A/N: As always, I am blown away by the responses you guys send my way. Thanks for all your kind words on the first chapter. To show my appreciation, you get chapter two now instead of having to wait a week. This is the chapter where the story really starts, and where I (hopefully) really start to break your hearts. I think a conversation like this is long overdue.
A few people mentioned that they were struggling to remember what happened at the end of season eight, when this is set. All you need to remember is that the team was chasing the Port-to-Port killer, Tony was still with EJ, and Ziva and Ray had just broken up because he was a lying liar who lies.
Disclaimer: Disclaimed.
"You're in early, Agent DiNozzo."
Tony glanced at the clock on the dash of his Mustang before smiling up at the young marine guarding the gates of the Navy Yard. "It's 0600, Lowe," Tony called out the window. "That's about lunchtime for you, isn't it?"
Lowe smirked as he nodded his head at his colleague to raise the boom gate. "For me," he confirmed. "But we don't usually see you here at this time unless you're on your way home."
Tony splayed his hands. "What can I say? I'm on el jefe's naughty list this week."
"Well, congratulations. You beat him in," Lowe told him, and then pointed towards the main building. "You need to get up even earlier to beat Agent Badass, though."
"David's here?"
"Ran past just two minutes ago," Lowe told him. "She was going pretty fast, too. Looked like she was making some pretty good time."
Tony's gut tensed when he thought about his partner, but he just waved at Lowe in thanks and let his foot off the brake. "Okay. Have a good one."
He rolled through the gates and steered the Mustang along the maze of narrow roads to the car park nearest the NCIS building as his gut continued to twist. He'd been thinking about Abby's theory all night to the point of distraction. He'd watched The Pink Panther over Thai takeout with EJ, and while he was supposed to be delivering his Clouseau impersonation he'd instead been playing that touch McGee had given Ziva's back—more like a caress, he'd decided later while he was lying in bed and unable to sleep—over and over in his head. It had just been so…personal. Too personal for a colleague, as far as Tony was concerned. And the way Ziva had thrown her head back and laughed at whatever McGee of all people had said just didn't sit right with him. Tony was confident that he was ten times funnier than McGee, and the only time he'd ever been able to make Ziva laugh like that was through embarrassing himself. Clearly, that had been the laugh of a woman who was flirting her ass off.
It was past 0300 when Tony had decided he had to talk to Ziva about it. He didn't want to, exactly. Well…okay, part of him did want to make it clear to her that embarking on a relationship with McGee was a very, very bad idea that she had to avoid. But there was also a sick and nervous feeling in his stomach that was looking forward to the conversation about as much as a root canal with no anesthetic and electrodes attached to his testicles. It had the very real and terrifying risk of turning personal, and he and Ziva had never been very good at that. Still, he felt it was his responsibility as Senior Field Agent to lay down the law to his probies before word reached Gibbs.
Before heading down to the locker room he stopped by his desk to put down his backpack and coffee. He wanted to give Ziva enough time to finish her shower, but not so much that she could finish up and come up to the bullpen before Tony had a chance to talk to her. It wasn't a conversation he wanted to have in an office full of other agents. It required privacy.
When he reached the locker room Ziva was standing in front of the mirror blow-drying her hair. She hadn't finished getting dressed; she was just in jeans, her blue bra and bare feet. Her hair was flipped in front of her face while she blasted it with the dryer, so Tony let himself appreciate the half-naked sight for just a few moments before he peeked around the wall to survey the rest of the room. All the shower doors were open and no one else was around, so Tony walked in and took a seat on the bench behind her to wait for her to finish.
The hairdryer ran forever as Ziva ran her fingers though her thick curls, and Tony tried hard not to dwell on the nice, warm feeling of familiarity watching her get ready brought to the centre of his chest. It wasn't a new experience. He'd seen her go through her morning ritual a handful of times before. She was a friend. A close partner. Seeing each other like this was not a big deal. Hell, even McGee had seen her disheveled—
Tony sucked in a breath at the strong, sharp stab of jealousy the thought sent through his chest. Because that was the point of all this. McGee was seeing her not just in the morning with her face bare and hair wild and without the armor she put on for the rest of the world. He was seeing her completely bared. Ziva was granting him that level of trust and intimacy when it was Tony who had spent the better part of six years waiting to be the one to receive it.
