Tony X Ziva

Learning to live in the present moment is part of the path of joy. - Sarah Ban Breathnach

SCULLY: Well, it seems to me that the best relationships- the ones that last- are frequently the ones that are rooted in friendship. You know, one day you look at the person and you see something more than you did the night before. Like a switch has been flicked somewhere. And the person who was just a friend is... suddenly the only person you can ever imagine yourself with.

When he met her, he was swirling in a sea of pain and despair, hoping that the last few days were just a nightmare and that at some moment, he would wake up and see that it hadn't really happened, that Kate was still alive, and that bastard Ari did not shoot down his partner and leave a huge empty space in their team.

His mind, trying to deal with the pain, tried to create an elaborate sexual fantasy where Kate was in a school girl uniform. Even dead, Kate still had spunk and put him in his place.

Then she came into his life. She scared him, taunted him, and generally just annoyed him. She was a sexual creature, not afraid of using her looks to achieve her goals, and did not fold to his advances. Instead, she fought back his innuendo with more innuendo, showing clearly that his advances, though not welcomed, were appreciated.

Initially there was suspicion, then later on a small camaraderie started to bloom. Her annoying habit of murdering the English language gave him ammunition to annoy her no end, but as the years went by she conquered her position on the team, and she slowly crawled into that hollow space he carried in his chest for so long, but bitterly denied its existence.

The attraction was still there, and lust sometimes spilled out during their interactions, but Gibbs' rule 12 still lingered between them. They respected their fearless leader too much to even imagine trying to dare breaking it.

So they dated other people, slept around if the loneliness or the tension became too much to bear, or if the only solution for their emptiness was the momentary chemical release in the brain resultant of stolen moments with another human being.

Both dared to risk their hearts at least once: he falling in love with the daughter of that arms dealer; she enjoying the warmth and familiarity of an old lover from Mossad.

Both had their hopes and dreams crushed by reality: Jeanne hated him after she found out she was just a person of interest, a mere tool to reach his father. Michael was murdered by his own hands, and even though he protested it was self-defence, she was in pain and hurt by it, and it lead her to take a decision that almost cost her life.

She didn't know who to trust, so she turned back to old habits, and accepted the orders like a good soldier. And, like a good soldier, she accepted the possible certainty that she would die, alone and forgotten, in that dusty prison cell in Africa.

But then he came to rescue her, after she had given up all hope of any type of rescue. And somehow she was given a new lease on life. Their interactions were strained those first days, but they slowly drifted back into the old teasing and banter that they were comfortable with.

Still, his smile was sometimes strained, and she felt his eyes lingering on her, whenever he thought that she was not looking. Sometimes their gazes would lock, and in that millisecond they would express more than a thousand words could ever say, and then one of them would break eye contact, talk about the case or some new piece of evidence that was uncovered, and that moment would be gone forever.

A new member was forced onto their team, and the dynamics changed. Now there was someone who worked side by side with Probie, who did not take any crap from him and that treated her with polite respect. If he tried to act as his normal frat boy persona, she crushed his childish attitude and requested the minimum respect both for herself and for her partner.

Initially her presence brought discomfort for both of them, as she seemed to observe them with eagle eyes, always analysing their every move and words, trying to decipher their very soul.

But it was her interaction with Probie that caused them more bewilderment. Completely oblivious or consciously ignoring Gibbs' rule 12, the newcomer swept Probie off his feet and became a permanent fixture in his life. Considering Probie's previous lack of success with women for as long as they knew him, this gorgeous woman willingly attaching herself to him, and defending him so fiercely was almost unheard of.

They were baffled by it. They were awed by it. They were jealous.

As the time went by, and the circumstances around her past came out to haunt her, they finally realized that the situation was very different than the picture they had painted in their heads.

She wasn't just testing the waters with him, or simply using him as an available bed warmer to later on throw him awaylike a wet cloth.

She genuinely overcame her fears, her terrors and her own past to take the chance of having a relationship with Probie. Considering her past and her scars, only someone with Probie's deep sensitivity could handle someone as damaged as she was.

And that's why she defended him something fierce. She recognized him as something precious and rare, that she might never have the chance of finding again, and that must be protected at all costs.

