Summary: How do Ziva and Tony cope with Jenny's death and Vance splitting up the team in 'Judgment Day' (Fifth season final)?
Author's Note: This is my first published story so please forgive my mistakes (thanks to my Beta for trying to eradicate most of them). Hope you like it, but even if you don't, let me know ;)
Disclaimer: NCIS and its characters are the property of CBS Television and Belisarius Productions. No copyright infringement intended.
Until I see you again
Ziva was driving around aimlessly, the honking and cursing of the other drivers that usually surrounded her reduced to a minimum because it was way too early even for the streets of Washington D.C. to be filled with more than the occasional commuter or taxi. But that also meant that it was too early to get to the airport.
Ziva had been aware of that when she had gotten up this morning (extremely early, even for her standards). But she had not been able to rest anymore, knowing that she was flying home today. The problem was that she wasn't sure whether Israel was actually still 'home'.
"The liaison position with NCIS is being terminated. You're going home," Leon Vance's voice resounded in her head like a broken record playing.
Ziva had not shown her devastation at this piece of news, of course, and neither had the others. But she knew that the idea of working aboard a ship horrified Tony and McGee had no desire to work with all the other geeks in the cyber crimes unit either. And most importantly, none of them wanted to leave Gibbs – especially not now. He didn't show it, of course, but Ziva knew that Jenny's death had hit him hard.
And he was not the only one. Ever since Ziva had saved Jenny's life back in Europe during their anti-terror ops and Jenny in turn had helped Ziva to her position as liaison officer with NCIS, Ziva had considered the fierce red-haired woman her friend – perhaps even her only female friend, besides Abby who was, well, Abby. And being partly involved if not at fault for Jenny's death made Ziva still choke with unshed tears.
Still, she tried to remind herself that it was worse for Gibbs. He had been in love with her, after all. Ziva was sure of that. And now he had not only lost her, but his team as well – this team that had been so much like a family – to Ziva as well, as she realized now due to the dread she felt at the prospect of going 'home' today.
It wasn't as if Israel didn't mean anything to her anymore. Her heart would always feel connected to it. The problem was who she would meet once she was there. Since Ari's death and her joining NCIS, Ziva hadn't been much in contact with her father because the plain truth was: she hadn't wanted to. Hell, she had joined NCIS to get away from him.
The way he had been willing to sacrifice Ari – to give order to kill his own son – had deeply disturbed Ziva. Eli David had never been very close to his children – except to train them for serving Mossad later on – but that he was almost indifferent to their deaths that went beyond even Ziva's quite realistic perception of their relationship.
Of course, a small voice tried to remind her, it had been different when her sister Tali had died. Their father had been furious then. But Tali always seemed to have been his favourite – perhaps because she was the youngest – so maybe it had been then that Eli David had stopped caring for his other children.
Nevertheless, Ziva was on her way to reunite with him before the end of the day and maybe, just maybe he would learn to appreciate the very last of his children a little more. But it wasn't time to find out just yet.
Ziva kept on driving until her red Mini Cooper suddenly came to a stop in front of a familiar apartment building. Ziva bit her lower lip. What on earth was she doing? This was crazy. She should just keep on driving. But she couldn't. Because she had no idea if and when she would see him again. So, Ziva got out of the car.
The building was quiet and she climbed the stairs in silence. She hesitated again when she stood in front of his door. But then Ziva reminded herself that she was going back to Mossad and that indecisiveness like this could kill her in a matter of seconds. She had to get used to always being on her guard again, to display strength and confidence and she could start by picking Special Agent Anthony DiNozzo's door lock. So she did.
The apartment was a mess, but that didn't really surprise Ziva. Tony wasn't usually very tidy. Add to that the necessity to get packed for a stay aboard the USS Ronald Reagan of unknown duration and you would get a mess like this. Although, when she had a closer look, Ziva realized that it wasn't so much clothes lying around, but movies and bowls of popcorn and chips. She couldn't help smiling. Tony had probably attempted to watch all of his favourite movies in one night before heading off towards a cabin without TV.
