A/N Tag to episode 10x19, Squall.
The next couple of days ended up being awkward. Ziva apologized to Tony the morning after their argument, but didn't admit he had been right. To do so, she would have been forced to tell him that she had news on Bodnar and that she intended to work on them, and she didn't feel ready to share that yet. She knew he would have tried to talk her out of it again, like he had done at the airport, and she didn't want to miss her chance. She hoped she could convince him that her investigation was legitimate and that it could be crucial by showing him solid facts and an actual trail. He was a cop, who thought like a cop, after all. Facts and trails required time, though, so she had to compromise and be elusive for a while.
Her reticence only served to reinforce Tony's worry and frustration, and to his utter annoyance he found himself incapable of forgiving her outburst. He realized he felt hurt because he had the clear sensation that she was lying to him, and he couldn't fathom how it was possible that they had regressed to that stage once again.
They spent three nights in a row apart, a time that Ziva spent doing some research in complete privacy. How convenient, she thought bitterly on the second night, feeling horrible for having created that tension and even more so for taking advantage of it.
On the fourth day, the situation with McGee's father forced them to divert their focus on something different than the issues in their relationship. Along with the rest of the team, they kept an eye on their friend. He wasn't talking, and they didn't expect him to. He started disappearing from the office frequently after the discovery, with every excuse he could find, partly because he needed to deal with the shock, partly because all the attention wasn't helping him.
It was during one of McGee's breaks that Tony allowed himself to turn his attention back to Ziva, only to notice that she looked tense. Well, more tense than she had already been during those three impossible days. He told himself to look away, that if she wanted to keep being secretive he couldn't do anything about it, that as childish as it sounded he wasn't going to give in first... and disregarded his own resolution less than an hour later, by following her when she stood up and headed to the break room.
She was a bit surprised to find him after her, and guilt and gratefulness mixed up in her as she poured some coffee for him and passed him the mug as a peace offer, hoping that the upcoming conversation would bring them on the same side, at least temporarily.
She spoke after they had both taken their first sip, leaning on the counter side by side, but not as close as usual.
"I'm worried for McGee."
"Yeah," he agreed, "me too. There isn't much we can do, though."
A pause followed. He was determined not to insist on showing his concern for her, considering how such thing was apparently unwelcome lately.
"We can give him some time," she answered, "and just let him know we're here if he needs anything."
"That's the tricky part, isn't it? Knowing how much time is a safe amount and not screwing up the next move." he mused bitterly.
She flinched at his remark. "You did not screw up with me," she muttered, sounding defeated.
"Yeah, sure, looks like it." he retorted sarcastically. "You know what? I don't want to discuss this right now. Our friend needs us." he added hastily, in an attempt to keep the situation from degenerating. But before he could control himself, he let his pent-up frustration leak through his next statement. "And since it turns out I'm not very good at figuring out what to do in these circumstances, I'll leave it to you to talk to him or whatever."
He moved away from the counter, ready to leave, but apparently his last dig had flipped a switch.
"'Talk to him'?" she quoted, her nerves suddenly on the edge. "You mean as someone who never fixed her wrecked relationship with her father before he died? What do you think I should tell him, 'go fix 30 years of mess before it's too late and you end up regretting it forever? Before you end up like me'? Or is this something you already told him?"
He knew that the relevant part of her tirade was just the first, which was obviously the reason for her tension. He knew such thoughts had been on her mind long before that moment, and that they didn't have to do with his comment. Her last insinuation had been so vitriolic though, so openly hurtful, that he couldn't stop himself from taking the bait.
"What exactly are you implying?"he snapped. Then, realizing he had almost yelled, he lowered his voice, but his face remained just as angry. "You have something to hold against me? Go on, I'm all ears."
"I am not implying anything Tony. I am just saying that your hurry to take action, and tell things, and pry into people's business is out of place sometimes."
That was enough for him to finally drop the pretense that they were still talking about McGee.
"I haven't asked you one single question these days. Have you noticed? Not one. You attacked me, then you've been evasive and pushed me away, and I let you have your space. Either you believe I 'didn't screw up with you', or you call me a rubbernecker." He exhaled loudly before continuing, trying to be more calm. "You know better than this. I'm sorry that what's going on is stressful for you, and it's bringing up stuff, but you don't get to take it out on me. Not like this." he added sadly.
She just looked at him, knowing well she couldn't debate on that point, and then walked past him, and he didn't miss the tears forming in her eyes.
He shook his head and exhaled once again, trying to pull himself together, to not feel hurt by her words, to keep himself from calling into question all he had done in the past months and the validity of their progress, and from letting the crippling doubt that they had gone too far too fast break him.
He waited another minute before walking back to the bullpen, and moved only when he was sure he could keep his poker face in place.
She didn't even throw a glance in his direction when he took place at his desk, and managed to avoid meeting his eyes for a while. When she couldn't do it anymore, she adopted McGee's strategy and left.
At the end of a day full of heavy silences, guarded looks, and recurring absences, he found her waiting for him in the parking lot. He stopped a few of feet from her, intending to tell her he wasn't interested on a second match and leave, but the snap died in his throat as he saw her. All the tension seemed to have drained from her, and she just looked sad.
She looked him in the eyes and spoke first.
"I am so sorry, Tony. I did not mean to snap at you... again. Nor to hurt you, again."
"But you did," he blurted out. "Give me a reason. Just give me one good reason for these four days." Because I don't deserve this. He kept himself from saying it out loud, because he didn't want to sound too pathetic. His begging tone was making a great job with that already.
