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Author's Note: Chapter Four! Full of twists and turns! Thank you for reading and reviewing!
Disclaimer: NCIS and its associated themes and scripts are not mine.
Summary: Gibbs has an idea and Ziva is not so sure it will work.
Rating: T (Implied Themes)
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Did he mean he was going to take care of her?
Looking at her watch, the time says half past ten p.m.
Ziva thought Gibbs would have left by now, by apparently he had other ideas.
She moves into the couch, her back hitting the soft cushion behind her. Turning to Gibbs, her face expresses her confusion:
"What do you mean, 'I will'?"
When he sees Ziva relax into the couch, her body moves so their thighs are touching.
Gibbs makes a mental note that she doesn't turn away or apologize.
Maybe getting her to let her walls down wouldn't be so hard after-all.
Then again, maybe not:
"You need someone around to help you."
Ziva was still confused. Gibbs was a leader, her boss-he was not her keeper:
"Help me with what exactly? I am capable of handing my life Gibbs."
Her tone is warm and confused. She's not sharp and her defensive side has retreated, for now. And she was right, she was more than capable of handling her own life, she was a grown woman after-all.
But that didn't mean she didn't need a little help, everyone does at some point:
"I know. Doesn't mean you should go through it alone."
Suddenly, the picture was becoming clearer. Gibbs knew what he wanted to do, he was just un-sure of how to say it. He always did have a plan:
"What is it that you have in mind?"
Jethro knew she'd get to the point, he was just hoping he would have a little more time before they discussed his plan of action.
But truth be told, waiting wasn't Ziva's style:
"I don't want you to be alone right now."
She chuckles, for real, at the thought of Gibbs not wanting her to be alone.
Ziva has felt alone practically her entire life, it was nothing new. Though she wished there was a ways he could change it.
With a small amount of light in her eyes and a smile still on her lips, she looks at Jethro and has to ask:
"So what is it you suggest? Do you…want to move in?"
Ziva receives a smirk and after a brief moment of contemplation-the realization hits her.
And it hits her hard and fast.
She had just voiced his plan.
Her mind shuffles like a deck of playing cards and she wants to move. But that would mean moving away from Jethro, and that was one thing she never wanted to do.
Ever:
"You want to move in," Quickly returning to her up-right position, it was slowly sinking in.
Her statement was one that she had to say out loud for her to realize it was really happening, and one she repeated:
"You want to move in. Why?"
All in all, the conservation had gone easier than he first it would. And sitting here with her, so close to him, made him fully realize her true beauty. Her hair straight and still tied away from her face, her olive skin bouncing off the low light of her living room, she was breath-taking.
Every single day she had been gone he had missed her more and more. And as the days turned to weeks and weeks to months, he wondered late at night how he had ever lived without her in his life.
It didn't feel the same without her in it.
Gibbs could only imagine that he was living the same Hell he put her through when he left for Mexico.
They had always been close, always flirted and teased one another. But having her ripped from him without a moment's notice was damn near too much to bear.
And now?
Now he was in her apartment and he could see the new version of Hell she was living with now that she had been found and brought back to the light.
And Gibbs was not going to let her be alone:
"Ya need time to heal and you can't do that alone. So I'll stay with you until I think you better."
She nods and looks him over. He made his mind up and she knew him well enough to know there was no changing it. Yet, she didn't mind sharing an apartment with Gibbs. She asks her new question, hoping it will sound as comical as it did in her mind:
"So if you are going to stay here, I have one question. What are you going to do for stress since I have do not have a basement or a boat?"
Gibbs looks at her and can tell her humor is coming back, even if it was only for a moment. A large smiles marks its arrival on her face and he matches her for it.
He chuckles, which ends up being joined by Ziva's own and then before they know it, they're both full on laughing.
She had a good point, there was no boat. But Jethro had a feeling that he wouldn't be stressed too much with Ziva around.
The laughing comes to its natural close and she leans back into the couch.
Or so she thought.
Apparently, Gibbs was closer than she realized and instead of her back finding the couch it found his warm chest instead.
Once she realizes what's happened, her instinct leads and overrules her want and she begins to lean up and move away.
Only she's stopped by an arm fully encircling her waist, and pulling her back in. His voice is low and gravely in her ear and it's comforting in every sense:
"Relax Ziver. I'm here to stay, remember?"
