I really hated the way things were left between Tony and Ziva. I also hated how little fanfare there was when Tony leaves NCIS. Like seriously, he just gets on an elevator, the end? That is not a good ending, so I've been running through what could have happened and how he left NCIS and Team Gibbs in a much happier way. This takes place starting in 11x02.
He didn't want to get on the plane. That much was obvious from the way he lingered. Every second he didn't move made it that much harder. She had made her feelings on the matter clear, but never once had he spoken up. Maybe if he had, they wouldn't be at this point.
"I can't get on there," Tony told her, staring over at the runway.
"Tony," she whispered brokenly. A warning.
They had talked about this, rather, she had talked about it. She said she needed him to leave. She said she wanted him to go back to America and live his life without her. She said she wanted to him to move on and be happy.
But none of that was possible and Tony already knew as much. Ziva wanted to punish herself and she thought that this was the best way. But this way, they both hurt and hadn't he done enough to earn this? If he left now, he'd never be whole again.
"You might not believe it now, but you deserve to be happy. You deserve to be loved. Let me help you heal, Ziva."
She hesitated, a sob slipping from her lips as she shook her head.
"Please Tony. No. You cannot. If you stay, I will not be able to let you go."
"Who says I want you to?"
"It is not fair for you to deal with my baggage."
"What's not fair is to make me leave," he said a little sharper than intended. Her head jerked as if she had slapped him and she stared up at him wide eyed. He closed his eyes, because he had always done whatever that look had wanted before. They were in the mess because he had let her walk away before. "'I'd rather be miserable with you than without you,' Zi."
Leslie Caron was staring at Louis Jourdain, looking elegant and forlorn as the man had finished his proposal. Louis looked equally tortured. Tony like to think he knew how both of them felt at the moment. The thought of seeing her ripped him apart. The thought of never seeing her again was a fate worse than death. And somehow he knew if he got on that plane, he'd never see her again.
Ziva didn't seem away of his struggle and instead, moved forward and kissed him.
"Ok," she whispered, intertwining their fingers together.
They walked back to the taxis, hand in hand.
Somehow, he convinced her to clean out the farmhouse. Together, they sorted through her family's possessions and got rid of what they no longer needed.
In their free time, Ziva looked for nonprofits and NGOs to work with. She wanted to give back. She wanted to be someone who created instead of destroyed. She helped battered women and children. She taught the children their school lessons. She taught the women how to defend themselves. She built houses for those who needed. She made food in refuge camps. She did whatever she was able to.
Tony helped when he could. When he wasn't beside her on her latest save the world mission, he was reading her childhood books and working with Schmiel and Adam to learn Hebrew, though he also added Arabic to languages learned. He did it for her, but he also did it for himself. Life became easier in Israel when he knew the local languages. Orli told him there was a liaison position between Israel and the US for him should he ever want it. Vance filed an extension on Tony's vacation days. Even without taking all his hours of overtime, twelve years at NCIS left him with many days of PTO and even more of UTO. He was assured his job was waiting for him if he decided to come back to D.C.
They settled into a new normal. Eventually she let him take her out on dates. She got a bigger bed in her room at the house and he moved into her bedroom.
She came back from work one morning and kissed him.
"I have news," she whispered softly. Tony looked up and she tucked a piece of hair behind her ear, looking a little nervous. "I am pregnant."
It took his brain a few moments to process. The look of worry turned into one of panic, but he tugged at her wrist, pulling her into his lap. She stared at him and he stroked her cheek and kissed her.
"You're going to be an awesome mom," he told her and something flickered behind her eyes. "And I'm going to get to be one of those cool dads that takes their kid to the movie every new release." A smiled blossomed over her face.
"You are okay with this?"
"Okay? This is amazing, Ziva." His hand touched her stomach, to where the little person that they made together was living, growing. "Besides, if we learned anything from our parents, it was what not to do."
She leaned against him, head tucked under his chin. "Thank you."
"Nothing to thank. You're my family. Both of you." He kissed the top of her head for good measure. "Now you're really not getting rid of me."
She laughed.
Three weeks after Ziva told him she was pregnant, Adam showed up while she was at work. He came baring papers.
"I heard that you were making some inquiries into American citizens marrying here." He passed a folder. "Does Ziva know?"
Tony shook his head. "Not yet. I wanted to know if this was even an option before I said anything."
Adam nodded. It was hard to hate the man when he had been so helpful to bringing Tony to this point. Even if he had slept with the mother of his child.
"She's lucky to have you." The Israeli man patted him on the back. "That's everything you'll need, partial compliments of Orli."
Tony wanted to laugh, but really, he almost felt touched.
"Thank you," Tony called out to him as Adam started to walk away. The other man shook his head.
"I owed you."
Tony proposed to Ziva in Haifa. She claimed the beaches were better there, so they made a weekend of it. She told him of the good memories of her family, of when they used to go to the beaches together and her father was present. Tony gave her his mother's ring at sunrise and it fit her perfectly.
They were married in the olive groves her father had played in as a boy. He had met her aunt Nettie and she gave her blessing. They only invited Nettie and his father to the wedding and Senior gave them two first class tickets to Paris and proof of payment for a hotel room as a wedding gift. It wasn't how they thought they would marry, but it was perfect anyways.
"Is this how you pictured things going when you came after me?"
"It's better," he whispered against her skin, "It's so much better than I ever imagined."
Ziva's pregnancy progressed smoother than any movie led Tony to believe it would. She didn't really have morning sickness, only had cravings for some pretty normal things like chocolate ice cream and really good bagels, and didn't have the range of mood swings he was expecting.
