Author's Note: This takes place during the first episode of season 7, so there are some major spoilers for that episode and the end of season 6. Of course, lots of Tiva. And a special thanks to fireandfury for encouraging me to write and publish and for even getting me to watch NCIS in the first place. Also, thanks to everyone who has read and reviewed my other stories. It means a lot, guys! :)
Disclaimer: Nope, I don't own NCIS.
Ziva didn't deserve them, any of them. She stared out of the window next to her as the plane drifted higher and higher, up over the desert where she'd been bruised, beaten, nearly killed.
When Saleem came to move her to a different cell, Ziva knew something was going on. Why would Saleem bother moving her around if not for some purpose?
Then he'd taken the bag off of her head.
Tony DiNozzo. Of course.
She'd practically spat at him, and for what? Because she could hardly bear to look at him for the crushing guilt he caused her to feel? It wasn't that he had done anything wrong. He had tried to protect her, and how had she repaid him? By shouting at him, knocking him to the ground, and shutting him out.
Tony DiNozzo had not betrayed Ziva David. Ziva had betrayed Tony.
When she felt the tears begin to well up, she blinked them away and shut away all thoughts of the very special agent and what had happened in Somalia. It was the past. It didn't matter anymore.
"Ziva." Someone sat down in the seat next to her.
"No. I do not wish to speak to anyone right now, Tony." Ziva continued to stare out the window. She couldn't bear to look DiNozzo in the eye.
Tony still didn't move.
"Tony, you should not have come."
At that, Tony punched the seat in front of him. "And why the hell is that, Ms. David?" He spat the words at her. "Because you wanted to shut us all out? Because you clearly can't even look me in the eye?"
Ziva swallowed. The blasted tears were welling up again.
Tony's hand cupped her chin. Somehow, he managed to force her to look at him without once tightening his gentle touch.
There. She was forced to look at him. She was forced to look right into those hazel eyes that were usually lifted at the corners as if Tony was telling a perpetual joke. Now, though, they were turned down, lightened with emotion, searching hers.
"Ziva. I found you because I care. I thought you were dead. I was going to wring the neck of the sorry man who killed you. But do you know how pleasantly surprised I was to find you alive? And now, this is how you thank me. It's time to open up, Ziva David. People care about you. Give a little bit in return."
With that, Tony got up and walked back to his seat at the front of the plane. Ziva wanted to call after him, to tell him what he wanted to hear. But she couldn't. Tony and the others had risked their lives for her, when she could have managed just fine on her own. If she died, so be it. At least she wouldn't have threatened the lives of the people who meant so much to her. But she couldn't tell them that. She wouldn't.
Ziva was an ex-Mossad agent who was trained to be cold. Life had trained her to be cold. Heartbreak and betrayal, stacked one on top of the other. She couldn't shake her training that easily. I'm sorry, Tony. And she continued to look out of the plane's window.