Title: What I Cannot Have
Genre: NCIS
Pairing: Tony And Ziva (Ziva POV – First person – Narrative… I was playing)
Rating: M, but work safe… depending on your mindset.
Timeline: Has a distinct season seven feel to it, but more general.
Spoilers: Lots, and used without discretion, the way I usually do.
Summery: How much frustration can one woman suffer.
Disclaimer: Yeah right, they're mine, about as much as unicorns and faeries live in my backyard. But thanks to their creator… I get to play with them.
A/N: You know reading Fanfic is bad for you when; your muse ends up cowering in the corner at the mere mention of NCIS Fanfic. All because you stumbled on a fanfic – a Slash Fanfic (and I don't usually read them, but this one had a good storyline.) – that sent her cowering into the corner in the first place. So after some careful coaxing (with a few CSI MIAMI, and some FRINGE fics), and a promise that it is not true… That Tony will only look at Ziva, lusts after Ziva, she crawled from her hiding place and came and sat down at the table… However, she is scarred… I don't think she trusts Gibbs anymore… So, I allowed her to write this, what can I say…
Written: September 2011
Word Count: 1 846 (let her ease into it slowly…)
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I cannot believe it. I just simply cannot believe it. Ziva thought as she entered her apartment, tossing her keys on the table and dropping her bag next to them. Once again we have argued, and not only have we argued, we've had a "lover's quarrel". Which is just brilliant, because not only does he have no idea as to why we quarrelled, we're not even lovers to start off with. 'Ugh, he drives me insane.' Ziva announces out loud to the empty room, 'how is that possible?' she asks the silent air around her.
There are times that our relationship confuses me to the point of exhaustion. One day he is like a little boy, teasing and playful, and then the other he is like a jealous lover, defending his territory. Why can he not just stick to one, at least that way he won't confuse me, and I won't end up feeling like this… Ziva's mind kept processing her frustration at Tony's latest antics.
Maybe I'm expecting too much from him. After all, he's NOT my lover, a fact I have grave difficulty coming to terms with at times. So, he shouldn't be held accountable for my sexual frustration. Tony has a right to flirt with any woman he chooses… just not in front of me. Ziva reasoned as she made for the kitchen intent on getting herself a cup of tea, however the thought of something stronger was alluring. I know my feelings are irrational, erratic, and downright stupid, but what does love, or jealousy, know of sense or logic. Every fibre in my being vibrates with live anger. I hate myself for needing him so much, that I resort to turning into the stereotypical wife, who's just found her husband cheating on her. It's as if my heart no longer hears what my brain is shouting at it. Her thoughts continue to ramble whilst she waits for the kettle to boil. Women throw themselves at him, and I know he enjoys it, but he has never really allowed one to enter his juvenile exterior, his shell. And I've seen what lies below it, and there is nothing that I want more than that... Him.
Taking a cup from the shelf, she places it on the counter with a sigh, her shoulders drooping slightly. He needs to be who he is. He needs to have the freedom to explore other people. Who am I to say anything or to lay claim to him? Only his partner… and at the same time, my heart droops and sobs mournful tears. I feel that I have lost him, that nothing holds him to me. He is my weakness, my sensitive nerve ending. The yardstick I use to measure others… and he shouldn't be. Pulling herself upright she reaches for the container, opens it and extracts a teabag, dropping it into her cup. Feelings, uncontrollable and inescapable assault her consciousness, and with them, an emotion she has tried to bury so many times. I see him and I see her. And I can no longer think straight, because all I see is the image of her in his mind and I cease to function as a rational and sane human being. I want to scratch his eyes out, and shoot her. Because she holds his interest, and if he can't see her… It would be better. Ziva releases another sigh as she adds water to her cup, then waits for the tea to drag. He is unaware of me, and doesn't notice the strong draw I have to him, he does not sense the deep emotional fulfilment I have when he is in the room, when he is close to me. Even when we argue, he still makes me happy.
Ziva spooned the teabag from her cup, tossing it in the dustbin, then added sugar and milk, before taking her tea to the lounge and settling on the couch. I can never have him. I know that. And even if I did, I would only be for a day or two, never for life. Love sometimes just works like that. You need to keep the person at arms length, and then even there they are capable of hurting you, if not more so. I wish that I could stop loving him, only so that these feelings of rage against him would end, for it is my worst trait, hating him while loving him, and I only torture myself with them.