How had McGee ended up getting what Tony had expected for himself? What the hell did McGee have that Ziva had decided Tony lacked? For that matter, what the hell did Ray have? Or Michael goddamn Rivkin?
The hairdryer shut off abruptly and Tony barely had time to shake off the jealous expression he could feel sitting on his face before Ziva spoke.
"Do we have a case?"
He looked at her reflection in the mirror and frowned at her awareness of his presence. "How did you know I was here? You haven't even looked at me yet."
She didn't bother answering his question. "What's going on?"
He felt her bad mood start to creep across the tiles towards him but tried to repel it. He had to at least make an attempt at being calm and mature about this. "I just wanted to talk to you about something."
"Sure." The word invited further conversation but her tone did not, and Tony had to wonder why she was apparently so pissed at him today. It got his back up, and his tone got slightly harder.
"I want to talk to you about McGee." He watched her reflection closely for a reaction, but she gave no sign of guilt or concern that Tony might know something that she didn't want him to know.
"Uh-huh."
He swallowed and took a breath. "Are you two seeing each other?"
Ziva's fingers, painted white with moisturizer, froze halfway to her face and her eyes slid across the mirror to look at him. Tony was well acquainted with what an angry Ziva looked like, and this was an excellent example. Usually he would think about backing off a little, but not today. His pride was in the way, and their history was too messed up and their relationship too complicated for him to just walk away without an answer. He wanted—deserved—an explanation from her.
But it was an explanation that Ziva seemed indignant about giving. "Who do you think you are?" she demanded.
It wasn't the flat out 'no' Tony had wanted, but he rolled with it and let her anger start to fuel him. In an effort to save face, he pulled rank. "I am your senior field agent and—" He cut himself off when she suddenly spun and hurled a medium-sized cosmetic tube at him. He instinctively ducked but caught it against his chest. "Hey!" he cried, stunned.
Ziva turned her back to him again and angrily swiped moisturizer over her face. "You're an asshole, that's what you are," she ground out, her voice shaking.
Anger fired in his chest at what he felt was an overreaction, but he made a last ditch effort at keeping it professional instead of personal. "I'm looking out for this te—"
"You don't get to have it both ways," she burst in. "You don't get to come in here and ask me that."
She was making it personal and still not answering the question, so he baited her. "So, you are seeing him?"
Ziva glared at him in the mirror. "No, you idiot. Of course not."
"Then why are you so—"
"Because you are not asking because you are worried about team dynamics," she said, getting straight to the heart of the matter instead of pussyfooting around it like Tony had. "Do not lecture me about rules, Tony. Do not act like this is not all about your ego."
Angry, defensive eyes met hers in the mirror, and his lips parted in preparation for a firm denial. But when her face dared him to argue the point, Tony found that he couldn't. This was all about his ego. About what he saw as his unceremonious dumping from the pillar he thought she had him on. Since she first slouched into their lives it had always been Tony who had filled the seat across the barroom table from her after work. It had been Tony who she would share small pieces of herself with. Tony who she had the greatest bond with. The fact that McGee now seemed to be filling his shoes drove him crazy, and Ziva was calling him out on it. No, he couldn't argue with her. But he couldn't admit she was right, either, because that would mean admitting to the existence of something that they'd both spent so much time and energy on pretending didn't exist.
The fire went out of him and he dropped his gaze to the tiled floor, taking a few moments to recover from the verbal bitchslap he hadn't been expecting. He certainly hadn't gone into this conversation expecting that she would appreciate being questioned or told what to do. But he hadn't expected that it would become all about the two of them so fast. Perhaps he should have. Perhaps he'd been clutching at straws to think that he ever had a hope of keeping the conversation purely about the work.
He believed her about McGee, though. At least he didn't have to worry about watching the two of them fall in love in front of his face. But he didn't know what it all meant for Ray. He knew that she was mad at him and had even refused to speak to him for a while, but since she was barely talking to Tony either he didn't know what was going on. He knew she probably wouldn't appreciate him asking, but since she was already annoyed with him Tony figured he may as well keep going.
