Holding on and Letting go
I saw the NCIS promo for the new season the other day and I found the song in the background (Ross Copperman's Holding on and Letting go.) And it screamed at me to be written into a fic, so here it is. Since the season hasn't started I'm really guessing at what happens; I hope I'm vague enough that it can stand with the very beginning of the season.
Enjoy!
Tony could only feel stunned. His insides turned to ice, his vision blurred and the world slowed down around him. She was leaving. After eight years, she was leaving.
He hadn't even wanted her to join the team - not after losing Kate like they had. He'd wanted some time for the team to be without Kate before having someone try and fill in her slot. But the higher ups had spoken and Ziva joined the team right away. Now, Tony would do anything to make her stay. He just hoped they'd have some time now before another team member came along.
When God closes a door, He opens another door. Tony smiled as he remembered Ziva flubbing the saying: "When God closes a door somewhere He opens a window." "We'll have another great new team member," he could almost hear Abby trying to look on the bright side.
Oh, please, God. He didn't even know what he was praying for - and to a deity he didn't even believe in no less – but, oh, please, God, he didn't want to lose her. But if he did have to lose her, make it as quick as possible. He wanted to keep her, but if she was going to leave, then let her leave now; let her leave quickly.
He knew they would stay in touch, but would they? It was so easy to be friends with someone you saw everyday. It was easy to like someone you spent most of your time with. Did absence make the heart grow fonder, or more forgetful? Would her absence make her heart fonder, or more forgetful? What about his heart?
He could feel his chest tightening, but he didn't move his hand to grip his shirt where his heart would be. He was Tony Dinozzo. Things like this didn't faze him. Not visibly anyway.
"Tony?" Her voice made him blink, the tightness in his chest eased. Slowly she came back into focus. His insides thawed and the world started to move again.
He read her expression like an open book: the regret and the pain of loss etched on her face. The knowledge surprised him for a moment, but then he realized: Of course it was as hard for her as it was for him. And she knew how hard it would be for him to hear this news since they knew each other so well. Through all the fights and anger and friendship and teasing and joy of the past eight years, they knew each other like they knew their favorite book.
He knew what he wanted, he wanted to hold onto her, but he wanted to let go. As he looked into her eyes he knew that she was thinking the same thing.
They both wanted to hold on and let go.
But could they? Could they do both? Or was it one or the other?
Tony was suddenly happy that Ziva hadn't confessed her feelings around anyone they knew. It wouldn't have been pretty and he'd have made some stupid comment by now. Alone he could react. Alone, he could be more honest with his feelings. Alone, he could be more open.
He knew it had been several moments since she'd spoken, and he licked his lips before speaking. "Ziva…"
But Ziva shook her head and moved her hand to cut him off. "Don't…." she spoke shortly. "Not now. I know."
Somehow those words conveyed everything.
Don't say good bye;
Not now, say it later.
I know this is hard on you.
Tony nodded quietly and did the only thing he could. He wrapped his arms around Ziva and pulled her to him in a crushing hug. She laid her head on his chest, fitting in his arms like she'd always belonged, and maybe she always had and they just hadn't allowed themselves to know.
Did they have to let go? Or could they keep holding on?
He thought about the last eight years, he'd lost her twice and he'd be damned if he lost her again.
"Ziva?"
"Not yet, Tony." Maybe it was the fact that Ziva had her face buried in his shirt but she sounded vulnerable. He knew she'd felt vulnerable before, but she usually hid it.
"Ziva," Tony whispered. She looked up then, her big brown eyes peeking up at him from beneath dark lashes, her face still half buried in his shirt.
"What if we didn't say good bye?" He was sick of pretending, and sick of dancing around the possibility of them. He had to try. He wouldn't just let her walk out of his life without a fight. She pulled back a little, she was still in his arms but she moved so she could have a better look at his face. He took in a breath and prayed his accent would be correct and that he remembered the correct pronunciation. "Ani ohev otach."
Until something forced them apart and he had to let go of her, he'd hold on.
According to the internet, Ani ohev otach is "I love you" in Hebrew.
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