Title: On the Sands of Israel
Rating: M
Pairing: Tony and Ziva
Warning: Very explicit. Not safe for work or virgin eyes.
Summary: Ziva is missing something, and it is causing her life to come to a halt. She can't move forward, and she knows that it is time for her to get closure.
AN: This story was a request from Kandon Kuuson. I had a great time writing it, and it took a couple (okay, a lot more than just a couple) of unexpected turns throughout. So here is to you, Kandon. I hope that you enjoyed this. [The prompt that was given is located at the bottom].
Also I would like to give special thanks to Kandon for putting up with me, and for betaing this for me. :]
Disclaimer: Don't be so greedy! A dollar's a penny to you!
##
The emptiness in her chest tells her she is missing something. She knows what it is; she just doesn't know how to go about obtaining it. It is something she has never had to do before, and the thought frightens her more than she cares to admit.
She's been restless for days, weeks even, and the tensions in her heart can be read through tired eyes and limp retorts. Her resolve is wavering, and her determination is shifting onto something else entirely. These feelings are completely unwanted and unwarranted, but she can't change them. She has tried, and each time she has not been successful.
She heaves a heavy sigh, and it results in flat wisps of air threading passed pressed lips as she finally makes up her mind. She needs closure; it is the only way she can completely move forward with her life. She is ready to do whatever it takes to obtain it, because she feels hopelessly lost without it.
The bullpen is quiet. The only sounds that are discernable within the stillness of the night are the occasional scratch of a pen on paper, the steady plucking of fingers on a keyboard, and their steady breaths mingling with the surrounding air as they sort through mounds of old paperwork. It is not awkward in the slightest; because she finds an odd sort of comfort in knowing that there are people around her who are always there for her. The silence has allowed her to gather her thoughts, and in that moment it was what she truly needed.
"I need to go back," she states and her eyes are trained on her boss as her spine stiffens with her resolve. His blue eyes are focused on her, and she wonders if she has been putting her thoughts in to words again. She has a slight tendency to do so when she gets lost deep within her mind, but it is only ever when she feels safe.
Gibbs gives her a look of complete understanding, and she is glad she doesn't have to explain herself to him. His uncanny ability to just know things always seems to pay off in the long run. "How long?" his voice is a soft caress upon her aching heart, and his eyes are calculated and penetrating. He is willing to let her do this, she can see that through the dim light on his face, but he is also ready to put stipulations on her departure if need be. She knows that anything he had to say about her departure would be for her own good, but that doesn't stop her from gulping thickly at the thought.
She looks at him head on, determination flitting across her face as she stares him down with strength that doesn't quite touch her bones. She hopes that he can tell that this is what she wants, and it is not someone else's influence that she is causing her to act this way. "A week. Maybe more." She juts out her chin, not in defiance but in confidence, because she knows she is going to come out of this with a stronger mind than what she went in with!
He nods at her in response, and her shoulders sag in relief as if a burden has been lifted off of her shoulders. She is satisfied with his consent, because without it she wouldn't have been able to follow through with her plan. His opinion means more to her than her own fathers, and that has been the case for as far back as she can remember.
She turns back to her desk slowly, easing the papers off of her keyboard as she lines her fingers up to type once again. She's already feeling much better about things; she can't even begin to think what having closure in her life will do for her. A tiny smirk pulls at the edges of her lips, and her shoulders roll heavily as she imagines it. Once again she is happy for that unused comp time that rests validly under her name.
There is a minute of silence that passes by quickly for her, and slowly she is aware of the unwavering eyes that are burning into her skull. Her head lifts little by little, and she isn't the least bit surprised to find Anthony DiNozzo watching her with curious wonder. He has always been eager, and he looks very much the part right now.
"Where are you going?" His words are not harsh in the least bit, but the concern that shines deep within his green eyes tell her he is not going to accept anything short of the truth.
Breath floods from her lungs in a quick whoosh, and she realizes she is far too drained to even think about lying to him. The points of her elbows slip onto the desk, causing her back to arch as she perches herself in a position that makes her feel ready for anything he may throw at her. Her lips tighten as she mulls over her options, and she finds herself surprised that the truth springs forth so freely – he didn't even need to beg this time. "Israel." It's a word that had at one point warmed her, but now it tastes like ice upon her tongue as it wrenches from her throat. This is why she needs to go back; the terror that seizes her whenever she thinks about everything that Israel represents to her is not something that she can live with.
She finds that she is caught in his stare. His eyes are like liquid pools of emeralds, and she is absorbed within them upon first glance. It is obvious he does not want her to go, the furrow of his brow is prominent against the skin of his forehead, but he won't stop her. She is sure that he can see that within her own gaze, and she can only hope that he doesn't try. The inevitable fight that it would cause is not something she wants to deal with right now.
He is reading her, checking her intentions and monitoring her goals; his ever-inquisitive gaze drilling gaping holes into her defense system as it moves over her form. Her skin prickles at the sensation, but she tamps down her feelings with a firm grasp as she stares back at him with determination. When he truly looks at her this way she knows that he can see everything that she hasn't bothered to hide, she doesn't mind all that much.
"I am coming with you." His voice is soft, and the silence rains harder around them after his admission.
