By her reckoning, it took Tony a month, two weeks, four days, and eight hours to get over Jeanne.
That first week back after La Grenouille's disappearance and Jeanne's ultimatum, Tony was…different.
He had a hollow look in his eyes, he only spoke when spoken to, he bowed and kowtowed to everything Gibbs asked, and he just wasn't Tony.
No jokes, no leering at pretty witnesses, no teasing. Nothing.
He wouldn't even look at Jenny.
It was by the second week that she noticed he wasn't eating.
Sure, he'd pop a few token bites in his mouth whenever they ordered lunch or dinner in during a case.
But he turned down offers for breakfast quite frequently, his habitual excuse that he'd already eaten a blatant lie slipping between his lips.
And if they didn't have a case, he more often than not forgot to eat at all.
The slight paunch she relished teasing him about disappeared altogether. He stopped wearing the immaculately tailored suits and reverted back to dress slacks and button downs.
It wasn't until the fourth week, at the end of that first month, that she noticed he wasn't sleeping.
Well, she'd noticed before then that he seemed to have perpetually dark circles under his eyes, but it wasn't until they shared a shift for a stakeout that she noticed that he just didn't sleep.
His eyes were closed, but he didn't sleep.
He tossed, turned, mumbled broken snatches of sentences, and woke up gasping for breath twice in the middle of the night, sweaty and shaken.
Tony had twitched his lips in that awful fake smile he'd adopted since Jeanne left the note and rubbed a hand down his face.
"I'm not gonna get any sleep. Why don't you go to bed and I'll take this shift?"
No leering, no offers to join her, just those two stupid sentences said in that flat, toneless, un-Tony-like voice.
He didn't wake her for the rest of the night, just took the shift by himself, sitting in front of the surveillance equipment silently.
The week after that awful first month, she finally saw him smile again.
Not the fake one he plastered on for McGee and Abby's benefit. Not the tight lipped almost-grimace he adopted whenever Jenny was in the vicinity.
A real, actual, genuine Tony DiNozzo smile.
It happened because of a little boy.
A four year old little boy who happened to absolutely adore Mighty Mouse.
Tony, who normally avoided children like they were the plague, smiled and knelt down in front of the little boy when he walked in with his father, immediately noticing the cartoon mouse screen-printed on the front of his shirt.
"You like Mighty Mouse, Conor?"
Conor had grinned shyly and nodded, following Tony to his desk where he was ecstatic to see the Mighty Mouse stapler sitting in prominence next to Tony's computer monitor.
Ziva thought things might be getting back to normal after that, but he rapidly descended back into his dark mood once the case was solved and little Conor went home, a well-worn NCIS hat falling down over his little ears.
At the end of the second week after that first month, they caught a case that required the two of them to go undercover as a married couple again.
The first night is unbelievably awkward. Neither of them was sure they were not being surveyed, so the fake song and dance of a couple very much in love with each other began, and they spent the night together in the bed.
Tim showed up dressed as a bellhop the following morning and swept the room for bugs, finding none as he set up a laptop with a direct feed to MTAC and a camera. He started the feed and took another case of equipment into the spare room, setting up a surveillance post so they could watch their suspects in the room across the way while she and Tony gave Gibbs and Jenny an update.
Conversely to the previous time they worked undercover together, Tony was already fully dressed when Tim arrived, the sleeves of his shirt rolled up past his elbows, and he remained uncharacteristically silent while she made her report.
"DiNozzo." Apparently Gibbs had picked up on his mood. "You alright?"
Tony smiled without mirth, his eyes hollow. "Peachy, Boss." He muttered something more in Italian under his breath, too low for her to hear, and then straightened. "I'm going to go help McGee with the surveillance equipment."
Ziva noted the slightly stricken look on Jenny's face before Gibbs cut the feed.
They spent most of the second day alternating watching their suspects. That night, he grabbed two pillows and a blanket from the linen closet and disappeared out to the living room.
She tried to confront him about it the next morning over breakfast.
"Stop it."
"Stop what?"
"Stop staring at me like I've got a second head growing out of my shoulder or something, because if you don't, so help me God, Ziva, I swear I will fucking strangle you in your sleep."
It's the first time he's ever cursed at her. Sure, she's heard him swear like a sailor before when injured or irritated, but never at her.
Tony glared across the table at her, his eyes dark. He looked tired, and irritated, and is more than a little jumpy.
"I just wanted to know what is wrong, Tony. You slept out on the couch last night."
He smiled—it was more of a baring of teeth than a smile—his eyes flashing with something like amusement. "Yeah, well, maybe I'm trying to grow as a person and show some respect, Ziva. Try not to fall over in shock or anything."
He had tossed his napkin down on the table after that, shoving his chair back and disappearing to the surveillance with a muttered 'I'm not hungry anymore' throw over his shoulder.
He came up with a slightly crazy idea to get closer to their suspects and took her to dinner two nights later, keeping a practiced eye on the suspects as they both sat at the hotel bar.
When the bartender finally deigned to notice them and shuffled over, he ordered a Coke.
"You are not drinking?"
"We're on the job."
"Not technically, no. Gibbs said anything to ceme-."
He cut her off abruptly with an angry look, knuckles whitening against the side of his glass. "Maybe I just didn't want a fucking drink, Ziva. Drop it."
Jenny tried to rip him a new one for not following operational protocols when they returned, and he finally snapped.
"With all due respect, ma'am…"
And she knows the next words out of his mouth are going to be anything but respectful.
"You can take your operational protocols and shove it. Contrary to popular belief, Director, I do know what I'm doing."
