Author's Note: These two dummies keep asking me to write alternate stories for them. And I keep agreeing to do it. I tell them that I'm working on my (non-fanfiction) book and they just don't care. They don't want to be forgotten now that neither of them are on the show.
Lyrics at the beginning are from Rickie Lee Jones' song, On Saturday Afternoons in 1963.
You stay inside that foolish grin
When every day now secrets end
Oh and then again
Years may go by.
She sits in the rental car, parked on the side of the familiar street, a battle raging inside her. In the building across the street, she can see a light on in a particular window. Even after a year and a half, she can still remember which windows are his. That means something, does it not? She sighs at herself. The old Ziva would never have flown halfway across the world to beg forgiveness from a man, and even this new Ziva is uncertain about this level of emotional vulnerability.
Getting to the new Ziva was difficult enough, cutting herself off from the life she had made for herself over a decade. Becoming someone who isn't plagued by death and destruction was equally difficult, but she thinks she is there. She has come to terms with her past, with the exception of one very special agent.
Finally, she shakes her head. This is ridiculous. She did not fly all night, in coach, with two connections, to sit in a rental car. And even if he rejects her, at least she will know. That must be better than living with this uncertainty, or finding out too late that he would have forgiven her if he had just had the chance. She takes the keys out of the ignition and gets out of the car.
She walks across the street to his apartment building. She still remembers the three digit code to ring his place. The door buzzes open without his voice coming over the little speaker, which makes her frown a little. Is he expecting someone? Or has he gotten very relaxed about security?
The walk to the elevator, then from the elevator to his door, brings back a particular memory in a rush. The night after they had resigned from NCIS to save Gibbs after an afternoon of day drinking. They had giggled drunkenly as they spilled out of the elevator, feeling freer than they had in years. "Unemployed and no longer partners. Hasta la vista, Rule 12," he had declared, slurring the words only a little. She had smiled seductively at him in return. He backed her against a wall in the hallway just outside his door, and then she had either reached up for him or he leaned down toward her, but they had kissed. It wasn't the gentle kiss outside Gibbs' cabin in the woods just a couple of days before. That kiss was almost chaste. This one was anything but.
Before she can reminisce about what came after that kiss, she finds herself standing directly in front of his door. She closes her eyes momentarily, gathering courage, then knocks on his door.
She hears footsteps on the other side of the door get louder, then the door opens. And there he is. His hair is shorter than when she last saw him, but his eyes are the same blue-green-grey. At the moment, they are wide with shock.
"Hi, Tony," she says.
In response, all he can do is blink once, his mouth open in a perfect "o." He must have been holding his breath, because when she offers him a smile, he lets it out in a rush. He licks his lips and it looks like he is about to say something when another voice, a female one, calls out, "Is that the pizza? I'm starving."
The owner of the voice appears from his bedroom, wearing what looks like one of his button down shirts. Ziva looks from this petite, dark haired woman to him and back again. He winces and calls back in a wry voice, "Nope, not pizza." Before he can turn his head to look at Ziva again, she wheels and hurries back down the hall. She hears him call after her, but she keeps going, taking the stairs instead of waiting for the elevator.
The new Ziva is as fast a runner as the old Ziva, and she is out of the building and at her rental car before the tears can start falling. She fumbles with the lock, slips inside, starts the car, and zooms off before she wipes at her face with one hand. He probably wasn't chasing after her, but she needed to get out of there.
"Dammit," she says to herself, then switches to swearing in Hebrew. She is so stupid. What was she thinking, that he would be waiting for her? How vain of her. He is a good looking man with a considerable amount of charm. She had not contacted him since he left Israel - since she forced him to go, despite his best efforts and, she has to admit, all logic. Of course he would move on.
She makes a few turns at random, then realizes that she is headed towards Ducky's house. He will be sympathetic. She is not sure Gibbs would be, since she had also abruptly left him. Ducky will at least have that British tact to keep him from saying the harsh truths she deserves but does not want to hear right now. In her bag, she hears her cell phone buzz, but she ignores it.
Thankfully, the lights are on at Ducky's house. She rings his doorbell, no longer aware of the tears sliding down her cheeks. A long moment, then Ducky opens the door, still in the suit he likely wore to work, bowtie a bit askew after a long day. "Why, Ziva!" he exclaims, surprised. He peers at her and must notice that she is crying because his face becomes concerned and he ushers her inside.
