A/N: So, this is the first thing I've written…well completed/posted for NCIS, so I'm not sure what you guys will think of it, or what I think of it. But, after that season premiere I felt like I just had to write something, and then last night I got inspired and this happened. I hope they're not too OOC, but given the circumstances, it's hard to think of them in character…if that makes sense? Anyways, hope you like it and leave a review on your way out.
Sammy – this is for you!
Disclaimer: I own nothing. I am merely a poor university student.
Tony looked up from his phone, that, as usual, he'd been playing Tetris on; just killing time until he could officially go home.
She was staring again. Her mind not in this room, this building, this city, or even this country. Her eyes were empty as they gazed semi-focused into the mid distance, her wavy hair framing her tired, battered face, as if somehow, her curtain of hair could hide her from the world around her. This wasn't the Ziva he was used to. She wasn't on the ball today, she wasn't herself, she didn't seem as if she had the will to kill him a thousand different ways with the same paperclip, leaving very little, if any, trace. This wasn't his Ziva, it wasn't the Ziva that somehow over the course of the past few years he'd come to love. This was a broken woman.
He'd definitely not enjoyed his time in the Horn of Africa, and he couldn't bear to think of what had happened to Ziva while she had been there for three months. To an outsider it would be no surprise that she had given up and given in, ready to accept what was coming, most likely death. But to Tony, the image and impression of the woman shown to him back in that godforsaken room in the middle of who knows where was so foreign to him, he hadn't known what to think.
Before…before everything had happened; that whole Michael fiasco, and leaving Israel one member of the team short, his reality had just started catching up with him. Gradually, Ziva had managed to worm her way, not only under his skin, but into his heart. Sure, he'd lusted after her, knowingly, for quite some time, but he thought she was just one of those annoyingly, sexy, yet oh so frightening types that get under your skin like a bad rash. Or at least, that's what he would have told anyone that asked. But it was definitely more than that, so much more than that. And not just on his side, either. He'd noticed plenty of changes in her, and unless she was trying to impress Gibbs or McGee, he was fairly sure it was for him. She'd worn more makeup, appeared softer, more human, less metsada. Of course, this wasn't a completely unfounded belief, for the two had come to spend a lot of time together outside of the NCIS office. One of their semi-regular activities was watching movies, and just generally spending time trying to bring her up to speed with current American pop culture.
He was jealous of her relationship with Michael. He'd much prefer that he was the reason for her slipping out of work during the middle of the day. He wanted to be the one slipping between her sheets and the end of a long, hard day. He didn't want some other guy to be doing it. Especially Michael. The guy wasn't even…ugh.
He would be lying if he said that his agonizingly long dry spell didn't have at least something to do with her. During his bored moments, or those moments when he just so happened to look up from whatever he was doing, or more likely than not, not doing, and saw her watching him, smiling, or hell, even tapping away furiously at her keyboard, he'd entertained many a thought about using a deserted closet, or elevator for not so innocent purposes.
After all that had happened, Tony spent plenty of time blaming himself about her staying behind in Israel. If he hadn't loved her, been so jealous, then she wouldn't have stayed. If she'd got on the damn flight, then none of this would have happened. She wouldn't have been sent off on Rivkin's unfinished mission, and she wouldn't have been taken prisoner, and she wouldn't have…
She wouldn't be like this. She wouldn't be like the woman sitting across from him, who'd barely moved a muscle all day, barely even blinked. She wouldn't be so worn, weary, battered and broken.
He blamed himself for that.
Inhaling, he decided it was well past time to get out of this place.
"Boss?" He asked, not sounding like himself.
"Go." Gibbs said, he himself finishing for the day. He nodded toward Ziva, automatically assuming that Tony would want to take care of her.
"Thanks Boss." He said wearily, gathering his stuff and then heading across to the desk opposite his. "Ziva?" he spoke softly.
She hadn't noticed that he'd come to stand at the edge of her desk. She hadn't even seen him pass through her field of vision.
"Ziva?" he tried again, this time kneeling in front of her chair. He was hesitant to touch her, unsure of what type of response that would illicit from her, but he was sure that, through the use of touch he would at least be able to gain some kind of response. "Ziva?" He slowly, hesitantly, gently placed his hand upon her knee.