She smiles, realizing he's serious.
Placing her right hand on his chest, close to his heart, she pats the spot once. As if claiming it was hers.
Gibbs takes his own hand and holds hers.
Two hands on one man's chest.
Two fighters through and through, each recognizing what needed to be done for the other.
Both having made sacrifices and took risks.
Yet they could possibly be putting the most on the line now.
Living together.
The potential for greatness was high.
But so was the chance of failure.
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Roughly twenty minutes later, Ziva gave him the tour which lead them upstairs:
"The room on the right is mine, the room in the center is the main bathroom. You have your choice from the remaining here bedrooms which you would like. Each have a half bathroom and there is a full bathroom downstairs as well."
Ziva was one woman who lived alone, why so many rooms?
"Three spare rooms?"
Nodding, Zia did not think he would ask. Though it was Gibbs:
"Yes. My connection said this was the only thing she had in D.C. The location is not bad, only twenty minutes to the Navy Yard."
She was right, the location was rather good. Gibbs lived about thirty minutes away, McGee and DiNozzo twenty, though in opposite direction. Abby was a little farther, timing about forty minutes.
In a way, Ziva was in the center of all of their residences.
Just like the hole that was in the center of their chests while she was in Somalia.
Deciding to take the room across from hers for now, he nods:
"Okay."
"Do you have a bag in your car for tomorrow or…"
Catching her drift, he answers:
"Yeah. I'll be back in a sec."
Descending the stairs, he leaves, getting the bag complete with pajamas and two changes of clothes from his trunk.
When he re-enters Ziva's place, he hears her in the kitchen and smells something wonderful.
Locking the door, he sets his bag at the foot of the stairs before finding her:
"What's this?"
She takes his plate out of the microwave and sets it down at the table, alongside silverware and a new cup of coffee:
"Gibbs, I doubt you have eaten much of anything today,"
Setting the plate down, she motions for him to sit:
"Sit and eat. It is pot roast and potatoes. I made it last night when I couldn't sleep."
Smirking, he never knew she cooked when she couldn't sleep. Though he understands why. Going through all she did, he wouldn't want to sleep either.
Taking the seat she offered:
"Where's yours?"
Sitting across from him with her own coffee, she replies:
"I am not hungry."
She sips her coffee and he glares her down, though it does no good:
"Gibbs, glare all you wish, I have no appetite and I ate at NCIS earlier."
He shakes his head to himself and begins to eat. And he had to admit-it was damn good.
She sat still, sipping her coffee, trying to quietly digest all that was happening. The emotions don't play out on her face, but he can tell she's deep in thought. Debating on whether or not to bring it up, Ziva's question fills the room:
"What about the team? If they find out what will we say?"
He gives her credit for thinking ahead of time. After swallowing a bite, his response is easy:
"We won't. If they figure it out…tell the truth."
Her voice is cautionary, worried, and a little rushed. She's concerned about what will happen and she has a right to be:
"Tell the truth? That my boss is living with me until he feels that I can take care of myself? Or that it is none of their business?"
Finishing another bite:
"That last version works for me."
She shows a small smile and found that with him around they were getting easier to form.
As he ate, they discussed light things here and there. Cases mostly, but Ziva wanted to catch up on what she'd missed and Gibbs was more than happy to oblige.
When he had finished she took his plate and put it in the sink as he complimented her cooking. Deciding time was getting away from them, she turned off the lights and they made their way upstairs with Gibbs on her six.
They enter their rooms, both leaving the doors open. Ziva grabbed her pajamas and toiletries to head downstairs for a shower as Gibbs unpacked his go bag.
Exiting her room, she pauses in the hallway in front of his door. Knocking of the door-frame:
"Knock knock."
He turns to see her standing patiently, clothes in her hands:
"Knocking on your own door Ziver?"
"Yes. It is still your room. I am going downstairs for a shower. There are extra towels, sheets, and blankets in the top of your closet, should you need anything."
Gibbs never knew what Ziva was like at home, but he was enjoying seeing her 'down' side:
"Thanks. Gonna grab one myself."
She nods, then descends the stairs, ready to cool down.
