This is not beta-ed, aka. first draft of stuff. I just hope I did not mess anything up.
Disclaimer: Do we really have to put this? Oh well, disclaimed.
The kitchen at Ziva's apartment is just as simple as the rest of her place. Her appliances might not be anywhere near modest—who buys a sub-zero refrigerator anyway? But the feel of the area screams of simplicity. Oh no, it is not a bare simple. Just simple simple. No personal touches. A sheer contrast of what her previous apartment looked like. No fancy wallpapers with weird shades and patterns, no pretty paintings by anyone he'd never heard of, no odd trinkets from any country, no nothing. Nothing to indicate that someone, namely his partner, already spent some time staying in it.
Ziva just transferred out of her old home to here roughly a week ago—from her second house, actually, since the first one was destroyed by Mossad a few years back, during a time she chooses not to dwell upon anymore.
"This is your third home, Ziva. We should celebrate, don't you think?" Tony grinned as he carefully lowered the last box he happily volunteered to carry for her. "Third time's the charm."
For the past few days, Tony had been relentlessly offering his help in moving the rest of her belongings to her new place; however, it is just now when she finally gave in. He'd been practically begging her for days to show him her new 'humble abode', as he fondly calls it. And as much as she wanted to keep him out of her new place, she knew fully that depriving him of the chance would just make him more persistent. She could not afford to have that. Not if she wanted him out of danger.
She smiled grimly and gently closed the door behind her. "Tony, I think it is time for me to tell you something."
"Yup, it is. I'm just surprised it took you this long to tell me." He crossed his arms, tilting his head slightly. "You are not coming back to NCIS, are you?"
She visibly flinched at his questioning tone. She should not be surprised though, he is, after all, a very good investigator. "Well, I— no, I am not."
"Figures. You would not choose a place ninety two minutes away from the Navy Yard otherwise." Tony pursed his lips. "And that's with your driving."
Ziva smirked. "I cannot believe you timed it."
"Whatever your reasons may be, always know that I am always here." He looked at her pointedly, ignoring her remark completely. "We do not need to be partners have each other's backs, do we?"
"I guess."
Ziva caressed his cheek with the back of her hand. Looking him in the eye, she asked softly. "So, we are good?"
He looked at her as if she just asked him if he'd suddenly grown breasts over the summer. "Why wouldn't we be?"
Tony had been investigating things for decades now. Hell, he'd been conducting investigations even on those which do not require any investigating. His co-workers could attest to that. The whole agency could attest to that. And if there's anything he's learned after all the snooping and sniffing around, it is that to be successful, you have to master two basic steps: getting the information, and hiding what you know.
The first part is the easier one. Tony had perfected that somehow over the years. It is probably what made him a good agent. His knack for acquiring information and using it to catch bad guys is what he's being paid for by good ol' Uncle Sam.
The second part, on the other hand, is a different story. It is the part he had the most difficulty dealing with. Because this is where loyalties are being tested. Because this is where he realizes that sometimes, ignorance is indeed a motherfucking bliss.
He pinched the bridge of his nose, staring at his desolate reflection on Ziva's bathroom mirror. He held on to the edges of the counter, grasping it until his knuckles went white. He barely noticed that he'd left the water running. "What now, Dinozzo?" His grip tightened on the granite. "What now?"
He has to stop her. He knew that her leaving the agency and moving to another place are just smaller parts of a much bigger puzzle. A puzzle that has something to do with Adam fucking Eschel. And he'd be damned if he cannot pull Ziva out of it while he still can.
She's going back to Israel, and she's covering it up by making him believe that she's merely transferring to another place to find another line of work. The question is why.
Why is she leaving the team for that guy?
Why is she leaving him?
He splashed water on his face, willing away the internal turmoil that currently eats away his mind. It didn't help one bit. It did, however, covered up the moisture that's starting to form in his eyes. He knew it because his vision started to blur ever since he locked himself in her bathroom.
"Tony?" A soft knock on the door shook him out of his reverie. It was Ziva. "Food is ready."
He did not answer right away, scared that his voice might betray him. He held his breath just to be sure. But she just wouldn't give up.
"Are you okay in there?" Her voice was laced with mild concern. He could picture her on the other side of the door, training her ear to hear even the faintest sound that seemed out of place.
He cleared his throat carefully as he intertwined his hands tightly above his head. He glanced up; his vision was beginning to blur again.