"My dear, what are you doing here?" he asks, directing her to an armchair. She sits, feeling almost numb. "I'll put some tea on and then you can answer my question."
She is grateful for the perfectly brewed mug that he hands her a few minutes later. He sits down on a chair near her and sips the mug he is holding. "Alright now, you were about to explain why you are here. More specifically, why you are here and not at Gibbs' or…" Understanding dawns on his face. "Perhaps this was not your first stop?" She nods, sniffling. "You went to see Anthony and he was with another woman?"
She nods again and takes a long sip of tea, letting the hot liquid against her throat distract her from the fresh round of tears that threaten. Ducky regards her for a moment before he says gently, "You must have known he would move on eventually."
"I know," she says, smiling sadly. "It was just difficult to see."
Ducky observes her for a long, silent moment. Before he can say anything, his cell phone rings. "Please excuse me, that might be work," he says, standing and going into the hallway. "Ah, Anthony," he says into the phone, causing Ziva to sit up straight and consider bolting. "Yes, she's here." A pause, then, "Well, I'll certainly try." He hangs up and turns back toward Ziva. "He is on his way and has asked that you stay here."
She sighs. "I suppose, after everything I have done, he deserves at least that."
"I agree," Ducky concurs. He settles back into his chair. "Perhaps it would help you to know what he has gone through during your time away." He pauses before continuing, taking another sip of tea. "He did not sleep the first week he was back. Part of it was jet lag, I'm sure, but the bigger part was most certainly your absence. Now, I am not sure what happened between you two in Israel, and I am not going to pry, but whatever it was, it affected him greatly. He started questioning everything and it was weeks before he cracked a joke. Very recently, he started seeing the woman you probably saw in his apartment. She's the first woman he has dated since before you left."
Ziva takes in all of this new information. It hurts to hear how much Tony suffered. That had not been her intention, but as usual, she caused damage to those for whom she cares. But what was she expecting? He had made it very clear that he did not want to leave her. She sent him away anyway. As much as it had hurt to do so, at least it was her choice. She cannot begrudge him a choice that he did not make.
"Maybe," she says eventually, "Maybe it is too much to come here and ask for his forgiveness. I have done too much damage."
"Perhaps," Ducky replies. "But you will not know unless you speak with him." She nods. She owes him that much. "Do you have a place to stay tonight?" he asks.
She shakes her head. She figured it would be easy to find a hotel in the area with vacancies. Or she could just take the first available flight back to Israel. "Well, then you will stay with me. I certainly have the space," he says, gesturing around the big house. He has lived alone since his mother died years ago, she thinks.
"Thank you, Ducky," she says warmly. "Now tell me how the rest of the team is."
Ducky updates her on what has been going around the office. Palmer and Breena are expecting their first child. Gibbs had to shoot Fornell in the rear - "My dear, I had to work very hard to not laugh upon hearing that news. It was a serious situation." McGee is dating someone from the NSA named Delilah - "a delightful girl."
Before he can continue on, his doorbell rings. Ziva's heart rate speeds up and her mouth is suddenly dry. "You get the door, Ziva, and I will get your room ready," Ducky says, then scuttles upstairs before she can say anything.
She goes to Ducky's front door, braces herself, and opens it. And there stands Tony, who walks inside warily when she opens the door wider for him, as if she is a bomb that might go off at any time. "Ducky went upstairs," she says, at a loss for anything else to say.
"You look… good," Tony says, cautiously
"So do you." And that is an understatement. She drinks the sight of him in thirstily. Oh, how she has missed this man.
He eyes her warily before asking, "So why did you come back, Ziva?"
She takes a deep breath, looks him square in the eye and replies, "Because I miss you." She sees him clench his jaw and furrow his brow and continues before he can say anything. "I needed to let go of everything in order to become the person I want to be, but I found that I could not let go of you. And I came to realize that I was wrong. Maybe I did not need to let go of everything, that some things - some people - should be held onto."
There. She said what she came here to say. She had spent days figuring out what to say to him, without it sounding ridiculous or groveling. Although she supposes groveling would be appropriate. She was wrong, so so wrong.
