His fingers burned with every stroke of the keyboard. His knuckles were tired until the point of locking up, protesting to type another letter. Despite his pain, Tony forced himself to strike the keys faster than his usual pace.
Across from him, Ziva's eyes peered over the top of her monitor, perplexed by the unusual speed and focus at which her partner worked. Sure, he was working overtime and eager to get home. After all, it was Friday. It was likely that there was some attractive woman who awaited him at a nearby restaurant, anxiously awaiting Tony's famed abilities to charm even the most challenging women. Still, she had never seen Tony in such a hurry.
With a final strike of the keyboard, Tony exhaled a sigh of relief. He swung his backpack over his shoulder, and passed Ziva without even a glance.
The lack of words disturbed Ziva. Normally, it was a pleasure to have five seconds of silence from Tony's babbling. However, whenever it was truly absent, she realized how much she missed his voice.
Ziva stood up and chased Tony who was on his way to the elevator. "Where are you going?"
Tony peered back at Ziva, who walked towards him with a unusually warm smile.
"Home," he replied.
Ziva huffed as he jammed his thumb into the elevator button.
"What's so funny?"
"Please, Tony. I've known you long enough that you don't just go, home, on a Friday evening." Ziva spoke with a knowing tone as she stood close to a him. She loved flirting with Tony. Even a man as confident and charming as him couldn't help but subtly lose his cool when he feel her hand graze his shoulder, her chest brush up against him, or when her words rolled off her tongue in the most seductive voice she could muster. And she knew it.
Tony chuckled, as usual, trying to show that her words had no effect on him. "Well, a guy like me can change his ways over time."
Ziva crowed. "Did she cancel?"
"There was no date," Tony said plainly.
"No date?"
"Nope. Not tonight."
"Hmm…"
Curiosity was sparked within her. He didn't behave like this. Only a few times had she seen him like this. Tony was only at a loss for words when he was truly broken, and while it didn't seem like the other times, his unusual behavior was unnerving to Ziva.
"Are you alright, Tony?"
Tony shot a knowing glance as the metallic elevator doors slip open.
"I'm up for sticking around for a few hours for a movie, if you'd like," she offered.
Tony spun around and tapped the button for the lobby on the wall panel.
"I'm fine. Just have a lot to think about."
The elevator doors shut before Ziva could reply. She furrowed her eyebrows in wonder. Without hesitating, she ran back to her desk and grabbed her things, and ran out to her car as fast she could.
After following Tony for about twenty minutes, she didn't know what to expect from him as far as where he would go. That's why she was surprised when he parked his car outside of a bar in downtown Washington D.C.
She shook her head, knowing he'd lied not having a date. Ziva didn't want to spy on him, but just in case he wasn't on a date she wanted to be there with him just in case he needed someone to drink with as he drowned his depression.
The bar itself was not one she expected Tony to go to. It was filled with young hot shots attempting to pick up on the ladies while struggling just to stand. It wasn't blaring deafening rock music with television's broadcasting a baseball game. Instead, it was dimly lit and filled with many people who sat all facing a stage adorned with just a stool and microphone, illuminated by a spotlight. Faint jazz music played in the background, as a woman recited a poem from a piece of paper she held in her hand.
She casually scanned the room in search for Tony, a task made difficult by the poor lighting. After a few moments, she gave up and seated herself at one of the only remaining stools at the bar. Literally, she was about as far from the stage as one could be.
The poet finished the reciting of her poem, and the crowd applauded. Ziva shook her head when the bartender asked if she wanted anything to drink. She continued her search for Tony amidst the applauding crowd.
On stage, a young man clad in a grey hoodie and glasses emerged on stage and took up the microphone in his hand.
"Give it up again for Sarah," he said with wide grin to the crowd, to which the audience obliged.
"Our next performance will be by a newcomer. His name is Tony and says he this poem about someone he cares about. Make him feel welcome with a big round of applause."
The crowd once again opened up in a warm applause as Tony emerged on stage, his eyes covered with sunglasses.
Ziva raised her eyebrows. Tony was never the type to express his feelings. She knew he had layers, but had never taken him as the type to express them creatively. The clapped lightly, eager to hear what he had written.
"Thank you," Tony spoke softly into the microphone. He was poised and solemn. His demeanor reflected someone completely different from the Tony that Ziva knew. Though it looked like him, it might as well have been a complete stranger.
"This poem is for someone I care for, but they don't know how much."
Tony cleared his throat, unfolded the paper in his hand and held it up to his face as he began.
I have loved many
And been far and wide
Yet there is still a void
In my heart deep inside
There are two of me
One night, one day
One is clear with beauty
The other is dark and grey
All day long I wear a mask
To hide my darkness creeping
Then at night my shield fails
when my demons come for feasting
There is one source, of all my pain
My friend who is so near
She see's the mask that I wear
But not behind it, where I shed a tear.
I wish to show you who I am
But from my face I cannot pluck
This mask which is the seal
For the sorrow with which I'm stuck
Two different people
Yes, that is who I have become
How much longer will it be
Before enough is enough, and I am done
Today is the day my dear
That I will confess
Rid myself of this mask
And love with all my heart, no less
The crowd erupted in glorious applause, but Ziva just with a look of wonder etched upon her face. She wasn't surprised by the meaning of his poem. Many times she had reflected on Tony's act to conceal his true emotions, and neither him nor her could deny the feelings they felt for each other. But never had she actually heard him express those feelings.
She slipped out of the bar unnoticed, and a small grin crept upon her face. Now she knew how he felt, and wondered when he would really take his mask off, and tell her he loved her to her face.