"Yup. Fine." He replied curtly, jaw clenched. The effort he'd devoted in keeping his cool thus far has proven that from this point on, things are going to get more difficult. And he isn't completely sure if he's truly prepared for it.
"Alright then."
As her footsteps slowly faded, Tony sighed in frustration as he thought of what was at stake here if ever he fails.
"You can do this, DiNozzo." With that, he ironed his features, took a few breaths, and conjured the best smile he could muster.
The food was sublime—that was a given. It was Ziva's cooking, after all. Sure enough, Tony was able to pull off being his typical jokester self throughout the meal. He made random remarks on random topics, quoted movies from time to time, and even corrected Ziva's misconstrued understanding of American colloquialism a couple of times. Even he himself believed for a while that nothing's wrong.
It did not last long.
As Tony was wiping the moisture off the last few plates they've used, Ziva finally decided that she had enough of it. "Tony, you are unusually cheerful tonight. What is wrong?"
"What do you mean?" Tony gathered his thoughts, recapping each detail of the night. In retrospect, he probably had overcompensated on the jokes a bit.
Why does his partner have to be too perceptive?
Ziva stood beside his partner, her lower back resting against the counter. He leaned into him. "What is on your mind?"
He smiled innocently, and tersely replied. "Nothing."
"I know that look, Tony." She absently waves a finger in front of his face. "Your face scrunches up like that whenever something is bothering you."
"Really?"
"Really." She narrowed her eyes at him. "There is it again!"
"Fine then, if you can read me too well, I might as well voice it all out." He thought he could rein it all in. That he could keep it all inside until he knew more about her plans—whatever they may be. He was wrong. He was so wrong. "Who is Adam Eschel to you?"
She visibly was taken aback by her question. "Where is this coming from?" Something flashed in her eyes at the mention of Adam's name, and Tony saw it as clear as day. It was guilt.
"Answer the question."
Ziva closed her eyes momentarily before replying evasively. "He is a friend."
"Right." His voice was brimming with sarcasm.
"We already talked about this."
"No, you talked about it." He rubbed his face with his hand. This situation—everything—is going way out of hand. "I just accepted your apology. I haven't said anything."
"Fine." She crossed her arms. "So talk."
He entered her personal space and stared deeply into her eyes. And she was all too stubborn to back down. "Is he or is he not the reason why you're leaving the agency?"
"He is one of the reasons, yes."
"Is he in love with you?"
"What?"
"Yes or no—is he in love with you?"
She avoided his gaze. "It was a very long time ago."
That admission felt like a punch in the gut, but he opted to suck it all up. He took a deep breath as he braced himself for his next question. "Are you in love with him?"
"If you cannot tell that by yourself, then perhaps you do not really know me at all." With that, she stormed out of the kitchen and into her bedroom. Slamming the door hard behind her.
Tony had been staring at the ceiling of Ziva's living room for hours. He should've left a long time ago, but somehow, he could not bring himself to. He could not just leave her and let some big-ass argument stay wedged between them. They're better than that now. And he just hoped that Ziva shared his sentiment regarding the matter.
His plan of convincing her to stay in D.C. is proving to be harder than he thought. He could not even formulate a decent way to open up the said topic to her. Hell, she is not even aware that he knows about her plans to leave the country. How on earth is he supposed to stop her from leaving?
He thought bringing up Adam Eschel would be a good starting point. He is, after all, the reason why Ziva's leaving in the first place. At least, that's what his pals from the NSA tell him. They said that Ziva had been emailing Adam ever since they all resigned from NCIS a couple of months ago. Since then, they'd been meeting in various rendezvous spots in Europe, talking to a lot of shady people all around.
It was his bad, really. For some reason, Adam somehow manages to infuriate him at every turn. And he became too caught up with his anger that he failed to keep his eye on the ball. From being about her plans to leave, they jumped all the way to talking about feelings. Her feelings, to be precise.
Which reminds him—no matter how hard he tried to brush it off as nothing, Ziva's response to his question made him a bit giddy on the inside.
"If you cannot tell that by yourself, then perhaps you do not really know me at all."
Of course, it is not a clear and outright no, but he'd take what he could get. He could live with that for now.
The next morning, Tony woke up with a renewed vigour. He cooked breakfast for the two of them, bringing it with him to her bedroom.
"I hope you don't mind me spending the night yesterday. I didn't actually bring my car with me here." He began, knowing fully well that she'd been awake for half an hour now. "And I come bearing gifts."
She sat up slowly, blinking at him in confusion. "Tony, what are you doing?"
