A/N: This is up here for a reason friends. This chapter contains mentions of disordered eating. Please stay safe.
"Do you think I am getting fat?" she murmured, as he woke up, and found her not beside him in her bed, but in front of the mirror by her closet.
They two of them, had been granted a full weekend together, a rare treat, as he still worked Gibbs' ridiculous hours. She had laid down her guns, and was trying to craft a life of peace. Her new life, had better hours, but they still spent far too long apart.
It was snowing outside, in those days between Thanksgiving and Christmas. His father and her Schmeil had visited for a Thanksgiving which crossed over with Hanukkah, a quirk in the crossover of the Jewish and Gregorian calendars which never again occur in any of their lifetimes. Ziva's little apartment had been filled with love, and joy, as they celebrated the second night on Black Friday. Her cosy living room, filled with people. Filled with laughter. Filled with the two DiNozzo men's mangled attempt at Hebrew songs. How the lights of the candle had gleamed in Ziva's eyes, as she held Schmiel close. The two of them, who had seen the most tragedy out of all of those in the room, had laughed the loudest, and partied the hardest. When so much has been lost, Schmeil had said, as he finished his fourth glass of wine, it makes it so much more important to celebrate, even the little moments.
"No," he replied, very quickly. His stomach turned, and he suddenly felt like he had stepped into quicksand. And, boy was he sinking, fast.
She stood in front of the mirror, pulling at the baggy NCIS t-shirt she sometimes wore to bed.
"You said that too quickly," she declared, as she poked at her ribs. The bones were still visible, but not protruding. She pinched at her back, a tiny mound of skin.
"Can you really blame me, I've been a man for a while now, when a woman asks those sort of questions, there is really only one answer," he said, as he watched her reflection frown. "Besides, you're up what ten pounds at the most?"
She turned back to him, eyes wide. That frown deeply etched in her features.
"So, I am getting fat," she spat, words tainted with anger.
"Ziva," he said voice softened, "If you're fat, then I'm Shrek."
In recent weeks, he too had felt the tug of a too tight suit. In all these months together, the two of them, had been indulgent, especially, since their return from Israel. Wine bottles had been emptied. Second portions served. Snacks, oh so many snacks, shared as they watched movies. The winter weather had been blamed for many evening spent inside and cosy.
"I will have to run an extra mile," she said, running her hands down her bare thighs. "Or two."
Perhaps, they'd both make healthier choices. His doctor always warned him about his cholesterol. The New Year was not too far away, maybe 2014, would be one of health and the scale running backwards.
"Come back to bed," he declared, arms reaching out for her, "it's cold, and dark. Far too early to be up."
She slowly moved from in front of the mirror to the bed. Hips swaying. Maybe, they should go dancing, he thought. She loved to dance. He could step on her toes, as she tried to lead. He would make references to Singin' in the Rain, and Dirty Dancing, and she would laugh. It would be nice.
"I didn't think you were one of those women," he muttered, as she sat next to him. Her still very thin legs, snaked around his.
"Neither did I," she said softly. Her hands were pulling at her expensive sheets, Israeli cotton, oh how he slept so peacefully in them. When he was next to her, he always slept better. "I have never been before."
Her path to peace, came with so many turns. Cutting away the scar tissue of a lifetime of fights, had revealed some tender parts, now unprotected and exposed. Parts she did not know, how to deal with, as she pieced together a new person from the rags and ashes.
"I have never had an issue with my weight," she declared.
He had dated enough women, to know how pervasive the culture of thinness was. In his playboy days, he'd liked them curvy, but not too curvy. He had seen enough women, eat only salad for dinner, or throw a very expensive dinner up the next morning. He had dated women, who tortured themselves through spin classes, and counted every calorie. One woman, in the days before smartphones, wrote down everything she ate in a little black book, and put smiley and frowny faces beside each item. Another, chewed her food fifty times, before swallowing.
He too had been caught up in this culture. In his neanderthal days, he had joked with his frat buddies, and then cop buddies, that a woman was too big for him to date. He even had a rule, about women who ate more than he did. He had turned a blind eye, to girlfriends hurting themselves to maintain an impossible standard. He too, had gotten sucked up in it all, especially as his age crept up, and it became harder and harder to lose the winter weight.
How silly he had been to think, Ziva was immune to it all?
"I had to buy a new dress for the opera," she continued. The opera, visited together in the week before Thanksgiving. The stories of Tali David, the little songbird extinguished before the world could here her voice, had flowed freely, as they drove back to her little apartment. The tears had flowed too.
"That was a very nice dress," he said, as he snaked his arm around her waist, and tugged her closer. Maybe, one of these days they'd sit so close, they would merge together. Two halves finally become whole.
"The other one was too small," she said, a sadness lacing her voice. "The other one used to be my favourite."
He had noticed, other new clothes creeping into her wardrobe, which he thought had been due to the colder weather.
"I like the new one better," he said, as he nuzzled into her neck.
It had been a black dress, with a gold pattern on the skirt. The top had dipped low on her back, showing it off. He'd told her how beautiful she looked at least a dozen times, that evening. He had noticed, how she caught the gaze of other men too. His arms had remained tight around her, as urges of a purely primal nature ran rampant, she is mine, he had tried to indicate, to the other men, richer men, with wandering eyes. This beautiful creature is mine. All mine. She chose me. Despite everything, she chose me.
