A/N: Apologies for the delay on this one. Feelings and stuff and things.
Disclaimer: Disclaimed.
In a rare show of kindness and generosity, Gibbs allowed his team the next morning off. Although by Gibbs' standards, that meant that the team didn't have to show up to work until 0900. It was hardly a great respite, but the gesture was appreciated all the same. Rule number 55: Never look a gift Gibbs in the mouth.
Ziva had just enough to drink at the bar the night before to ensure that she would sleep through the night instead of staying wide awake and worrying about the mess she was in. A mess that seemed to be getting messier by the day. She realized that the drinking probably hadn't been the best idea when she woke up at 0600 with a clanging headache, a fuzzy mouth and a delicate stomach. She was stuck in a cycle where the sick feeling fed her worry and her worry fed her sickness. By the time she stepped into the elevator at the Navy Yard at 0900, she was seriously considering a plan that started with throwing up everything she'd eaten since 1989, and culminated in running away to Siberia, Gibbs and his orders be damned.
Two other agents who had probably been at work for two hours already got into the elevator with her carrying large cups of coffee. Instead of perking her up, the smell almost made Ziva gag. She breathed steadily through her mouth, tried to control the urge to throw up right there, and gave the agents a polite smile. She assumed they would just return it and continue with their conversation, but when Hanlon and Ruiz saw her, their eyes lit up as if they'd just won a prize.
"Hey!" Hanlon said enthusiastically as she flicked her long bangs out of her eyes. "How's DiNozzo doing this morning?"
Ziva's stomach rolled as she was reminded of what awaited her in the bullpen, but she returned what she assumed was just polite small talk. "We had a late start this morning. I have not seen him yet."
Ruiz and Hanlon shared a sympathetic smile, but Ziva felt like there was something else going on. The smile was too sympathetic. It had to be a cover. But Ziva didn't have a clue about what their real intentions might be.
"I didn't get the impression that it was too serious," Ruiz said. "I mean, maybe it was. But with his reputation…" She trailed off to leave her elevator buddies to fill in the rest.
Ziva frowned deeply and rubbed at her temple. She was missing something. "What wasn't serious?"
"Him and Barrett," Hanlon told her. "You didn't hear yet?"
Ziva's heart picked up its pace. "Hear what?"
"Vance offered the Paris job to Barrett," Ruiz told her. "She's taking it. Taking her whole team."
Ziva's stared at her dumbly. Was she hearing this correctly? "Barrett is leaving for Paris," she stated, just to make sure she'd gotten that right.
Ruiz nodded. "Yeah. Gone by the end of the week."
"I think something weird's going on," Hanlon said. "That position isn't for a team leader. I think her and Vance are up to something."
Ziva tuned the rest of the conversation out as she considered what it all meant. Barrett leaving would not fix the sadness, regret and distance between herself and Tony. The damage to their relationship had already been done, and it would not magically repair itself now that third parties were out of the way. And in fact, things may end up deteriorating even more. Tony did not handle break-ups well. He got overly reflective, then hurt, then angry, then a bit childish. After that he blamed himself for a while, then made grand statements about being relieved to be on his own again, until finally he acted like himself again. The entire process could take up to a year to complete, and during that time he often treated her and McGee with blatant disdain. If she was already at odds with him, would he decide to lash out at her and publicly blame her for everything?
That was one scenario. But Ziva could think of another that made her nausea even worse. What if he was going with Barrett to Paris? Hanlon and Ruiz suggested that they'd broken up, but they clearly didn't know the whole story. What if Tony had decided that now was finally the time to made a commitment? The thought made her heart constrict painfully, and the 95 per cent of her that still loved him desperately didn't want it to be the case. But the 5 per cent of her that had been trying to convince the rest of her to let him go saw the benefit. Last night she had wanted Gibbs to let her go to another team so that she and Tony could end almost all contact. But if Tony went to Paris, it would essentially do the same thing. Separate them as much as possible so that at least Tony could move on and live a happy life.