And he cut the feed before Jenny coul even draw breath to reply and disappeared to the surveillance room on his own, slamming the door loudly behind him.
Gibbs called back ten minutes later with two words. "Fix it."
"What the hell is your problem?"
He doesn't look up from the video feed of the suspects, ignoring her.
Ziva slammed her hand down on the desk harshly, grabbing his chair and pulling it around to face her. "Listen to me!"
A glimmer of surprise flickered across his features before he shut down again, staring down at the floor as he spoke woodenly. "I'll apologize to Director Shepard tomorrow."
"That is not what this is about!" She leaned in, grabbing his shoulders. "You are self-destructing, Tony!"
"Yeah? What do you care?"
"You are my partner!" She shook furiously, inexplicably more than irritated with his behavior for the past month or so. "Damn it, Tony, you are not yourself!"
He scowled and glared at her, jaw clenched.
"What is going on, Tony?"
Suddenly, abruptly, his hands reach out and jerk her down onto his lap. Just as abruptly, he swore vehemently and shoved her off, knocking her to the floor in a tangle of arms and legs. "There, are you happy?" He gestured violently to his lap, where evidence of his arousal is quite evident.
"I'm trying to be a fucking gentleman, Ziva, but I'm a little frustrated here, okay?"
And suddenly all the dots connect. He's upset, and frustrated, and leery of dating because of the heartbreak from Jeanne. She is the only woman he feels comfortable around, and that is translating into a great deal of frustration on his part.
"I thought…" She stopped, swallowed, and tried again. "Tony, if you need…there are certainly plenty of…why are you not doing it?"
He laughed hollowly. "With who? In case you didn't notice, last time I dated and/or slept with someone, my fucking car got blown up!"
There's not much she has to counter that argument. "Tony…I doubt the next woman you meet and are attracted to will have an arms dealer for a father."
"Yeah, well, forgive me if it's a little hard to keep up an erection anymore when you're wondering if the girl you're bedding is going to end up getting you killed. It's kind of a trust issue." Tony groaned, running both hands through his hair so it stuck up wildly. "Not to mention my track record with women kind of…well, sucks."
She swallowed, sitting up from her sprawled position on the floor. "Tony, I am sure it is not li—."
He cut her off with another harsh laugh. "Trust a fucking undercover operation where I'm just meant to be pretending to be in love to fuck up the Tony DiNozzo way of life. Look…right now, I've got no one else to trust but you, Ziva. And my libido is a little pissed about that, 'cause you're all it's got, and we both know you'd rather disarm a nuclear bomb than address this whole UST thing, so I'm trying to be a gentleman."
She nodded, standing up carefully.
Tony smiled again, more of a grimace than anything, and turned back to the surveillance equipment. "Now I'm going to stay in here and try to get by and avoid breaking Rule 12, so I'd appreciate it if you would just leave me the fuck alone for a while. I'll issue a formal apology to Je—to Director Shepard tomorrow."
Ziva nodded again though he couldn't see and left silently, a plan already forming in her mind.
It was simple work to hack the camera when she knew Jenny was dozing in MTAC, establishing a back-feed for long enough to get what they needed done.
She waited until she heard Tony finally emerge from the surveillance room for the night and settle down on his couch-bed before she made her move.
He jumped a mile when she sank down on the couch in the tiny four inch space between his hip and the edge of the couch.
"Ziva?" His voice is more than a little strangled.
"You are all I have, too." And then she kissed him.
When they came back to themselves half an hour later, he freaked out slightly and nearly knocked them off the couch.
"What were you thinking?" His voice is frantic and terrified as he stumbled around trying to find his clothes. "The camera!"
Ziva laughed low in her throat as she turned on her stomach, resting her chin in her hands. "Oh, please. You honestly think I would have forgotten about that?"
Tony calmed down somewhat, stopping halfway through his quest for his boxers. "Are we okay?"
"I would like to think that was a lot more than just 'okay', Tony."
He almost grinned back at her, but sobered instantly. "You know what I meant."
"Yes, Tony, we are okay." She leaned over, reaching out for his hand. "Come, sleep with me."
His answering grin is bordering on lecherous, and she knows then that Tony is back.
After one month, two weeks, four days, and eight hours, he is back.
When they wake a few hours later in the bed, he sat up on one elbow and stared at her. "How are we going to do this?"
Ziva laughed. "I was under the impression that you were well aware of how to do…this."
Tony snorted.
She paused, grinning. "Oh, you meant this."
"Yep."
She winked, shrugging. "The way I see it, I am technically not an Agent. Gibbs' Rule 12 does not apply in this situation, no?"
Tony grinned, reaching over to pull her atop his body with a clear and free laugh, the first she has heard since before the Jeanne debacle. "Quick thinking, sweetcheeks.
"And we will just have to keep it out of the office, my little hairy butt."
"Fair enough." He rolled them over, leaning on his forearms to keep the bulk of his weight off of her. "And now I believe I have some lessons in stamina to be improving on, because my performance earlier was sadly lacking."
She giggled, running her fingers through his hair. "Probably a result of a month and a half's worth of ah…frustration."
And suddenly he is more than tired. "You know what?"
"Hm?"
"Demonstration later." He moves his weight off to the side, settling in with his head pillowed on her shoulder and his arm thrown across her waist. "Sleep now."
Ziva smiled, kissing his temple as she ran her fingers through his hair. "Sleep, my little hairy butt."
And he slept, for the first time in a month, two weeks, four days, and eight hours.
A/n: Soo, Tiva is not normally my handle at all, but a movie I watched last night made me think of this.
They may be a bit OOC, but to be honest I could care less.
Reviews are always welcome.
-meg