The words feel like a physical blow to her chest, and the impact nearly leaves her gasping for breath but like always she is able to hide her surprise. It feels like all of the air has been ripped from her lungs, and her heart is being clutched so tightly that each beat seems painful. This feeling that he has evoked inside of her is so uncomfortably foreign that her head is swimming and she can't seem find her voice in order to come up with a proper response. Her mind screams 'no', but somewhere on the path from her brain to her lips the word has been lost, so instead she gapes at him like he isn't making any sense.
"Alright, DiNozzo will go with you." Gibbs' eyes are full of approval, and Ziva opens her mouth to deny it, but she can't get the words out. "That's an order." It sounds very much like all of the other orders he has issued her, and her lips clamp shut as she fights against her baser instincts.
She knows that the only reason he is agreeing to this is because he is worried about her. She wonders why she seems to be the only one sees the major flaw in this plan. It is not a good idea, and her palms sweat as she tries to get the words to come out of her mouth.
It doesn't work, and for the remainder of the night no one speaks. Suddenly she feels that this whole 'closure' thing is a very very bad idea. With Tony there she will not accomplish what she wants. He will only get in the way, and she will feel the need to protect him around every turn because Israel and America are polar opposites. She wonders why he doesn't understand this; she wonders why he is even bothering.
The thoughts make her testy, and her spine is stiff and her shoulders taut as the night passes by in a blur. Her joints are riddled with pain as she heads home for the night, and she regrets that her shocked weakness caused her to bite back her tongue.
The idea of spending one week alone with Tony scares her, but she chooses not to think about why.
##
The airport is crowded even though it is early on a Monday morning. People are pushing against one another as they attempt to make it to their destination. Bags are kicked and dropped as impatience flares to insurmountable heights. She takes it all in with hawk-like eyes, and she ignores the fact that she her people-watching tendencies is nothing more than identifying possible threats from days gone by.
She turns to look at Tony, and he is lounging against the black cushioned benches as though they are the most comfortable chairs he as ever sat upon. His feet are propped up at an angle, and his coat is gaping open from his shoulders because he loosened it when the airport heat began to stifle him. She doesn't tell him that he that his black slacks are going to cling to him as soon as the step off the airplane in Tel Aviv, or that his lungs will burn with a heat so intense that it will cause his eyes to water. He has been there before, and she is still a little peeved at him for coming so her mouth stays shut.
"You do not have to do this, Tony." The words fall unbidden from her lips, and it is the first time she has allowed the words to taste the crispness of the air. She doesn't think to tell him that she can do this on her own; she thinks he probably already knows.
She doesn't look away from him because she wants him to know that she is serious, even if her words have finally made their appearance at the worst possible moment. Here they are at the airport, sitting at their gate waiting to be boarded, and her lips decide that now would be the perfect moment to squeeze out the words she had wanted to say since he first made his suggestion. She knows her hope is futile, but she still tries to change his mind nonetheless.
He waves her words off with a careless roll of his eyes, and the fact that he doesn't even bother to spare her a glance ticks her off more than she would like to admit. She had been expecting a bit more lively of a response, but he hadn't even bothered to look up from his cell phone. "I've got plenty of comp time to use up." He shrugs his shoulders lazily, and a slight smile pulls at his lips as he fiddles with the buttons on his phone some more.
His response infuriates her because that isn't what she is talking about and he knows it, and she really just wants him to look at her. He spares her the quickest of glances, and she is able to read his thoughts within those emerald green orbs. I'm not going anywhere David, they tell her. I'm watching your six whether you like it. Face it you're stuck with me for the long haul. She grits her teeth against her better judgment, and when his eyes flash back to his phone she sees the self satisfied grin that climbs on his face.
Her fingers tighten, and she fights against her boiling anger. I will not cause a scene, the words float through her mind like a mantra, and she is having a really hard time listening to them. "That is not what I-" he cuts her off, and to say that she is unhappy is a severe understatement.
"Ziva, I am going with you!" his tone holds finality, and she bites her lip against arguing against him – or striking him. Now is definitely not the time for such a thing. "Besides, I would much rather put up with your Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde impersonations than face Gibbs for disobeying a direct order." His face turns sour at the thought, and she knows all too well about the need to follow orders. After all, they have had this conversation before in the elevator, and that did not end well. She would hate to have a repeat. He doesn't look up at her again, and her anger falls on the object that holds his attention so raptly. What could he possibly be doing that is holding his attention so securely?
Anger coils in her belly, sitting hard against the pit of her stomach as she sucks in ragged breaths. She realizes that she might just cause a scene after all.
"Flight A-15 to Tel Aviv is now boarding." The static of the over head page rings in her ears, and she grits her teeth as she hauls her duffle bag on her shoulders. She makes sure to keep her fingers wrapped inside the strap so she doesn't strangle him before they actually arrive in Tel Aviv.
She watches as he snaps his phone closed, and she catches a quick glimpse of multicolored blocks falling from the sky. She hopes that Tony feels lucky right now, because he was just saved from what would have been a rather embarrassing injury.
##
The flight is much longer than she remembers it being. Even when she had been crammed in between boarded boxes of cargo and surrounded by the musk smell of dead rats and too much sweat it hadn't been this long. In fact she finds that she is missing all of those things, because her muscles are telling her it is time to start moving.
She chalks up the extended time frame to Tony. His voice seems to caress her ears every time she is on the cusps of unconsciousness, and her skin tightens deliciously when she realizes his baritone of a voice is entirely too welcome in her mind. Or it might possibly be due to the fact that each minute that passes brings her that much closer to the people she would rather not have to face.