Entering the bathroom, she closes the door behind her and sets her things down eside the sink. Slipping off her shoes, she begins to un-dress and as she does, the thought hits her:
If she and Gibbs were showering under the same roof at the same time, did that mean they were showering together?
Whoa, that was a thought that was new territory.
Starting the water for her shower, she lets the water warm while she removes the last pieces of clothing and her reflection is not what it used to be.
The bruises on her stomach are practically completely gone, the ones on her legs have already left.
Her back is the only injury left from Somalia and Saleem. And even that wasn't that bad. The bruises were light and the pain now was a general ache and severe muscle soreness all over. The spot Gibbs had touched earlier just happened to be where her pain was originating from. But Ziva wasn't worried, she was a quick healer.
Getting in the shower, her thoughts travel to all that had been said tonight.
He wanted to be there for her and he was. But she just didn't know how to let him in when it came to the bad things. The good, yes, she would always discuss with him and she had in the past.
But the nightmares, the injuries, the bad and fear, the parts of her past that haunted her-Jethro deserved better than that.
She also knew that Gibbs was a man that got what he wanted. No matter what.
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Fully underneath the water's almost hot spray, Gibbs has to admit-something about being here made him feel like he was home.
Sure, it could have been that he had Ziva back. And it could have been that the apartment was inviting and meant that Ziva had some sense of normalcy back in her life.
Both of those reasons could be true.
But neither of those reasons was the real one. The real reason was…
Well that was just it. Gibbs couldn't put his finger on it yet.
But he did know that Ziva was in the shower downstairs, safe and sound.
Safe and sound was what he wanted for Ziva, that was the most important thing.
It always had been and always would be.
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He's in his room and dressed before she returns. Her bare feet are the only sound announcing her arrival as she rises on the stairs.
Hair still dry and straight, she pulled it up during the shower, it's down and well around her shoulders.
His Marines T-Shirt and sweatpants are comfortable for him, for her it was loose pajama bottoms and a black shirt.
Gibbs' light is on, door open, and he's reading. She stops where she did last time and again knocks. He looks up and gives her a smirk, taking the glasses off and setting the book aside:
"Ziver."
"Just saying good-night. Sleep well Gibbs."
He nods and wishes her the same, sort of:
"Only if you do."
She smiles and turns, heading to her room and closing the door.
Gibbs stays up for roughly another hour after their brief exchange of words, then caves in to the sleep that was ever-so-loudly calling his name.
Putting the book and glasses on the bedside table, he turns off the light and gets comfortable.
With any luck, sleep would find them both and would get a fresh start in the morning.
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Gibbs awakes with a start, then he realizes why. It takes a moment for him to remember where he is and why. The past weeks flash before him and the sounds he hears finally register.
It's coming from across the hall.
Turning on his light and looking at the clock, it reads five thirty a.m. He treads lightly across the hall, his door still open.
Putting his ear to her door, his worst thoughts are confirmed.
No-one is in there with her, it's a nightmare she's fighting.
Opening the door quietly he checks the room out of habit and finds Ziva alone.
Sitting on the side she's lying, Gibbs puts his hands on her arm and rolls her from lying on her side to flat on her back. That doesn't wake her. Removing one hand, he turns on her bedside lamp and with one hand on each arm, he shakes her gently, but firmly enough to wake her:
"Ziva."
Instantly, she wakes. Her eyes fly open and her arms fight him out of habit. His grips her a little tighter, stopping her arms which are ready to fight in a moment's notice:
"Ziva."
She leans up, trying to grasp the situation. His voice is calmer now and Ziva finds her eyes are focusing on the man, the surrounding, and the situation. Her upper body relaxes, not trying to fight him, but the monsters that just visited her.
Again:
"Gibbs, I am sorry. I'm fine, you can go back to sleep. I did not mean to wake you."
The words are rushed, foreign sounding to them both, and she's still slightly out of breath from what she had been fighting before he arrived:
"How long's this been going on?"
"I already told you, when I came back. This is something I can han-"
"No, when was the last time you got some decent sleep?"
He wants to help, but in order to do that she has to give him some intel on what playing field he's on:
"Before we left for Tel Aviv."
Gibbs sighs audibly, finally getting the full picture on how's she's been handling this. Or lack thereof:
"Oh Ziva."
She's still sitting up, his hands are still on her arms, her body shaking enough for him to notice. Although he doesn't want to leave her he does have to move.