Eager to finally see him, Ziva picked her way towards his bedroom. It lay in darkness because the curtains were still drawn and Tony sound asleep. Ziva simply stood there for a while, smiling to herself. He looked so cute and peaceful while he was asleep. No signs of his usual childishness that often bordered on annoyance or the more recent lines of guilt and sadness after Jenny's death. For a moment Ziva considered leaving, letting him sleep and being content with this image of him sleeping peacefully.
But that was not why she was here. Although, she did not really know what she was here for exactly, she knew she wanted to talk to him again before leaving. Therefore, Ziva walked briskly towards the windows and opened them after pushing the curtains aside. Tony buried his face in his pillows when the light suddenly fell on his bed, but he didn't seem to wake up. Ziva moved back towards his side.
"Tony."
He jerked a little, but remained in his slumber.
"Tony!" she repeated, this time louder and more forceful.
He moaned, but otherwise didn't move.
Ziva shook her head. "Seriously, Tony, if I were here to assassinate you, you would have been long dead."
"No one wants to assassinate a pathetic 'agent afloat' like me," he muttered, proving that he was finally awake.
"Well, even if they wanted to, they might not have to because if you go aboard the USS Ronald Reagan with that luggage you will die of pneumonia," Ziva said after spotting his open suitcase which contained only a few DVDs, bathing trunks and sunglasses.
"What are you talking about? I'm perfectly packed and ready to…" Tony glanced over the edge of his bed towards his suitcase and stopped. "Oh. Well. Almost." Then he looked at her, his brows furrowing in annoyance. "Anyway, what on earth are you doing here, Zee-vah? No one ever told you about breaking and entering?"
Ziva merely smiled. "I didn't break anything. Besides, all you could accuse me of is trespassing."
"Well, both don't exactly befit an NCIS agent." Tony said and yawned.
"Perhaps, but I am no longer an NCIS agent," Ziva reminded him.
A sudden trace of sadness crossed over his face before he looked away. "Yeah, well… Oh no, you've got to be kidding me!" Apparently, his eyes had found the alarm clock on his bedside cabinet. "It's 4.30 am, Ziva!"
It was her time to frown. "So what?"
"No one gets up before five!" Tony exclaimed.
"I do," Ziva replied matter-of-factly. "Although I admit that it is quite early…"
"Quite?" Tony groaned. "The sun's not even up yet!"
"Not true, besides, you should rather thank me, Tony. Does your flight not leave at 0630 hours?" It was a rhetorical question. Ziva knew precisely when and where the helicopter would leave that would take him away. "You would have never finished packing if I had not come to wake you," she finished.
Tony moaned again and got up. "God, this cannot get any worse. What have I done to deserve this?"
Ziva sat down on his bed while he vanished into the bathroom. "Don't you think you are exaggerating a little?"
"Exaggerating?" Tony peeked around the door to look at her. "I'll be stuck with thousands of humourless sailors in an incredibly enclosed space without TV or any connection to the outside world, but lots of… musty scents and disgusting food."
Ziva had to smile at the expression of revulsion on his face, but she said, "The USS Ronald Reagan is a state-of-the-art US aircraft carrier. They do have connection to the outside world and it is not exactly small either."
"Still, I hate boats," came Tony's muffled reply from behind the door.
"Do not tell Gibbs that," Ziva responded automatically, only regretting it afterwards.
"No worries, won't have a chance to do that, after all." Tony re-entered the bedroom with that same sad expression on his face. But then he shook his head. "Anyway, everyone should know better than to put one Anthony DiNozzo on a goddamn ship! Everyone except Leon Vance, of course. Jenny would have never…" He broke off, wincing slightly at the mentioning of her name.
Ziva sighed. "I miss her, too."
"Yeah, well, you didn't kill her." Tony turned towards his suitcase as if to finish packing it, but he merely fumbled helplessly with some shirts.
"You did not kill her either, Tony," Ziva said softly.
