Hey everyone!
I know, this isn't a new chapter of Too Close, and I haven't forgotten about that. I have been working on it a little, but I'm kind of stuck with massive writer's block, and until I get over it I'm afraid there isn't going to be a new chapter of it.
This came to my mind when I was thinking of how they'd bring Ziva back when (when, not if) they do. This is what I came up with. Tell me what you think when you get to the end, and hopefully I'll have a new chapter up before the end of the month.
McGee walked up to his partner and stood beside him, sticking his hands in his pockets, just as Tony was. There was silence between the two men for a while until McGee let out an audible sigh and looked over at him.
"Sad."
Tony nodded, "Yeah."
"Rookie mistake."
Tony took one of his hands out of his pockets and ran a hand through his short hair, "Yeah." They watched as people headed towards their vehicles, all in black suits and black dresses, some with badges around their neck, others with tissues and smeared mascara on their faces.
"What's next?" McGee asked. Their eyes still didn't meet.
Tony finally tore his stare at the nothing he was staring at to look at McGee, "No idea." He walked away from him, walking towards his car. Abby walked up and grabbed Tim's arm.
He looked down at her and sighed, "He's pretty torn up."
Abby looked back up at him, "He blames himself."
Tim scoffed, "It wasn't his fault."
Abby nodded in agreement, "That's what I told him."
"She wanted to leave."
"Even though it was dangerous." Tim sighed and looked up at the boss when he walked up to the pair.
"Go home. Get some sleep." Gibbs told them, "It's been a long few days."
McGee narrowed his eyes at the silver haired man's tone, "You okay, boss?"
Gibbs looked at his agent and put his hand on Tim's shoulder, "This is part of the job, McGee."
Tim nodded, looked at Abby and then back up at Gibbs, "The part I hate." Gibbs nodded and leaned over to kiss Abby on the cheek, then squeezed Tim's shoulder again.
"Go home. Report tomorrow at noon."
Both Tim and Abby nodded and Gibbs walked away. "He's nice again." McGee said.
Abby pressed her lips together, nodded, and started walking with McGee towards the parked cars, "He's sad, Timmy."
Tim draped his arm across her shoulders, "Yeah."
"You wanna go watch a movie?"
Tim nodded and squeezed her shoulder, "That might be good."
Tony sat at the bar, sipping on the amber liquid in his glass. He held up his head with his left hand, swirling the liquid to match his swirling mind.
He finished the rest of the liquor, stood and pulled his wallet out of his back pocket. He placed two fives on the counter and headed out the door. He decided to walk home, since he needed to clear his mind and that seemed the best way.
It was impossible, Tony was sure, to really wrap his mind around what happened.
He told her to wait.
He told her to go home and stay there.
But she didn't listen.
He ran a hand through his hair as his mind went back to what happened, exactly one week ago.
Gibbs watched as DiNozzo freed the guy he had been chasing for a week from his handcuffs. The man had an unapologetic smirk on his face, and Gibbs wanted to use the gun on his side to wipe it off. The man and his escort stepped on the elevator, the last time they would see the bastard.
Gibbs looked at his three agents, each of them staring back at him. He sighed and nodded once, "Go home. It's been a long week."
McGee and Tony nodded, but Bishop only stared at her boss as he walked to the elevator.
Tim and Tony began to gather their things, but their partner still sat there, not moving with a look of disbelief on her face.
The senior field agent looked up at her, "Let's go, Bishop. Get your things."
She shook her head, "He can't just be allowed to go free."
Tim was now in front of her desk with his gear, "He's got diplomatic…"
"I know what he's got!" She yelled.
"We don't have control over some things." Tim responded, "This is one of them."
She stood quickly, added her gun to her side, and threw her backpack and purse over her shoulder, "Unbelievable. I can't believe you two are letting this happen. And Gibbs? How is he letting this happen? The man crashed into a bus with 16 people on board, 4 of them children, just because he didn't like somebody on it!"
"We know the case, Bishop." Tony had now joined Tim in front of her desk, "You need to let it go."