She is relieved when the plane jerks signaling its landing, and her bated breath spills out of her as her eyes greedily rake over the dry hills the rectangular window is granting her. She thought she would never see them again, and their beauty nearly overwhelms her. Her chest tightens painfully, and she looks away before her eyes can start to cloud over.
She can feel Tony's presence right behind her, and she wars with herself for a moment before she decides that leaning back into him is probably not in her best interests. Her resolve hardens her mind, and she sits up a bit straighter to fight the onslaught of emotions that are raging inside of her.
"Hey, just relax." His warm breath laves against the back of her neck, and she is embarrassed to admit how much it comforts her. Her eyes drift shut and she has a moment of weakness that causes her to lean more toward his body before she snaps herself out of it. She does not plan on giving in to the feelings he causes inside of her. Ever, if that is possible. "You're making me nervous." He jokes, and the phrase is so familiar that she is instantly comforted.
His words seem to have the desired effect because her mind eases from within herself and a genuine smile actually pulls at her lips. For the first time since he suggested it, she is really glad that he came with her. She couldn't do this without him, and for the first time she actually knows it.
##
There is one thing she hates above all else, and that is talking to her father. She absolutely abhors it. He causes her to lose control of herself on a good day, and on a bad day it takes her every last shred of decency to not snap his neck. Today happens to be one of those very bad days.
"Why are you here?" He questions as soon as she steps fully into the room, and she can't believe that he decides that those are the most fitting words that he can think up after his visit to America. The conversation they shared at her desk a few months back comes to her mind briefly, and she can only wonder if he remembers it at all. It wouldn't seem like he does.
She glares at him fiercely, crossing her arms over her chest tightly in that 'I-do-not-really-care' defensive stance that she mastered some time ago. "Closure," she breathes out in a hard voice, and her arms tighten around herself as she stares down at him. The words had came out before she could stop them, and she wonders when she had begun to lose control of her actions for it seems to be happening an awful lot lately. She would like to blame him, but she knows a lie when she hears one. Never had she planned to tell him of the real motivation inspiring her visit, but she does not regret the fact that he now knows. The feeling currently pumping through her must be what closure feels like.
"You aren't going to find that here." He sits there with that smugly superior look on his face, and all she can do is stare at him. His finger tips are pressing together lightly, and she can't see his eyes behind his glasses due to the glare from the bright lights of his office and the light filtering in through the cracked window, but this is exactly how she remembers him. He is and always will be the hard ass Mossad Director that can and will do anything to protect the integrity of his agency, if not his nation. He is not the apologetic father she had been granted a brief glimpse of while he was in America. Her chest unfurls drastically, and she thinks that this may have been what she was looking for all along. To be able to see that he truly was the same man that she had always thought that he was.
"You cannot know that for sure, Aba," she informs him, and she hopes that he takes her words for what they truly mean, that there is no way that he can fully know her. He has no idea of who she has become, and he has no care to know. It is in this moment, staring at the silhouette of the man that she always stood behind, that she realizes he may have never really known who she was.
"I know more than you think, Bat." He spits out, and his forceful words make her wonder if he is planning something. She wouldn't put it passed him.
"As do I." She concedes, because she knows how to tear him down. She hopes that he doesn't make her resort to that.
His office door rattles as she storms out slamming it behind her, and she feels a small sense of satisfaction as the secretary outside looks at her fearfully. When it comes down to threats she does not take them lightly, her father knows that much.
##
She storms into her old apartment without even thinking. Her breath is flowing out of her tumultuous heaves, and she wants to start a fight to release the budding tension in her veins.
"Watch your six," she states as soon as she glimpses Tony, and he doesn't even flinch as the door slams behind her. Her bag is tossed into the corner without a second glance, and she heads straight for the recliner without stopping. The cushions give way to her weight, allowing her to sink fully against it out of habit.
"That is your job, Zee-vah." Tony coo's good naturedly, and Ziva feels as he comes to rest on the armrest of her chair easily. It seems so natural to have him sit so close that she doesn't even think about leaning away. "And you do it very well," he compliments, and she turns to look at him quickly. The glare is set into her features before she sees his smirking expression, and it only deepens with her annoyance. How he can be so happy when she is so pissed off is anyone's guess, but it allows her mind to move to something other than her father. "From that icy glare you're giving me, I take it that your chat with Papa David did not go smoothly."
She cranes her neck to the left, feeling the sweet pull of her muscles straining and easing as she moves. "Your investigative prowess never fails to astound me," she simpers, and she snorts indelicately at his look. Her muscles are taut with fury, and she could really use a nice long run right about now.
She doesn't need to look at him again to know that he is waggling his eyebrows as he grins that intoxicating smile of his; she can practically feel the shift in temperature as he lines himself up to make the dig. She waits for it, and she is not disappointed when he swoops in for the kill – she knows him so well. "I have another prowess that will astound you."
His words cause her body to flare with heat, and she is not entirely sure if it is from his innuendo, or the fact that he has successfully taken her mind off of her father's ideal threat. Either way she is grateful for his presence yet again, but she can't bring herself to tell him. The thought scares her, and the fact that his reaction could be anything makes her keep her lips shut.
"Just watch your back when I am not around, Tony," she sighs, and she feels his hand settle on her shoulder with grounding reassurance.
"I will watch yours too Ziva," he promises and the comment causes her to turn and face him. Brown clashes against green, and her heart stutters.