Her eyes snapped to his, he couldn't be sure, but he thought he might have seen a small flash of fear, before recognition and some kind of relief came over here. "Tony." She breathed.
"Yeah," he smiled, "it's time to go, Ziva." He said standing, and taking a step back. He held out a hand, and waited for her to grab it and raise herself up from her chair.
It was not until they were inside the lift that realization dawned on her. "Where?" She asked him, confused. "I do not have anywhere to go. My apartment…"
"Of course you do Zee, you're coming home with me." He attempted to give her the classic Dinozzo charm smile.
"But…I could…I should…"
"No," he cut her off, hitting the emergency shut off switch, deciding a couple of things needed to be said, before anyone else tried to join them in the elevator. "It's been three months, Ziva, three long, hellish months, and we thought you were dead. There's not a chance that I'm letting you go, letting you stay in some cold, boring hotel room, all by yourself. It wasn't the same without you Zee." His voice got quieter, and she had to strain to hear him. "We had interviews, you know, to try and fill your spot. But none of them were right, because they weren't you. It wasn't the same. We missed you, I missed you." He smiled at her and went to flick the switch again. "So, you see, not a chance in hell."
"Thank you." She said softly as they exited the elevator, only it wasn't entirely clear what she was thanking him for.
After arriving at Tony's place, Ziva had taken a long awaited, much appreciated, and very much deserved shower, and had even had a chance to run a comb through her hair. Dressed in one of Tony's t-shirts, and a pair of his sweatpants, she felt ridiculously small, but a lot more human.
They sat on his couch, staring at the blank TV screen, finally relaxing the company of the other, or at least, trying to.
"Tony…" Ziva began, she had so many questions that she wanted to ask him. What had his summer been like? What happened in the past three months? Why did he come to Africa? Especially if he thought she was dead. How…. So many, so many questions.
He'd noticed the slightly curious look on her face, but had decided that answers to her questions should be saved for tomorrow. "Not now. Tomorrow." He promised. "It's late." He observed. "Come on, bed time." He smiled.
"I can…" She started, hating being a burden, hating that he felt like he had to do things for her, but at the same time, she was kind of relieved that she wasn't left on her own.
"Are you kidding?" He asked, his tone suggesting that she was being absolutely ridiculous. "The least I can offer you right now is my bed."
Ziva bit her lip, but relented, allowing him to nudge her in the direction of the bedroom.
"Will you…?" She asked, but he intercepted before she could finish her question.
"I'll be here." He nodded.
Ziva crawled into Tony's large bed, while he walked over to the window, and peeked through the curtains, looking out over the city. He hadn't realized but he'd been starring out the window for quite some time when he heard her voice, "Tony?"
"I'm here." He spoke softly and made his way over to the bed, and slipped in beside her, wishing it was under very different circumstanced.
"Ok." She said, and closed her eyes.
Tony could not close his eyes. He feared that if he did, he might wake to find that this was all a wicked dream, and that he hadn't rescued her and that she wasn't lying here, in his bed, with him. Instead, he lay on his side and watched her.
So, naturally, he jumped straight into action when he noticed he body go rigid, and heard her gasp.
"Ziva," He reached out to her, running his hand up and down her arm. "It's okay, I'm here, you're okay." Slowly, her eyes opened, eyes darting around, and he waited for her gaze to settle and focus on him. "You're okay." He whispered.
"Tony," her voice was full of pain, eyes brimming with unshed tears, and it made him want to cry and promise her the world. "It was…I…" she tried to speak.
"It's okay, it was just a dream."
"I do not think I can sleep." She confided after a moment of silence, "they are always going to be there, waiting."
"Not tonight." He told her, and moved over on the bed slightly. He pulled her towards him and wrapped her in his arms. "I'll be here, I'm not going anywhere. I promise. You're safe. Just wish 'em all away, Zee, wish 'em all away, and I'll be here, right here." He told her, vehemently, dropping a kiss to her hair.
"Wish them all away?"
"Wish them all away." He repeated, and held her close. She was not the only one that didn't want to sleep tonight; she was not the only one that was fighting off nightmares.
So I hope you enjoyed. In case anyone was interested I was inspired by two songs by Embrace, Keeping and Wish 'em all away. Don't forget to review :)