He is silent for so long, staring at her with an intense look in his stormy eyes, that she gets antsy. His jaw works, as if he is waging an internal battle. Finally, just when she thinks she might scream just to break the silence, he speaks.
"You told me to leave, Ziva. You said to move on with my life. So I did. It was hard, but I did it. Because what choice did I have? And the woman you saw in my apartment? Things are uncomplicated with her. I don't have to worry that she's going to ditch me and move halfway around the world. If I told her I love her, I'm pretty certain she wouldn''t push me away."
She takes this all in, nods. Tries not to let her face show just how crestfallen she is, but she is sure she fails miserably because he adds, in a gentler voice, "I'm sorry. But it's too late."
She squares her shoulders, nods again. "Okay," she says, her voice no more than a whisper. she clears her throat and adds, in a stronger voice, "Thank you for listening to me. And I am sorry for all the pain I put you through. It was never my intention." Her words sound wooden, but anything else and she is sure the tears in her eyes will spill over.
He gives her a sad little smile. "I know. I should get back. Take care of yourself, Ninja." He reaches out a hand as if to touch her but snatches it back awkwardly before he does so. Then he turns around and walks out Ducky's door.
Once the door closes, she closes her eyes, the tears falling fast. She knew this was a possibility, but in her heart of hearts, she had believed that their connection was stronger. Like in novels she has read, one that would wait for years. It was a ridiculous thing to think, and she silently admonishes herself for being a silly hopeful little girl. She should know better than anyone not to hope for so much.
Slowly, she counts to five before taking another deep breath. She opens her eyes and wipes her face with the backs of her hands. She has her answer. The world has not ended. It is time for her to move on as well.
As she goes up the stairs, they creak and Ducky appears. All he needs is one look at her face to know how it had gone. "I'm sorry, Ziva," he says gently. "Would you like to talk about it?"
She smiles at his kindness. "No, thanks, Ducky. I think I will go to bed after I book the next flight back to Tel Aviv."
"Oh," he says suddenly, "I am having lunch with Abigail tomorrow. Please stay for that. I am sure she would love to see you."
She sighs but finds herself agreeing. The plane will not leave until early evening at best, and she has missed the cheery goth. Once she is in bed, she begins searching on her phone for the next available flight to Israel and curses in Hebrew when the travel website shows that the next available seat is in two days. Staying in DC for even an extra day now that Tony has given her his answer is too much. The city is filled with too many memories of him, and of NCIS.
Paris seems like the next reasonable choice, and as luck would have it, there is one business class seat left on tomorrow night's red eye from Dulles. She books it. She loves Paris and she hasn't been there in years. With a pang, she realizes the last time she was there was with Tony, when they were escorting a federal witness in a whistleblower case back to DC. And before she can stop herself, her thoughts wander to that night in the little hotel room.
"Tony, will you stop moving around and go to sleep already!" she snapped at him as he shifted again on the sofa bed, making the flimsy mattress' springs squeak.
"I'm trying to get comfortable here," he grumbled. "I can feel the springs digging into my back."
She sighed loudly. "Why did you agree to sleep on the sofa then?"
"That was before I knew it was the sofa bed from hell."
"Oh, so if you knew that it was so uncomfortable, you would have let me sleep on it? It is nice to know chivalry is not dead." She couldn't hide the amusement from her voice.
"Hey, don't make fun. I'm still on the sofa, aren't I?" He flopped over again, and the springs groaned in protest.
She sighed again. If she wanted to get any sleep, it was clear what she had to do. "There is plenty of room on the bed. Please join me on it." She shifted over to one side of the bed.
"Ziva David, did you just invite me into your bed?"
In the darkness, she rolled her eyes. "Yes, before I kill you. It is for your own good."
Another squeal of the springs as he got up, then she felt him sit on the other side of the bed. "Oh that's much better," he groaned as he laid down, careful to stay on his side of the bed. "Thank you."
There was silence for a while and his breath started to even out, but of course now Ziva could not sleep. She stretched her legs out and back until her feet touched Tony's calves. He woke with a yelp and she could not hide her laughter. "Your feet are ice!" he exclaimed.