##
The sound of footfalls echoes around the hardened cement, and the dust that is kicked up by their footsteps make her eyes water. The dry climate is something she has always been used to, but now she feels the need to acclimate to it yet again as her pores seep with sweat.
"Tell me again why I need to accompany you on these 'rounds'?" Tony is walking beside her, and her shoulder occasionally bumps his bicep due to their close proximity; she makes no move to step away. A picture of her hand clamped firmly over his mouth springs to the front of her mind, and she wonders if there is another way for her to get him to shut up.
"Stop making this sound so clinical, you big baby." Her words are clipped, and hold little more than a threat because if he asks her one more time she will not be held accountable for her actions. Nerves bubble behind the annoyance she feels for her partner, and she focuses on the latter emotion because the former one scares her. "And do not forget that you volunteered yourself, Tony."
"That was before I knew it would be so boring!" He doesn't see it coming, and she prides herself in this as her fist makes contact with his shoulder. The air rushes out of him in a straining hiss, and she bites back her smug smile as his hand comes up to grasp his abused appendage. "Damnit Ziva! That hurts!"
The Israeli sun kisses her cheeks as she tilts her head skyward, and a grin spreads across her lips when the silence settles around them. The punch turned out to be that much needed physical release of stress that her body was craving, but she still had more bottled up. She finds that she doesn't need to respond to him, because she is relishing the unrelenting heat that she had once been accustomed to. It's not the same as she remembers, but then again she is not the same person she had been.
Her movement is sudden as she veers off the path with a sharp left, she doesn't bother to check if Tony is still behind her because he has always possessed the ability to keep up. He can be very quick when he needs to be. Her knock is quick and precise, and it shows nothing of the jumbled nerves that swirl inside of her.
The woman that answers the door is everything she remembers her to be and more. Her dark brown hair is streaked with frayed edges of gray, and it is pulled back into a tight bun that tells the world she means business. Her dark eyes are riddled with worry, and it shows in the thick lines of stress that are found near the corners of her eyes and mouth. Her tan skin looks healthy enough, glowing through the many layers of age that her body possesses. This is who Ziva had been missing, the one person that Ziva had always been able to call family.
"Shalom Doda," there is a thickness to her voice that contains the emotions she will not let through, and it is Tony's solid presence behind her that gives her the strength that she needs to stop her from breaking down.
There is a pause, and she can feel eyes roaming her face as though trying to figure out if she is truly there. The pause is her undoing, and her gaze falters away from her doda and towards the ground. "Ziva?" The voice she hears is raspy, and Ziva's head snaps up to see the woman's eyes crinkle with recognition and love. The woman's whole face brightens, and a jubilant laugh spills past her lips as she clutches frantically at the gold pendant that dangles limply from her neck. She releases a silent prayer before taking Ziva's hand.
Tears form in her Doda's eyes, and Ziva feels overwhelmed by it. "Ken," she reassures unnecessarily, and her head starts to swim as she offers a shaky smile.
She gestures for Tony to come up on the same step that she stands on, and she switches over to English without even realizing it. "Tony this is my aunt, Nettie." A kind smile pulls at her lips, lightening her eyes as she looks at Tony. She feels oddly at ease in this moment, surrounded by two people who have never judged her. "Aunt Nettie, this is my partner, Anthony DiNozzo."
The air is stained with a silence that is just shy of awkward. Ziva shifts uncomfortably, hovering on the balls of her feet as apprehension bubbles just below the surface. "He is your husband, yes?" The thick accent snaps Ziva out of her thoughts, and she realizes that maybe she should have thought to call first.
She is shocked into stillness, it is the only explanation she can come up with as to why her limbs are rooted to the spot and her entire body feels void of motions. The sound of Tony's nervous laughter bounces off of her eardrum but she can't be certain that she didn't just imagine it. She wishes to elbow him in the ribs, and turn to her aunt to let her know how wrong she is, but she can't do anything but stare with wonder. This entire time her aunt had thought her to be married, she can't wrap her mind around it. She isn't given a chance to do anything because her aunt is herding them into her home like it is time for a celebration.
The living room is sparsely decorated, but the welcoming feel it gives off is no less soothing. It does nothing to stop Ziva's shoulders from tensing as she forces out a brittle smile as Nettie leaves the room with promises to get the tea started so they can properly catch up. Ziva is sure that this is a hell of her own creation, because the idea of breaking her aunt's heart after just being reunited is devastating. She doesn't think that she can bring herself to do it.
Tony must notice her wariness because his hand comes to rest just above her knee, and he gives it a gentle squeeze as he smiles down at her softly. "It'll be fine," he promises her, and she can't help but to tense up that much further because what does he know.
"This is entirely your fault," she whispers harshly, and her voice strains and cracks as it raises an octave. She wants to yell right now, but she knows that that is not an option.
"My fault?" He is surprised by her accusation, but he does nothing to retract his grip from her leg, she wishes that he would.
"Yes!" Her voice has gone deadly, and her eyes are forming thin little slits of pure malice as she glares at him with everything that she possesses. "You told her that we were married."
The words bubble like acid on her tongue as she recalls her aunt's last words to her before she had entered Mossad: "find a loving man who will make you happy, Ziva. Promise me this." Her aunt is going to be crushed when she realizes that Ziva isn't truly married, let alone in a committed relationship.