"Have you talked to Ray?"
"No," she replied swiftly.
Tony's thoughts drifted to the conversation he had with Ray in the men's room. The CIA agent barely knew him, and yet he'd been open with him about what he wanted from his relationship with Ziva and what he felt for her. Tony had almost been crippled with envy over how easy it seemed for Ray to be honest about it, and sickened with worry over the thought that this guy could come along out of nowhere, steal the heart Tony had been trying to find the backbone to claim for years, and live happily ever after in the life Tony had wanted. Ziva had seemed happy, he supposed. She hadn't been singing and doing cartwheels, but she'd seemed comfortable and content. The jealousy Tony still felt over that was only rivaled by his guilt. Guilt that he didn't want her to have it with anyone but him, and guilt that he was even thinking that when he was currently in a relationship with EJ that he was enjoying.
Could his emotions possibly be any more screwed up?
He tried to take himself out of the equation and think about what was best for Ziva. Ray did love her. There was no denying it. And if she knew it, Tony felt that Ziva would probably forgive Ray for his transgressions and focus on what was important.
"I think you should talk to him," he told her gently, trying to do the right thing by her. "I think he's probably got some things to say that you'll want to hear."
Ziva snorted with derision as she pulled her hair straightener out of her gym bag. "What? Like he loves me and wants to marry me?" She plugged the straightener in as she shook her head, and added softly, "I know he does."
Tony supposed he shouldn't have been surprised that Ray had told her, but he was. Ray seemed to want to give her what Ziva herself had told Tony she wanted, so he couldn't work out why she was still keeping her distance. "And you still won't talk to him?"
Ziva's eyes snapped to his in the mirror, and he recognized the tension in her mouth. "He lied to me," she said sharply.
"But—"
"I have spent my life being lied to and used by men, Tony," she said, righteous anger growing within her again. "Every last one of you has taken advantage of me in some way. Except for two. Tim McGee and Ducky. My husband will be the third. I will not put up with lies from the man I commit my life to."
Every last one of you? The line echoed in his head, and while he now understood where she was coming from about Ray, Tony's own righteous anger built as the implication of her words sank in. Yes, he'd lied to her in the past, but never over anything important. Had he? And hell, what about all the times he'd risked his neck—literally—to do right by her? What about all the times he'd had her back? What about all the times he'd held her up and been her friend? Didn't all the good he'd done outweigh the small lies? Wasn't he a hundred times more dependable than the assholes she seemed to have a knack for attracting into her life? Hadn't he proven himself to be nothing like those pieces of crap?
"Don't you dare lump me into the same category as your father and Ari and Michael Rivkin, Ziva," he said darkly.
Instead of looking contrite, Ziva spun and pointed at him accusingly with her hair straightener. "You spent a year lying to me!"
"When?"
"You let me believe you were sick!" she charged, breathing heavily as she finally got it off her chest. "You let me worry and panic."
He realized she was talking about his relationship with Jeanne Benoit, but it seemed so out of left field in the conversation they were having about current relationships that it took him a few moments of silence before he could argue his side. "I couldn't tell you about the operation," he said obviously.
"I know that you couldn't," she replied irritably. "I understand orders, Tony. I am not stupid. And I know that you did not want to talk to me about the relationship for reasons that had nothing to do with the operation itself. But you did not have to let me believe that you were sick enough to receive ongoing medical treatment at the hospital."
Tony threw his hands up in exasperation. "Okay! I am very sorry for making you worry about something that happened four years ago."
"You should have apologized four years ago," she threw at him, and then turned to face the mirror again.
He didn't know if the sight of her back to him was supposed to be her way of ending the argument or not, but she'd gotten him angry enough now that he wasn't going to drop it. Professionalism was out the window as he aimed raging indignation at her. "Hey! Stop trying to make me out to be some insensitive asshole who doesn't respect our relationship. And don't act like you're Little Miss Open Book. The secrets you keep from me could fill the Grand Canyon."
Ziva had the gall to roll her eyes. "Well, I am sorry that I do not share your need to discuss every small detail of my life," she drawled.
