Relationships

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Chapter 3: Back When…

For the last couple of days Walter had been silently watching as Peter tried to get hold of Olivia. When he asked about the young FBI agent, Peter mumbled something about Broyles and some personal time then left the old man with a troubled expression. After getting that piece of information and observing Peter's behavior in the following days, it didn't take long for the scientist to add two and two together and get four. He might be insane but he was by no means stupid… or blind. His son and Olivia had definitely slept together! And Walter couldn't be more ecstatic.

At the moment he was happily working away in his lab, humming the tunes of some cheesy love song while easily blocking out every warning remark coming from Astrid regarding his present work. He hadn't even noticed Peter's absence until he wanted to ask his opinion about the names "Albert" or "Isaac"… for his first grandson, of course.

Yes, in his mind Walter had already attended his son's wedding where Peter was standing by the altar in Walter's old purple tuxedo while Walter walked the happy bride down the aisle. Olivia was calling him "dad" and he had at least a dozen beautiful grandchildren. And he was never slow to point out that just how important his, in his opinion very subtle remarks were in the process of Peter and Olivia finally realizing their true feelings for each other.

When Walter couldn't find Peter, he returned to his work with a shrug but then it hit him. He couldn't be sure why that idea had just occurred to him but he knew without a doubt that he was right. Olivia wasn't around because of him and his awful secret.

He quickly abandoned his work and went to look for Peter. He had to talk to him.

He finally found him in Olivia's office sitting on the old couch.

"Peter?" he stepped up to Peter hesitantly.

"What now, Walter," Peter snapped impatiently but regretted it almost immediately when he saw Walter recoil nervously. "I'm sorry, Walter," he assumed a different tone and shifted on the couch to be able to face his father. "I've just got too much on my mind. What can I do for you?"

"I think I know why Agent Dunham left so abruptly after you had had intercourse."

"Gee, Walter," Peter frowned at his father's bluntness. Not to mention that putting it that way, it sounded all too bad.

"What? You think that I'm stupid?" the old man asked indignantly, his previous nervousness taken over momentarily by hurt pride.

"You know what, Walter? Just tell me what you think you know," Peter opted for hearing the old man out instead of arguing with him.

"I think I know why Agent Dunham left."

"You've already told me that, Walter," Peter sighed.

"Oh…" Walter looked slightly confused as he tried to remember what he had already shared with his son. "Really?" he chuckled nervously and when he looked Peter straight in the eyes, Peter's stomach dropped.

"God, Walter. What the hell did you tell her this time?"

"Nothing. I swear I didn't tell her a thing. She just figured it out. I… I just…"

"What, Walter?" Now Peter was getting more and more anxious. "What did you do?"

"Son, you have to understand that whatever I might have done, I love you."

"You're making me nervous, Walter," Peter chuckled indeed nervously as he stood up and put a hand on his father's shoulder. "Just tell me what you think you know about Olivia. I know whatever you might have told her, you didn't mean it. You like her."

"Yes," Walter looked Peter in the eye with a little shy smile. "I really like her, Peter."

"You see," Peter smiled at the man relieved. It couldn't be anything serious after all. "She might have taken it in the wrong way whatever you told her but I'm sure it's not the reason why she suddenly disappeared. Don't worry about it, Walter. You haven't done anything wrong."

"I'm afraid I have."

"All right. Then tell me what you told her."

"I asked her to keep a secret for me, a secret that has been weighing on my soul for a very long time now." Suddenly the old man seemed very grave and Peter didn't know why but it scared him.

"Go on," Peter urged him gently, not really sure whether he wanted to know.

"She saw the glimmer, Peter," Walter told him, his grave expression softened by sadness.

"I knew that, Walter."

"She saw the glimmer around you… and I asked her not to tell you. I wasn't re…"

"What are you talking about?" Of course, he knew what Walter was talking about but found it extremely hard to take it in. He wasn't from this universe… and Olivia knew that, too. He felt sick to his core.