"That happened years ago!" He defends, and then his eyes narrow and she knows he has picked up something she missed. "I would have thought you would have dealt with it by now, but it would appear that obviously didn't." He clicks his tongue, and tosses her a smile. "So this is all your fault. You didn't tell her the truth." He responds, and it's like a physical slap in her face because he is right. She didn't even try to set Nettie straight, and she had plenty of opportunities to do so over the years.
Nettie comes in with a tray of tea, and some crisp cookies, and suddenly Ziva's throat feels far too dry. Her tongue swipes against parched lips as she mentally prepares herself to break the truth to the only living family member that cares for her.
"Doda, I-"she is cut off before she can properly form her thoughts into statements, and she bites her tongue harshly to quell her emotions.
"You must tell me everything." Nettie gushes and her joy is streaming out of her heavily. Her eyes are so lovingly hopeful, that Ziva can't bring herself to shatter it. It is up to Tony to tell the truth, because if there is one person she can't disappoint it is her Aunt Nettie.
"We met at work." Tony's voice rumbles in her ear, and she can't help the shudder that slithers up her spine as a result. "I knew she was the one for me from the very first words that she spoke." He is smiling that charming smile that makes the ladies swoon, and Ziva is appalled to find that it is having the same affect on her aunt.
The elder woman is completely enraptured, but there is no way for Ziva to see that because she is far too busy staring at Tony with something akin to astonishment, mixed with a large amount of incredulity. He is lying for her, and it is strangely touching. "What did my little Ziva say?"
Tony casts a look in her direction that is nothing but embers of smoldering desire and it causes Ziva's blood to thicken and heat within her veins. She wonders what he will tell her Aunt, because from the looks of things it is going to be good. "She asked me if I was having phone sex," he chuckles, and the sound sets her hair standing on end. It was the first thing she asked him, but his retelling of the story makes her feel like there was far more chemistry between the two of them than there really was. She is beginning to believe his lies, especially when he wraps his arm around her shoulder and leans against her.
"You did no such thing!" Nettie gasps, and her voice is appalled in a way only someone who has seen many things can be. Ziva's head bobbles her affirmation, but she can't bring herself to look away from this gorgeous green eyed man who is morphing before her eyes. "Well, were you?" Nettie questions Tony, but Ziva is too lost in the feel of him to pay attention.
Tony chuckles again, and the vibrations travel through Ziva's chest as he shakes against her. "Not really, no. It was a little bit embarrassing, actually. Well for me anyway."
She thinks that he looks a lot happier than she has seen him in a long time, and she can't help but to smile in response. Even though the lie is desperately tugging against the chords of her heart, she knows that she won't be able to tell the truth. Her aunt can live in this false world, it won't hurt anyone to pretend that Ziva's life turned out just a bit different.
A voice in the back of her mind wishes that this lie that is so easily springing forth is how her life could have been, maybe even how it should have been. She knows the truth.
##
"You really did not have to do that Tony, but thank you." This is the second time she has taken it upon herself to question his integrity, but she can't help but to appreciate everything he has ever done for her. Her aunt has left for the washroom, but not before claiming her body isn't what it used to be as she awkwardly scrambled out of the living quarters. Ziva had taken this as her opportunity to make amends with Tony, because he only ever wanted to help.
Just as Tony's lips part to form a response Nettie comes bumbling in, clapping her hands loudly as she perches herself on the creaky rocking chair once more. Tony sees the look shared between the two women, and he stands hastily before he can get roped into girl talk. He knows how long it has been since their last face to face meeting, and he can feel their need for some privately shared words. "I am going to hit the head," he announces, and he doesn't even think twice about leaning down and placing a quick kiss upon Ziva's cheek. He leaves before he can see her reaction, and he is frightened by how easy it was for him to fall into that motion. The feel of her silky skin lingers on his lips, and he finds himself distracted by thoughts of her taste.
Ziva sits stunned after his departure, her cheek flames under the wet imprint that sits on her flesh, and her heart is hammering fiercely against her ribs. She has to count to ten before she can perform logical thought again, and she finds it is shattered easily by thoughts of Tony entering her mind.
"He really does love you, doesn't he?" Nettie sighs in that longing sort of way that makes Ziva's heart reach out to her.
It is only when her aunt's words fully register in her mind that her eyes snap towards the mother figure in her life, and her eyes are wide with wonder. She really wants to deny the words hanging in the air, if only to give herself some peace of mind, but that would go against the whole lie that had been carefully crafted. So she plays into the fantasy the way she has been all day, and she is once again surprised at how easy the words are coming to her. "Only as much as I love him." It's a soft murmur that brushes the air, and the sweetness of her statement would make Ziva cringe if she was in anyone else's presence.
Nettie smiles and Ziva is taken back to the days of her childhood before she knew what violence was. The days when she would do anything to please this woman who sits in front of her. It is just like those times, except for she isn't picking wild flowers along the edge of town, or cooking latkas at the stove – instead she is lying, and it is having the exact same effect. "Do not let him go, dear Ziva." The elderly woman nods sagely in her direction, and Ziva's hurt twists as she realizes that he was never truly hers in the first place. She thinks this lie might be hurting her more than anything.
"Al tedagi, Doda." She promises with such strong conviction that it doesn't scare her when she finds that she means every single word. If she had him she wouldn't let him go, of that she is certain.