"How are you two not…furious? I don't understand."
"There's nothing…"
She pointed at McGee to make him stop speaking, "If you say that to me one more time, I'll hurt you. There has to be something we can do."
Tony sighed again and walked around her desk, sitting on the corner of it and blocking her exit path. "Bishop. Go home, take a bath, get a glass of wine and spend time with your husband. Forget about that bastard. You know that you did everything you could to bring the man down, that's all that matters. There's nothing else for you to do. Let it go."
She shook her head, sighing softly, "Fine, Tony. Fine."
He stood up and she walked past him, crossing her arms as she pressed the down button on the elevator. "Bishop." Tony called. She looked at him as the doors popped open, "You're going home, right?"
She nodded and stepped onto the elevator. There was a silence in the office until Tim looked over at Tony, "She won't do anything stupid, right?"
Tony sighed, "I hope not."
The elevator ding at his apartment snapped Tony back to reality. He sighed and stepped onto it, pressing the 4 and leaning against the back of the elevator, closing his eyes for the short ride to the fourth floor.
He stayed that way until he heard someone stopped the doors from closing. It was the new girl, a blonde with blue eyes and long golden legs. She'd smiled at him from time to time, and Tony did too, but this time was different.
He didn't feel much like smiling.
She nodded and smiled at him when she got on and pressed button for the 5th floor. The doors closed in front of them and then it was put in motion. She took two steps back so that she was even with him.
"Hi." She said softly, and he turned to look at her.
"Hey." He replied.
"Nice suit."
Tony examined his own wardrobe, his funeral attire, a black suit with a black tie, and his badge on his hip with the black band over it. He looked over at her, but then looked at the wall instead, "It's my least favorite."
She looked at him like she was concerned, "Oh, I'm sorry. Did someone you are close to pass away?"
He glanced at her, swallowed the lump in his throat and spoke softly, "I didn't know her that long, but we were becoming good friends." Was he seriously telling this to this woman that he's never even spoken too?
She reached over and touched his arm, "Oh, I'm so sorry. Is there anything I can do for you?"
Tony looked at her again. Three years Ago, he would've said something slick that would lead to a kiss, then the kiss would lead to sex, which was not a solution to his current problems, but it would, he was sure, make him feel better.
But he wasn't that guy anymore, so he shook his head and moved his arm away from her touch. She looked down at the floor, and Tony could only assume that she was expecting more from him, and now she was embarrassed. "No, thank you. I'm fine." The doors opened to his floor and he stepped out, turning back to her again, "Thanks for your kindness."
She put on a small smile and nodded at him, "Take care."
He stood there long enough to watch the doors close again. He shook his head and ran a hand through his hair as he dug in his pocket for his keys.
He got his door open and stopped immediately in the entranceway.
Something was different. He looked around with his eyes without taking a step. He put his hand on the gun on his side and slowly pulled it out of his holster so that it didn't make a sound.
He rounded the corner of his living room and into the kitchen only to find it empty. Crossing back through the living room, he opened his room door and his heart rate sped up to the point where he thought he was going to faint.
She stood in the corner of his room, her back against his wall with her arms crossed, "I see you have a bigger bed."
He lowered his weapon and held it down by his side. He was staring at her, dumbfounded.
She was in the USA.
She was in DC.
She was in his apartment.
He had to take a big breath before he spoke, "Hi."
She smiled, pushed herself off of the wall and took a few steps toward him, "Hello."
He was still staring at her as he put his gun back into its holster and pulled the entire set off of his belt, "What are you doing here?"
She looked away from his handsome face for a second and then at him, responding with a shrug. "I was in the neighborhood."
He chuckled for several seconds, finally breaking his stare. "I find that hard to believe."
He stepped back into the living room, walking over passed the door and back to the gun box. He put it inside and closed it, stepping over to feed Kate.
She followed him and sat down on his couch as he took off his suit jacket and began to roll up his sleeves. He left the room she was in again and walked into the kitchen. She wondered if he was avoiding her, but he returned a few seconds later with a glass with ice inside of it.