But as soon as the elevator stopped and the doors opened, Ziva knew that her partner was staying in the US. Barrett was folding some moving boxes at her desk, and she looked up just as Ziva stepped out of the lift. Their eyes met, and Ziva raised her eyebrows in question. Barrett cast her eyes down momentarily, and that was all the evidence Ziva needed to convince her Barrett was going to Paris sans DiNozzo. When she met Ziva's eyes again, she gave her a small shrug and a nod. Yes, she was definitely leaving.
In that moment, Barrett reminded Ziva of Jenny Shepard again. She was choosing her career over what could turn into her most important relationship, just as Jenny had done to Gibbs. Both women had definite goals, and they had the focus and motivation to reach them. Leaving aside the fact that Barrett may just have broken Tony's heart, Ziva found that she couldn't blame her for her decision. She understood how hard it was to be a woman in a boys' club profession, and that if you wanted to get anywhere, you had to either make your own opportunities or take every single one that came your way. In the past, Ziva had made similar decisions that had advanced her career but ended relationships. It didn't make her heartless, just as it didn't make Barrett heartless now. All it meant was that you prioritized different things at different times in your life.
She wondered if Tony understood that.
She dragged herself over to her desk, now even less enthusiastic about starting the day than she had been when all she had to deal with was a hangover. Tony and McGee were already there, although Gibbs was nowhere to be seen. As she walked around her desk she watched Tony carefully. His eyes were glued to his keyboard as he hunted at pecked at keys, and there was a stack of file folders beside his elbow that hadn't been there yesterday.
"Good morning," she said to them both.
Tony briefly paused his typing to glance at her briefly. "Hey," he said. It was a subdued greeting, but normal enough to assure Ziva that she wasn't in his firing line today.
She looked over at McGee who smiled hello, widened his eyes in acknowledgement of the situation, and then cocked his head at her with curiosity.
"You okay?" he asked. "You look a little pale. Sick. Like me." He delivered the final line while looking at Tony, clearly attempting to get a normal DiNozzo reaction that would involve some teasing of the younger agent. But Tony didn't lift his eyes from his keyboard and didn't give any indication that he was paying any attention.
Although things had been difficult between them, Tony had been there for her when Ray had died. So now, Ziva tried to return the favor by opening herself up for regular DiNozzo teasing.
"I am hungover," she told McGee, while watching Tony for a reaction. There was none, so she added, "Very hungover. I drank far too much, and now I want to be sick."
Tony just kept typing.
Ziva looked at McGee, who winced at the situation they were in. She sat down and turned on her computer.
"I don't suppose Gibbs is similarly afflicted," she said to McGee.
"No, he's just gone on a coffee run."
"So it is just me?"
McGee's smile attempted sympathy but ended up somewhere in the vicinity of mirth. "I'm afraid so."
"Great," she sighed. "I sincerely hope that we do not get called to a crime scene today. Or I might contaminate the evidence."
McGee chuckled as Gibbs strode in carrying three coffee cups and a bottle of water. He put a cup down on Tony's desk, and then handed the water to Ziva.
"Here. You need this," he told her. "Get your hydration up."
Ziva didn't know how he'd known for sure that she would be hungover, but she appreciated the offering all the same. "Thank you."
Gibbs paused and looked down at her critically. "You look…not great, David," he said, and then had the audacity to smirk at her before turning away and heading to McGee's desk to pass out another coffee.
Ziva's eyes narrowed at his back. "Thank you," she replied through gritted teeth.
Gibbs was still smirking when he turned and headed back to his desk. Meanwhile, McGee smiled broadly at her suffering. She shot him a look of warning, and while he at least had the good sense to try to rein in his smile, he wasn't entirely successful. She sighed heavily, opened the bottle and took a careful sip.
"I did not do anything…silly last night, did I?" she dared to ask. But at the smirk she watched pass between Gibbs and McGee, she wished she hadn't.
"Uh, not unless you think singing Vogue with Jimmy Palmer is silly," McGee replied.
Ziva stared at him, aghast. She didn't remember anything about that until…oh, God. She thought he might be right. "I was singing Madonna songs?" she asked, appalled with herself.
"Singing might be too kind of a description for what you were doing," Gibbs told her, deadpan.
Ziva screwed her eyes shut and dropped her face to her hands. If the headache and the nausea and the Barrett situation wasn't enough already, now she had to add embarrassment to the list of things to deal with that morning. Just wonderful.