"You always were such a smart girl. Try not to worry about your Aba, dear. He just talks big." Nettie smiles at her and the words are the soothing balm to Ziva's mind. She didn't even need to mention her father and her aunt knew that he had done something.
It is in that moment with her aunt's reassurance's wrapped around her that the lie evaporates around her, shattering into nothing but tiny flecks of sincerity.
##
The sand feels hot beneath her toes, scorching her bare feet with an intensity that she has grown used to. She missed this feeling, the dry breeze softly blowing her hair, and the salty scent of the sea invading her nostrils.
This place is her homeland, her place of origin, and the place that will always house her childhood; but she knows that it is time to say goodbye. Her memories of this world have become tarnished with shades of red, black, and blue; and she can do nothing to hold onto the innocence that was stolen from her. While she knows that she will miss this place, she can't help but to think that her new life has offered so much more.
The air around them is sweet with tangy hints of absolution, and the sun starches their feelings into a neutral sort of wonder. It clings to her tongue, scenting her palate with a fine mist of hope that she wants to hold onto. She feels good about everything in this moment, even though nothing had really turned out as she had hoped. Her father's harsh reality is nothing more than a blip on her radar now, and deep deep down she feels he would never purposefully do her harm – though sometimes she has her doubts.
"Do you think she will forgive me?" Ziva questions and her words are so sudden that they nearly pop off her tongue. There is a part of her that feels she has already been forgiven, but that could just be wishful thinking on her part.
Tony's shoulders shrug with indifference, and she can feel the air move with his motions. "What's there to forgive?" he asks, and he is so genuine with his statement that she is unsure whether or not they are in the same place, feeling the same feelings.
"We lied," she insists and her accent seems heavier in this moment – perhaps Tony had been right about the whole reverting thing. She sucks her lip in between her teeth as she remembers how easily the blatant ruse came forth, it scares her. "To my aunt Nettie!" She throws in, because somehow this fact makes the lie carry more weight.
She doesn't really regret the lie, because it made her feel a numb sort of tingle that spread outwards from her spine, but that doesn't mean she can condone it. Nettie is and was the only family member to hold her together when pieces began to slip from her grasp, and she wants Tony to feel at least a little bit apologetic over the fact that this lie might just damage that familial relationship.
"I guess." He shrugs again, but this time it feels a bit helpless as she stops walking completely to take in his broad set shoulders. His stiff back makes her realize that if he doesn't give her the sad puppy dog eyes that he seems so adept at in the next fifteen or so seconds then she is going to make the flight home hell for him – and not even in the enjoyable sense. "I didn't really lie," he says softly, and he is staring at her with that same look he had been giving her the entire time they had sat on her Doda's couch, "I guess, I wanted her to be happy for you."
She finds that she can't look away from him. His white shirt contrasts nicely against his tanning skin, and his black shorts hang deliciously low on his hips. Why it took her so long to notice these details is out of her grasp, but that does not stop her throat from tightening as attraction shoots through her every nerve ending. She gulps down the slick bead of want that has built up in her throat as she ponders his statement. Something clicks in her brain, and her eyebrows seem to hit her hairline as she stares him down. "You told her that you are constantly thinking about me," her tone is nothing short of incredulous, but she is trying to understand him.
He stands there, not doing anything except look at her intensely, and she can easily read the answer in his eyes. She wonders why that doesn't scare her as much as it should. She wonders why she likes the feelings that are pumping through her veins. "You said that I was the only woman for you." She is pushing him now, trying to get him to back down from claiming these heartfelt statements as words of truth. He doesn't even flinch, just stands there and stares. It's making her uneasy.
A slow grin peels across his face. His lips parting to show pearly white teeth which sit straight in his gums. His eyes hold a feral shade of green, and she doesn't know what is happening, but her stomach is slowly beginning to burn. "And I meant it." He is shrugging again, and it is so carelessly infuriating that anger rides in, overwhelming any pleasure that she may have just been basking in. Only he could cause her to go from two extremes in such a short amount of time.
"You told my aunt that you proposed to me outside of the MET. I did not even know that you knew what the MET was!" She figures he was going for shock value, well he certainly shocked her.
"Actually that's a nightclub in DC," he corrects, holding back a laugh as he watches her fume. He is smirking at her still, and his eyes hold an amused light and she just knows the words he is going to say before they even fall out of his mouth. "What! I took a stab in the dark. I did good though, right? What about how I told her that the reason we weren't wearing our wedding bands was because they weren't nearly big enough to showcase our love for one another, so I had to send them back?" He sounds so proud of himself that she doesn't even try to hide her derisive snort of laughter – he is not getting the whole point of why she is worrying over this, in fact he only seems to be making the whole thing worse.
"Look at you!" She accuses, and her voice is a bit louder than she intended it to be because it seems to echo off the expanse of open space around them. Her feet are buried deep into the sand by now, but she doesn't even notice. "You are smug over a little lie."
She is astounded by his audacity, but she doesn't back down when he swiftly advances into her personal space. She has done this exact thing many times to him, and she does not plan to show that he can affect her just as easily. "Admit it," he urges, and his breath slides against her neck in a gentle caress. She feels his fingertips ghost smoothly against her hip. She tightens her thighs in response, willingly away the desire that is rising in her body because she can't let him know how much control he holds over her. They have played this game many times before, and she refuses to be the first to give in. "You liked playing it out as much as me. It's just like last time, except now you really want to know if that was my knee against you." His words are so dark that she shivers; she hopes that he doesn't notice but she can feel the smile his lips curl into as if she was staring right at it.