He still refused to look at her. "But I just as well could have put that damn gun to her head. I should have listened to you. You were right, of course, and I was just… my usual dumbass self."
It hurt Ziva deep in her own soul to see Tony so defeated and tortured by guilt so she jumped to her feet now and pulled him around to force him to look at her. "No, Tony, I was not right. I should have forced you to listen to me or just taken off on my own. But I did not do it. So either we are both at fault or none of us is!"
Tony looked at her and it seemed to make him feel a little bit better that she talked of them in the plural. "Do you think Gibbs will ever forgive us?" he asked finally.
"He said that we were not at fault," Ziva reminded him.
"Yeah, but I mean, for real…" Tony threw her a significant look and Ziva sighed.
"I do not know, Tony," she admitted. She couldn't imagine how she would feel if she had lost a loved one who at the time had been under the protection of two of her closest colleagues and friends.
They were probably both considering that scenario for a while, but finally Ziva couldn't bear the silence any longer. "I could help you with that," she offered and pointed towards the mess that was Tony's suitcase.
"No, thanks, I don't need any crazy ninja chick's help to pack my stuff, thank you very much, Zee-vah."
"Fine," she snapped and folded her arms across her chest.
Tony glanced at her. "So, uh, you packed?"
"Yes, though there was not much to take with me. Most of my stuff will have to be shipped over," Ziva replied.
"Right, going back to Israel," Tony said as if talking more to himself. "How do you feel about that?"
Ziva frowned. "The food will certainly be better than on an aircraft carrier."
"Oh, yeah, very funny." He grimaced at her. "But that's not what I meant."
She knew that of course, but she did not know how to respond to his question. But Tony seemed honestly interested in her answer; so she admitted, "I am not sure. It will feel good to be back in Israel, but I don't know what my father will think about that."
Tony's brows furrowed. "Because of what happened with Ari?"
"Among other things, yes."
"Aw, it's been three years. I'm sure he will be happy to see you," Tony gave her an encouraging smile.
But Ziva sighed softly. "I haven't seen my father happy in a long time."
Tony dropped his camera into the suitcase and looked at her. "Well, he has one heck of a daughter. Should be reason enough for him to be happy. Certainly would be for me."
Touched by his compassion, Ziva couldn't help smiling. "Thank you, Tony."
He met her soft gaze for a few seconds, then he turned towards his suitcase again. "Yeah, well, that's me, Special Agent Anthony DiNozzo, trusted friend and advisor before he got lost at sea."
Ziva shook her head in exasperation. He was so ridiculous sometimes – or more like all the time, really.
"Well, no use trying to evade the inevitable," he decided. "So, there you go, all packed and ready."
Tony pointed at his suitcase which he had filled with a huge pile of clothes and junk.
Ziva grinned. "Close it," she ordered maliciously.
"What? Sure, I'll close it, when it's time to leave."
"Try it now."
"Hey, you already picked my lock and robbed me of my beauty sleep. That's enough bossing around before five in the morning, don't you think, Zee-vah?"
But she merely laughed. "You know that you will never get this suitcase closed, Tony."
He drew himself to his full height. "Sure I will."
"Prove it," Ziva demanded again, her eyes twinkling with a challenge she knew he couldn't resist.
"Alright," Tony indeed replied and pounced on his suitcase with his entire weight. A splintering crack followed and Tony's hand went right through the lid.
"Well done," laughed Ziva while Tony wailed, "My suitcase!"
His eyes travelled from the hole in it to Ziva's amused expression. "This is all your fault!"
Ziva shook her head. "It is not my fault that you cannot pack a suitcase, Tony."
"You distracted me with your Mossad interrogation techniques!" he went on, gesticulating wildly.
"Sure, and then I burned a hole into your suitcase by emitting heat with my eyes."
"Yeah, exactly tha… wait a minute, how you do know about that? That's something only Superman can do!" Tony's eyes narrowed.
"I have been in this country for three years, Tony. Believe it or not, but I do watch TV occasionally," Ziva replied with a grin.