He poured himself a glass of whiskey but offered it to her, knowing she'd decline. He sat on the piano bench across from her, resting his elbows on his knees and swishing the liquid around in his glass.
She waited a while before she spoke, just to see if he would speak first. "How have you been?"
He took a sip and continued to stare at the floor, "Fine."
Ziva took a breath and ran a hand through her hair. There was a weird vibe in the air, and she didn't understand why. He said he understood why she needed to leave NCIS and the United States, so why was he acting this way? She watched him as he finished his drink.
It was so silent when he spoke again that he made her jump. "You uh, never told me why you're here, Ziva."
She stared at him, unsure of how to answer his question. It would be a lie to tell him that she didn't miss him, because she did, but it wasn't just him. She missed everything: her job, her friends and her family. Swallowing the lump in her throat, she spoke softly, "Would you like me to leave?"
Tony was stirring his ice around with his finger, "Do you have a place to stay?"
She swallowed and stood, "No, but I will find something."
Tony stood and walked around the coffee table, blocking her path, "Why are you here?"
He asked her again. She looked up at him, "Does it matter?" His green eyes were sparkling from the dim lamp in his living room, but his expression answered her question via non-verbal communication. She licked her lips, "I wanted to see you." She was admitting it to herself as well as to him.
He closed his mouth and spoke just as soft as she did, "That's the best you could come up with?"
Ziva furrowed her eyebrows and took a step away from him. She understood why he might've been upset with her for leaving the way she did, but now she was here in front of him and didn't think she deserved to be given such the cold elbow, "What is your problem?"
"I don't think it's appropriate for you pretend that you're here for any other reason than to get your job back."
She crossed her arms and stepped backwards again, "That is not why I am here, Tony."
Tony chuckled, "So it's just a coincidence that on the day we have a funeral for one of our team members you show up?"
Ziva's face changed from annoyed to concerned immediately. The cab she got out of at his apartment took her straight from the airport. She hadn't spoken to anyone else, and nobody else even knew she was in the States. Her heart rate sped up to about a million beats a minute at the thought of it being McGee or Gibbs they buried today. "No. Who?"
Tony studied her face and decided that she genuinely didn't know about his dead co-worker, "Bishop."
She looked up at the ceiling as she tried to remember whom Bishop was. "I do not think I knew him."
Tony sat down on the couch behind him. He was too tired to fight with her standing up. "Clearly you didn't, because Bishop was a woman."
She nodded once, stepped over to him and put her soft hand on his shoulder, "I am sorry."
He looked over at her hand. How could this woman, who he hadn't spoken to in nine months, who ignored every phone call, email and post card he sent her, who obviously didn't care if he knew whether she was dead or alive, still had the power to make his hair stand up when she touched him?
He'd never know.
He swallowed and shook his glass with the ice in it again, breaking the silence,
"Thanks." He said softly, and when she moved her hand, he missed the contact. She sat down beside him as he stared at the wall, "It should have been me."
His words stabbed her in the chest like a knife and made her skin prickle. She shook her head quickly, "No, Tony."
He replied with a nod, "Yeah." He stood, walked over to his liquor storage and poured himself another drink. "She had a family. She had a husband and they wanted children. It's not in the cards for me." He sipped on the brown liquid again, "I should've tailed her. I should've stopped her."
Ziva stood and walked over to him again, "You can not sit here and drink yourself into depression."
He put up a stop sign towards her, "You weren't there, David." She furrowed her eyebrows and took a step backwards. Before she could respond, he shook his head and reached for her hand, but her instinct was to pull away from him. "I'm sorry. I'm tired."
Ziva sighed, nodded once and took a couple of steps towards his bedroom. He looked at the floor and by the time he looked back up, she had gotten her bag from his bedroom.
"I should go." She waited for a few seconds to see if he would say anything else, and when he didn't, she walked towards the door and turned the handle slowly.
"Ziva." She stopped with one foot in the hallway and leaned back so that she could see him. "You should go home. "