He knew she meant to get under his skin and wound him. He knew she was doing it on purpose. And he knew the mature thing to do would have been to end the argument and leave so they could both calm down. But he wasn't interested in being mature. This fight had been brewing for years, and all he felt like doing right now was wounding her back. So he took aim and fired.
"But you don't share anything!" he bit out. "That first night we met you told me about Tali, and I swear to God that's the only piece of yourself you've ever given me freely. Everything else I know about you has been wrenched out of you only after you've decided that there's no way I can possibly use the information against you!"
She turned and opened her mouth to argue, but he'd had enough of her cutting him off tonight and steamrolled over her. "Do you know how goddamn infuriating and hurtful that is? I've had your back for six years and you won't even trust me when I'm the one warning you that someone's using you. You don't trust me enough to come to me when you're in trouble, even if I'm your boss at the time. You won't even trust me with the real story of how Ari died!"
The blow landed dead centre, and Ziva's eyes widened with the shock of it. Her fist tightened around the straightener before she put it down purposefully, as if curbing the urge to shove it into his face. For a few seconds they just held heated gazes, silent but for their heavy breathing. He kept his defensive shields up, ready to deflect whatever attack she would launch in reply, but then her shoulders dropped and she seemed to back away from her anger.
"I am your partner," she said, and he heard the effort she devoted to keeping her tone calm. "It is my job to protect you from becoming party to information that could see you get hurt, or arrested, or killed."
He shook his head firmly. "No. As your partner it's my job to get into trouble with you so I can watch your back and help you get out of it again."
Ziva sighed and leaned back against the counter. She crossed her arms, pushing her breasts together, and Tony wondered if she even realized that she was still half naked in front of him. "This should not be about trust, Tony."
"But that's exactly what it's about. It's exactly what Rivkin was about."
She shook her head sadly and her eyes wandered for a moment. "There was so much more going on with him that I simply couldn't…Not with you…" Her voice faltered and she looked away. After two deep breaths she moved on. "I know I do not talk about my past very much with you. But it has nothing to do with a lack of trust. And I have tried to address this, because I know it bothers you."
Tony leaned forward and rested his elbow on his knees, trying to bridge a little of the gap that had formed this morning. "Is it a lack of faith?" he asked gently. "Do you think that I'll see you differently if you tell me about your life in Mossad?"
She chewed her lip as she looked at him with sad eyes, and Tony felt a stab in his chest when he realized he had guessed right. "I don't know how you could not," she said softly. "And I do not want you to. I do not want you to look at that girl or spend too much time in her company. I am not her anymore. She is gone. And I don't want her to come back."
He knew enough about what she'd done under her father's orders to accept that it was how she really felt. Making her talk about it would be akin to punishment or torture, and she'd had enough of both in her life to last two lifetimes. He let it go.
"Yeah."
She gave him a fleeting look of thanks before slowly turning back to the mirror again. She drove her thumbs along opposite sides of her head under her ears, and when they met at the back of the head she lifted a large section of her wild curls and twisted it up. She secured the section against her head with a clip, and then ran her fingers through the fringe of hair at the base of her neck before picking up the straightener again. Tony watched as she drew the iron down her hair, and the curls he'd always loved started to disappear under a fog of steam. Tony wore suits as his amour. Maybe Ziva's straight hair was hers.
"Why do you do that? Erase the curls?"
Her eyes flicked to his. "You are going to argue with me about my hair now?"
He shook his head. Maybe she just liked it better this way. "No."
They fell back into silence as Ziva kept working on her hair and Tony stared at the floor. After an uncomfortable minute, Ziva lost patience.
"Was that all?"
It should have been. He'd gotten an answer about her relationship with McGee, and a bonus answer about the state of her relationship with Ray. He shouldn't have been thinking about pushing it further, but he was feeling stubborn, crazy and brave, and he didn't want to put an end to the honesty now. "No."
"In your own time," she muttered.
He held the end of the cosmetic tube she'd thrown at him and smacked it against the fingers of his other hand as he thought about how to approach his next phase of questioning. She was sick of lies and dishonesty, so he decided to just come straight out with it.
"I understand why you're mad at me this morning," he began. "But it feels like you've been mad for longer than that."
Ziva finished the first batch of her hair, undid the clip, and started the sectioning process again. "You don't want to do this," she warned.
