Hey,
This is just a short one shot describing Tony and Ziva's relationship...its a bit sad but I hadnt written something like this before and I thought I might try. I would love to hear some feedback!
-Agent-David101
Disclaimer: I dont own NCIS:(
Sometimes, silent actions speak louder than words themselves.
When he held her in the elevator, he spoke no words, yet just his touch was enough to send her into a safe haven, where no one could touch her but him.
When she lost Roy, no words were needed to describe how she felt, the pain that tore up her body, the loss that gripped her hard. All she needed was his shoulder, and his comforting hand holding her, keeping her strong, keeping her alive.
Losing her brother felt like she had lost part of herself, and the only thing that would keep her going was his comforting grin, and silent way of supporting her, telling her it was alright.
When he came to her in Somalia, she felt pain, betrayal. Because him being there meant to her more than anything. The fact he had followed her, risked his life just to save her, it was something she had never experienced before. And the thought that she might lose him because of her, made the walls she had secured around her finally tumble down.
Facing him in the weeks following, she had no comfort, nothing to hold on to, to will her to live. But she knew, it was her fault, and she had to make it right. And when they connected once again, after her apology had swept over him, she knew what he did was right, what they had was special.
That day she thought he had been taken from her, ripped from her arms, she couldn't live, she wanted to break down, close her eyes and escape forever into the darkness. But she couldn't. Because she hadn't told him to leave her. He wouldn't have left her without saying goodbye.
And when she saw him walk through the door her heart stopped. She took in what she thought she would never see again; his dark, matted hair and his green eyes once again meeting her brown. Holding him showed her that he was still there, that she hadn't lost him, hadn't lost what meant more than anything in the world to her.
And now, she was the one holding him in her arms, watching the life seep out of him slowly, each breath losing strength and becoming further and further apart. The colour drained from his face, he still managed to comfort her, tell her it is okay, not to cry. He should be the one she was comforting.
As more shots sound and she throws herself over his body, protecting him from more pain, her breaths become laboured, slowing in time with his.
And as one, their breaths cease, as they join each other, comforting one another. Because silent actions speak louder than words.