She is slumped across her couch in sweat pants, her hair is splayed across her shoulders leaving small waves down her back. She pulls her knees up to her chest, a wine glass in one hand, a bottle of red wine in the other. She sighs loudly an glances at her cell phone on the floor next to her. She places the bottle of wine down and picks up her phone. She presses the unlock button and the screen glows before her, no new messages. She drops the phone back onto the ground with an unpleasant clatter, her phone battery pops out of the back. She's on the verge of crying.
"It's been three months," She says to herself while pressing her wine glass to her lips. "I shouldn't be this worked up over it," She let the alcohol burn down the back of her throat while tears filled her eyes.
Ziva bent down to attempt to fix her phone, but her eyesight was blurry. Her lip quivered and she gave in. One tear rolling down her cheek, followed by another, and several more after that.
"Abba…" Ziva whispered while trying not to sob, "Why couldn't it have been me instead of you?" Ziva took another sip of her wine and sat back up on the couch, the bottle in one hand, her phone in the other.
Her phone's screen lit up and turned back on, and she waited for a message, a missed call, anything to take her mind off of the thoughts that eat her alive after work.
It was always this time of the night, right before the dates changed, right before people actually started to fall asleep that got to her. It was the time where the dark thoughts of the night could creep into your head and eat you alive if you let them, and all she wanted was someone to stay by her side and tell her it would be alright in the morning, that she would make it through another night.
But no, no one texted her, no one called her, so it was Ziva versus the world once again.
Ziva noted that her glass was on the floor but it was too much of an effort to bend down and pick it up so she drank out of the bottle instead.
Her phone went off. An incoming call… from Tony.
She debated whether or not she should pick up, but if she was drunk enough to let loose and cry, she would be drunk enough to pick up his call while in tears.
"Ziva?" Tony called from the other end.
"What is it? It is late and I want to go to bed…" Ziva slurred.
"Ziva? Is everything alright?"
"Everything is fine…." Her voice trailed off as she took another sip, fighting back the tears stinging in her eyes.
"You're lying to me," Tony accused her.
"I am fine, Anthony,"
"Since when do you use my full name?"
"I don't know…" Ziva grew quiet.
"What's wrong?"
"Nothing,"
"I don't believe you," Tony knew she had too much to drink. "Ziva, have you been drinking?"
"No," Ziva lied, she knew she would start to cry again.
"Okay, now you are really lying to me."
Ziva burst into tears on the other end of the phone.