She took a deep breath, made a wild grasp for her pride, and then lifted her head again. "Fine," she said, trying to make herself believe it. "That is…fine. I can live with that."
McGee chuckled. "Good. Because Abby videoed it. You can live with it over and over again, forever."
"Damn it!" she hissed, thumping the table with her fist. She heard a third chuckle join the other two, and looked across at Tony's desk. He'd finally cracked a smile, although his eyes were on his computer screen. Ziva decided she felt sick enough not to care that they were at odds. "Have you seen the video, Agent DiNozzo?"
Tony shook his head. "No," Tony replied, and then waited a perfect beat before adding, "I'm saving it for my birthday."
The comment drew a full laugh out of McGee, and even though it added to her embarrassment, Ziva still could help smirking in response. Then she retaliated by picking up a rubber band and flicking it across the bullpen at his head. It landed on his keyboard instead—great, her aim was off today as well—and Tony's smile widened briefly as he plucked it off the keys and tossed it onto the stack of files beside him.
It was as close to being normal as they'd been in weeks.
Ziva spent the rest of the day battling her hangover, casting concerned glanced at Tony and trying to work out what the hell she should do now, if anything. Her gut instinct was to pull him aside and try to help him as he'd helped her after Ray had died. The problem with that was didn't know where the line between them had settled, and so she didn't know if she'd be overstepping it. Not only that, but her attempts at lending an ear and offering advice after he had broken up with Jeanne Benoit had been disastrous. With things so hard between them now, Ziva was hesitant to start another conversation with him that would lead to more yelling and sniping.
But…
She didn't want him to think she didn't care. Or worse, that she was pleased by this turn of events. Because she wasn't pleased. Not really. She wanted him to be happy, and as much as it made her want to be sick (and not just because of the hangover), Barrett had seemed to make him happy. She seemed to have given him whatever he needed at this point in his life. And because she wanted him to be happy, because she loved him, she wanted to support him. He was still her partner, and it seemed like he would continue to be for a while. She owed it to him to push aside her doubts and put herself out there for him.
She got her chance towards the end of the day when Tony left his desk for the bathroom. She gave him a head start, and then slipped away from her desk to follow him. She pushed open the door of the men's room with the same disregard she always had and found Tony alone and washing his hands. He glanced up at her and then heaved a sigh at her predictability. She knew where he was coming from. It seemed like most of their more important conversations had taken place in bathrooms and locker rooms.
Ziva locked the door, took a step towards him and clasped her hands in front of her. "I get to ask one stupid question every day, and I have been saving it for you," she began, hoping that her attempt at levity would reassure him that she was going to go easy on him. "Are you okay?"
Tony grabbed a paper towel to wipe his hands. "Great," he replied flatly, and then tossed the towel into the trash.
Ziva waited silently for the truth, but Tony was not forthcoming. He leant back against the counter and shrugged.
"Ask a stupid question, get a stupid answer," he said, although his tone was devoid of malice.
Fair point.
She took another step towards him, until she was at one end of the counter and Tony was at the other. It was as close as she was willing to get. "I'm sorry, Tony," she said sincerely.
Tony lifted somber eyes to study her for a moment, and then averted his gaze again when it appeared that he believed her. He cracked a very slight, self-aware smile at the countertop. "No offense, Ziva. I can't talk about this with you. I'm sure you understand."
The words stung, but they were expected. And certainly understood. "I do," she assured him. "And so I should make sure you know that McGee has a very sympathetic ear."
Tony chuckled softly. "Yeah." He sighed heavily, and then met her eyes and offered her a smile that would only pass the scrutiny of a stranger. "I'm okay."
"I know you're not," she said deliberately.
Tony rolled his eyes, but didn't fight with her.
Ziva watched him as he avoided looking at her. He was clearly hurt, and she wanted to offer some kind of support that would assure him that she had his back. Flat out honesty was off the table, so she offered what she would have way back in the days when their relationship was not nearly as complicated. Back when she was 'the old Ziva'. Hadn't he once said that he missed her?
"I do not know if you remember, but several weeks ago I said that I would beat to death anyone who would hurt you."
That got his attention. His eyes snapped to hers and her looked at her warily, and Ziva held up a hand to calm him.
