Here it is. The first chapter of my Tiva story picking up where the season finale left off.
Tony watched a sad, single cube of ice slowly dissolve into his scotch. He swirled the liquid around in the glass to watch the lines of ice melt and swirl with the darker liquor. He'd asked for a single ice cube in his usually 'neat' glass of scotch. He wanted to watch it melt. It was all so cliché, looking into his drink for answers. But hell, right now it was as good a place as any to focus his attention. At least he knew how to hit the bottle, and he knew exactly what to expect when he reached the bottom. What else in his mess of a life right now held those same promises? He breathed out a heavy sigh. He'd been so close to finally getting it right. But somewhere between that night and now it had gone horribly wrong. Maybe he'd fallen down the rabbit hole. Another cliché, he scolded himself. Maybe he hadn't been as close as he thought.? If only it could be explained that easily. But that would take perspective, something he never had.
He caught a hard elbow from Ziva on the stool next to him.
"Owwww." He accused her.
"Abby needs attention," she informed him.
Abby was pacing up and down the solemn line of patrons making up their merry little band tonight. Tony, Ziva, McGee, Abby, Ducky and Palmer, all sat nursing drinks at what used to be their celebratory bar. A place they would go to commemorate the closing of a case.
"I can't believe you guys did that," Abby half muttered and whined as she paced back and forth. "There must have been another way."
A few hours earlier Tony, Ziva, and McGee had turned in their badges. They had resigned from NCIS and taken full responsibility for all the charges that Parsons had brought against Gibbs.
"It's for Gibbs. And it's all going to work out." McGee assured her. "We're not walking away from NCIS." He emphasized.
Ducky chimed in. "I do understand. But I do wish there was another way. This whole business with Parsons is just so unsavory. Are you sure we shouldn't do the same?" he asked referring to Abby, Palmer and himself.
"No Ducky." Tony replied. "It was only necessary for the three of us. We'll be back. We just needed to get Gibbs off the hook."
"Well I think we should stick together." Abby insisted. "I don't want to be there without you guys," she pouted. She was as loyal as a Saint Bernard, and they all loved her for it.
"We need you there." Ziva coaxed to her. "And stop pacing behind me," she snapped. She saw Abby's wounded expression and tried to make up for her outburst. She spun her barstool to face Abby, her tone becoming gentle. "We need people we can trust at NCIS."
"Why can't I know the plan?" Abby argued.
"Because, Abby, it's a secret. And you still hold the reining title as the world's worst liar..." Tony told her bluntly, "…Telling you a secret is akin to telling the entire world."
Truthfully, Tony didn't know if there was a plan. There certainly wasn't one that Gibbs felt the need to share with his team, well, now former team. "JSOC assignment," was his only explanation before he left. Tony knew he should trust Gibbs, and he did. He had no reason not to. Tony did have faith that that Gibbs had a plan, and part of that plan, for now, included keeping them all in the dark. But what if there was no fix for this?
Tony always had faith. Not in some religious sense, but a faith in the basic laws of the world around him. Up was up, down was down, the grass was green and the sky was blue. He wasn't naïve. The world wasn't black and white, and he lived in those shades of grey in between. But he believed wholeheartedly that as sure as the sun set each evening, it would rise again in the morning. And he believed in right and wrong, and that he'd always acted to promote right in the world. But too much shit had gone wrong lately. And he didn't have that faith that he used to. What if this didn't work out in the end? What if there was no fix? What if the sun didn't rise tomorrow? What is good didn't triumph over evil this time?
Earlier that day, Gibbs asked Tony, Ziva, and McGee to meet him in his basement. He told them that he was leaving immediately for a covert JSOC assignment. They all stared blankly back at him waiting for their instructions. Tony was the one to finally break the silence.
"And us?" he asked Gibbs.
"I need all of you to sit still and take some time off." Gibbs told them.
The three former agents exchanged knowing glances indicating that they'd do what they'd always done before; wait until Gibbs turned his back, and then butt right in anyways.
"Nope, not this time." Gibbs knew exactly what they were already planning. "This is different. I am sorry that I can't tell you more right now. I need you all to trust me and stay away until I call." He implored to them.
The fact that he'd apologized to all three of them was enough to tell all of them how serious this was. But Gibbs also made each of them give him their word that they would wait, away from meddling, until he contacted them. And that was it. Gibbs was gone and there wasn't a single thing any of them could do about it. Until they heard from Gibbs and hoped that he managed to save the day, they were all unemployed, sitting on their hands, helpless to do anything about it.
"Who's up for a shot?" Abby asked, defeated.
"More than one." McGee offered.
Shot after shot slid down the throats of the 'former' team.
"Cabs for us all." Ducky declared with drunken vigor.
Tony was still stewing, begging his scotch to offer some sort of relief when Ducky grabbed him around the shoulders on this way to his waiting cab.
"You'd better escort the lady home tonight." He indicated towards Ziva who'd been pounding tequila at twice the pace of the others, and was still going strong.
Tony had been distracted by his thoughts, sliding the shots offered to him down his throat, then staring back into his glass. He cursed his fucking luck if Ziva managed to get herself drunk tonight. He'd be the one carrying her home. That's the last thing he needed right now.
Tony gave the bartender the universal 'cut her off' gesture as the others said their goodbyes and stumbled to their waiting cabs. They left Ziva with Tony. She seemed to always be his responsibility these days, he thought sarcastically.
Tony looked at Ziva and his anger wrenched into pain. She was slumped against the bar. She was Atlas, bearing the weight of the world on her thin shoulders. She was crushed beneath a weight no single person should bear. He desperately wanted her to shrug, and toss that burden aside. He'd gladly lift that globe away and carry it himself, if only that were possible. But just like Atlas she carried a weight that only she could bear: her loss, her guilt, her regrets, her shame, her mistakes, the self-doubt, self-loathing and self-hatred, the what 'ifs' and what 'could have beens', that made up Ziva's burden slowly crushed her.