She continued to laugh until she felt him shift behind her. She braced herself for some act of retaliation but still started when he walked his fingers up her spine, making her reflexively arch her back and shiver. Before he could laugh at her reaction, she turned over and pinned him underneath her in one swift move."Ah ha, can't take your own medicine, can you, my ninja?" he cracked, grinning.
"I take my medicine just fine," she retorted. Her hands were wrapped around his wrists, pinning them to the mattress, her body flush against his. For a long moment, their faces were inches apart as they breathed the same air. Just as she was thinking that maybe she had not thought this through, he reached up to tag her lips with his. A quick kiss to test the waters, but one that made her really feel alive for the first time in months. Since before Somalia.
Before she could remind herself that this was a bad idea, before he could shake his head and remind her of the same, she dropped her head to give him an enthusiastic kiss back. She kept her hands around his wrists until the desire to twine her fingers in his hair overwhelmed her and she gave in. His arms, freed, wrapped around her to hold her even closer to him, and he tangled his fingers in her long hair.
Time ceased to exist in that small hotel room as they explored with hands and mouths, peeled clothes off of each other, and gave in to the chemistry that had been sparking between them since they first met. At one point, he looked like he wanted to say something, but she worried that his words would bring them to their senses, so she curled her fingers around his hardness and squeezed. Instead of words, a moan escaped from his mouth.
Because there was no time in this between-world that they built for themselves, they took their time with each other, teasing, pausing mid-stroke to see who would give in first, trying as many different positions as they could manage. All she could think after they had sated their appetites was that they should have done that sooner. They fit together perfectly and she couldn't remember having more satisfying sex.
After, they didn't retreat back to their sides of the bed. They fell asleep with legs entangled, one of her hands on his broad chest, one of his hands on her bare hip. The next morning, she woke first and carefully rolled off the bed to gather her clothes. As she wrote him a quick note on the hotel stationery telling him to meet her at a nearby cafe when he was ready, she felt his eyes on her. She looked up and saw him watching her, his eyes sleepy. She gave him one of those smiles that were reserved just for him and left the room.
She shakes her head. They never talked about that night, except when they had asked each other why they each lied about who slept on the couch. Maybe if they had talked about it, instead of doing what they always did and pretending it did not happen, things would have been different. But as much as she wishes it otherwise, she cannot change the past. All she can do is move forward. She had hoped it would be with him, but since it cannot be, she must accept it and move on. Thankfully, traveling for an entire night just to arrive back hours earlier and the gamut of emotions she has felt in the last few hours exhausted her and she quickly falls asleep.
The next morning, she wakes feeling completely discombobulated. For a long moment, she cannot remember where she is, but then she hears a Scottish accent from downstairs and remembers that she is at Ducky's. A quick look at her phone tells her that it is 10:30, much later than she normally sleeps. She quickly changes and gets ready for the day, and for Abby Sciuto.
As soon as she goes downstairs, Abby squeals and envelopes her in a big hug. "Ziva!"
Ziva hugs her back and laughs because there is no other response to such a welcome, and replies with, "I have missed you, Abby."
"When Ducky called this morning and said you were here, I had to book it on over and see for myself. You should have let us know. It could have been a party, but Tim's off with Delilah and Tony's-." She stops short and her eyes widen. "Does Tony know you're here?"
"Yes," Ziva says, her tone sharper than she meant for it to be. Abby opens her mouth to say something but before she can, Ducky interjects.
"Abigail, is this supposed to be turning that color?" he asks, pointing with a wooden spoon at a pot on the stove. Abby springs into action, forgetting whatever she was going to ask. Ducky winks at Ziva and she mouths a thank you back at him.
With Ducky artfully redirecting the conversation every time it starts veering too close to the reason for Ziva's visit and Tony in general, the lunch is enjoyable. Ziva realizes just how much she has missed Ducky's stories, Abby's unflagging optimism, the easy chatter that comes with being with good friends. Her life since she left has been rather solitary, and while she has found the quiet healing and enjoyable, a certain spice had been missing.
"How long are you here for?" Abby asks Ziva.
"I leave tonight."
The goth frowns at her. "Wait, you're only here for one day? That's not long enough. We need a girls' night. Ellie's married so girls' nights with her just aren't the same."