Tony had been especially flirtatious today, and had I been the object of his dalliances I wouldn't have minded it as much. But it has been a while since he's favoured me with any of his playful come-ons. A long while… Now if there is one thing I have learnt in the years of working with Tony, it was to recognize when DiNozzo was on the prowl. And today, and definitely tonight, Tony was just that. It's during those times that I could say goodbye to my at times sensible partner, and be left to cope with the playboy. And those were also the times I would much rather floor him in some way, in hope that he would just look down to the person standing next to him. I can in my mind see his expression change when he takes a sudden interest in a woman, when he's intrigued by her. He'll trek halfway across the planet to avenge my death... but don't ask the man to take the time to notice that I happen to be head over heels in love with him! No, DiNozzo goes for the easy prey, and I doubt he realizes how easy a prey I would be for him, that he would only have to look my way and I'd be willing to fulfil every fantasy he could come up with. I would drag him into my bed and fuck him senseless. Then I'll let him do it to me, because if there was one thing I know he would be good at, it would be that. He could make me forget my name. Just the thought of him between the sheets with me, of him moving between my thighs, with his hands on my body, is enough to make me go over to his place and throw the slut out, then toss him to the floor and take what I want… but I can't.
Ziva closed her eyes in hope of stilling her thoughts, and the pain they evoked. Carefully she took a sip of her tea, the movement causing her to focus on something other than Tony, and what she wanted to be doing with him, to him. The day had left her feeling flogged, having had to watch as numerous women once again threw themselves at her partner. It was not something she was unused to. It was just that she knew he was receptive of their advances, more than he usually was, and that tonight some woman would find her way into his bed, and that woman wouldn't be her. Her mind drifted back to earlier the day, when they had gone to question the victim's sister, There had been two woman watching them as they stood waiting, both practically drooling, like he was a piece of choice meat, and although Tony had been too distracted by the receptionist to notice them. Ziva had cast her best "get-the-fuck-out-of-here-he's-mine" glare, whilst making certain that they saw that she was armed. Both quickly retreated, like two whipped puppies, knowing their attentions were unwelcome. He hardly notices that I exist, He's too busy revealing in all the attention he seems to consistently be the centre of. Not only does he take me for granted, but he has the unmitigated gall to openly flirt with other women right in front of me, as if my feelings are of no concern to him. Sure, he says that he can't live without me, but has he proved it? No. And the on our return to the Yard he chat's up some secretary, the one with the long legs and sky blue eyes. She's possibly the one he's taken home with him tonight.
Dropping her gaze to her cooling cup of tea, ugh, I should rather have opted for something stronger... No matter how hard I try, I couldn't hate him half as much as I love him. You just can't. Once you've committed your heart to someone, it's almost impossible to feel anything except love. But that does not mean that it is returned, friendship, trust, concern, these are the only things I share with him. I want to share so much more with him. I want to feel his body on mine, our naked skins pressed against one another. They say memories fade with time, but that one never will… Not if I can help it. At times I can still feel his hands, taste his lips, feel his arousal against me, I imagine what it would be like to have him inside me, what he could do with it. My skin burns with the though, my body alight in response to the images of him fucking me, hard, fast, for hours on end. And trust me I would make him do it for hours on end, reputation or not. There is no such thing as too much of a good thing when it comes to my thoughts and Tony. The things I would let him get away with, that I would do to him, would take a month's worth of Sundays just to list.
Ziva placed her almost cold tea on the coffee table then got up. But it could never be, I am not his type, even when I had blatantly thrown myself at him, he was not interested. So why would he be now? I remember looking at Brenda, listening to him talking, I have never felt such acrimony for a person as I felt then, to know that she had shared with him something I would as good as sell my soul for, she as not even that pretty, why can't he look at me like that? Reach for me when he needs release? I'll make sure that it is good… He is thoughtful and caring, look at the trouble he went through that one Xmas, secret santa. I had really not expected that, not with the comments he'd made, and if anyone had asked me what I wanted for Xmas that year; it would have been one sinfully naked, Very Special Agent Anthony Dimetrious DiNozzo, in my bed, ready to do untold pleasurable things with me. That's why we had an arrangement for no gifts. Because he was the gift I wanted, still want, but he is not capable of giving me that, and I have to accept that, and to move on. But I can't, my heart won't let me.
Ziva stepped into the bathroom starting the shower, before stripping herself of her clothes. It would be another quiet evening for her, reading a book.
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Come my muse… We will not expose you to anymore disturbing fanfic.
Crazy people, with their crazy ideas and putrid minds…
Maybe you should team Gibbs up with a nice girl… a red head, you know, draw his attention away from…Jenny.