She had already lost so much. She wasn't willing to wait for another time and another place. Life was too short to be little, so she would take any chance she could and break any rule she had to break, if that meant that she would have a little piece of heaven on earth.

They had a huge wake-up call when they saw the despair on Probie's face when they found that bastard's lair, where the scent of blood and sex in the air indicated that unspeakable horrors had been done to the woman he cherished.

It was even more heartbreaking those few moments when they stood over the cliff, looking down to the unmoving body floating in the dark waters below.

The trip to the hospital was a blur. The wait for news on her condition was agonizing, as they saw the calm of their friend slowly crumbling. But it also gave them hope, as they saw her family members acting as a buffer, cradling every little piece before it reached the floor, and covering him with care and attention. They opened their arms and their hearts to him, welcoming him in their fold, and showering him with a love so pure that it might not cure all wounds, but at least helped to make the burden lighter.

And it made them even more jealous. And then they became angry at themselves for being jealous in first place. There they were, and they should be worried if their teammate would live to see another day, and they were ashamed of their own pettiness for being jealous because Probie and her had the courage to take the chance, and they had something together, even if it might not last forever, but they did it.

While they had lingered years without end, touching but not touched, together but apart.

That night, they witnessed what a true family can do for one of its own, and how they eagerly welcome a new member just as a small thanks for him being brave enough to take the next step and openly admit his feelings.

They went to the motel and the family slowly drifted to their own bedrooms, the team divided two rooms. After rolling around restlessly for several minutes, without finding a comfortable position to sleep in, he finally leaves the bed, puts on a jumper over his pyjamas and with his sandalsin his hand, slowly went to the door.

"Going somewhere, DiNozzo?" Gibbs' voice freezes him as he touches the handle of the door.

"Can't sleep, boss," he says softly, "I'm getting a beer to try to relax."

"uhm," says Gibbs, and turns to the other side and settles on his own pillow. He opens the door, and before he closes the door, hears his boss softly saying something that surprises him.

"Say hi to Ziva for me."

He smiles, and closes the door. He walks down the corridor where the vending machines are, and fishes some coins from his pocket, completely intent on getting something, anything just to justify his intentions. As he turns at the end of the corridor, he's surprised to see the object of his desires and thoughts fighting with the machine.

"Bloody stupid thing," she slaps the glass, angry at the chocolate bar that seems to be stuck in the coil, hanging precariously but not falling down.

He studies her for a moment, her figure hidden by the layers of blankets she arranged around herself trying to preserve the heat, that she was dragging around as mantle.

"Need some help?"

"Tony," she points at the machine, "it stole my dollar and it is holding my chocolate hostage."

He approaches the offending machine, and smiles when he hears her muttering.

"Maybe I should go back to my room and get my gun."

"No need for such extremes," he slaps the glass with his open hand and the chocolate bar falls, and he gives it to her with a flourish.

She opens it and eagerly eats it, "why are you still awake?"

"Can't sleep," he studies her face, seeing her delight with the candy, and feeling that familiar emotion burning in his chest, "you?"

"Can't either," she frowns, and softly adds, "every time I close my eyes I see Buchanan's broken body and she's not breathing, the machines are off and she's dead."

She looks up at him, "I wish I had the chance of shooting the bastard, or at least having the chance of being alone in a room with him for some minutes," she looks at him with a hardness in her eyes that he recognize as her Mossad training, "he would learn never ever to hurt one of our own ever again."

"I would love to watch that," he smiles, "hell, maybe I would even sell tickets to the Buchanans, I would be rich in no time."

They softly laugh, but soon they become sober again, as there are too many unspoken words between them that weight heavily in the silence.

"Ziver…"

"Tony…"

They pause, and smile at each other, studying the other's face with care and devotion. She recognizes the hunger as well as the pain in his face, but she isn't brave enough to take the first step.

Unfortunately, neither is he.

"It´s late."

"Yes, it is."

"I better go back to bed."

"Yes."

She turns around and goes to her room. Before she enters it, she looks back down the corridor, and sees him standing exactly where she left him, by the vending machines, staring at her with an intensity that gives her shivers.

She opens the doors and hides inside the dark bedroom.

Tomorrow will be another day, and maybe she will need to prepare herself for a funeral.

Maybe someday, but not today.

Reviews are food for the soul.