I like this. Which is a rare thing. Hopefully, you'll like it too.
Basically, I still think Somalia hasn't been addressed. And who better to address it than Tony and Ziva? Time-wise, I'm saying this is set around now. After Ray, is what I mean. But I'm not entirely sure what's happening on the show atm, so just ignore all that. (;
Disclaimer: You know you're obsessed with NCIS when your friend says 'Ziva hit a vending machine' and you can tell them the season, episode, and director.
Listening to: Somebody That I Used to Know by Gotye feat. Kimbra.
"Love is strange, don't you think, Agent DiNozzo?"
"Hmm, well I'm sure you've had lots of experience with it."
Tony's words are dripping with sarcasm, but he makes no effort to stop them. Because Ziva's on the floor by his feet, sleeping fitfully and covered in bruises, and he can't stop risking a glance at his partner every three seconds, just to check she's okay.
"Perhaps I have, perhaps I haven't," their captor taunts, pacing up and down, a gun slapping against his palm as he lifts it with two fingers. "Either way, you'll never know. But I must say... relationships in the workplace? Tut tut, I don't approve."
The words are mocking, but Tony ignores them, focusing mainly on what the jerk is implying.
"Now you've lost it. Wrong thing entirely. 'Cause me and Ziva aren't together. Have you actually done any homework?"
The gun twists to the floor, and he shuts up upon seeing the muzzle pointing at his friend's face.
"Oh... You're not together? You just happen to go to the theater together, have dates, hold hands? . . . Stop everything else when she's in danger?"
Then, the deranged man spits on Tony, and kicks the woman awake.
"Tony..." she murmurs, and the agent winces.
"She says that, as the first thing she says when she wakes up, and you're still saying you're not together?"
"Why does it bother you so much?"
"Oh it doesn't, Agent DiNozzo. I'm just working out who to kill first; who to force to watch their... lover, get their brains blown to pieces. Who to cover in blood, so much so that they won't focus on anything else apart from the taste in their mouth."
"Shut up, Robinson. I've already had onepartner's blood on my face; you better not make it another."
"I'll make it whatever the hell I like, Anthony."
And with that, he kicks Ziva once more, and walks out.
000000
Later- it could be a minute or two hours, they're not bothered- Robinson comes back in, smoldering cigarette in hand. He dabs it out on Tony's wrist, eliciting a hiss from both agents.
The jerk grabs Ziva's arm and pulls her to him, flinging an arm round her chest and pressing a knife to her neck.
Neither of them wants to say how much it reminds them of a different time.
"Before I kill your beloved partner, DiNozzo, do you have anything to say to her?"
Tony doesn't spare the guy a glance, just keeps looking at Ziva- whose eyes are wide with fear- and uttering silent prayers for her to survive.
"SPEAK!" the guy yells, saliva flying out of his mouth; pressing the knife a little closer to his captive's neck. "You don't wanna see her die, do you, Tony?"
The man in question gulps- there's the tiniest drop of blood making its way down Ziva's neck.
"You don't want to let her go without saying something first? Anything? No? That's too bad." Robinson fakes a sad face, his eyes still glinting with a maniacal air, and tightens his grip on the knife handle.
And there, right in the distance, Tony can hear footsteps. Little splashing noises as feet tread through puddles. He can't be sure what it is, and he doesn't really care.
He just knows he has to talk, loud enough to disguise the sounds.
"Wait!" he says, and the man does. And Ziva just narrows her eyes as if to ask what he's up to. "There is something I want to say... to Ziva, that is."
He pauses, then realizes he doesn't need to make anything up.
"Zeev, ever since I met you, I've liked you. We just... get along. And despite the fact we're so different to each other, I've always thought we fit. And you just kind of belong. In the agency and the team, and with me. Ever since all the crap of the last few months, we've started picking stuff up again, and I really like that. I, uh... I told you once, that I couldn't live without you, but it was in the midst of something pretty big. And we got outta that scrape- which, by the way, I'm still so sorry for getting you into- and carried on. And God, I'm glad I got the chance to do that. But I never got to tell you whyI couldn't live without you. Or the fact that I still can't. And I'm sorry we missed our chance, I really am. 'Cause I know we would have been great together."
He finishes, his mouth dry but his eyes suspiciously moist. A familiar face stands behind their captor, with glinting eyes that seem to offer a blessing, then moves.
The knife falls to the floor as handcuffs are slapped on, and Ziva just stands there, looking at him. Someone- probably McGee- cuts his binds and Tony stands, walking toward his partner and wrapping her in his arms.
000000
Three weeks later, and the bruises have healed.
Three weeks later, and the mandatory psych sessions have been completed.
Three weeks later, and they've returned to the field.
Three weeks later, and they still haven't talked.
She knocks on his door at half-past-midnight, her hair a mess and dressed in what looks like pajamas.
And after she's said her piece about Somalia and recovery and lack of conversation, he just stands there and looks at her, knowing memories flash before each of their eyes. But then it hits him.
He almost lost her. Again.
And like last time, they were willing to ignore the unspoken thoughts between them, and move on. At least, he thought they were.
This time, he won't let her turn away from his grasp.
This time, he'll act.
So he does, and he speaks.
"Yes, I said what I said because it distracted the guy. But," he gently turns her chin to force their eyes to meet. "...everything I said was true. Every. Single. Word."
They smile, he kisses her, and she kisses him back.
And the scars have finally healed.
Reviews always appreciated, you lovely people.
-Kiera. x