"Son," Peter visibly winced and Walter had to struggle for words. "I wanted you to know… Let me tell you what happened and you'll understa…"

"No," Peter interrupted him harshly. "I understand it all right. You lied to me," he practically spat into Walter's face. "And you made Olivia lie to me, too. I'm disgusted with you."

"Peter…"

"No," Peter didn't even give him the chance to talk as he turned his back on him and, grabbing his jacket, he started towards the door. "I don't care what you want to say… and frankly, I don't care about you."

With eyes glistening with tears, Walter watched as Peter left the room and closed his eyes as he could hear the door to the lab slam. He hoped that it wasn't the last time that he'd seen his son.

Gibbs stared into the amber liquid then lifted the glass to down its content. The glass, however, disappeared from his grasp before it could have reached his mouth.

"Hey," he protested and watched as his daughter swallowed his bourbon in one large gulp. Yep, Olivia was a Gibbs through and through.

"What," she raised an eyebrow innocently. "It wouldn't really go well with your painkiller."

"Killjoy," Gibbs muttered not at all happy.

"Yeah, I get that a lot." Olivia screwed up her nose, not taking offence at her father's remark, and, after pouring another round in the glass, accompanied by her father's amused look, she settled down next to him on the couch.

"You know, I should really feel concerned about your drinking habit." Gibbs raised an eyebrow.

"Oh come on, dad, I could keep up with you before I'd turned eighteen."

"Yeah, I shoulda' felt concerned about that, too," Gibbs chuckled as he leant back on the couch.

"But you didn't," Olivia smiled back at him. "That was so cool," Olivia declared and Gibbs felt pride swell in his chest as he could hear clear admiration in his daughter's voice. He was a cool dad. "While the others kept sneaking around their parents, I just sat down with you and a bottle of bourbon and we had a good time."

"You know your grandparents thought that I was the worst of fathers because I let you get away with anything." Actually Marilyn's parents thought him to be the worst kind of men after he had got their little girl pregnant and didn't even marry her. It never really mattered to them that Gibbs did propose to her but Marilyn turned him down.

"You are the best, dad. And they were like John Winthrop anyway. Plus, I doubt that there was anything I could do to get into their good books. I was a lost cause for them."

Gibbs looked at his daughter suddenly not feeling like smiling anymore.

"You never liked it there," he stated and slowly, Olivia shook her head as she looked into her glass, feeling guilty about her admission because she knew how hard it was for her father to let her go with her grandparents after her mother had died.

Olivia knew that her father had filed for custody a couple of times during her childhood. She also knew that he had never wanted to take her away from her mother. However, after getting a call from Marilyn and learning that Olivia had shot her abusive step-father, Gibbs was on the first plane to Jacksonville, Florida to take her little girl with him. He was beyond furious and Marilyn listened silently as he gave voice to his anger in a rather harsh way. He regretted it afterwards, knowing that the last thing poor woman needed was another man to tell her how useless she was. But he was worried and not only about Olivia, but about Marilyn, too.

Years after the incident, when Gibbs was telling her what exactly had happened that day, Olivia could still see the anger in his eyes. He was angry at her mother for letting things go as far as when even a nine-year-old thought that the only solution was to shoot her step-father. And he was angry at himself for not noticing that her mother's marriage had been a disaster. She knew that the guilt he felt over it would never leave him.

The court finally denied his request for custody but as that bastard of a husband had disappeared from their life, Gibbs didn't say a thing. After all he knew that Olivia loved her mother dearly and he also knew that Marilyn was a good mother even though she had made a bad choice. He kept a closer look on them, though.

Then her mother died.

Olivia was disappointed when her father asked her to go with her grandparents. She wanted to go with her father but he told her that he hadn't wanted to tear her away from her sister. For a long time Olivia couldn't understand why her father didn't want to have her. Little did she know how hard it had been for Gibbs to make that decision and let her go.

Olivia downed her second glass of bourbon and put down the glass before she turned to her father.