There were tears, but they were expected. They came across a picture of her and her siblings and she had gotten misty eyed wondering what it would have been like if they had still been there, if Eli and her mother had been there. To be fair, Tony always felt like he could cry when he thought about how his mother never got to see any of this: him grown, his wife, his child.
She got angry sometimes, but that was nothing new either. They had always fought passionately, but Tony had learned that making up with Ziva was pretty rewarding.
Other than an odd day or two, everything went well. The doctor told them the baby was a little girl. Tony cried listening to the baby's heartbeat, watching her move on the monitor.
This wasn't the life he had pictured for himself, but given the chance, he wouldn't change any of it.
The most rewarding day came when Ziva went into labor. That was perhaps the worst part of her pregnancy. The baby didn't want to come out and so she was in labor for nearly thirty hours. They were both tired, but holding their little girl was life changing.
"We never talked about names," Ziva said tiredly as she looked at the baby sleeping against her chest. She was sweaty, her hair was a mess, and Tony didn't think he could remember seeing her look more beautiful,
"I have an idea for what I wanted." She looked at him expectingly and Tony continued, "Tali Elizabeth."
A sob caught in Ziva's throat as she stared up at him, eyes glassy. "Are you sure?"
He nodded, then paused. "You don't like it."
"No, it is perfect. Shalom, Tali Elizabeth," she whispered to the tiny baby in her arms. And really, honestly, Tony could barely take his eyes off of her. She looked so much like Ziva, but with his coloring. Perhaps all parents thought their kids looked cute, but even red and wrinkly, Tali was heart wrenchingly adorable. "I am your Ima. This is your Abba. He is the one who gave you your name, motek."
It was later on the day of his daughter's birth, after Ziva and Tali were asleep, that Tony snuck out of the room to place a call to America.
Vance picked up rather quickly.
"Director, as much as I appreciate you renewing my vacation time, you don't have to do that anymore," Tony said finally. "I'll have my resignation to you later today."
"If you change your mind-"
"I won't," Tony interrupted.
"If you change your mind, you'll still have a place at NCIS."
Vance hung up. The paychecks still appeared in his bank account. His resignation mysteriously never got acknowledged by the director.
When Tali was nearly a year old, Vance called Tony again. "There's an opening for a supervising field agent for the Naples office. I thought I'd offer it to you first."
At this point, Ziva was less restless and uncertain than when he had found her. Motherhood had quieted a lot of the doubts that had floated through her head. She no longer felt guilt for things she couldn't change. Tali had been good for both of them, healing the hurt and pain that they had both carried with them. She was also the happiest, lowest mantainence baby he had ever seen. She only needed one of her parents' fingers and her stuff dog, unimaginatively named Kelev, a gift from her great aunt, to be happy.
Ziva was standing near him now, having just put Tali down for her nap.
"Take the job," she mouthed.
"When do I start?"
There was silence at the other end. Vance clearly hadn't expected him to agree.
"Three weeks." The direcror then gave him the rest of the details.
When he hung up, Tony looked to his wife. "Are you sure?"
"You are an investigator, Tony. I know you miss the job, whether you say it or not. And I think Italy would be a nice place to raise our daughter." She looked around the farmhouse, no longer filled with ghosts of the past. Instead, it had become their home, vibrant and alive. "We can keep this house and come here on vacation."
"If I ever have any again. Vance used up two years worth because he didn't accept my resignation." Ziva laughed, but it sounded happier than when he had first arrived years ago. He liked to think he played a part in that.
"You are cooking your chickens before they hatch."
"Counting eggs before they're laid," Tony corrected. Her brow furrowed and he chuckled. "I hope your Italian's better than your English."
Childishly, she stuck her tongue out at him. He caught her to him and kissed her.
Naples was a perfect fit for them. It gave them their fresh start, free from the past and the baggage they had carried with them.
Tony liked his new posting and his new team. They were comprised of a former Marine MP, a Navy brat, and a former Italian policeman. Their medical examiner had worked for twenty years at Landstuhl Regional Medical in Germany. The Marine was as un-Gibbs like as he could be. The Navy brat was a tech genius and Tony still wasn't convinced that she hadn't been NSA. The policeman introduced him to all sorts of good Italian television, including Il commissario Montalbano.
Tali inherited his love of movies and TV. She frequently hung on to every word that was said on the screen and frequently asked for arancini, the fried rice balls that Montalbano's housekeeper Adelina frequently made. She liked to eat the ones the neighbor made and Tony would come home to find she had devoured them.
Tali was almost as low mantainance as a toddler as she was as a little baby. She was as fiercely independent as her mother. She liked to scribble in the sketchbook Tony had bought her and stumbled around their little house. Ziva or their neighbor keep an eye on her when Tony was at work.
Ziva worked at the base school, teaching other languages to the children of American servicemen and personal stationed in Naples. She also taught woman self defense and worked at a soup kitchen. She smiled all the time and wore her hair in a messy knot at the base of her neck and danced when she cooked.
And they were happy.
I highly recommend the Italian tv series Detective Montalbano. It's on Netflix and Amazon Prime, I believe. There's a bunch of really good Italian language detective shows if you're into great characters, good humor, awesome writing, good looking food, and gorgeous scenery. Another is Murders at BarLume (I delitti del BarLume) and Bulletproof Heart (Una pallottola nel cuore).
And if you haven't tried arancini, you should, like right now. They're delicious.