Ziva always insisted she didn't need anyone, and that she could take care of herself. It killed Tony that she was correct, only for all the wrong reasons. Only she could shrug her burden away, toss it aside and stand up tall, freeing herself from all the shit she carried. Only Ziva could make the decision to let it all go. If only she'd take his hand and let him lead her away.
Tony barely caught her as she slid from the bar stool into him. He caught her by her shoulders and held her against him. If only he could shake hard enough to make her understand. When she looked him in the eye he knew exactly how screwed he was tonight. How many shots had she done? Her eyes were glassy and she wore that vacant stare that scared him. He cursed his luck again that he couldn't just walk away and let someone else pick up these pieces. Somehow he only got the short end of the stick when it came to Ziva.
Ziva turned to the bartender asking for another shot. Luckily, the bartender was good at his job.
"I'm sorry Ziva. We seem to be out of tequila. I'll check in the back." He assured her as he headed away to help another customer.
Ziva sat pouting like a sullen child. Tony took a deep breath and prepared himself for the game ahead.
"Ziva. I have a bottle of Patrón at my place. You interested?" Her eyes lit up as much as her drunken stupor would allow.
"Lead the way," she slurred with a grand gesture towards the door that almost knocked her off her feet.
He paid both their tabs and took the majority of her weight into his arms as he guided her to their waiting cab. He was sure she'd be asleep in seconds when the cab started to move. He'd just drop her home and tuck her into bed.
But when cab started to move she started to softly whimper. "It's all my fault Tony. This is all my fault. Gibbs should have fired me years ago." She could barely hold up her own head and leaned all her weight on Tony. "I should have died when I was supposed to. I messed everything up, again. If I were gone none of this would have happened. I hate myself." Her voice was small and desperate.
He knew it was the tequila talking, but she was just sloshed enough to do something really stupid tonight. Tony paid the driver as he pulled up in front of Ziva's building. He pulled her out of the cab and she pouted as she recognized her own building.
"Tony, there is no tequila here." She was whining like a petulant child.
"It's in my pocket Ziva," he told her. When she smiled in joy at his words he sighed, realizing how drunk she really was. No way he'd be getting any sleep. He'd probably spend the rest of the night taking care of her. He carried her to the door and rooted around in her pockets looking for her keys. His spare set was back in his car sitting in the bar's parking lot.
"Tony," she giggled, "your hands are in my pants." She'd transformed into a giddy drunk.
He rolled his eyes and finally found her keys. He couldn't believe his bad luck at the yellow tape indicating her elevator was out of service. Ziva couldn't even stand up by herself, and he had no patience to deal with her right now. He took another deep breath and threw her over his shoulder. Ziva squealed in giddy delight while Tony muttered obscenities and carried her up the three flights of stairs to her door. Thank god she was so light. Too light. She'd been losing weight since her father was killed. He noticed everything when it came to Ziva, and she was already too thin.
When he finally reached her floor he was panting heavily and Ziva was giggling as she grabbed at the skin under his shirt. Her sadness back in the cab had given way to a horny, giddy Ziva who was grabbing at Tony's body. She was going to owe him so big. He briefly considered whether he could capture some video of her antics with his phone for future blackmail, but quickly stamped that idea out. She was hurting. Ziva never got this drunk. She blamed herself for this whole situation, but he'd never seen her handle it like this. She was usually quiet and secretive. This behavior really worried him. It was so out of character for her.
He opened her door and carried her directly to her bedroom. He laid her gently on the bed.
"Ziva, I'm going to stay here tonight." He was really worried that she'd do something stupid. "I'm going to get you some water. Do you need anything else?"
"Sex." She wrapped her arms around Tony and almost succeeded in pulling him off his feet onto her.
"Not tonight Z," he coaxed her.
"You liked it in Berlin." She teased him drunkenly.
Tony blushed, but he knew she'd never pick on his subtle flush in her state.
"Maybe tomorrow," he lied to her, treating her like a young child. He needed her to drink some water and get some rest.
"I liked it too," she slurred. Her words were coming out slowly and she spoke in uneven intervals.
"Do not be so mad about Adam," Ziva pouted. "It did not mean anything. We used to do that all the time."
She was not improving the situation by continuing to talk. And the hurt in her eyes tore at him. Suddenly, she became quiet and still. Tony turned to retrieve her glass of water from the kitchen.
Her hand shot out and grabbed his wrist. "Please do not leave me."
Tony sat on the bed next to her and the two of them sagged in silence. Ziva leaned her body against Tony's, tilting her head to rest on his shoulder. They sat for a few minutes in silence.
Their thoughtful silence lasted until Ziva transformed back into a horny, drunken schoolgirl. She giggled and reached between Tony's legs and did her best to get his clothing off of him. Tony sighed in frustration. He had to get her undressed and into bed before she passed out.
Tony worked his best to rid Ziva of the items she needed off her body to sleep. She was grabbing at him the entire time. Somehow she managed to undo his belt and was working on the buttons of his pants. Try as he may he couldn't reach around to her back to free her gun with her lying down and grabbing at his clothing. He decided to play along and got on the bed to straddle Ziva, then pulled her on top of him so he could access the gun at her back.
He succeeded in removing her gun from her belt before she leaned forward and pressed her chest into him. When he reached his arms up to her shoulders to guide her back he felt cold steel on his wrist. Faster than he knew what hit him his wrist was cuffed to her headboard. Damn she was quick. Where had she been hiding those handcuffs?
I hope you enjoyed the first chapter. More coming soon...