"I know it is unlikely that you wish…EJ dead," she said, forcing herself to use Barrett's nickname. "But I would be happy to punch her several times for you. If you do not feel that it would be appropriate to do it yourself."
Tony stared at her, and he only got that she was trying to make a joke (sort of) when she held her hands up, wriggled her fingers and then winked as she curled them into fists. He breathed out what was probably a chuckle of relief and shook his head at her.
"Most of it will be for your benefit," she continued over his silent and vaguely amused protest. "But I cannot deny that a part of me will enjoy it as well."
"Well, thank you," he said, playing along. "But as much as I like the idea of a front row seat to a chick fight between you two, I'm going to let this go without violence."
She snorted for effect. "Suit yourself."
His eyes fell to the floor between their feet, and Ziva let him have a few moments' peace as he ordered his thoughts. When finally he looked up again, eyes held a heavy, longing look that made her heart squeeze and breath catch. Then he blinked and the look was replaced by patented DiNozzo humor.
"Hey, you want to get drunk with me tonight?"
Just the thought of more alcohol was enough to push away her warm feelings. She felt her face screw up in disgust, and she closed her eyes and shook her head firmly. "I do not think that is a good idea," she replied. "And not just because I still have a hangover." God only knew what kind of trouble they would get into when they were emotionally vulnerable, missing each other and drunk.
Tony's smirk came quickly. "Probably not," he allowed. His smile grew and she felt the shift in the air to something less intense. "Madonna songs again, Ziva? I thought I was the only one you got drunk and sang Madonna songs around."
Ziva grimaced and shook her head at herself. Last night had not been her proudest, but if the idea of it gave Tony something to smile about today then she would let him have it. But only today.
"Why is it always Madonna?" he asked her. "The last time you vogued in my company you strained your shoulder and had to book a massage the next day."
Ziva planted her hands on her hips and her mouth fell open with indignation. "That is not true!" she argued as Tony laughed. She had the urge to walk over there to literally kick his ass. If he'd made the comment even two months ago, she probably would have. But not today. Even if Tony was laughing at her.
"You said you had a massage the next day," he reminded her once he'd calmed down from his stress-relieving laughter.
"I already had that massage booked," she insisted. "Before I mildly overextended a small muscle in my shoulder."
"While vogueing," he finished.
She glared at him, but allowed just enough of a smirk to touch her lips to assure him that she wasn't really angry. Much.
Tony sent her a smile that was half apologetic, half affectionate. "Seriously. Why is it always Madonna with you? You're not really a Madonna kind of girl."
Ziva threw her hands up with exasperation. "I don't—" she started, but then she realized that she did know. Tony lifted an eyebrow in encouragement, and she gave him a measured look as she weighed up whether to share the story. She was supposed to be backing away from him. She was supposed to be trying to move their relationship to something entirely professional. She had been making progress on that in the last few weeks, and she was wary of giving him another piece of herself now for fear that she would fall back into old habits. But God, things just felt so normal between them right now. It was a feeling that she desperately missed. She missed giving him something to smile about. She missed sharing her life with him. She missed him.
At her continued hesitation, Tony's smile fell. The humor in his eyes was replaced by the same hurt she'd seen reflected in them for weeks, and his shoulders slumped in defeat. The change in him sent a stab of regret through her, and although she made an attempt to tell herself to stay strong and back away, she failed.
She took a step towards him and told him the story. "When I was about 13 my mother bought me one of Madonna's CDs, and Tali and I would play it in the evenings." She paused to frown thoughtfully. "In retrospect, perhaps it was appropriate for an eight-year-old to sing along to songs about masturbation, but she did not understand. Actually, I probably did not understand it completely either. Perhaps there was still a language barrier."
Tony looked like he didn't buy it. "You've been speaking English since you were two."
"Since I was six," she corrected. "Not fluently until a teenager. And I do not recall ever receiving sexual education classes in English, so how was I supposed to know what she was singing about?"
Tony held his hands up, yielding to her argument.
She went on. "One of Madonna's concerts was televised. We recorded it and spent the next few weeks learning the choreography for her songs. For a few years after that, whenever we were very happy, or very sad, or just bored, we would sing and dance around to her music. It was just a silly thing that lifted our spirits." She shrugged. "I suppose it has stayed with me."