But Tony decided to press the issue. He didn't understand how their relationship had gotten so far away from them, and he was sick of it keeping him up at night. "Please tell me why you're mad."
Ziva shook her head. "I am not mad."
"You don't talk to me," he pointed out.
"You won't talk to me," Ziva returned, refusing to shoulder all the blame for the mess between them.
Their eyes met in the mirror as he considered denying it, but he knew she was probably right. He rubbed his head and suddenly felt bone tired. It wasn't even 0700 yet and he was already emotionally exhausted.
"You don't want to do this, Tony," she repeated with finality. "It will be ugly, and you know it."
That was an understatement, and Tony was tempted to walk away and leave it be. But something told him that if they didn't address it then and there, they never would. A missed chance on top of all the other missed chances of their relationship. Silence had been what got them here, and he just couldn't put up with it anymore.
"No, let's do it," he said, pulling himself up as determination pushed aside his weariness. "Let's have it out. Let's get it out of the way so that we can be friends again."
Ziva finished another section and let her hair fall down her back again. "We will never be friends," she said tightly.
The comment was like a knife through his chest. So, that was it? She was giving up on their entire friendship because he hadn't given her the whole truth about Jeanne and wanted her to share more about herself with him? Or was it his relationship with EJ? Was she not prepared to be anything more than co-workers while he was seeing her? It hardly seemed fair, particularly since he'd taken her relationships with Ray and Rivkin on the chin.
"You are not going to be that petty," he said in disbelief.
Ziva dropped her head to the side momentarily, as if she was tired of having to explain things to him. Then she looked at him levelly. "Tony, I am your partner. I will be your partner and watch your back until the day I die. I would go to the ends of the earth for you, and I will beat to death with my bare hands anyone who would harm you." She let that sink in before shaking her head. "But we have never been friends, and we never will be."
For the first time that morning, Tony felt tears burn the back of his eyes. How could she be devoted to him in one breath and push him away with the next? "Why not?" he asked, and cursed himself when his voice failed on the second word.
He watched her swallow hard and was sure that her eyes welled before she blinked away whatever emotion she felt and removed her gaze from his. "Because. You cannot be friends with someone you have…" She went silent abruptly, as if the word had gotten stuck in her throat. But he heard it anyway.
Loved.
And finally, Tony caught on. Since day one of their relationship, their attraction had been in the way. They had never discussed it and never made a bold move towards taking it further, but that attraction, want and what had slowly turned into love had been with them in one form or another for years. It had shaped the way they spoke to each other and interacted. It had been the thing that had caused them to forge such a tight partnership. Everything they had between them had been built upon this all-encompassing connection they had. And it was too big, too strong, too deep to ever escape. There was no way that either of them would ever just be able to sweep away that foundation, start building all over again and expect their relationship to look any different the second time around. There was no way that they could ever just start again as friends. But if they weren't friends, and they weren't lovers, then where the hell did that leave them? As co-workers? Family? Was he supposed to feel nothing different for her than he did for Abby or McGee?
He felt a short, sharp stab in his chest as he considered all that he had to lose here. And all that he had already lost. Ziva had essentially just admitted to being in love with him, but he knew she was only doing it now because things between them had deteriorated so much that they'd both tried to fill the hole with other people. She was admitting it only within the safety of knowing that it would never, ever happen for them. She was admitting it because it was over.
He cleared his throat, but his voice was still ragged and weak when he spoke. "So, we're never going to be friends."
"No."
Tony's eyes fell to the ground by her feet and his vision blurred. He hadn't just lost her as a hope for the future. He'd lost her as just about everything else. She really was just a co-worker now, and Jesus, maybe she had been for months but he just hadn't realized. Even with Ray and EJ on the scene, he hadn't realized. But now that he did…God, it hurt so much.
"Tony, I am not trying to punish you," she said softly.
He looked up at her again, and the raw sadness in her face made him believe her. He believed her because he finally understood that her mood lately was not about anger with him, but about her own self-protection, sadness and even hurt.