"It's just so much has changed," she finally whispered.
Her body, her personal battleground. How many times had she stepped back from a fight, with a fresh scar. Oh how her bones ached when it rained. How many times, had she pushed for the extra mile, in spite of those aches and pains.
"I mean, I was silly to think that my body would not change," she said. Even though, she had never expected to get this far in the race of life. Her life was always intended to be a sprint, with a climatic finish, not the long windy marathon it was setting out to be. Her body, was supposed to be immortal, thin and tone. She was to become like those marble statues they studied in school. She was Athena, goddess of war, born from her father's forehead. "And it is so silly, to be upset about this."
He thought of her, when she first joined the team, of their weekend playing married assassins, how little and toned she was. Perfectly formed, he would think just before the snoring set in. She had not shied away from his touch, or his eyes as he admired her olive flesh exposed. Back then she was ever comfortable in her body, and what she could do with it. It was her tool, and she knew exactly how to work it. Confidence oozed out of her.
He thought of her, when they had to carry her onto that plane in Somalia, how she was too light, too fragile, and too broken. How she shivered in that metal box, even under the scratchy wool blankets, she had cocooned herself in. How he could see her protruding ribs through the heavy canvas shirt. How she looked like a ghost of her former self. How they wondered, if she would ever full come back.
Then he thought of her, in the years since. The weight never quite sat the same, her body tended to hoard calories. Still, perhaps due to the daily runs, and regular martial arts classes, she remained petite. Even now, he would not have noticed a difference until she pointed it out. Like, he said she was up what ten pounds. Even before, she lay down her guns, she was different with her body. More cautious. More protective. Less sure. They all said a part of her had died out there. Parts of her had been taken too. Taken by force.
"It's not silly," he whispered. "You're changing. I'm changing. We're changing. Things are going to take a while for it all to settle down."
She clung to him, holding his face in her hands. Their eyes locked. They looked directly at one another, as they held the gaze. He had never allowed this intimacy before. Not on such a deep level. The two of them could say so much without words.
"You have been so wonderful," she whispered. So patient. So kind.
"We're doing this together," he repeated. "We're changing. We're both doing our best."
"So much has changed, so much is still changing," she whispered, as she leaned her forehead onto his. "It just feels like, I am trying to grab at things, but I can't."
He patted her thigh, which was still tight and toned, from her years as a dancer. The lightbulb went off inside his head. Her body, had been the one thing she had been able to control, through all the world had thrown at her. Especially, after that summer where she was at the mercy of men, who had nothing but malice in their veins, she had wanted so desperately to regain control.
"I know," he soothed. "It's been hard. You've been working so hard."
She let his words wash over her. How she wished she knew the turmoil this would bring. She could not keep fighting, yet she was so afraid of this unknown, she had thrust herself into. Even now, it felt like for every step she took forward, she took two more back. Just last week, her and her therapist had agreed she was making progress. Now, that all felt like an illusion. Her house of cards, had tumbled down over a dress that was too tight, and a few pounds.
These dark winter days, seemed to fuel such dark wintery thoughts.
"You know, I should probably shift a few pounds," he muttered, looking down at his own bare chest. "And introduce a few more vegetables to my life. We could do this together. Become one of those annoying couples, who do triathlons, and tell all of their friends about it. McThirdWheel would hate us."
"You do know what a triathlon involves?" she asked, as she raised her eyebrow, and wrapped her arms around him. Tight. They held each other so tightly. Clinging.
"Not really, but I hear there are other ways to burn calories," he declared, flashing his big smile, "Which, I have heard to be very effective, and don't require going out in the cold, or riding a bicycle."
She laughed, and a smile dawned on her face. The grey clouds, seemed to start to disappear from above her head, and the sun peaked through. Maybe, this storm would pass, with minimal damage.
"Seriously, sweetcheeks," he said, his voice soft. "Whatever you need. We'll do it. We'll do it together."
"Together," she echoed. Their matra. Tony and Ziva versus the world.
She already felt, the feelings she had earlier slip away, like the tide going out. Maybe, it would all be okay. It was just a few pounds. Maybe, a peaceful life, was a fatter life. Maybe. Maybe. Maybe. So many maybes. Except him.
"Always," he replied.
A/N: I don't own a thing.
Hmm ... thoughts.
So I intend for this to be collection of scenes between our dynamic duo, and occasionally some other people, and a sort of sequel to the mess that was "To Be By Your Side", but that does not really need to be read first. If you haven't read that, it basically involves the two of them going to Israel, unearthing her past, and making promises about the future. No promises on updates, but I will aim to make the story as chronological as possible, but most chapters will be able to stand alone. I will pick and chose what parts of the post S10 cannon, I follow. I'll probably include mentions to Delilah, Ellie, and baby Victoria, but obviously skip 'Family First', and the Ari's secret half-brother b.s. Either way, it's going to be very focused on Tony and Ziva together.
If that sounds like your cup of tea, please review. If not, thanks for stopping by, and mind the gap as you disembark.