"You made the right decision," she told him with a serious but gentle expression. "I might not have felt it at the time but you were right when you told me that I should stay with my sister. Knowing that I will always have her is certainly worth those years spent with the Führers."

They both smiled a little at that then Gibbs reached out and pulled his daughter into his arms.

"I wanted to take you…" He kissed her head. "I'd just lost Shannon and Kelly… I didn't want to lose you, too."

"You didn't. Life's just fucked up that way" Olivia shrugged. "And anyway, we are here," she nudged her father playfully, "you and me. And you'll always be the best dad of the world no matter what you do."

"Yes?" Gibbs arched an eyebrow. "So would you let the best dad of the world shoot that son of a bitch who made you run back here?"

"And why are you assuming that I'm here because of a guy?" Olivia sat back up. Gibbs could see that, despite her light tone, her posture tensed. He continued nonetheless.

"Well, if it was a bad guy who got away, you would be out their not stopping till you get them. If it was some other thing related to your job, you would have stayed at home, brooding on your own. So nothing left but a guy who is always around…"

"Wow, that's some detective work, Agent Gibbs," Olivia looked at her father with mock appreciation.

"Duh, I didn't get my badge for nothing, you know."

"Of course not."

"Liv," Gibbs sat up, too. "You just have to tell his name and I'll make sure that he doesn't hurt anybody else. Or it's enough if you just nod, I'll find him…"

Olivia sighed.

"Believe me, dad, if he had done something I'd be the first to make sure he won't reproduce," Olivia told him while standing up. Gibbs was sure that Olivia could defend herself but it never hurt to play the protective father once in a while, even if his little girl didn't need it. "I'll go and do the dishes." That was it. The conversation was over.

"Liv," Gibbs looked after his daughter concerned. Olivia looked back at him with an expression that told her father to back off. Gibbs sighed. "I'll be down in the basement." He didn't dare to push the subject farther, instead he retreated to his basement to brood on his own.

Ziva left the bar feeling slightly better. Of course, it could be thanked to the amount of bourbon she had consumed in the last two hours. She wasn't drunk, though, just somewhat tipsy… tipsy enough to be less aware of the edge of her disappointment.

Gibbs had a girlfriend.

Ziva shook her head annoyed at her willingness to wallow in self-pity and made a conscious effort to refocus her thoughts on something else other than her miserable private life. She stopped in front of a shop window which displayed beautiful jewelry but it wasn't the reason why she had stopped there. After a short time a sly smile appeared on her face as she continued walking.

She'd just found her distraction.

She had a tail, she knew that all right but she tried to ignore it. She thought that it must be a freak who was trying to brush up the courage to speak to her. But he was still on her heals even after she had left the bar. She thought that she had a glimpse of a familiar face back in the bar but she was sure that the man whom she thought she saw was out of the country. Now, though, she was sure that she hadn't been seeing things.

With a quick turn she stepped into a dark alley and waited.

The man didn't know what hit him when he found himself pressed up against the wall and with an armed pressed against his throat.

"You are getting sloppy," Ziva remarked wryly but her eyes were sparkling with mirth.

"And you are still good," the man croaked, trying to give her a little smile. It wasn't easy at all as her arm on his neck gave him a hard time to breath. "Would you mind…"

"Oh… Sorry." For a moment, as she loosened her hold on his neck, Ziva looked sheepish.

"Fancy meeting you here," he touched his throat tentatively.

"It certainly is," Ziva agreed with a warm smile. "Last time I heard from you, you were in the middle of some shady business in Iraq. Actually I began to think that they caught you at last because you have not written a line ever since."

"Yeah, my life's kind of got a little bit complicated," the man shrugged. "And just for the record, I tried to contact you after I got back but I was told that you went back to Israel."

"Yes, twice, actually," Ziva shrugged, too. "My life has got complicated, too."

"Nice. What about a drink?" the man offered. "We can pour out our hearts over a beer or something. Reminiscing about old times?"

"That would me nice," Ziva's eyes lit up. "I really need a good laugh. You remember when we first met?"

