Remember My Name
Rifiuto: Non Miriena
Summary: Ziva meets a young man in Paris while on assignment for NCIS. They have two blissful, passionate weeks together before parting ways forever. When they part, he gives her the first draft of a novel he's working on, and tells her to remember him, that they'll meet again. But when they do, will she remember the mystery he left her with, or the man she fell in love with? AU.
A/N: In this, Ziva was attached to NCIS as a Mossad liaison back in Season one, and McGee is not an agent.
Paris, France
2000
He flexed his fingers, getting the kinks out of his muscles, before returning to his work. The soft click of the keys on the laptop that was so comforting a noise to him was currently being drowned out by the music playing in his head. With his iTunes library open and playing, he was lost in the world he had created- the very real, very dangerous, and sometimes funny, world of NCIS and Agent L.J. Tibbs. Though he himself had no experience in federal law enforcement, nor had he ever considered having any experience, let alone a job in federal law enforcement, he did have family that worked in various fields.
"Here you go, monsieur." He glanced up, giving the waitress a small smile as she set his cup on the table beside him. Once she was gone, he returned to his writing, reading through the current passage he'd just finished.
"'It took Lisa only moments to realize that the man she had called father had betrayed her. Leaving her to die in the deserts of Afghanistan, tortured, assaulted, and filled with nothing but hope- false hope, for a rescue that would never come. Sitting alone, back pressed against the cold stone wall, she took a deep breath, closing her eyes. She imagined her baby sister, Tami, the lively, bubbly child with the curled pigtails, ripped from her family at fourteen in a Palestinian retaliation bombing strike. She imagined her brother, Avi, back when he was the protective older brother who would take her to ballet classes. But now... both were dead, and she wanted nothing more than to join them. With only death in her heart, she relaxed, willing, waiting for death to come. And then she heard the gunshots, and the familiar voices of those she'd left behind, calling for her, getting closer...'"
"Please, do not stop." He looked up, surprise filling his green eyes, as he quickly removed his headphones. "Please, keep going. I was enjoying it." His mouth dropped, and his brilliant mind struggled to think of something to say. But what do you say to the person who sat across from you, the person who just plopped down in the chair opposite as you were reading, without any warning, without asking?
He hadn't been aware that he'd been reading aloud, but obviously he had, for he'd captured the attention of a striking young woman of unknown, foreign descent. She sat across from him, elbows on the table, chin resting in her hand, the nail of one finger between her teeth. Her wide, dark eyes watched him; she sat drinking in every word, waiting for more.
"Um... who... who are you?" He stammered, brow knitting in confusion. "I... I'm sorry, but I don't..."
That seemed to snap her out of her spell. As if waking up from some deep, sound sleep, she lifted her head, blinking quickly. "Oh. I... I am sorry. I... I should not have sat down without asking, but... but I was coming out of the café to find a table, and... and I heard you reading and... and I..." She shrugged, sheepishly. "I realize now that I should have asked permission before sitting at your table. I feel like a donkey's butt."
He raised an eyebrow. "Horse's ass." He clarified. She nodded.
"Yes, that too." She gave him a quick smile, before getting up and moving away from the table. "I will let you get back to your writing."
"Wait!" She stopped, turning back. He sighed, sitting back. After a moment, he pushed her chair out with his foot. "Sit. Please." She felt a smile tug at her lips.
"Really? You would not mind?" He shook his head. She hesitated briefly, before returning to the chair, scooting closer. Then, she crossed her arms on the table and propped her chin on them. "Please, continue."
He studied her briefly, noticing how she waited anxiously to hear the rest of the passage he'd rewritten, like a child eagerly standing in line to meet Santa at the mall. A moment passed, before he cleared his throat and scrolled down the page.
"Let's... let's see..." Finally, he found where he'd left off, and after glancing at her- and finding her in the same position- continued. "'... her dark eyes traveled up, in time to see Agent McGregor's horrified gaze as he knelt beside her, reaching out to take her head in his hand.
He only briefly noticed the waitress bring her drink out to her, before returning to the page.
"I never thought I'd see those dark eyes of yours again, Lisa." He gently ran his fingers over her scalp, along the crack that ran in a sweep, from her left ear, through her part, and towards her right eye, stopping just above her eyebrow. "We're gonna get you out of here, okay? We're gonna take you home."
She gave him a weak smile, reaching up to grasp his wrist in her weak, yet still iron grip. "Tim, I... I have no home. When Tibbs offered me a position as a liai..." She swallowed.
"Liaison." He filled in. She nodded slowly.
"I... I turned him down. He would... he would never allow a Mossad assassin to be a part of his team. Not if he knew of what I have done, truly done."
He shook his head...'"
The ringing of a cellphone broke the spell he'd cast over his surprise companion, and she groaned in annoyance. After checking the ID, she slipped it back into her pocket, and then sighed. "It was wonderful, what I heard of it." He gave her a small smile.
"Thank you." She stood, and then seemed to think. Turning her attention back to him, she asked,
"Um... I... I know that this will be strange, but... could we... perhaps go to dinner? I... I would like to... to discuss your... book more. If it is all right."
He thought a moment, glancing at the clock on his laptop before meeting her gaze again. Then, he pulled a notebook out of his bag, quickly jotted something down, and tore the page out, folding it twice and handing it to her. "This is my flat number. There's a small salon not far from it. Meet outside my apartment and go for dinner tonight? Seven?" She felt a grin tug at her lips, and then unfolded the sheet. She quickly jotted down her own information, tore it off, and handed it to him.
"I will see you at seven." She turned to go, when he stood, grabbing her wrist.
"I didn't get your name." Her dark gaze flicked from his hand on her wrist to his eyes, and she licked her lips, whispering softly,
"I am Ziva. Ziva David." He grinned, gaze darting from her lips to her eyes. "And you are?"
He seemed to think for a moment, before his grin expanded. "Thom. Thom E. Gemcity."