A/N: Hello :-)
So this is the first fanfic I have ever written and it would be an understatement to say that I'm nervous as hell. I don't usually venture much in writing aside from poetry, but ever since the series of unfortunate events with out beloved Tony and Ziva, I've had ideas running through my head so I thought I might as well write them down.
This is just a short little drabble that came to mind around New Years so I finally decided to write it down. I completely made up the times so I'm sorry if they seem a bit off. Oh and also this takes place in AU after Past, Present, Future. I've personally stopped watching the show since then so everything in season 11 post PPF doesn't exist in my fics. Sorry.
I'll stop rambling now and let you get to reading. Please feel free to leave a review if you have any thoughts or advice or if you enjoyed it. Anything would be greatly appreciated since I've never done this before and I'm going in blind. Thank you so much!
xo Hannah
10:54 pm
New Year's Eve. Still one hour and six minutes left until the start of another year, and he's spending it alone.
He takes a sip of his beer.
Well, not entirely alone. But aside from the alcohol and cinematic company of the James Bond marathon on his TV, he's left to his own thoughts.
It's been six months, he thinks.
Six months, eleven days, four hours and twelve minutes.
He tries to stop his mind from wandering, crawling back to the memories he so desperately wishes to bury. But as always, he can't help but go back to her.
He takes another sip of his beer as he waits for the inevitable.
10:57 pm
The minute she steps off the plane, her entire body tenses up.
The ground, the air, the smell, they all come rushing back to her. Its been months since she set foot here last, yet it's all so familiar - she feels as though she never left.
She regains control of her muscles and forces her feet to walk her out of the gate. She exits the terminal and hails a cab, the anxiety clawing away inside her, aware of where she's headed.
11:13 pm
He turns off the TV as he downs his third beer. He puts down the empty bottle and drags his hands across his face.
This wasn't supposed to happen, he means to say it in his head but the rage of the past six months built up inside him takes over and he slams his fist on the coffee table, cutting his palm on the glass. He stares at his hand for a few seconds, a small amount of blood now seeping from the cut.
He walks into the kitchen to bandage his hand and her words play over and over again in his head.
I have to do this alone.
Alone, she had said. Her words sting almost as much as the cut. Yet that's what bothers him the most. Because he knows her, more than he knows himself sometimes. And she is not meant to be alone. He wants more than anything for her to know that. For her to know the scars she has seared into his soul.
This has to stop, he tells himself.
He finishes bandaging his hand and walks over to the fridge to greet another beer.
11:26 pm
It's a thirty minute drive to his apartment from the terminal. But of course, she's stuck with the slowest cab driver in all of DC.
Great, she thinks to herself sarcastically. More time to think.
If someone had told her a day ago that on New Year's Eve she'd be sitting in a cab driving to his apartment, she would have called them a loose screw.
Yet now with every passing second, she's getting closer and closer to him. Something she had only dreamed about.
She wants to tell him everything. She wants to explain to him what she meant when she said she had to do this alone. She wants him to know how every single cell in her body ached when he pressed his lips to hers. How she wanted nothing else than to run after him when he walked away from her on the tarmac.
She thinks about what he would say if she told him everything and decides against it. She can't show him her scars. Not now.
She spends the rest of the drive looking out at the city. It's lit up by the remaining Christmas lights and the old street lamps that are so familiar to her. The snow gently falling and
She catches herself smiling in her reflection on the glass.
Home, is her only thought.
11:42 pm
He leans against the kitchen counter and sets his beer aside.
He reaches into his shirt pocket and pulls something out. It's the necklace that she gave to him so many months ago. The gold Star of David, small and delicate, carries the weight of all his memories.
He knows its wrong - hell, it's insane - but he can't help himself from keeping it with him wherever he goes. It's the one thing he has to remember her by, the one thing that reminds him that she's still out there somewhere, breathing and healthy and alive.
And alone.
He puts the necklace back in his pocket, grabs his bottle, and heads back to the couch.
11:53 pm
She hands the money to the cab driver and steps out of the car. She turns and faces the apartment complex. The anxiety building up in her body finally takes over and immobilizes her. She stands frozen, unable to take a breath.
You okay miss? The taxi driver calls out, noticing the sudden change in her presence.
She's caught off guard, Yes. I am fine. She turns around to face him. Thank you, she smiles.
He rolls up his window and drives away without a second glance.
She closes her eyes and turns back toward the building. She is afraid to open them because she knows what lies just ahead of her.
A second chance, she whispers to herself. But she fears more than anything that he will not accept it.
11:56 pm
He has been pacing in his living room for the past ten minutes, trying to clear his head. He finally decides that he can't stay home any longer and torture himself with his thoughts.
He'll go to a bar, or on a walk, or even back to the office to get ahead on paperwork - just anywhere to escape the memories that haunt his mind.
He heads into his bedroom to grab his keys.
11:57 pm
The elevator doors open, and she hesitates to step out. With each step, memories come flooding back to her. Memories of joy, fear, rage, hope, regret, and love.
As she makes her way down the hallway, every part of her wants to turn around and bolt for the door and forget that she ever set foot here.
Yet she can't. Something wills her forward, whether it be adrenaline or fear, her pace quickens with each step until she's stands facing the door she so dreads to open.
She takes in a sharp breath.
11:58 pm
He scrambles in his room, looking for his keys and his wallet until he realizes that he left them on the coffee table.
Great, he mutters to himself as he rushes into the living grabs the keys and wallet and his coat and heads to the door.
He hesitates before grabbing the doorknob.
11:59 pm
She doesn't exhale.
She lifts her hand, ready to knock.
11:59 pm
He closes his eyes and takes in a deep breath.
Enough, he thinks to himself.
11:59 pm
She exhales.
11:59 pm
He opens the door.
12:00 am
Ziva.