The man just rolled his eyes as he put his hand on the small of her back and gently guided her out of the alley. Trust her to bring that up.

"All right, laugh it up," he told her.

"Oh come on, that was just hilarious."

"Not so much from where I stood," the man pointed out, remembering the time when he spent a long night in a not-so-friendly room without windows while he tried to explain it to some Mossad agents – very skeptical Mossad agents at that – that he was not the bad guy they had been looking for. Nobody wanted to believe his admittedly curious story, except for one young officer.

"Oh, I am sure of it. Hiding from the Syrian mukhabarat and some very influential, and may I add pissed off business men you end up running from a tribe of angry Bedouins in Jordan just to find yourself face to face with half a dozen armed Israeli agents who mistake you for a hiding terrorist. You have to admit that it is quite an amazing story."

"Yeah, you were the only one who actually believed it."

"I did not believe a word of it. You were just kind of cute," Ziva winked at her friend and he laughed out, pulling her closer.

"It's good to see you, Zee."

"It is good to see you, too, Peter."

After finding a little bar, they settled down in a secluded booth and Ziva ordered a round of bourbon for both of them.

"What's up with the bourbon?" Peter asked surprised. "I've never seen you drink one." Well, except for not so long ago in the other bar where he accidentally spotted her sitting by the bar, downing quite a few glasses of the amber liquid.

Truth was that he hadn't exactly planned on visiting her. He didn't plan anything actually; he just wanted to get away from Boston, Walter, and the memory of his night with Olivia, a night which obviously was a mistake, or at least as far as Olivia was concerned, it seemed.

While he couldn't be angry at her for keeping Walter's secret from him, because it really wasn't her place to tell him, he felt hurt by her sudden disappearance. If anything, her presence would have made the blow of Walter's revelation a little bit more bearable. He would at least know that there was a place where he belonged. But then again, of course, without Olivia's departure, Walter would probably have kept his secret…

That whole damn situation was frustrating and all he wanted to do was get away from it.

He didn't even know what brought him to Washington at the first place. However, watching as Ziva shrugged noncommittally and offered him an "I acquired a taste for it" as an explanation accompanied by an enigmatic smile, he didn't mind at all that he had ended up there.

They kept talking about the past but after a while – and after about three rounds of shots – the conversation took a turn and Peter found himself talking about his new life in Boston and how he thought that the relationship between him and his father had been on the mend and how it all came tumbling down at the end. Of course, it wasn't easy to stick to the truth without looking like a complete loony but it was good to talk about it with somebody. He didn't mention Olivia, though.

Ziva didn't mention her feelings for her boss, either. However, she had her share of screwed up father-child relationship so after Peter had told her about his relationship with his father and the old man's life-long lie, she told him about her father letting her die in Somalia.

They raised their glasses after that and drank to their families.

Then they set to celebrate Ziva's application for American citizenship…

After some more couple of shots, the events got somewhat blurry for the couple and after a while they realized that they weren't in the bar anymore. They were lying on a bed which Ziva recognized as her own, but it was only an insignificant detail, because at the moment she was in Peter's arms as he lay on top of her, caressing her, kissing her. In the next instant she found herself on the top and she quickly decided with her foggy mind that it was just all right. She would gladly reminiscent about the past this way, too.

"That's a bad idea," Peter breathed as Ziva was busy unbuttoning his shirt; he didn't make any move to stop her, though.

The woman didn't even bother to react to that observation as she was too engrossed in what she was doing. Peter was, too, and man, he was enjoying it. "I'm in love with another woman," he managed to say in a half-hearted attempt as Ziva reached the last button and began working on his belt buckle.

After undoing it, Ziva climbed up on Peter's chest like a cat sneaking upon her pray then gave him a wicked grin.

"Good," she drawled huskily, her lips only millimeters from his. "I am in love with another man."

That was all both of them needed to know. They understood.

They could have stopped there and gone back licking their wounds but found it better to find acceptance and love in each others' arms.

TBC

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