Letting go of her, he moves to the opposite side of the bed, her eyes following him the entire time. Pulling the covers back, he looks at her and motions for her to come to him, receive warmth and comfort from him.
To be held:
"No, Gibbs, I am f-"
"You've been having nightmares for weeks. You're not doing it alone anymore."
Thinking, Ziva realizes he was right. On both counts.
She had been re-living every single moment and memory of Somalia since they found her. And she hated it. And yet tonight, she had both been told and shown she wasn't alone anymore.
Her momentary contemplation now complete, she gives in to what she wants and in some senses needs.
Moving over a few inches, she takes the covers with her and finds comfort in his arms. Covering them both, any un-certainty she may have had about what was happening was eliminated when she feels Gibbs' arms tighten and pull her closer.
He soothes her back with an un-changing up and down pattern, nice and slow. Very gentle, her remembers earlier in the kitchen and her wince of pain.
Ziva takes a deep breath and breathes him in, finding solace in his natural strength:
"Wanna tell me?"
She knows he means the attack in her sleep and she doesn't want to talk about it, not right now. But she'll give him an answer, she always does:
"It's the same dream, just over and over. Instead…instead of DiNozzo in the cell with me it is you. And you…"
He doesn't make it out alive. She didn't have to say it for Gibbs to realize that's what she meant. Her throat tightens with emotion and she shakes her head 'no' against his chest:
"Okay. I got ya."
He presses a gentle kiss to the top of her head and was finding that he liked those kisses more and more. Gibbs feels her snuggle in tighter and he has to smile at her action.
If Ziva was still keeping her walls up she would have turned away, she wouldn't embrace him more.
Though it was a small start, or so Jethro thought, it was still a start.
Ziva didn't fully know how Gibbs could be so warm, so comforting naturally. But she did appreciate it.
Until now, she had no idea how lonely she truly felt. She hadn't been shown care in so long, she hadn't felt she deserved it. Not that she truly did now:
"What time is it?"
Remembering the time when he woke, he added ten minutes to be safe:
"Twenty til six."
Ziva leans up and looks at him:
"We will need to get going soon. And have to leave at separate times. The tea-"
Gibbs sees her rambling, struggling to keep up with all the thoughts she had. Cupping her face gently with one hand, his soft words leave no choice but to stop her speaking:
"Hey. It'll be fine,"
She nods and leans into his palm, closing her eyes. It could have lasted a moment or an hour, right then Ziva couldn't tell. Though Gibbs knew and his voice still slightly laced with sleep:
"We've got time, Ziver."
Opening her eyes, she looks at him, and sighs. Gibbs runs his hand around to the back of her neck and his fingers thread through her hair and she follows his lead as he pulls her back to him.
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Thirty minutes later, they separate to get ready for the day. Ziva made coffee while Gibbs was upstairs and honestly, their pattern worked well. There were no awkward encounters, no stepping on the others' toes.
Both dressed, Gibbs was in the kitchen, with the coffee. Hearing Ziva descend the stairs, he pours her a cup and has it ready for her when she enters, her voice bright:
"Good morning."
He had to give her credit, she seemed almost energetic, even given her night:
"Coffee?"
She nods and takes the cup he has. After Ziva took a drink she sets it down and reaches into her pocket. Taking out an item, she folds it over in her hands a few times before she explains:
"If you are going to be staying here for an amount of time that has yet to be determined…then you will need this."
Gibbs sets down his cup and sees what Ziva has in her hand.
A copy of her house key.
For him.
Taking it from her, he knew this was a big deal for her:
"You sure Ziva?"
Nodding, her voice is calm and serious:
"Yes. I know there is no changing your mind, so you should feel as welcome here as possible."
She had a point. If he was going to be staying he would most definitely need a key:
"Thank you."
She manages a small smile:
"Anytime. Now, I think I should head to the Navy Yard, we will have to work on our timing,"
Her bag was by the door, the only thing she had to do was grab the bag and her keys and leave.
But, there was one more thing she wanted to do first.
Crossing the room to get closer to him, she leans up on her tip-toes, and kisses him on the cheek.
They share a smile and Ziva leaves the kitchen, and her apartment.
Which leaves Gibbs with a key and coffee.
And a good feeling in his gut.
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