"Today... I was angry at myself, and I took it out on you," she tried to explain, and felt even more ashamed because she knew that this didn't even remotely qualify as a good reason.
"I noticed. Look, I kinda get this, I do. And I'm sorry I've stirred up trouble with my remarks," he added. He felt that he was the one that had been wronged, but he was willing to acknowledge his own responsibilities, if that meant finding a way out of the nightmare they had been living in.
"You did not! Don't take the fault, please, it was all me. I had been dwelling upon that the whole morning," she admitted. "And I am really sorry for calling you intrusive," she stressed. "That was stupid, and out of line, and most importantly not true. I hope you know I don't see you that way. You have been here for me all these months, keeping me grounded and sane... and you made me happy, often" she added with a small smile.
"Then where did that come from, Ziva?" he asked, exasperated.
She sighed. "I relapsed into some old bad habits, this week."
He took a step forward, closing the distance between them, and nodded.
"Okay. We're going to discuss that, too. Now, can you tell me why you were angry at yourself today?"
She felt like crying, right then and there, because she felt the priority was to fix the mess that had happened, and she was ready to give up her complicated plans and come clean about what it was that she had been hiding, while his priority was still her wellbeing. Even after she had given him a hard time about it.
She looked away to regain her composure, and suddenly felt his fingertips brush against her cheek as he tucked behind her ear a lock of hair that had escaped her ponytail. She pressed her eyes shut to control the flood of sensations.
"I was jealous," she confessed then, in a whisper. "What kind of person is jealous of a friend who is losing his father?" She shook her head, disgusted at herself. "It's just… it is not fair. I would have never wanted to see my father die slowly of a terrible disease just to have the time to work out some of our… disagreements." She wiped her suddenly wet cheek. "But we fought, and half an hour later he was dead. The last thing I told him – "
She tried to go on and failed. He saw her struggle and felt the impulse to take her in his arms and hold her tight, but he knew it was important to wait for her to finish letting it out. If it had taken her almost three months to elaborate the matter at hand, it could only mean it was a very difficult one.
He stroked her cheek lightly, with the back of his finger.
She sought his eyes, and saw no judgment in them. He was looking at her attentively, and supportively. He was being... Tony, and that sight helped her forget momentarily that they were in deep water and find the courage to face her regrets.
"I told him his sins were too great," she uttered hoarsely."I was angry and disappointed because I had just caught him lying to me again, and I denied him my forgiveness. And then he died, before I had the time to cool down and think it over and maybe tone down my answer a bit."
She took a deep breath and looked down.
"For four months, I thought I was having troubles forgiving him. The truth is, I cannot forgive myself. And I know even if I had not said what I said a lot of stuff would have stayed unresolved. But it still was not the way I wanted us to part." She sniffed and looked Tony in the eyes again. "See, this has nothing to do with what you did or said, I'm so sor–"
He shook his head and interrupted her by finally pulling her in a hug. He shushed her and kissed her hair and temple and whispered over and over again in her ear that he got it, he got her, they were okay. She felt her self control crumble under his tender reaction, and she finally allowed herself to cry without restraint for her father and her rocky relationship with him, but also for the blessing of being in this wonderful man's arms, for having caused him pain, for the fear that her troubled past would keep undermining her future, their future, and that she would actually be a basket case forever (oh, the things she had rubbed in Tony's face, that were just garbage from the darkest corner of her mind).
He let her unload, just holding her quietly after his first attempts to reassure her. He soon got lost in his musings. He hadn't expected her to just be fine – he knew too well that grief comes in waves – but he realized he had underestimated how deep her issues with the lack of closure still ran. And it hadn't been lost on him that she had begun her explanation with "today", and had mentioned her old habits. He had a very clear feeling that whatever rabbit hole she had gone down in the previous days might have originated from something unhealthy and potentially dangerous.
The sight of Palmer walking by distracted him. He saw him wave and open his mouth to greet them, and then suddenly blush as he realized there was something intimate going on, drop his hand and his cheerful expression, and change direction awkwardly. Tony sighed, taking a mental note to go talk to him the next day. To tell him what?, was his next thought. Apologize? Tell him the truth? What truth?
Since Ziva's breath had evened out and she seemed to have calmed down, he disentangled his arms from her shoulders and studied her face. She nodded in response, to confirm she was in control.
"We should move, or Abby won't be the only gossip source tomorrow," he pointed out. "Look, if you need some time tonight it's okay, we can discuss the rest tomorrow," he offered. He wanted to finish clearing the air but he could tell she was spent.
She was tempted to accept. Oh, so tempted. She needed his comfort, and she needed the break, but she felt she didn't deserve it, while on the contrary he did deserve all her honesty and he deserved it now.
"Thank you," she answered, twitching her lips in the ghost of a grateful smile, "but we need to talk. This is why I was here in the first place."
"Okay. My place? Or neutral ground?"
She frowned. "We're not at war, Tony. My place will do. See you there."
He watched her walk to her car, and wished she hadn't turned down his truce proposal. Weird, how he had only wanted to know for days, and now that he was about to he just wanted to be with her and forget everything. For the first time in months, he dreaded what the night would bring.
A/N Dear readers, I need to announce that a hopefully not too long hiatus will follow this chapter, because I'm afraid it'll take me some time to turn the bunch of 50 words drafts, that are currently all I have of the remaining 4/5 chapters, into proper, elaborated story material.
I'm sorry for how much I've been slowing down with the updates, but apparently I had underestimated the time and effort that writing a story of such proportions - and in a language that isn't even my first!- would take.
Thank you for understanding and for your patience.
If you feel like it, let's kill time with a poll: what were your favorite and least favorite moments until now?
