NCIS is somebody's else's, probably Bellisarius Productions/Paramount/CBS.
Author's Note: Pairing: Tony/Ziva. Spoilers for Season 13 finale and potentially recent hints in Season 16. Written in response to a Thursday Vignette over on Rough Trade to practice my writing. Prompt is October 25th, and a picture of a full moon.
Wish Upon a Moon
There was nowhere quite like Paris.
Tony DiNozzo sank into the bench on the River Seine and breathed in, taking in the crisp Autumn French air. There was a hint of the river in the air; a scent of leaves from the nearby trees whose leaves were turning to burnished copper and golds.
He glanced up at the moon. It was framed by wreaths of clouds, a round white circle in the night sky. It was high up enough to be free of the glow of the city; the ambient light falling short of the clouds. If he stared at it long enough he could almost believe he wasn't in a city at all.
But then the reality of his surroundings was never far away; from the hard, solid slats of the bench he sat upon to the sounds of the boats on the river and the faint hints of people in conversation, walking on by.
A breeze had him huddling into his warm woollen coat, and glad of the dark grey scarf he'd tucked into the collar.
Footsteps approached but Tony didn't turn around. He kept his gaze upwards to the sky even as the footsteps stopped and the bench shifted with the weight of another person sitting.
"Tali?"
The smooth dark feminine tone of Ziva David brought back memories; of working together, of flirting together, and of the two singular nights they'd loved each other as more than friends.
"Safe," he replied shortly. And then because a part of him still loved her, he gave in to the silent request for more. "She's doing better this past couple of months; no nightmares and she's zero on temper tantrums for the last few weeks." He paused. "She asks about you."
There was a sharp breath; a hint of true emotional upset. He resisted the urge to reach out, to offer comfort.
"Thank you," Ziva said.
She even sounded sincere.
He bit his lip gently considering his next question, but he knew he had to ask it. "Her father?"
He didn't need to look at her to know he'd disconcerted her.
"Tony…"
"She's not mine," he stated firmly, "but I give you credit for the frame-up. I thought the mocked-up DNA results were a nice touch. Abby, right? She wasn't all that surprised to hear the news I was suddenly a father, gave me the same results when I asked her to run the DNA again. You would have predicted she would be the one I would ask." Only he'd requested an independent lab to run the same tests and he'd known even before he'd opened the envelope what they'd say.
Ziva shifted, a sign of her unease. He could feel the weight of her gaze on him. "If you know then…"
"Why didn't I reject Tali?" finished Tony, allowing his anger to edge his voice into sharpness. "She's a child, Ziva. An innocent. You sent her to me for protection; you really think I would have turned her away even if you'd been straight with me?"
A long silence stretched between them before Ziva spoke again.
"It was never about deceiving you," Ziva began, "it was about ensuring nobody could question your right to her."
Tony frowned. "What about her father?"
"Josef was Kidon," Ziva admitted finally. "It was a short fling; nothing serious. He reminded me of you and I found comfort in him when you returned to the States."
"He's dead?" checked Tony. He'd registered the past tense.
"Yes," Ziva said, "he died shortly before Tali was born."
"Did he know?" asked Tony. He knew if Tali had been his, Ziva would have told him too – she was too forthright and she would never have kept a child from him. It had been the fact that she hadn't told him which had raised the red flag for him about Tali's actual parentage.
"Yes," Ziva said again. "He did not intend to be part of her life."
Tony let the information settle in his head.
"I wanted you to be her father," Ziva said thickly.
Tony nodded. "I am her father now." That much he was certain of; Tali might not be his biologically but she was his daughter and he was her Abba.
He looked back up at the moon seeking inspiration, but it simply stared back down at him.
"What now?" asked Tony bluntly. He loved Tali and he wasn't going to simply let her disappear from his life.
He finally looked at Ziva.
She looked back at him warily. She had dressed to face into the background; a black beret over a short bob; a grey woollen coat buttoned up and tied with a thick black belt; gloves and boots. Just another French woman in Paris. She was still beautiful; her olive complexion was pale and free of blush; it made her dark eyes even more prominent.
"I thought a fresh beginning?" ventured Ziva as though she was uncertain. "You, me and Tali."
"A new beginning," Tony automatically restated, "or a fresh start."
"Yes," Ziva answered with a hint of impatience, "that." She held his gaze firmly. "Ziva David is dead and her daughter cannot be used against her. You have finally let go of your Gibbs security blanket…"
"Hey!" spluttered Tony, because – alright, he had stayed at NCIS because of Gibbs probably far longer than he had intended or needed or wanted but…Gibbs hadn't been a security blanket. He hadn't.
"…and have secured a prestigious teaching position at Interpol beginning in the New Year and will be in need of a nanny." Ziva finished. "We can make a life here together in Paris with our daughter."
"Don't forget my father," Tony sighed.
Ziva shrugged. "I like your father."
"You always did," Tony remarked unable to hide all the bitterness about that. He and Senior have made their peace, but it hadn't been easy to have his friends side with the man who had basically neglected him his whole childhood.
Ziva grimaced. "I am not blind to his faults. I know he hurt you."
"He's not the only person to hurt me," pointed out Tony ruthlessly.
The barb hit home; a small flinch most would have missed in her expression, but Tony knew her better than most.
"I am sorry, Tony," Ziva said.
"Do you even know what for?" asked Tony, unwilling to let her off the hook so easily.
"For all of it," Ziva said, "but mostly for ever making you feel I did not return your feelings." She gazed at him intently; her eyes bright with emotion. "I have missed you and I have always meant what I said; you are loved."
Tony turned away, breath caught painfully in his chest. He gazed back up at the moon.
Her hand crept over his on the bench. They tangled their fingers together.
Ziva slid across the bench, eliminating the space between them. She cuddled up to his side and rested her head on his shoulder.
For a while they simply sat there.
Tony blinked away the moisture which blurred the moon and took a deep breath. "A new beginning, huh?"
"Yes," Ziva shifted, inching away just enough so they could look at each other again.
Tony cleared his throat. "So, what's the name of my new nanny?"
"Sophie," Ziva said softly.
"You intending to call me Jean-Paul?" asked Tony, amused her new identity was the name of the assassin she had once impersonated when they had pretended to be married undercover.
"I was thinking of calling you my little hairy butt," Ziva rejoined.
Tony laughed and settled back against the bench. Ziva followed, returning to her position with her head on his shoulder.
He looked up at the moon. There were a hundred arguments for him to say no; to walk away. But he'd known, hadn't he? He'd known when he'd made the decision to walk away from NCIS, to be there for Tali as her Abba, to search for the answers he'd needed in Israel, to return to Paris…hell, he'd pretty much told Gibbs when he'd said goodbye to his mentor…
He took a deep breath. "Tali's mother loves Paris and I still love her."
Ziva moved again swiftly to look at him, to examine his face for the truth.
Ziva's expression softened in response to what she read in his eyes, gratitude and hope lighting up her own as her hand cupped his cheek. "Tony…"
There were still things to be said; difficult conversations to be navigated and words spoken to heal. There was a daughter they both loved to be considered and she would come first, for them both. But right then there was only the two of them, the promise of building something new, and Paris…
And so he kissed her and wished for their happiness under the light of the full moon.
The End.