He rambled on. "I mean, these are not actually gifts since they came from your kitchen and you essentially own them already, but hey, I tried to cook."
"Are you the same person I fought with yesterday? Because I could have sworn he really looked like you."
"I lost my temper, and I was out of place." He looked awfully contrite. "With that, I am truly sorry."
She was still slightly dumbfounded at the sudden turn of events. She never had an argument with Tony which ended this soon, and this peaceful. Well, as they say, there is a first for everything.
The two sat for a long time on her bed, eating what Tony claims to be chocolate chip – raspberry pancake. Truth be told, all it needed was the yellow police tape and it could really pass as a crime scene of a very messy murder-suicide.
Encouraged by the pleasant turn of events, Tony decided that it is finally time to say what he really wanted to say. "Ziva?"
She looked up to him, munching on the final bite of her crime scene pancake. "Hmm?"
"Why are you so afraid of letting me in?"
She almost choked on her food, coughing thrice before she made it pass the right tube. "W-what?"
"It is a simple question."
She gaped at him. His questions nowadays are giving her a whiplash.
"You keep on surrounding yourself with one fortress after the other. I was merely wondering why."
"Anyone who makes the mistake of being in my life always ends up dead." As she said it, Tony's words right after they wrapped up Burrow's case came rushing back into her consciousness. They came alive after being hidden in the recesses of her brain for so long—the implications of it messing with her head a second time.
'Do you really consider me to be, in your life?' he asked her that one faithful moment. It was a loaded question, though it only demands one of either two answers. A 'yes' or a 'no'.
She said nothing then.
In hindsight, maybe it was a good thing she did not. They are in a good place right now, Tony and her, and romance is a complication they both could not afford. All things considered, she believed they are better off friends. It was less difficult to remain that way. Less messy. Less strings.
"Not everyone." He replied gently, interrupting her thoughts.
She stopped for a moment, trying to piece together their conversation before her thoughts decided to intrude. "Tony…"
He trained his eyes at her intently, conveying all the words that his mouth couldn't dare say. "Ziva."
"Well, Ray did not actually die…" She faltered, looking anywhere but at her partner's smouldering eyes. She could not handle looking at him right now, not when he's apart from his typical jokester self. Funny Tony is a piece of cake; his serious alter ego is not. Serious Tony makes her insides flutter uncontrollably and her chest pound. That part of him makes her feel vulnerable and with her being her, it is the last thing she would prefer to be. So at the first sign of that kind of Tony making an appearance, her first instinct is to run as fast as she could and as far away as possible.
"I think it's time that we talk about this."
To say that she was stunned by those words was an understatement. Wide eyed and dumbfounded, she pulled back, moving as far away from his piercing gaze as she can. "We are fine, Tony. We have nothing to talk about."
She stood up, but he grabbed her arm to stop her from leaving. "Ziva…"
She did her best not to stare on where their skin met, but it was hard not to. The contact was too tingly to ignore, and too tight to wiggle out of.
"I—I need to, um…" Excuses tumbled around her brain, be somehow she could not cook up a single totally believable and not too evasive-sounding thing. In a weak attempt to will away the hard thumpthumpthump in her heart, as well as the moisture starting to form around her eyes, she half-heartedly chuckles with a slight shake of the head.
With his other hand, he lifted her chin with a finger so he could see her face. Debris from her almost eternally present emotional wall was toppling down one by one. Her face was crumbling, and as much his heart aches seeing her that way, it is the only way through her.
It pained him to see her that way, but what else can he do? He'd lose her otherwise. The last thing he needed is all their progress during the past year to come to waste. "Ziva, look at me."
She didn't. By then she was already blatantly averting her eyes. Anywhere but him, she decided. In her mind, she managed to equate looking at him to giving in and opening her doors to feelings that she has no right to have in the first place. Her life is too complex and messy to share with anyone, especially with him.
"Being in your life is never a mistake."
Her breath caught at his words. Surely he did not mean…
The way he looked at her would probably be enough to tell her what he felt, but unfortunately, his partner still remained as the unwilling participant in their little conversation. Determined not to keep everything one-sided, he sought for her attention once more. "Ziva, listen to me."
Please tell me this is not happening.
