This chapter takes place immediately after the gang gets off of the elevator when they return from Somalia. Aaahhh…Somalia. Sucks for poor Ziva, but excellent for fan fiction. I wrote and rewrote this chapter. Then wrote it again. Hopefully, it works. I'm officially cross eyed now, so I am apologizing in advance for mistakes.
Disclaimer: Still not mine.
She had chosen him. Of all of her former team mates, Ziva had chosen to go home with Tony.
"DiNozzo, Ziva is going home with you tonight."
"Is this what she wants, Boss? The last time Ziva and I spoke, she threatened me with a gun. You should probably ask her -"
Smacking both palms down on Tony's desk, Gibbs leaned in and whispered harshly, "Does she look like a threat to you now, DiNozzo? Besides, she chose you."
She had chosen him.
The car ride to his apartment is silent. He can feel the taught energy rolling off of her in waves, like ripples in a pond. Her eyes dart nervously, taking in her surroundings. There are million things he wants to say, but he can't quite find the words to accurately portray the sum of his feelings. He's not sure she's present anyway so he attempts to sooth her frayed nerves instead.
"Relax," Tony says gently. "You are safe now."
She looks at him with wary, scared eyes.
"You are safe, Ziva," he repeats. He wonders, not for the first time this evening, if he is in over his head.
She does not speak for the remainder of the trip to his apartment. She does not speak as he leads her upstairs. And she still does not speak as he ushers her into his bathroom and turns on the water in his bath tub. She simply watches him, caution unmistakable in her expression.
He lets water fill the tub and leaves briefly to fetch a few towels. When he returns she still hasn't moved. He sighs.
"Ziva, do you need anything?"
She shakes her head and he shuts off the water.
"I will be right outside if you need me."
He closes the wooden door and leans back against the painted surface. Dragging a hand across tired features, he wonders again if he is in over his head. In his bathroom is the ghost of a once deadly Mossad assassin and he had no idea what to do to help her.
Ten minutes turns into twenty and then thirty. No sounds come from the bathroom.
Finally, Tony knocks softly on the bathroom door.
"Ziva? Are you okay?"
No answer.
They were beyond modesty. He opens the door.
Ziva is sitting on the edge of the tub, having only managed to remove her socks and boots. Peering up at him, she looks like a refugee.
"Let me help you." He holds out his hand, expecting her to recoil from him, but she tentatively places her small hand in his larger one and allows him to pull her to her feet. He smiles. It was a start.
As gently as possible, he begins to peel the dirty, blood stained clothes from her body. She makes no move to help, but does not resist either. He then makes quick work of removing his own dusty clothes.
He pulls the plug from the drain, opting to take a shower with her rather than attempt to fit them both into the tub.
He sucks in his breath the moment she turns from him to step into the bathtub. Whirling around at his sharp intake of air, she attempts to shield her body from his view by wrapping her arms protectively around her waist. He doesn't let her hide however, and gently turns her around once more. Her back is a mess of scars, scabs and bruises all at various stages of healing. He drops to his knees, turns her again and looks more closely at her torso and discovers older faded bruises along her ribs, stomach and thighs. Before he thinks better of it, he lightly traces a finger over rather ugly dark purple bruises staining the skin of her inner thighs. She clamps her legs together and involuntarily hunches over slightly.
He looks her in the eye and she knows the question he wants to ask.
Unable to hold his gaze, she looks away.
In a voice that sounds foreign to her own ears, she whimpers, "Please, Tony, no questions. Not tonight."
He nods and gets back to his feet. She is right. Tonight is not the time for questions. He helps her into the shower and suddenly needs to feel her body against his. He is so very gentle with her as for a brief moment she leans against his strong frame. He wants to kiss her, hold her, touch her all over to reassure himself that she is indeed very much living and breathing. He doesn't do any of these things, however, and keeps his physical contact to a minimum and somewhat clinical.
He grabs the shampoo and quickly goes to work washing her hair and then his own. He is halfway through lathering soap over her skin as quickly as possible when he feels rather than hears the first sob that shudders through her body.
Her legs collapse from underneath her and she pitches forward. He wraps an arm around her but follows her down until they are both kneeling on porcelain. Turning in his embrace she sobs against his chest. Great heaving sobs that shake her entire body. Finally, he sits down under the hot spray of water and pulls her into his lap. Tender hands sooth her abused body and hold her until her crying stops. He doesn't move until the water raining down upon them begins to grow cold.
Her teeth are chattering has he wraps a towel around her body and then his own. He finds an old pair of running shorts and helps her step into them.
"Ziva, we need to do something about your back."
She climbs onto his bed , gives him an unsure look, and gingerly places herself face down on his bed. He pulls this thick quilt over her to keep her warm until her can scrounge up the necessary supplies.
Gibbs. Gibbs will know what to do.
Tony slips from the bedroom to make a hushed call from his cell requesting hospital supplies.
Gibbs arrives within the hour with a brown paper bag filled with telfa pads, gauze rolls, ointment, ace bandages and some sort of blue liquid called chlorhexadine. And heavy sedatives. It seems Ducky has some connections himself.
"Only one of these pills at a time, Tony."
Gibbs turns to leave but pauses when Tony says, "I'm scared, Boss."
"Me too, DiNozzo."
"Why didn't you force her to go to the hospital?"
The silence threatens to choke them both before Gibbs finally replies.
"The medics said none of her injuries were critical at this point," he sighs, then continues. "Maybe I did her a disservice but I needed to give her the choice, Tony. I gave her the power to decide what happened to her tonight. We can force her to go to the doctor tomorrow, but for tonight, I let her make the choice and she chose you."
Gibbs lets himself out.
He doesn't speak for awhile after he sits down on the bed beside her still form. Running his fingers lightly along the top of her head, he feels relief when she doesn't flinch. Her eyes are open and she watches him but avoids direct eye contact. Handing her a glass and a pill, it doesn't even occur to her to ask questions.
He patiently waits until her eyelids begin to droop before he finally lowers the quilt.
No survivors. There were no survivors.
But she did survive.
He wants to scream, yell and howl at the marks scattered across her skin. But he doesn't. Instead, he does the best that he can with the supplies that he has been given.
"I always wanted to play doctor with you, Ziva," he jokes because if he doesn't distract himself, he may just grab her in his arms and start sobbing himself.
She smiles slightly for the first time since she was dumped in the chair across from him in Somalia.
His hands are excruciatingly gentle and she finally lets herself begin to relax.
She has not quite succumbed to sleep as he helps her sit up so that he might wrap the ace bandage around her torso to keep the gauze in place.
Leaning heavily against him, she reaches up to place a soft hand against his cheek. He covers that hand with his own.
"I'm so sorry, Tony, I never meant-" She doesn't finish her statement as the drugs take over her system.
He lays down and pulls her against him so that she is curled along his chest and her head is tucked under his chin.
He doesn't want to let go of her because two days ago, Ziva David was dead.
No survivors.
But she did survive.
And he's not letting her go.
A/N: Okay, so no sex in this chapter, but hey, spending time in a terrorist camp isn't good for your sex drive. Anyway, I had to go there in order to give them the happy ending they deserve. As always, thank you for reading!!!