Tiva movie night, post season 10 finale. The team's been under investigation for killing Bodnar, and the finale leaves us wondering if the team's gonna get split up. I tried to keep it pretty vague as to what they're under investigation for, cause I really have no clue what's gonna happen there. I'm going on the assumption that Tony and Ziva have taken the next step in their relationship, not saying they will officially be 100% cannon, but that maybe they will have admitted their feelings and yeaaaah… I don't know… it's taken me a while to try and come up with a new story plot so I'm not quite sure how this turned out….


Two nights following their return from Europe, a gentle knock late in the evening brought Tony out of a light slumber on his couch, having dozed off in the middle of a classics movie marathon. He rolled off the cushions, berating himself for falling asleep in such a position; his aching back would be sure to reprimand his stupidity all of tomorrow. He groggily approached the door, attempting to wipe the sleep from his eyes, and pulled it open in a slight daze. He was only moderately surprised to find his partner on the other side of the door, a duffle slung over her shoulder. She looked somewhat apprehensive as she shuffled her feet back and forth momentarily before drawing her eyes up to lock with his.

"Can I stay?"

It was such a simple, effortless question, and she looked almost childlike, vulnerability ghosting across her brown orbs. He gave her a small, comforting smile and pulled the door open wider, stepping aside to allow her entrance.

During their time in Europe she had become used to falling asleep beside her partner, her best friend, and waking up buried in his snug embrace. Despite the intensity and stress of their mission, those nights were the first in weeks since her father's death that she had slept through till morning, no nightmares to haunt her sleep. Her first night back in DC, a dream jolted her awake, and in a panic, she searched for the warm body beside her to latch on to for comfort, yet he was not there. The following evening, after laying awake two hours, staring at the ceiling, she made the impulsive decision to go to him.

In the weeks that followed, the partners had reached a mutual, unspoken understanding. Following their dismissal each evening, they would take the elevator down together and part ways at their vehicles. Tony would head back to his apartment, while Ziva would pick up takeout for two from a nearby restaurant. A half hour after his arrival back home, after he had changed out of his suit and into sweats and a t-shirt, her soft knock would ring through his apartment, signaling her arrival. They would perform a nonverbal exchange of takeout boxes for one of his old t-shirts, and Ziva would head off to the change while Tony set the food out onto the coffee table and popped his latest choice for Ziva's movie classics education into the DVD player. She would emerge from the bedroom dressed in a pair of yoga pants, with his oversized Ohio State t-shirt hanging loosely on her petite frame, and approach the couch to begin their night of takeout and as Tony called it, "broadening her cultural awareness through the meticulous study of cinema classics." She had felt sort of uncomfortable at first, asking to borrow one of his shirts, but his familiar smell that lingered in the fabric gave her a sense of comfort that made her not really care how silly she seemed. Few words were spoken between the two, aside from Tony's commentary at what he termed "iconic and crucial plot development" moments, yet the silence that lingered in the air for the remainder of the time was never unnerving; most of their communication had always been nonverbal anyway. Once the credits began to roll, they would migrate to the bedroom and slide beneath the covers. And Tony, on more than one occasion, had to lift Ziva's sleeping form into his arms to carry her after she had fallen asleep mid movie. These moments were perhaps his favorite. After he would maneuver her to lie comfortably beneath the sheets, he would sit on the edge of his now queen size bed and gaze at her peaceful face. He would reach out and brush aside the curls that had fallen into her eyes and bend forward to allow his lips to brush across her temple, whispering into her hair, "Goodnight, my ninja," before getting up and crossing to the other side of the bed to fall beneath the covers beside her and tuck his arm around her waist.

He had told her once that Paris had changed her, well this time Berlin had changed them. While not explicitly vocalized, they had reached a silent understanding that they would move forward with their relationship. No more veiled innuendos and skirted emotions. No more hugging the boundary lines between partners and friends, and friends and… something more. They finally decided to it was time to take their chance. They had both been searching for something permanent for so long, trying to avoid the inevitable conclusion that their permanence had been seated across the bullpen from each other for the past eight years.

