibbs'll bring her back, so I'm leaving it up to you. I'm counting on you."
"Hey now, why wouldn't Gibbs bring her back?" he asked surprised. Abby Scuito was usually Jethro Gibbs' number one fan. She'd even named a dog after him.
"Oh, come on, Tony," she pleaded. "You know Gibbs. He's like God."
Tony quirked a brow at her comparison, "You mean he could make a rock so heavy he wouldn't be able to lift it?"
"No," she tried reprimanding him through plumb colored, smiling lips. She started pacing along the length of her evidence table, throwing Tony sideways glances as she spoke. "He's like God," she repeated. "He'll give you a nudge in the right direction, maybe in the form of a few well deserved head slaps," she giggled, "but in the end, after he's read the rules and given his opinion, you've got free will. If she told him it was her choice, he wouldn't guilt her into coming back, even if he knows she doesn't want to stay there."
"So you want me to guilt Ziva into coming back?"
"I don't care what you do," she threw her hands up in exasperation. "But there's a reason you guys haven't replaced her, and you know it!"
"Abs…"
"She didn't want to go back, Tony. She told me. Okay, maybe not in so many words, but…"
"Abby?"
"What?"
"Did you really think I would get back on the plane home without even trying?" he tipped a smile in question.
"Tony!" she hit him again. "You were going to try this whole time and you just let me ramble? I'd kill you right here if you weren't my only shot," she threatened playfully. "And I'd get away with it, too."
He leaned in and winked, "Gotta go, Abs. Unless you plan on helping me pack."
She rolled her eyes and shooed him away with a boot to the behind, leaving a rather dusty shoe print on his backside. She'd let him find out on his own, later; he turned back when the door refused to open. "Promise me," she demanded.
"I promise."
She shook her head, "Try again. And remember, it's easier to drag her by her hair if it's in a ponytail," she smiled.
"Okay, I promise I'll do my best to get the Crazy Ninja on the plane home with us. If you ever let me out," he added quickly.
She pouted and clicked the remote a few times until the little red light above the door flashed. "You better!" she yelled after him. "Don't forget! I'm waiting!"
A/N.
I love you all for the love and reviews on my stories.
As usual, reviews and critiques are greatly appreciated. =)