She really tries her best to ignore him, to push his advances away with a dismissive air, but she stands rooted to the spot he has her in, absorbing the way his breath flits over her skin, and the way his words soak into her body. "Did you imagine it?" She doesn't know what he is talking about, but the thick kiss he presses against the nape of her neck has her knees buckling as she nearly melts against him. "Did you picture us on our honeymoon?" He sounds as breathless as she feels, and the puffs of air that catch on her skin has her breasts swelling with luscious waves of desire that cascade through her body in torrents. She can't remember what they were talking about now, because all her concentration has gone to making sure that she is not the first one to give into this.
"You can see it right?" he prods again, and he is behind her now though she doesn't even know when he moved. She is not sure if it is the heat of the sun that is making her act this way, or if it is the sinful promise his body seems to be exuding. Either way she finds herself leaning back against him as her control wavers. If he will just take away the painful ache that has developed inside of her she will give him everything she has to offer. "I haven't been able to stop imagining it since you first undressed me with your eyes." It's an admission that causes her body and her temperature to soar.
His hand slides under her shirt, circling her navel with a devious thumb as his long fingers dip beneath the waistband of her pants. His touch seems to sear straight through her skin, and the pressure he is putting forth is not nearly enough. "Our body's covered in sweat. Our limbs tangled intimately together, as we moan out our pleasure for the world to hear." His thumb has stopped its movements because his fingers are crawling further beneath the fabric of her pants. "God Ziva," he groans, and he buries his face into her hair as he expels a shuddering breath. "I can't help but to picture us together." It's his words that cause her to lean fully against him, sinking into his welcoming embrace as his arms wrap a bit firmer around her.
Her own arm comes up to press against his hands as her hips pitch forward, seeking the errant friction his words created for her. "I can see it, Tony," she purrs, but the substantial undertones her voice has developed make it seem more like a desperate plea than a statement. She needs more than what he is giving her, but her words seem to fail her when she opens her mouth to ask because nothing more than a soft squeak comes forth.
"Good." His words are warm, like his body and his breath and she wants him to understand that he is torturing her right now. He suckles at the patch of skin that rests over the junction of her neck, and she is vaguely aware that there is no one else on this beach with them. He seems to hone in on this fact at the same moment, because the air around them pulses with renewed vigor. "Now I want you to feel it." His hand delves as deeply into her pants as his wrist will allow before his words are completely formed.
A stifled moan rips passed her pursed lips, as his fingers roll expertly over her engorged clit. Her neck arches, granting him further access as she hooks one leg around the back of his knees. It's a precarious position that has her balancing all of her weight on one leg, but it opens her up for his questing fingers, which is all that matters in this moment.
It seems that he is not expecting her movement, because his knees buckle the slightest bit causing her to fall against him even further. With that one simple move he has become her support system, and he can feel every sharp inhale that she takes as he traces his fingers over her swollen nether lips. She coats his fingers with her lust, and he greedily pushes them inside of her when her breath stutters out of her in the form of tattered cries.
"Tony!" It's a plea that falls out of gritted teeth as she bucks against him. She can feel his erection settle against the small of her back like a hot iron. She relishes the feel of it, but she wants to feel his skin burn into her, and she whimpers when he withdraws his spread digits.
Her inner walls stretch tight from disuse, and she feels every one the tremors that ripple out of her like a rock on the water. "More," she demands, and her keening breath comes up short as he withdraws away from her completely. The heat of the sun does nothing to fill the vacancy that has been left by his body. She wants to feel him pressed up against her, and the fact that he is not giving her this is driving her insane.
She is a strong woman that is aware of her wants and needs, and she prides herself on doing everything she can to accomplish them. This is why she wastes absolutely no time in stepping towards him carefully lining her body against his. It is only a matter of seconds before his shirt is fluttering slowly down to the white sands that lay beneath them, and she feels confident in the fact that she can still get him to look awed over her actions.
Her hands are on his chest, slipping over heat glistened muscles with a sure intent that lights a fire inside of her. She moans out her appreciation at the feel of his abs tightening against her teasing ministrations. She knows that there will be no turning back now, because she has had her taste of him, and now she needs to have her fill.
Her lips crash against his as she goes to work on his shorts. The material slips over his hips as their tongues tangle together intimately, it is a feeling that she will not soon forget.
The need for air burns against her chest, clawing its way out as her lungs starve for that fresh gulp of oxygen she is reluctant to give - because if it means parting from his plump lips, she is certain that suffocating is the better option.
She only allows herself to part from him when her head begins to spin, and she heaves in a lungful of air as he rips her own shirt from her body. The action loosens the knot in her hair causing it to pour down around her shoulders like the first rainfalls of spring.
Her mouth feels swollen and bruised, abused to the point that swollen red welts catch on the inside as jagged teeth nip at soft flesh. None of this bothers her, it only serves to fuel the passion running through her veins as her fingers continue to touch every inch of his body that she has access to.
His impatience to have her naked makes all of her muscles throb pleasantly and she is so far beyond that point of arousal that her wet cavern is tight with unyielding temptation. She needs him inside of her, and she is not just being dramatic when she tells him she will kill him if he does not fulfill her request within the next thirty seconds.