Tony gave her a soft smile. "Sounds nice."
"It was."
He looked at her with interest. "Why did you need your spirits lifted last night? Weren't they high enough with the end of the Port-to-Port case?"
Ziva smiled without warmth. There was about as much chance that she would talk to him about her worries from last night and her plan that Gibbs had shot down as there was that he would talk to her about his break up with Barrett. "Sprits can always be lifted more," she replied vaguely.
As he contemplated that, Tony's head fell ever-so-slightly to the side and he narrowed his eyes. Ziva recognized the look as her partner switching into investigator mode, and she immediately averted her gaze from his and crossed her arms in the hope it would keep him out of her head. Damn it, she should have listened to her gut. She should never have shared that story and let him close again. It was another moment of weakness she knew she would regret.
"So, all those times you went Material Girl on me were because you were bored and trying to lift your spirits?" Tony asked.
Ziva knew the comment was not serious, but it made her jaw clench. Because the truth of the matter was that he lifted her spirits. When she sang Madonna songs around him it was because she was drunk, because he'd probably already fixed whatever had been bothering her, and because she knew it always made him laugh. But those days were gone.
She swallowed and met his eyes again. "Yes. You bore me," she replied, attempting flippancy. But her voice and tight smile betrayed her.
Tony picked up on her discomfort and his smile slowly fell away. His eyes ended up on the floor, and the easy feeling between them from just moments ago evaporated.
Ziva cleared her throat and took a step back towards the door as she prepared to leave. "Well. The offer of violence remains. Let me know if you would like to take me up on it."
Tony shot her a quick smile. "It's appreciated."
Ziva nodded and turned to the door. She was keen to get out of there and start building some space again, but she only managed to unlock the door before Tony stopped her.
"Hey," he called softly.
Ziva took a breath to calm herself and then turned around to face him. Tony's eyes were warm again, and she found herself hating how easy he made it for her to let herself be pulled back to him.
"Thank you," he said simply.
She offered a small, self-aware smile. "For what? Embarrassing myself and promising violence?"
A fond smile stretched his lips before he reined it back in and looked at her gratefully. "Amongst other things."
She wanted to smile back. She wanted to offer him the same comfort that he'd offered her in her bedroom on the night Ray died. But she didn't have a clue how to do that without allowing herself to be in love him. And since she knew she couldn't do that, she simply nodded and then left the room.
Two hours later Ziva was down in the Navy Yard gym with McGee. They were getting in a quick training session before calling it a day and heading home like Gibbs and Tony already had. She was putting her weight into holding the punching bag straight for McGee, but she knew he couldn't have been putting much effort into his punches because she certainly wasn't putting much effort into spotting him. Instead, their efforts were focused on gossiping about their senior field agent and the situation he now found himself in.
"I just don't really get why EJ's going," McGee said before landing a left cross on the bag. "It's not a team leader position. Why's she moving all the way to Paris for a demotion?"
Ziva had been wondering the same thing. Which was why she had done some digging around in the afternoon to try to find out what was going on. "Apparently Vance has set up some kind of taskforce."
"What taskforce?"
"I do not know," she said. "It is under the radar."
"Is that what Tony said?"
"No."
McGee landed a one-two cross. "But you talked to him."
Ziva peeked around the bag at him. "Yes. But it should come as no surprise that he did not want to speak to me about Barrett."
"Guess not," he said, and wiped sweat from his forehead with his forearm.
"I told him to talk to you."
McGee froze with his hands in defensive resting position and looked at her like he couldn't believe she'd done it. Ziva smirked, and then ducked back behind the bag.
"Yeah, thanks," he said, and then hit the bag a little harder than he had been. "I can't wait for that heart-to-heart."
"He needs a friend," she explained. "But perhaps he will talk to Gibbs and you will be off the hook." It wasn't that she thought that McGee wouldn't offer an ear to their friend. It was just that a conversation of that kind between the two of them was likely to be quite awkward. Tony rarely talked about his feelings—rarely even admitted to having them—and Ziva thought it was likely that he would try to save face by teasing McGee until he felt less vulnerable about sharing them.
