Update (December 12, 2012): Minor editing in this chapter for characterization. Content remains mostly unchanged.
Summary: Ziva has a question on her mind that she's been thinking about for a while now, and she finally works up the courage to ask Tony.
Disclaimer: Have any of you ever eaten kaya? It's a spread, popular in Malaysia. I will make TPTB 1, 000 bottles if they give me NCIS…to which I currently have no rights.
Spoilers: Major Jeanne Benoit.
Time setting: Hypothetical post-Ray, again. Tony and Ziva are a lot more touchy-feely but still just partners.
This story is eh…written from Ziva's POV, and as I assume she does not know about Wendy and does not care about EJ, neither of them is covered in this chapter. Also (and I say this for a lot of my fics), this story may be weird?
Enjoy!
-Soph
Lack
It popped into her mind every time they came close to doing something, saying something, confessing something that would take their relationship beyond the boundaries of Friendship. Sometimes she was the one who held back on her words because she wasn't sure how he'd be able to take them. How she'd be able to take them, for that matter. Most of the time though, it was he who held back on his words, and when that happened the sting would return to her heart and the thought that had been bouncing around in her head for years would come back to haunt her.
Sometimes it came into her mind unbidden. She'd just be there, thinking about something else altogether, and it'd come back to rear its ugly head and make her life miserable. Because each time she thought about it her gut would twist in an odd manner that made her want to hurl, and her heart—her poor little broken-too-many-times heart—would shatter into a thousand pieces again. She really wanted to know the answer to her unasked question because then she might be able to move on from him—but it wasn't a question that could just be asked. That wasn't them. They'd come a long way since they first met, but they still didn't deal with personal issues that well.
The thought came into her mind now as she watched him watch the movie showing on television. They'd just laughed at something that had happened in the previous scene and she'd turned to him, her heart tripping over his sparkling white teeth and beautifully twinkly eyes; for reasons unknown even to herself, her unasked question had come screaming its arrival. Her smile slid off her face as quickly as it had appeared, and although he had turned back to the screen by now she knew he had noticed. She only hoped he was too distracted by the bikini-clad woman on TV to care.
It turned out her hopes were a little on the high side, though, because the moment the movie ended the TV was turned off and his intense eyes were on her.
"What's up?" he asked, reaching out a hand to brush a stray hair away from her face. She avoided his gaze. It was weird that she let him touch her like that, now that she thought about it.
She swallowed as she drew her legs up onto the couch and propped her chin on her knees, mulling things over. She really wanted to ask him about it. Not because she particularly wanted to know the answer, but because she hoped that her heart could be sufficiently enough broken this time to stop her from falling in love with him again. She didn't know how much more of it she could take; how much more significant looks paired with all the wrong words and how much more of wondering why she could never measure up.
She swallowed again and made up her mind. "Tony…can I ask you a question?"
His figure tensed slightly with wariness. "Sure. Can't promise I'll answer it though."
Her heart plummeted as she shook her head. "Forget it."
"No." He took up her hand gently, drawing closer to her whilst studying her with more concern than might be good for the pitter-pattering of her pulse. "What is it?"
She sighed and rested her head against his shoulder. "It may be too personal for you."
"How personal?"
"Very."
"Well, y'know, you could just ask and let me be the judge of that."
"You would not get mad?"
He frowned as he thought about it. "I haven't been properly mad at you in a long time," he settled for answering rather noncommittally, and she thought he probably had a point. If he were to get mad, it was most likely due anyway.
She lifted her head from his shoulder and scooted away from him—some emotional distance would be good. Pulling her hand from his grasp, she met his questioning eyes. "I was just wondering. You know, when you were with Jeanne…what you saw in her."
He blinked dazedly at her, and if her heart weren't thundering with trepidation and the expectation of hurt she might have laughed at his expression. "What I…saw in her," he repeated slowly.
"Yes. What made you…fall in…love." She dropped her gaze and stared determinedly at the discoloured pattern on the fabric of his couch. The question had taken a lot more out of her than she'd thought.
"Is there a reason you're wondering this?" he asked with what sounded like pained confusion. She couldn't really tell, because she didn't dare to look at him just yet.
"Yes." She paused and considered her words. "But I can't tell you it."
"Why not?"
"Because it is personal for me."
"So you decided to ask me personal questions but not tell me anything yourself?"
She couldn't help it just then; her head snapped up as his words drove metaphorical glass shards into her heart. "You asked," she gasped indignantly.
His face fell, and he seemed to realize the unfairness of his words. "Sorry," he whispered, and his hand found hers again. Just a short little squeeze to assure her that he hadn't meant to hurt her with what he'd said. And then he took a deep breath. "Well…she was beautiful, first of all. Very beautiful. And she was smart. Probably not in a perceptive kind of way, but she knew all her doctor stuff very well. And she had the kindest heart. Which I broke, but…yeah. I hadn't meant to. I mean, she was just very sweet. I never really wanted to break her heart."
Ziva blinked rapidly and choked back the pain that was rising in her again. She'd known he'd been in love with Jeanne, of course, but hearing it like that was very different. Hearing it like that made her gut twist that much more. "Are you…" She cleared her throat. "Are you still in…love with her?"
"No!" he answered incredulously. "No. There's only been one woman…for a while now."
She furrowed her brows as she tried to fill in the blanks; a mistake, as a tear that she'd been trying to keep under control slipped down her cheek. He reached over to lightly brush it away, and she jumped at the contact.
"Hey." He moved closer to her and put an arm around her; she curled into him before she could think too much about it. Damn. She really needed to break that habit. "What is up with you?"
"I didn't know you were seeing anyone," she said quietly against his shoulder.
"I'm not. Not really."
"Does she know you love her?"
"Jeanne?"
"No. That woman. That there's only been for a while now."