Ziva sat there, frozen, confused out of her mind. She considered brushing him off like she always does whenever he gets too close, but somehow she could not bring herself to do it. He is her best friend, and he deserves to know. "No, you listen to me. I—we…"
They cannot be together—not in the way he wants to. Hell, not in the way they both want to. Damn it, she knew fully well that both of them wanted the same thing for years. She's not dense. But she also knew that letting him into her life is just the same as forcing him to accept a punishment he does not deserve. Her life is a curse, and she is not selfish enough to make him carry it with her.
"Ziva." His honest face, his piercing eyes, his shy smile—a combination she wished she could unsee at a time like this. Who would've thought a former self-proclaimed playboy could steal her breath like this? She clearly didn't. "Let me in."
The tightening of his grip on her arm was hard not to notice, but she chose to ignore it. This is your best friend, she reminded herself. Nothing more.
The hard truth is, she really wants to. Let him in, that is. And she hated herself for it. "Do not look at me like that."
"Like what, Ziva?" He was baiting her, and he knew it.
"Like… uh, like you—" She stammered. She can't go on feeling like this. Not with her best friend. Not with Tony. For her sanity, she deftly changed the subject—or, at least, attempted to. "Why are you getting so worked up over this?"
"David." he called her out. For once in his life, he could not see the sense in wanting to avoid these uncharted waters anymore. "Don't pretend that you still don't get it."
Her mouth literally went dry. Words got stuck at the back of her throat, and regardless of her not so subtle attempts of looking anywhere but those deep intoxicating pools of green which are his eyes, she cannot help but be drawn back to them. Somehow, her prided stores of deflective witticisms suddenly ran out of ammunition. She shut her eyes momentarily, willing herself not to hear anything anymore.
Noticing her obvious discomfort, the beginnings of smile tugged on his lips. Her back stiffened as she practically felt that grin taunt her behind her closed lids.
"No, I do not, so cut it out." her tone came with a warning as she braved to look at him once more. She suddenly felt terrified. Of what, she wasn't sure of. All she knew was he needs to stop acting like this. She stood up, leaving her side of the bed, and began pacing frantically.
"How can I—" If she would be successful in evading this long due conversation again, he will punch himself in the face. "Do you really want me to spell it out for you? Because I can do that."
"Do not make this difficult." her eyes were begging him to stop. "Drop it, please."
If not for the bed that's creating a huge gap between them, he would literally shake her. "Ziva, you're not just a partner to me, you're—"
"No!" she almost screamed out. Having him say whatever she thinks he's about to say will somehow make things more real, and she could not afford to have that.
It took a few more seconds of silence before she found her voice again. "No, Tony. Stop it."
"I've weighed my options, Ziva."
"Why are you doing this?" She actually did not want to question his intentions, for fear of digging a larger hole for herself, but as of the moment, anything that will change the flow of their conversation will most definitely do. She cannot let him push this topic further.
"You are leaving." His words left a bitter taste in his mouth. "I want to know why."
She shrugged, a grim expression taking over her features. "I am not leaving, Tony. I am just not coming back to work."
"Don't make this about semantics, David. You know exactly what I mean." He felt cheated and he cannot explain, nor understand why.
"I am tired of living like this." She reasoned. "Are you not?"
Tony saw a familiar look in her eyes, they were practically screaming at him. She was not being very truthful. "Liar."
"Believe whatever you want, Tony. You cannot change my mind."
"Maybe. But you cannot stop me from trying. And hell, I would definitely try." He had a look on his face that unsettled her, making her stomach churn. The determination in him was too palpable to ignore. He murmured earnestly, "I don't want to live my life with regrets." His heart's filled with so much certainty he did not know he had. Well, not until now. "I especially do not want to live it without you."
His echoing of her words not so long ago made her shiver. She has never anticipated hearing those words again in this context. Especially not from him.
Biting her lip, Ziva shook her head and mumbled hesitantly, "I... I should go." she took a couple of strides towards the door. However, before she could completely bolt, he stepped in her way, not only blocking her, but also increasing their proximity. He considered that as a plus on his side. Hell, anything that could shake that stubborn resolve of hers is a plus on his side.
"Nuh-uh." he disagreed. "This is your apartment. You are not going anywhere."
She stood her ground and stared at him impassively. Or at least she thought she did. "Please leave then."
"Or what, huh?" He challenged her. "You're gonna floor me?"
"Are we seriously having this conversation right now?" She gritted her teeth.
"When do you want us to talk about this then? Before or after you leave for Israel?
to be continued...
A/N: I hope you liked my story. I am working with no sleep here, so please bear with me a little. I'm on duty tomorrow, so please don't expect an update until friday or saturday.