"He's not going to talk to Gibbs," McGee said confidently. "Not after he told Gibbs he was going to pursue the relationship and screw rule 12."
Ziva supposed he had a point.
"So if you didn't talk about EJ, what did you talk about?"
"Drinking too much and Madonna songs," she replied. "And he refused my offer to beat Barrett up for him."
McGee leaned around the bag to looked at her with wide, wary eyes and an arched eyebrow. "Are you joking?"
"That he refused?"
"That you offered."
She shrugged like it was no big deal. "No. But I was joking. Mostly."
McGee's expression turned warning. "Ziva—" he began, but she cut him off with an exasperated sigh.
"I am not going to beat her up, McGee," she insisted. "It has nothing to do with me, it is none of my business, and I am staying out of it."
He watched her for a few more seconds until he was positive she was telling the truth, and then wandered over to get their water bottles from a nearby chair. She followed him as he ripped open the Velcro around his wrists and then pulled his boxing gloves off. Ziva picked up her towel and her bottle of water, and after McGee took a sip from his own bottle, he gave her a curious look.
"Is there a small part of you that's relieved it's over between them?" he asked. "And that she's going to be living on the other side of the world by the end of the week?"
Ziva widened her eyes as if she didn't understand him. It was all still too raw and too hard to talk about. "Why would I be relieved?" she asked, hoping that her puzzlement would effectively end the conversation.
McGee dropped his head to the side and regarded her like he couldn't believe she was trying to play him. But, classy gentleman that he was, he didn't throw it in her face. He played along on her terms, but Ziva knew he was directing her to the position he wanted her. "Well, because you and Tony have been at odds lately, and EJ leaving might help relieve some of that tension."
Ziva allowed him a rueful smile and shook her head. "I do not think that is the case," she told him honestly.
McGee gave her a compassionate look. "What happened?" he asked.
"When?"
"I don't know," he said, lifting one shoulder in a shrug. "Whenever it was that something happened and caused this…" he paused to wave his hand at her, "…shift in your relationship."
Despite growing closer to McGee in the last year, Ziva had not told him anything about the conversation she and Tony had in the locker room. In fact, she had never told him anything about her feelings for their teammate. It was hard enough to admit what she felt to herself, let alone say it aloud to another person. And anyway, she did not feel that it was necessary to say anything about it to McGee. He worked right alongside them every day. He saw the looks that passed between them. He heard the comments. There were days when Ziva thought that McGee probably had the best idea out of all of them about what was going on. He did not need her confirmation that she'd fallen for Tony. It was obvious. But he also did not need to know the particulars of how it had all fallen apart. It was a private matter between her and Tony, and it needed to stay that way so that they could all keep trusting each other.
"We just agreed that we needed to change," she said simply.
McGee arched an eyebrow. "You told me that before. How's that working out for you?"
Ziva shook her head and turned her back to put her water bottle down again. "I do not want to talk about it," she said, and then reached for her towel to pat the sweat from her face.
"Right," McGee said, his voice flat at her dismissal.
She felt a twinge of guilt for blocking him, and so turned around and brought their conversation back to its original topic. "I will say this about Agent Barrett. I think it is a shame that she is leaving. Tony took a chance and put himself on the line. I think we both know that he wanted to commit to it, and it should have worked out. It is not fair that it didn't. And I feel terrible for him."
McGee nodded along sympathetically. "Yeah, I guess," he said, although he didn't sound convinced. "It's just…you know." He lifted his eyebrows and gave her a knowing look, like he expected her to follow his train of thought. She didn't.
"What?"
McGee winced, wiped his face and then tossed his towel onto a chair. "I just don't think she was his first choice."
Ziva's heartbeat sped up momentarily, and she swallowed hard to try to rid her chest of the sharp pang that sliced through it. She wished McGee would not make comments like that. She did not need him planting hope within her, and she pushed it away before it could take too much of a hold on her. "Well," she said roughly, "we cannot all have our first choices. But we may still find happiness anyway."
He gave her a kind smile. "I guess so."
Ziva nodded and gestured at the punching bag, and McGee picked up his gloves and strapped them back on. He rolled his neck and shook his arms in preparation, and once Ziva had a hold on the bag again, he threw a hard left hook.