He doesn't need to be told twice, because he seems just as eager as her. With agility she does not often see in him he lays her out on their discarded clothes. The tenderness of his actions only serves to mount her tensions higher. She finds that she wants him to be on top, because she feels that she is offering him much more than her body and she wants him to take it.
"Please, hurry," she begs, and her speech is somewhat slurred by the incoherent mass of need jumbling her thoughts.
Her body turns to absolute mush as he eases himself inside of her, and she does nothing to stop her loud pleas for more. His body seems to fit perfectly against her own, and she wants to feel as much of him as he can give her.
He is all too happy to oblige with her request and his hips surge forward at such a harsh pace that it causes a heady moan to tear passed her defenses.
The sand is moving beneath the force of their thrusts, and she curls herself around him tighter as she sinks deeper into the sand. He grunts out his satisfaction with deep resonance, and she places greedy kisses against his elongated neck.
A part of her had always assumed that Tony was a sex-talker. Every time she had envisioned the two of them partaking in a game of the horizontal tango he had been very forthcoming about the pleasure he was receiving. The only sounds that are escaping him now are purely guttural with his ecstasy. When she looks into his eyes she sees the words shining inside that he cannot voice at this moment because he is far too lost in them to do anything but go with the flow.
She is not lost to his plight, because she too is overwhelmed with the animalistic nature that the passion has ensued in them. Nothing more than fractured syllables of his name fall from her throat as he pounds away inside of her, and she wouldn't want it any other way.
The slap of naked skin is taken over by the gentle lapping waves of the sea, but her fingers pull at his skin because she is almost there and he needs to come tht much closer to her. Her body is unnaturally hot, and she knows that he is the only thing that can cool her down.
A suppressed whimper pulls at her throat sounding suspiciously like his name, and the sound seems to echo his mindset as he pushes against her roughly. He desperately tugs her thigh higher against his side, and she is so close to losing it that her calculated thrusts have become little more than frantic thrashing that has him delving deeper inside of her, taking her with sharper jagged angles that have her pressing her face against his shoulder as she tries to stifle her moans. Even though they may be alone on this beach now, she knows it won't stay that long if she allows herself to be as vocal as she wants.
He bumps something inside of her, and it causes her vision to burst into blindingly white spears wrought with euphoric gold, and she is crying out his name to anyone willing to listen. All thoughts of staying quiet gone the minute she is pushed over the edge.
She tightens like a vice around him, and she can't stop the mewling that is swelling within her throat. Her muscles pleasantly sing to her as blunt teeth rake a searing line down a corded neck.
Not once does he stop moving against her, and her renewed tightness only seems to slow his pace for half of a second before he is back to his ruthless pounding that has her building up faster than she can say "do not stop Tony", which she attempts repeatedly.
Her second orgasm burns through her slowly, fanning out from the point of their joining until it reaches the tips of her fingers and toes. His name is lost in the sound of her completion, and he follows her blindly over the edge, groaning her name savagely as he sags against her.
She hugs him to her body with weak arms as the struggle to control their breathing. It takes some time, but hot air soon fills their lungs as the both press sated smiles against sweaty skin.
"That was …" Ziva trails off, because no word is adequate enough to describe the frantic coupling that just took place on the white sands of Israel. A pleasant sigh slips past her parched lips as he rolls her on top of him, and she settles her weight against him as she lounges across his chest. Sand clings to her hair and legs, and she is grateful for his shirt which protected her against the tiny granules of lustrous white sand. Her fingers twine within his fur-like chest hair that she has always found attractive, and she allows herself to enjoy the slow spreading aches that are making itself known throughout her body.
"That was way hotter than McPervert's book, that's for sure." Tony sounds smug, and she wonders how she didn't make the connection before.
She doesn't really know how she feels about McGee all but prophesying this moment, and then selling it for millions to see. But one thing she is certain about: if this is what closure tastes like, then she is going to need a whole lot more of it.
"Hey." She gets lost in her thoughts and the comfort he is unknowingly offering her that she doesn't hear him calling to her at first. When he gently prods her with his fingers she comes to, propping her chin on his chest so she can see him from this angle. His chest rumbles with his soft laughter, and she notices that the sensation is causing her skin to tingle, or maybe it is the way he is smiling down at her. His eyes shining brightly with the blistering heat of sun pounding down on them. He cranes his neck up in order to receive a kiss from her pouty lips, and she is all too eager to oblige him in his quest. "If you think about it, now we don't have to feel so weird about pretending to be married when we are around your aunt Nettie."
His eyes twinkle mischievously, and she does not regret the pinch she delivers to his side. It causes him to yelp like a school girl, and lurch against her but it was well worth it to get him to pipe down. His words are as close a declaration that she will get from him, and she is surprisingly okay with that.
"Tony," she says softly, brushing her cheek against his pectoral as she lies down against him. He is rather comfortable, and she doesn't think he would object to her using him as a pillow for a little while longer. "Thank you for coming with me." Even though her words are spoken so softly that they get carried away with the breeze she feels much better now that they are out in the open.
Without him here, she doesn't think she would have obtained the closure she needed.
##
Brief Hebrew Lesson:
Aba – Father
Bat – Daughter
Doda – Aunt
Ken – Yes
Al tedagi – Do not worry
I hope that this was enjoyable for you all. Reviews would be lovely.
[Prompt]:
Title: On a beach in Israel
Summary: Tony and Ziva finally have that sex scene McGee wrote about in Deep Six.