Just what Ziva does not want is a night of drinking with Abby, who clearly wants to know what happened between her and Tony. The prospect of drowning her sorrows with alcohol in the company of a good friend is tempting, but not when the good friend pries unabashedly. "I will come back soon and stay for longer. I promise," she says, and means it.
Abby gives a big smile. "You better! Also, no more of this no communication thing. I demand weekly video calls so I can see your beautiful face."
Ziva smiles affectionately back at her, but before she can respond, there is a knock on Ducky's front door. "Oh dear, I hope I didn't invite someone else and forget about them," he mutters, getting up to answer the door.
She hears the door open and muffled voices talking back and forth. "I wonder if it's Ducky's secret lover," Abby says, wiggling her eyebrows.
Ducky reappears. "Ziva, it's someone for you," he says. The fact that he does not announce who it is gives Ziva a clue as to who it is. She gives Ducky a pained look, which he answers with a shrug, and reluctantly leaves the table. As she heads toward the door, she hears Abby's stage whisper, asking who it is.
Tony stands just inside the door and as she approaches, he gazes at her steadily, his eyes unreadable. As she wonders what in the world he could have left to say, he says, in a low voice, "I saw Abby's hearse out front. I forgot she was having lunch with Ducky today. Want to go for a walk?"
"Um, okay," she replies, confused about his nonchalant demeanor. He holds the door open for her and they step outside. They walk down the sidewalk in silence, away from Ducky's house. Having said everything she wanted to say to him, she waits for him to speak first.
They get a block away before he stops her by touching her arm. "I wasn't sure you'd still be here," he says, shuffling his feet a little. His hand is still on her arm and she looks down at it, then up at him. "I'm glad you are." In response, she merely blinks at him. He sighs. "Look, what I said last night." He stops and she can almost see him searching for the right words. "Nothing. That's what I heard from you for eighteen months. I know because I was counting. And then you show up out of the blue and I was… surprised."
She nods warily. He takes that as a sign to continue. "The things I said last night, they weren't necessarily wrong, but I left out a major point." He pauses, looks around for a long moment before his eyes land back on her and the intensity in that look takes her breath away. "Sure, Zoe's uncomplicated and all that. But. She's not you."
It seems like such an obvious point to make and he looks at her like she should know what he means by that. She thinks she might but she needs him to spell it out for her because she has often been wrong about these things. "Okay," she says slowly.
"And yeah, it's complicated between us, and you told me to leave, and I knew it was over but it wasn't, for me. Not really. You know?"
"Yes," she manages to say, her heart feeling like it might burst.
"And I've been trying to find a sense of belonging for a while. Basically since you left. And last night it occurred to me there's a pretty strong correlation there." He looks at her with such tenderness that she has to remind herself to breathe. He takes her hand, laces his fingers through hers. "So how would this work?"
"I-I do not know," she stammers. "I can return to DC, if." She swallows. "If that is what you want."
He cracks a smile, impossibly warm. "It is. So much so that I might go back to Israel with you and help you pack your stuff. And you know how much I hate packing."
She blinks and remembers. "Actually, I am headed to Paris tonight. I could not get a flight back to Tel Aviv for a few days, so I decided to spend some time in Paris."
He lights up. "Hey, I remember having a pretty good time in Paris." Her blush makes him grin. "And I haven't been on vacation in, well, basically ever. Want some company?"
"Are you sure you can get the time off on such short notice?" she asks.
Tony snorts. "Gibbs has been so annoyed with me lately that he'd probably pay for my plane ticket," he replies. "Is it really okay that I come?"
She smiles so wide she thinks her cheeks might crack. "Yes," she says. "It is really okay."
He wraps his arms around her and his lips reach down for hers as they stand on the sidewalk in Ducky's grand neighborhood. His lips are soft and warm, and he tastes the way she remembered, like coffee and mint. Before she can lose herself in the closeness of him for the first time in what feels like ages, he breaks the kiss.
"I almost forgot," he says, reaching into his pocket and pulling out a delicate chain that glints gold in the sunshine. On the end of the chain is a familiar Star of David pendant. "Your old friend." She smiles as he reaches behind her to fasten the necklace around her neck, then leans his forehead against hers. "I missed you so much, Sweetcheeks," he whispers, his voice husky with emotion.
She smiles at the old nickname that only he has ever called her, and finally, finally, she is home.
END.