"Enough about Tony," McGee declared, and then landed another one-two punch. "How are you doing now? After losing Ray, I mean."
That was a topic Ziva was prepared to talk to him about. And she had done, at length, several times. There were no romantic feelings between her and McGee that might get in the way of her being honest and him offering solid support. McGee was completely safe, her brother to the core, and she trusted that whatever she told him would never be repeated to another soul. It was just a shame that he was also so close to Tony, or else McGee would have been the perfect candidate to help her unravel the knots of complication in her head.
"I am…okay," she told him on a sigh, feeling more than a little guilt that it was the truth. Shouldn't she still be grieving? It had only been a month. She rushed to add context so that McGee would not think she was heartless. "I am still sad, and I will always hate what happened. And I regret our last conversation. I do not think we would have reconciled, but I would have liked to end things properly. Not in anger. I wish I had just taken the time to explain my position to him."
"You don't think he understood it?" McGee asked.
Ziva stared at the floor as she thought about that. "He may have understood that I did not want to be lied to, but I do not think he believed he was lying to me. I think he believed he was just doing his job and that I should have accepted it." She winced as McGee landed a hard punch, and pulled her head back from the bag. "Five years ago, I probably would have."
"You can't carry around the regret, Ziva," McGee told her, sounding far too much like Tony for her liking. "It'll eat you up."
"So I am told."
He paused and leaned around the bag to look at her with a smile of encouragement. "You should make the next phase of your like the no regrets phase," he said. "Tell people you love them, don't hold grudges, don't indulge in silly fights and bitterness."
She made a face at him. "But if I do not do those things, what am I supposed to do with all my free time?"
McGee broke into a smile. "You have free time? Don't tell Gibbs that. He'll get you working on cold cases."
Ziva returned the smile and decided to take his words to heart. She reached up to pat his sweaty cheek. "You are a wonderful friend, McGee. And I am thankful for every day that you are in my life. I love you to pieces."
McGee beamed, but gave her a gentle shot in the shoulder. "I love you, too," he returned. "But that wasn't exactly what I was getting at."
She narrowed her eyes. "I know you are not telling me to talk to Tony right now," she said warningly.
McGee's eyes went to the ceiling as he thought it over. "I honestly don't know what you should do there," he admitted. "But being friends is a good start. You've seemed…well, not better. But maybe calmer together in the last week."
Ziva gave him a smile that she knew she failed to scrub the sadness from. "We are not friends."
Instead of arguing the point, McGee bobbed his head to the side in mild agreement. "No, I suppose you're not. But you should work on being whatever it is that you've always been together." He aimed a glove at her face in what she supposed was an attempt at pointing at her sagely. "That's not a relationship, no matter how it's categorized, that you should give up on. Take my word for it as someone who's been watching it unfold all these years."
Ziva held his gaze until she felt the back of her eyes start to burn and she had to look away. She knew that he was just trying to be supportive, but essentially telling her that her relationship with Tony was the most important one she had was not helpful. Not when she was determined to step away.
"Can we stop talking about me?" she asked. "Can we instead talk about you and Maxine?"
McGee gently kicked her foot, telling her he was letting her off the hook, and then returned to the bag. "Sure. Let's talk about me and Maxine."
"Did you see her this weekend?"
"Yeah. We stayed up late on Friday night and played Modern Warfare 3."
"Is that a video game?"
"Yes." He paused and aimed a besotted smile at the punching bag. "She kicked my ass."
"Did you let her?"
He chuckled and shook his head. "No. She's better than me."
Ziva watched him with a warm smile. "I am glad you committed to working on things with her."
McGee bumped his fists together and nodded his head. "Yeah. I am too." He threw her a grin and then took a defensive stance and started throwing punches again.
Ziva held on and pushed her weight into the bag, and as McGee continued his assault she made herself focus on the feeling of happiness she had over McGee's relationship instead of the despair she felt over what she currently had with Tony. Because although not everyone got their first choice in partner, some of them did. McGee, Jimmy, they were both settling comfortably into relationships that made them happy. That made them better. And if Ziva couldn't have that for herself, then she had to use other people's happiness as a reason to get out of bed every day and work to help them keep it.
With love to Zaedah. And happy holidays to you all.