While they had made this agreement, Tony still knew they had a ways to go before truly diving into this newfound relationship. And he was content, no happy, with where they were at. While yes, he longed to brush his lips against hers before drifting off to sleep each night and yes, it took nearly all his strength not to utter those three little words into her ear as he snuggled in behind her, arms locked around her waist under the covers, he understood that those things would come with time. She wasn't ready for them just yet. He knew Ziva knew how he felt, and he had a pretty good idea she felt the same. She had been broken so many times, in so many ways; her heart still had to heal. And for now, he was satisfied with the assurance that she would be safe one more day, held closely to his chest as they fell into an intimate slumber.

The investigation of their involvement in Bodnar's death was well under way, and the tension on the team had been running high the past few days in particular. Everyone had been attempting to mask the anxiety carved across their faces. Things were not looking good.

This evening, Ziva sat with her back against the arm rest of the black leather couch, legs extended across the cushions, the heels of her feet pressed against his thigh.

Tony had felt her gaze on his face for the past half hour and wondered what thoughts she had chasing through her mind. Rather than pressing her to share, he left his eyes trained on the screen; she would tell him when she was ready.

He didn't have to wait long as just moments later he felt her toe poke into his leg, grabbing his attention.

"Everything is going to change now, Tony. Yes?" Ziva trailed off, a hint of worry in her voice.

Tony glanced up at her, desperately wanting to tell her something comforting; wanting to tell her they would all be okay, that the team wouldn't get split up… that they would still be together. But he couldn't bring himself to utter these reassurances, because he knew she would hear the hesitation, the fear, in his voice, because he didn't know if they would make it out of this one okay. And he couldn't lie to her like that. Over the years, he knew the team had done more than its fair share of questionable investigative work, bending rules and skirting around protocols. He supposed he should have seen this coming eventually; he had just hoped it wouldn't be like this, not when things were finally starting to go right for the two of them.

Rather than trying some feeble attempt at reassurance, he decided on the truth. "Yeah, Ziva, it's not looking good."

She dropped her head and nodded. The harsh truth of life's reality seemed to have a habit of hitting her in the gut recently. While she appreciated his honesty, she had rather wished he had told her a comforting lie.

She drew her gaze back up to meet his, locking their stares together. "I cannot lose you, Tony," she said in a barely audible whisper, a slight tremble apparent in her voice.

Tony saw the great distress etched across her features and placed his hands around her ankles, pulling her legs across his lap, drawing her into his side. She curled into his warm embrace and settled her head onto his shoulder, while he wrapped his arm around her back.

"I know," he exhaled into her hair, pausing momentarily. "Whatever happens, we'll make it through. I'm not about to let you go… not when I just got to hold you in my arms," he said as he drew lazy circles along her arm, attempting to breathe some trace of comfort into her worry ridden heart.

Ziva brought her head up from its place buried in the crook of his arm and pulled her hand around to the back of his neck, allowing her fingers to twine into the short hairs at the base of his scalp. The lights of the screen danced across his features and allowed for her to make out the soft green hue of his eyes as they bore into hers.

She had yet to come to a conclusion as to how she deserved such a man in her life. They had inflicted so much pain on each other over the years, the trust in their relationship she once thought to be broken beyond repair. Yet despite all of the hurt and anguish they had both experienced, he had always remained by her side. With time, they had managed to gradually rebuild their relationship, and now she felt they were stronger and closer than ever. Her heart sometimes physically ached when she looked at her partner, the awe and adoration she held for him nearly too much for her to contain. He meant everything to her.

Slowly, the hand behind his neck began to guide his face toward hers while she kept their eyes locked. Her heart raced as the inches between their faces began to disappear. Both of their lids drew closed as their lips finally touched. And for that moment she let it slip her mind that they might get split up, that the legal ramifications resulting from their involvement in Bodnar's death might cause the destruction of whatever it was their relationship had finally built into being. For that moment she allowed herself to become lost in his arms and revel in the feeling of the gentle caress of his mouth against hers.

She had to believe that whatever happened, they would be okay.

Because they had given their hearts to each other.