"Then why didn't you do that instead of coming here and getting on my nerves, huh? Why did you come here?" he sounded serious now.
"I… do not know," Ziva was forced to admit and she stopped smiling. "I just… wanted to see you before I leave."
They looked at each other and both pair of eyes expressed the same sadness at the prospect of separating for an unknown period of time. But Ziva didn't know what to do or say.
What was it that she felt for Tony? Could she really be in love with a guy like that? But wasn't her sitting here in his bedroom at five a.m. in the morning all the proof she needed? Usually, she wasn't this uncertain with men, but Tony, he meant too much to her to screw this up – and exactly that was her answer.
But before Ziva could move and just when she thought Tony was about to, her cell phone rang. She cursed silently, but nevertheless hurried to answer it. Maybe her orders had been altered. Maybe she wasn't going home, after all. But instead Ziva listened to a voice speaking Hebrew and frowned while she did so.
Finally, she gave a short acknowledgment and stuffed the phone away again.
"Good news?" Tony asked, but his voice betrayed his scepticism.
Unfortunately, it was warranted. "Apparently, my father has sent his private jet to pick me up. They just landed and are only waiting for my arrival to take off again," Ziva told him.
"Oh, well, I guess this is goodbye then." Tony smiled, but it didn't reach his eyes.
They were the eyes of a man who was forced to stand by helplessly while his whole life was taken away from him.
Ziva understood the sentiment. Her feelings were quite similar and that went against her very nature. She wasn't used to being helpless. She hadn't been raised like that. No matter how dire the situation, there was always something one could do.
Without further hesitation Ziva stepped towards Tony, took his face in her hands and kissed him. At first, he seemed totally surprised and Ziva couldn't help worrying a little (if Tony didn't respond to a woman's kiss, something was definitely wrong), but it was just a second and then he did react. His arms wound around her, pressing her body against his and his lips claimed hers with a sudden passion that made Ziva tremble.
It was a perfect moment, but it was over too soon. Of course, she could have kissed him again, let herself fall back onto the bed and make both of them forget all their pain and guilt. But even if her father's pilot were courteous enough to wait for her, that helicopter that was supposed to take Tony to the USS Ronald Reagan would not.
"Don't go," he still whispered when she tried to pull back.
Ziva sighed. "I have to. Director Vance will not be pleased if you miss your flight."
"I don't care," Tony replied at once and his eyes were still full of passion.
God, how much she yearned to just kiss him again… "But I do. Besides, we cannot cause Gibbs any more trouble."
Tony sighed when he realized that she was right. "Alright, then I'll at least accompany you until you have to get on the plane."
"No, Tony, you can't. You have to repack." Ziva pointed towards his ruined suitcase. "You will miss your flight!"
"Aw, that's okay. All I really need to take with me is this." Tony reached into the pocket of his shirt and showed her three photos – of herself in the bikini she had worn in L.A.
Ziva smiled. Usually, she would have thought it to be slightly distasteful that he carried these pictures in his pocket, but it proved that he had been thinking about her as much as she had about him, albeit in his own way. But Tony was just, Tony and despite all evidence to the contrary, Ziva knew that sex was not everything he cared about or anyway, she feverishly hoped so – for his own good.
"Well, then I suggest you hold on to them," she said.
"Until…?" Tony asked, catching her drift.
"Until you can replace them with the original." Ziva smiled at him, fully aware that this promise would drive him crazy. Still, she turned to leave.
But Tony's hand caught her wrist. "Ah, I really suck at waiting, Zee-vah." His tone was playful, but again his eyes betrayed how hard it really was for him to let her go now, like this, after that kiss, without knowing whether they would even see each other again to follow up on that.
Ziva couldn't resist leaning in for another kiss, but before they could both lose control, she quickly disentangled herself and hurried towards the door.
"Goodbye, Tony," she said and promised herself that this would not be the last time she had been with Anthony DiNozzo.
This was not the end. Unlike poor Gibbs who would feel Jenny's absence for the rest of his life, Ziva would not allow death or anything else to prevent her from seeing Tony again.