There was a moment's hesitation as he thought about it. "No. I guess not. Wish I could tell her, though."
"Why don't you?"
"Not our thing. I guess…I'm really just waiting for her to move on."
"So you were with this woman?" She furrowed her brow again. "How did I miss this? I realize we don't share everything, but this is big. You don't fall in love often."
"You do, though."
"What?" She frowned at his deflection; she would've looked up at him if her eyes weren't swimming with tears right now. How the hell was she relevant to anything?
"Nothing." He tapped the fingers that held her shoulder twice. "Zi, what's wrong?"
She held back the sob that threatened to escape and shrugged as indifferently as she could. "I was just wondering…what kind of woman Tony DiNozzo would fall in love with."
He snorted. "Jeanne might not be the best example, considering how our relationship started in the first place."
"But your love for her was real."
"It was."
"In that case, the comparison is justified."
She didn't realize what she'd said until, with a certain tension in his voice, he asked, "Comparison with what?"
She stiffened, her tears forgotten. Horror crept into her at the too much she'd said; all she wanted now was to run away. "Nothing. I was not comparing anything."
"You know, for an ex-Mossad-officer you're a horrible liar."
"Thanks," she said bitterly as she tried to shrug his arm off her shoulder. It only served to make him tighten his grip, though.
"Have you been comparing yourself with her?" he practically growled.
She almost wrenched his arm out of its socket this time. All pretences dropped, she scrambled off the couch and into her shoes faster than even she herself could comprehend. "Glad you figured it out, aren't you? Well, I'm leaving now."
Her coat was over her arm before he stopped her with a well-placed hand in the crook of her elbow. And no, she couldn't move—not when he was now cupping her cheek and rubbing his thumb along her cheekbone, because under ordinary circumstances it would have been her dream come true, and she had to feel it just once before she walked out the door and returned to the reality that she hadn't the right even to compare herself to Jeanne. She—Ziva—wasn't his girlfriend and had never been, and he was in love with some woman now, and she just had to accept that she would always be lacking a certain something that made Tony want to be in love with her.
The sob that she'd been keeping back forced its way out, after all, and he wrapped his arms around her as he tenderly shushed her. She leant against him and breathed in his scent, and it felt like home even though it shouldn't have. She knew it was infinitely stupid; she needed to stop relying on him, right now. But she couldn't. Because she loved him, even if he didn't love her.
He pressed a kiss into her hair. "Zi, don't leave. Please."
"I should." She lifted her hand and dropped it hopelessly. "I just realized how stupid this sounds. Jeanne. And me. There should never have a comparison. I know how much you loved her. And I…" She shuddered. "I just needed to know what it was that I was…missing."
"You aren't missing anything," he told her fiercely, and she smiled with bitter understanding.
"I know I'm not missing anything, per se." She patted his chest, not really sure if the action was intended to comfort him or herself. "You need to tell this woman that there's been for a while now that you love her, yes? Because that does not often happen to you. It is important, that you seek your happiness. And I...will work on forgetting…things. I am sorry I put you through all this, Tony. It won't happen again."
"No," he cried out as she pulled away, and her tired eyes met his. He licked his lips. "Ziva, if you leave…I'll have been right all along."
"Right about what?"
"I need to know why you were comparing yourself with her."
"Too personal, Tony."
"Please."
It took all her willpower to keep from collapsing to the floor in tears. She was so tired. So tired from tonight, so tired from all the nights that she'd spent wondering if he would ever love her as much as he had Jeanne.
"If I say this will we still be friends tomorrow?" she whispered, because he had said please and she didn't have much to lose anymore. It wasn't just her heart that was obliterated anymore; her pride had all but vanished when she realized how low she had sunk.
"Yeah. Can't have it any other way."
She shook her head but answered anyway. "Because you were in love with Jeanne. And I needed to know, why things couldn't be…different."
"'Different.'"
"Yes. I understood, when you were with Jeanne…she was the perfect woman for you, yes? But I had hoped, when you moved on…I know that it's despicable of me, but I had hoped."
"You hoped that I love you."
She bit down on her lip, because it stung a lot to hear it put like that. But it was true, wasn't it? "I cannot say otherwise."
He hesitated, and with sudden insight she heard his next question before he said it. "Do you…love…me?"
A metallic taste coated the tip of her tongue. Her lip was bleeding. Licking the blood up, she answered, "I was not comparing for nothing." She gave a sharp nod, satisfied that she'd managed to answer all of his questions without giving away the remnants of her pride too. "Was there anything else you wanted to know?"
"No."
"Good. Give me a few weeks, okay? I need that space, but…we will be fine by the end of it." He nodded mutely, a movement she caught out of the corners of her eyes. She looked at the door, avoiding the disgust and condescension on his face. "Goodnight, Tony."
There was a silence of two heartbeats before he suddenly leant forward and pressed a kiss to her cheek, wrapping his arms around her waist at the same time. "Can I ask for an extension on those few weeks?" he asked, his breath hot against her skin. She shivered.
"Why?"
"'Cause…I need to figure some things of my own out. And when I have, I'll tell you."
"That will make it harder for me."
He kissed her cheek again, and her head spun from trying to decide between whether she wanted it or not. "I know. But I just need a few more weeks. Please, Zi."
There it was again, the plea that she'd never been able to deny. "Okay," she agreed quietly, even though she wasn't sure if she wanted to hear what he would figure out.
It had always been easier to continue loving him than to fall out of love with him though, hadn't it?
A/N: Yea…I know I ended it in a cliffy! There may be a continuance, depending on how the response to this story is. And no, that's not me bribing you for reviews. If I were I'd be more obvious about it. (Although, please review!) This is simply my way of saying that I feel really insecure about this fic.
Thanks for reading!
-Soph x