"I want you to be happy," she told him. "I do. Because you are family and I want you to get everything you want in life." Her eyes drifted for a moment as she took a breath for courage, and he braced himself for more pain. "But I cannot be a front row spectator to what you are exploring right now with Agent Barrett. And you cannot ask me to be. You cannot ask me to stand here as your friend and cheer you on."
Well Christ, did she really think he would expect her to? Did she feel like he'd been rubbing the relationship in her face? He had been trying to be discreet, and had thought that he hadn't done too badly at it. Was she trying to 'dump' him but also dictate that he couldn't even look at another woman in her presence?
He opened his mouth to argue the point, but quickly shut it again. They'd been more honest with each other in the last 20 minutes than they had been in the last six years, but it didn't actually seem to be getting them anywhere good. In fact, it felt like it was just dragging them across broken glass. Perhaps keeping his mouth shut and feelings repressed had been the right way to deal with her after all.
Ziva caught him hesitating though, and she was unfortunately still on board the honesty train. "Say it," she challenged.
It was only a little push, but it was enough to get him going. "I just feel like you're making me out to be the bad guy here. It's like you're saying you're hurt because I cheated on you, but…" He stopped himself before he argued that he hadn't. Technically, he really hadn't done anything wrong, and neither had she by starting a relationship with Ray. But this whole goddamn argument was about the lack of technicalities in their relationship. Technically they shouldn't even have been having this conversation, because they weren't lovers and never had been. It should have been black and white. But it wasn't. Their relationship was a thousand shades of grey, and 'technically' had never had a place with them. "You were physically faithful to Ray. But emotionally, you were cheating because you're still…" He trailed off when he reached the limit of the honesty he could deliver. But he knew she'd hear what wasn't said, just as he'd heard her before.
Because you're still in love with me.
Ziva looked fleetingly humiliated, but before he could dwell on it for too long she swallowed, straightened her spine and lifted her chin defiantly. "And you are being completely faithful to Agent Barrett, are you?"
He stared back at her, his silence acting as his admission of guilt, until enough tears had gathered in his eyes that he knew they were just a blink away from spilling. He turned his head from her once more and struggled to find composure as Ziva went back to ironing the curls out of her hair. This was it, he realized. This was the moment when she stopped allowing him to keep her as a back up while he tried things out with EJ. This was the moment where the choice between the two of them was taken away from him. This was the moment when he had to face up to the loss of her and find a way to move on.
"So, I can't have it both ways," he stated, repeating her earlier comment.
Ziva set aside her hair iron and reached into her gym bag for her t-shirt. "You made your choice," she said softly, before slipping the shirt over her head and covering herself up. She wouldn't be baring herself to him anymore. "We both did. And for you, it is the right one. Now you must abide by it."
He dropped his head to rub his face with his hand as their relationship crumbled even more around him. Choice? What if he hadn't made the right choice? Because God, he did love Ziva. He loved her down to his bones, and he thought he probably always would. But she was so hard. Everything about getting close to her and loving her was a challenge, whereas EJ was so easy. She was easy to be with, and he never found himself sighing with tired frustration as she misunderstood something that he had to spell out for her. He seemed to have more in common with her than he did with Ziva—their backgrounds were similar and they'd done the same kind of things when they were kids—and he never felt like he had to worry about keeping her, or himself, safe from the secrets of her past. With Ziva, he'd always felt like part of the reason they'd never really tried to make it happen was that they already knew it wouldn't work. Not while they were on the same team. Maybe not even while they were at the same agency. And if they didn't have NCIS between them, would they even have anything to talk about at all? Was the agency the only thing that had kept them coming back to each other over the years?
A lump formed in his throat as he finally let the half-formed fears he'd always had take centre stage in his head. What if he was only in love with the idea of Ziva? Falling in love with the sexy, exotic, kick ass partner who was always by his side sounded like the plot to a great movie, but surely it couldn't work in real life where they argued all the time. They couldn't even agree on the correct pronunciation of 'tiramisu'. How the hell would they be able to agree on important relationship things like how many kids to have and how they should raise them?
He knew he should let go. Really, it would be better for them both in the long run, if not goddamn agony in the short term. And yet, he didn't think that he could commit to walking away. He couldn't just say 'I'm done, it's over'. Even if there had technically never been an it. But on the other hand, he wasn't yet willing to give up on EJ for Ziva just because one day, if all the stars aligned just right, he and Ziva might work out. He never had believed in destiny, and he wasn't about to start now.
