A/N: shmargah! I've gotten alot of requests about Gibbs and where in the world he has gone to! I don't know, but now he's back. And this is tricky for me, I'm not great with the entire father-daughter writing relationship. Give me some angst, I'm down, but this sugar-pie-honey-bunch...awkward. PLUS! This is a Tiva story so can we back off the Gibbness? There won't be much. And please for the love of all goodness, review!
Ziva had been relieved to get into some real clothes, although she hadn't had much of a shower since the ordeal (something she was craving desperatley; there was nothing she would like more to scrub and scrub the filth of that man off of her.) She had finally gotten some of her own clothes, and was wearing her favorite pair of sweats and a t-shirt that was too big on her. She looked a little frumpy, but at the moment, she felt "frumpy" was all she deserved. She sat on top of the scratchy hospital bed, wishing she could go home, but at the same time, didn't want to be alone.
Ziva had turned quiet, but not her normal sharp silence when she was angry, or the strong wordlessness when she was thinking. Reserved, secluded from reality. It was as though her soul had been removed, crumpled, ripped, beaten, and scarred, then returned to her exausted body. The blood that ran through her veins had turned cold, the words that escaped her lips had no meaning, she ate, but did not taste, touched, but could not feel. She had no escape.
People had been trickling in and out all day, Ducky, who had been his usual plucky self, Tony, who she suspected was still somehwere in the hospital, Abby, who was still depressed. The only person she hadn't seen at all was Gibbs.
Gibbs had been in England, and if him being there alone wasn't strange enough, he was also leading the investigation of a Navy Seal murdered in London. She sighed and thought some more.
Home. She considered the word. Where was it truly? Israel, no, for obvious reasons; her Father still respected her, but she had felt detatched from her entire family since Somalia. Maybe NCIS? Sure, she supposed. But it wasn't NCIS itself, more the people. The team. Was that her home? Maybe family. But then, where was her home? The break room was not her kitchen, her desk not her bedroom. She shook her head. Home...
Family. Had she ever truly had one? Yes, at one time. She had, in the past, blood related people she lived with, laughed withed, loved. But that, that was in the past. How about now?
Abby: her sister. Gibbs: her father. McGee: Her brother. Ducky: her grandfather. Palmer? a distant weird cousin, but family none-the-less.
Tony? her brow furrowed.
Tony.
"Ziver." a voice said from the door suddenly. She looked up and her stomach twisted from relief.
"Gibbs.." was all she could squeak, before she was engulfed in the rough black fabric of his overcoat.
-Back at NCIS-
"I'm sorry, Tony, you and the team cannot work on this case. It's gotten too personal. I don't know if it's just to let anyone from NCIS work on it. I'm considering calling in the FBI, for God sakes, I have to forbid Fornell on this one too." Tony looked ahead grimly. "It's just too personal." Vance repeated.
"Where's the guy?"
"I'm not allowed to divulge that informartion. You know that."
And without another word, Tony walked out of the office.
All of NCIS was a little off since the incident. Abby's lab was silent, no familiar booming techno, as she tapped mindlessley on her computers, pulling up cold cases to kill time. In contrast. Ducky's usual quiet morgue, was filled with the harminous sounds of classical music, coming from a record player he had brought in, the music scratchy sounding, but good. In the bullpen, there was none of the usual banter, no McNicknames, no teasing, no pranking. In fact, the entire building was in a little bit of a shock. Sure, for them, the others, things would come back around, there would be knew scuttlebutt, new dramatic cases.
But not for the team. They were forever marked, forever burdened by the memory of Ziva, tied up, broken.
Ziva soon found herself alone again. But not for long. Soon there was talk, the annoying talk in between two people as though the third party, or, the one they are disscussing, has ceased to exsist. Talk that Ziva had to go home. But Ziva refused to go alone, the only thing she had requested since she got to the hostpital, not to be alone. There was arguments over chaperones. Escorts. People taking her in. All the team, of course.
Finally, a decision was made.
"Zi, are you alright?" Tony said as he walked in. She managed a weak smile and slid off the bed, her hair hanging loose over her shoulders, her face without makeup. She knew she looked awful, but she didn't care. The only thing she picked up was the throw blanket someone had delivered to her from home, and she walked into Tony's awaiting arms, slipping under one, and leaning against him.
Tony looked down at her tired face, at the thin slivers still scattered on her cheeks, the delicate purples of bruises blossoming along her jawline and neck. Her eyes were heavy, he doubted she had been getting much sleep. As though she had been reading his mind, she yawned to hit that point home.
"Are you sure your okay?" Tony asked in the car ride home.
"I need a shower and some sleep." she replied quietly, then pulled her knees up to her chest, and let out another yawn. When they reached Tony's apartment, Ziva allowed him to help her up the stairs, a supportive arm slunk around her waist. She felt as though maybe, under different circumstances, this might have been awkward, walking into his apartment together. But right now, she appreciated the warm hand on her side, the soft hazel eyes watching her protectivley. She made her way to the bathroom, and smiled at the duffel bag full of her belongings sitting on the sink. She shut the door with a click and started the warm water, and soon, the entire bathroom was filled with a perfumey steam.
She scubbed and washed every inch, every centimeter, every hair follicle, fingernail, and tiny little bit of her smooth-almond colored skin until it was rubbed red and raw. Then she allowed the hot water beat down on her gently, soothing her aching muscles with little pattered drum beats. She didn't know how long she had been in there, when the hot water began to cool, and she finally convinced herself to step out and dry off. When she had dressed, she stared at her face in the reflection. Bags under her eyes, face red and splotchy. Her hair was dripping wet, the little beads of condensation swimming down the individual curls. When she watched herself yawn in the mirror, she decided it might be best to go and sleep. She pulled the door open and shuffled to the living room.
"Looking better already." Tony said from the couch, and stood to help her. "You hungry?"
"Not really, no."
"You really should try and eat something."
"I don't want to." she felt like snapping, but couldn't muster the energy. "I want to sleep, is all."
"I know." he whispered.
"Tony." she said, barely allowing the word form in her mouth. "I can't be alone right now." the last word came out bloated in emotion. He took her in his arms and squeezed gently.
"Come on." he said, and led her down the hall. Ziva could feel another bout of tears coming on, but tried with everything she had left to hold them back. She pulled the warm blankets around her and curled up into a tight little ball. Before Tony could say anything more, she fell asleep.
Some time later, Tony came to bed, and as soon as he had laid down, Ziva rolled over and attached herself to him, unconciously. With a little sigh, she leaned her head into the space between his neck and shoulder, and took hold of the front of his t-shirt. She grasped the fabric near his abdomen, clutching the material tightly, as though it was a lifeline. He was her security blanket; she, the desperate, lonely child.
Tony watched her sleep for a bit, her chest raising and falling gently, her eyelids fluttering with hidden dreams, the lashes brushing against her cheeks. She would let out little broken sobs once in a while, and Tony would only hold her tighter.
At one point during the night, her dreams filled with the thoughts she had been analyzing.
"Tony." she muttered aloud, still lost in her dream. Tony?
The two mystery words finally clicked internally.
Tony.
Home.
Her eyes shot open.
A/N: Welll? Did you like it? I've been working really hard on this chapter, harder than anything else I've written on here, and I hope you liked it. Please review!