A/N: Hi guys, this is the sequel to Guy Gets Girl. While this story below was obviously written second, it actually depicts events that happened prior to the scenes in Guy Gets Girl. You can read them in any order, though this might be better/more suspenseful if read first.
And, whoever replies gets an ADVANCE on the next chapter at least 24 hours prior to posting. This means you get a large portion – with some of the best parts – before everyone else. The next part will probably go up Wednesday or Thursday.
And yes, I stole this fabulous idea from another author – so THANKS!
And I don't just want replies for replies sake – so it needs to be some kind of feedback – something you liked, didn't like, want to see, general feelings about the storyline, characters etc. Short and sweet is fine
You'll notice that I'll likely try this out with more of my stories moving forward, depending on how this little thank you goes!
…..
Tony's POV
Do you know what it's like to love someone that you can't be with?
This is what it's like.
You know when she's upset, hurting, mad, angry, worried – you get the picture. Without words you just…know.
And it kills you.
You want to be with her – there for her – offer a shoulder or ear or warm arms or…lips.
But aside from the lips part, and maybe the warm arms, you don't know what's crossing the line. You don't really know how much to push when she says no the first and then second time.
You don't know if she might be in another's arms that night.
It's all you can think about and it kills you – pain pulses deeper than any punch, bullet wound.
This is love.
…..
Tony wanted to punch him till he screamed like a little girl.
Partly because the ex-marine was running a prostitution ring with underage girls. Whoring them out to sick bastards who got off on child rape.
He wanted to empty a round into his chest. Pull off his fingernails one by one. But it was kind of hard to do so through a television monitor.
Tony shifted uncomfortably in the darkened van. Eyes trained on the screen. "C'mon," he hissed, as Ziva turned her head, and the ex-marine on the monitor disappeared from view.
"Relax, DiNozzo." An annoyed Gibbs spoke, taking a long, satisfying gulp from his now empty coffee cup. "She'll get it."
Tony slowly clenched and unclenched his right fist. His punching fist.
The other reason Tony wanted to punch him? For the past week Ziva had been undercover, forming a….relationship with this ex-marine. Kyle Steward.
They had gone to dinner – twice – and a movie, a hike at Great Falls, and an old Civil War battlefield. Tonight they were at a bar.
Steward knew the cops were onto him, which meant that the girls – 15 by Gibbs' estimate – were running out of time. He had been slowly killing them off, along with clientele, but there was a stash of girls missing. The bastard simply couldn't be taken down until NCIS knew the location of – and could protect – those missing girls.
They had followed him, bugged him, traced every call and searched every building he visited.
Nothing.
Ziva getting the location out of him was their last hope.
…..
Ziva's POV
Do you know what it is like to be Mossad?
To be loyal and stoic and deadly and scary and tough? To know that at any moment you might give your life for something you are not so sure you believe in, anymore?
It is knowing how to kill a man five times stronger than you with any tool at hand. It is the ability to withstand any form of torture, delivering it back twice as painful.
It is the skill to get out of any situation. Knowing that your whole team relies on you to do so.
It is separating emotions. It is never falling in love.
Do you know what it is like to break this code by which you swore?
…
It sifted through the bullpen. Hot, thick, suffocating.
They were this close to nailing the bastard. The team was on edge. Tense.
"I think he knows, Gibbs," Ziva said quietly, as she adjusted her barrette – complete with a hidden camera – and ran fingers through wild, curly hair.
Gibbs raised his eyebrows. "Do you want to pull out?"
Ziva unclipped her badge, gun, and without hesitation placed them in her desk drawer. She slung the black purse that Abby had made for her, complete with fake ID and lip gloss, over her shoulder.
"He's picking me up at 7."
…
Tony's POV
Do you know what it's like to watch her leave? With nothing but a visual and sound feed into the darkened van, where computers and weapons and coffee cups and takeout bags and two restless agents sit, waiting?
To watch her get into his car?
To think of the thousands of things that could go wrong?
Do you know what its like to come to the realization that of those things that could go wrong, in three quarters of the situations you probably won't save her?
…..
It was part of Mossad training to formulate new plans of attack as quickly as your target changed positions or moved.
So when Steward picked her up at her apartment – temporary until the assignment was over – and drove to the motel, she went with it.
And when he poured her a gin and tonic – she carefully watched as he opened fresh
bottles and poured each cup – she sipped.
And when he sat on the bed next to her and said, "Sara, you're so fucking pretty," she could only think of the young, now traumatized – or dead – girls, that Steward had probably said the same thing to right before he sold them to the highest bidder.
She knew she would do what she had to.
So she ran a finger down his collared shirt, flicking the top button open to expose a hint of chest hair.
"Kyle, where are you always disappearing off to?"
He drained the last of his drink.
"Disappearing?"
She laughed. "Now, do not get me wrong – the secretive thing, it is….sexy. But I can not reach you for hours at a time and…" She pouted, her fingers now running down the side of his face. "I miss you."
She drained her drink.
And he kissed her.
….
Ziva's POV
Do you know what it is like to break the code by which you swore?
To know that maybe, just maybe, you do not have to be the fearless, tough, ninja Mossad assassin, round the clock?
That you can and should and will rely on your team for backup?
That maybe, it is ok, to fall in love.
You may not realize it, at first. That you are no longer playing by the rules that daddy taught you.
But you will know.
And you better hope to god that it – that he – was worth it.
…
Ziva knew that something was wrong. She was growing heavy, tired.
And when she pulled away from the kiss and tried to continue the conversation – she had to find the location of those girls – her words came out jumbled, slurred.
She couldn't even remember her next question. And that's when she knew.
She had missed it. He had drugged her.
He kissed her again and pushed her down onto the motel bedspread.
She threw a punch, a knee, but her movements were slow, clumsy, uncalculated.
He laughed and sucked on her neck, whispering, "Now it's time to have a little fun, sweetheart."
That's when she slammed her now empty glass into his skull. Pushing every fiber within her to fight the toxin pulsing through her blood.
And he punched her in the eye. Tore off her shirt.
That's when her muscles finally gave way, weakened, slack, unresponsive.
When she knew that she could not stop this.
….
Tony's POV
Do you know what it's like to love someone that you can't be with?
You know she can take care of herself. When it comes to facing gunfire, trained fighters, snipers, whatever, she's more capable of you.
But when she's down? And there's nothing you can do to take back the damage that's been done?
That feeling? That you want to kill?
That'd you'd rather be in her place and take the blows and terror and blood and hurt ten times over?
That – this - is love.
…..
OK, remember the little advance promise