A/N: It's another of these reflection fics! Yaay! (everyone join in with the celebrations, yeah?)
So I wrote this on my cell phone in the car yesterday, and in stores, and various other places. I just couldn't really stop. And as I sit here, listening to Josh Groban whilst painting my bedroom, I thought it was okay-enough to be put up here.
Yet again, thank you so so much for your wonderfully lovely comments, favorites, etc.
Disclaimer: /Up on Melancholy Hill, there's a plastic tree. Are you here with me? Just looking out on the day, to build another dream.\ I'm on that Hill, owning nothing.
She doesn't know when it happened, exactly; when everything turned upside down and the world shifted just slightly. One moment, they were best friends. Best friends who trusted each other infinitely, who flirted unashamedly but never really meant much by it. And then, suddenly, she was unsure what she feels. When she accused him of being jealous, although she was just clutching at weak excuses, part of her truly believed it.
She wonders if it was there from the start, but knows it to be untrue.
If they had had such feelings whilst being undercover, they would never have moved on properly from that occasion, unforgettable as it still is.
If he had truly felt the way she thinks he does now, he would have refused the Grenouille mission. But he didn't, and she knows what happened because of that.
If she had understood her feelings, she would have walked up behind him when he was on the phone, taken his cell, and voiced what she felt. But that, whilst it probably would have backfired, would also have done nothing to help the situation, so she just sat there as her eyes went shiny.
But that's where the lines blur. Jenny, Rivkin, Somalia, they are still prominent in both of their minds with regards to their relationship.
Jenny. He had turned to drink about a week before it happened, but not at all as heavily as afterward. She could smell it on him when he leant over her and blocked her sun. And when they were in the diner, he got gradually more and more angry, partly because of the situation and partly because there was no alcohol for him to immerse himself in. Then, in Autopsy, his fate was presumably sealed from the moment he reached for the bottle. Even then, she knew the drink was a problem. He'd had at least two before she arrived there, and had another couple in her presence, so she had to commend him about the fact that he was still coherent.
She only spoke to him properly once, during that summer when they were all over the world. It wasn't long after Jenny's death; she hadn't started the Rivkin ordeal yet. Her partner sounded broken, and that wasn't just the signal. He told her everything through his drunken tone- how he blamed himself for what happened, after all, Ziva had said to disobey the Director's orders and stay near her anyway. He said how he couldn't stop the drinking, and was passing out on floors all over the ship, every night.
And she told him to stop; that he'd hurt himself and lose his job and that he might never get a chance to work with all his friends again. Despite the sour chuckle she got as a response, she knew the words had settled in. And sure enough, when they met up in Cartagena, the foul stench of alcohol was significantly lower than she assumed it would have been. He even pulled her into a hug when he saw her, and she knew he was getting there. It was the weird feeling in her stomach that she couldn't quite place that concerned her.
The drinking had stopped by the time the Rivkin incident occurred. Even remembering what happened makes her shudder. But, when she thought about it, the real reason she was upset was not because Tony had killed her boyfriend, but because he hadn't trusted her, and she didn't have a clue why she didn't trust him either. So when she allowed herself the grace to cry privately, her stomach was aching once more, and she wasn't quite sure whether the tears were falling for all the right reasons.
Somalia, however, allowed her time to think. And to forgive. But the feeling in her stomach had just got stronger, and more aching, so much so that she ended up focusing on that whilst they spoke to her and tortured her and did everything imaginable. And throughout all that, she accepted that whilst her partner may have been jealous, what he did was self-defense, and he was only there to speak to her. He was there for her, just as he always was and always will be. And then, to be moved, and for darkness to switch to emerald; from the sight of a hood to switch to that of his face- it felt like a second chance. Someone, somewhere, had decided that their story wasn't over, and that they deserved to try again.
So, yes, she doesn't know when her feelings changed, but she knows they have done, period. And she knows they have to act, because they've been given a second opportunity, and she's going to take it.
A/N: Ta-daa! Phew, it's over. That was long, huh?