He looked up at her reflection and found her watching him with sad eyes. She was already in mourning for the end of their affair, and in the end, even if he put his hand on his heart right now and told her he was breaking up with EJ because he wanted to try things with her, he knew she wouldn't go for it. She'd made it clear to him that she was done, and he had to accept it.
He felt sick to the stomach as he got to his feet. Hurt and humiliated and upset that control of the decision had been taken from him. The juvenile urge to hurt her for hurting him grew in his chest, and his bitterness over the whole screwed up situation pushed a final, aching argument from his lips.
"For the record, you gave up first."
Ziva blinked at him with mild confusion as she tried to understand his words. It didn't take her long to realize he was talking about her taking up with Ray, and although she looked guilty, she didn't apologies and she didn't fight. "Yes."
Well, great, he thought. Now that they'd established that, did he feel any better? No, he definitely didn't In fact, he felt worse. "Why?" he asked.
"What?"
"Why did you give up?"
Ziva braced her hands on the counter, hung her head and sighed with the weight of the world before looking over him with raw pain that stole his breath. "Because, Tony. I am so tired of pretending." She paused as her words sank in, and he recalled a time in the elevator when their wires had gotten crossed. "I simply could not keep it up. I could not keep doing it. Not to either of us."
It was a fair point. Tony definitely understood the feeling. But he couldn't help but think that if he'd had advance warning of how close she was to giving up, then things might have gone in a different direction. "Why didn't you tell me?"
"I did," she insisted, looking at him like she couldn't believe he was asking.
"When?"
"Two years ago."
Tony's mouth went dry. That was when they'd been in that elevator and having that conversation, but he couldn't believe she'd actually been on the edge of giving up since then. Yeah, she was tired of pretending. But there was tired and then there was exhausted. Why had she never said she was exhausted?
"Besides," she went on. "I could not have brought it up with you again. Because this…" she paused and gestured between them, "…does not exist. What would we talk about, Tony? It never happened."
He stared back at her, miserable and heartbroken. He wanted to argue with her. He wanted to plead that yes, yes it did. And it happened for a long time. But really, it hadn't, and that was exactly her point. Somehow, they had managed to have a six-year relationship that had never happened.
"Do you blame me for that?" he had to ask.
Ziva frowned with empathy as she shook her head. "No, of course not. Do you blame me?"
"No," he replied, and it was the truth. He could have tried to blame Gibbs and his rules, but it wasn't his fault either. It just was what it was.
Ziva sent him the ghost of a grateful smile, and then turned back to her things on the counter. He sensed that this was the time to leave, but he hovered for a moment as he acknowledged to himself that this was, hands down, the worst break up he had ever had, and that it was likely to leave him bitter and pining for her for the rest of his life. The only way to deal with it was to move on, and before he could move on he had to give her a proper goodbye.
He stepped over to her, and Ziva looked up at him as his shirt brushed against her elbow. Part of him knew this was just torturing them both more than they needed, but he couldn't help himself. They'd never even gotten this far before. As Ziva watched him with trepidation, he took her chin between his thumb and forefinger and then leaned in to kiss her softly. He lingered long enough to give her time to kiss him back, but it was over in just a matter of moments. Tony closed his eyes and rested his forehead against hers as he tried to find a way to word his goodbye, but he failed. He shouldn't have been surprised when Ziva lifted her hand to cup his cheek and came to his rescue.
"Shalom." Hello, goodbye and peace. Tony was sure she was telling him the last two.
He took a deep breath, turned his head and pressed a fleeting kiss to her wrist. "Bye," he whispered, and then took a step backwards turned, and walked out of the change room without looking at her again.
That was the end of them.
Well, I did say that it wasn't going to be a happy, love-filled Tiva fic, right? Before you throw flames, just let me say that I am really trying to give an accurate representation of their relationship during that period. Neither of them was the bad guy, neither was the good guy. It just sucked all around for both of them (and us).
Have faith in me, peeps. Take a deep breath and just have faith before giving up on me. I promise I've thought this through.