We meet the terrorists of Widow for the first time as Tony and Ziva grow even closer.
"So you mean to tell me," Rafi Aman said, his anger rising as he spoke, "that Ziva David has vanished from the face of the earth with her partner, leaving not a trace?"
The three men who stood before him looked around nervously, unsure who should bear the brunt of Aman's anger. They'd been so sure that Ziva would be an easy target now that she'd left her job at NCIS, but she had outsmarted them and gone underground at the earliest opportunity, and she'd done it well.
When none of his lieutenants spoke, Aman pounded his fist on the desk, leaning forward in anger. "You knew she was trained by Mossad! You shouldn't have waited as long as you did!"
"We are using every available resource to find her," the operative named Daniel spoke, hoping to at least reign in some of their leader's anger. "And the American," he added as an afterthought, though he wasn't sure whether their boss cared about the location of the American who had gone with her.
Technically, they were both Americans, but no one wanted to bring that up and risk more of Aman's wrath. He liked to throw things. Pointy things.
"That's not good enough," screamed the mastermind, his anger only intensifying. "She took out one of our own. It is not enough to let the American government deal with her. They will let her get away with it, and she must pay for what she has done. And so must this other agent, this 'DiNozzo,' for helping her. Find them, and make them suffer!"
The other three again looked at each other nervously, doubtful of their chances of success. "We are looking," said Tamir, the youngest of the three, "but there are a lot of places she could be. She left no trace."
He pounded on the desk so forcefully that many of the items atop it jumped in response. "Of course she left no trace! She is trained to leave no trace, you blithering moron!"
"Boss," started the third man, a dark-skinned man named Levi, trying to get him to see reason.
"Do not address me until you find Ziva David! They are on this planet somewhere, and we will not rest until she is dead, do you understand me?"
"What do you expect us to do? Fly over every last inch of land and sea until we find them?" Daniel had meant it as a joke, certain that their superior wouldn't want to spend millions on locating them by literally scouring the globe.
"If you have to," Aman said, leaning forward, his eyes narrowing. "You," he pointed at Levi, who gulped as he tried not to let the boss intimidate him, "are trained to fly helicopters, are you not? The two of you," he added, pointing to the other men, "can go along with him looking for anything out of the ordinary. I do not care, as long as she is found!"
Levi was the first to speak, his eyes shifting nervously as he did so. "There are other options." He didn't want to say it, but his boss was completely insane if he thought they should cover every last bit of ground on the planet in search of two people.
"Oh really?" Aman pounded his desk again, leaning forward in his seat and raising his eyebrows as he waited for his operative to continue. "Enlighten me."
"She was Mossad, as you said. There must be someone there with whom she has made contact. Someone who would know how she thinks, where she would go." It was a long shot, sure, but before he was sent out to fly to the literal ends of the earth, up and down longitude lines looking for Ziva David, he wanted to exhaust every possible avenue, or at least narrow down the search a bit. The world was large, and he didn't relish the idea of combing through every inch of it for someone who didn't want to be found. There was something like seven billion people on the planet. Finding them, regardless of locale, would be nearly impossible if they truly wished to disappear.
Tamir spoke up then, offering his knowledge of Mossad. He had not been a former Mossad officer, but had kept several contacts in the agency, before many of them had perished in the line of duty. "Mossad trains their people to think on their own, to keep their tactics close to the vest. It would not be advisable."
"I know," Levi continued, glaring at Tamir, "but maybe she has said something to one of them, something that would give us a clue. The people at the American agency no doubt already have noticed their absence and are looking for them, as well. We may want to keep an eye on them."
"You are saying that we should spy on an American federal agency? When all of us are already on government watch lists?" It was Daniel who spoke this time, with an air of incredulity. The Americans would not waste any time in nuking an entire country out of orbit if they thought there was any sort of active threat against their own. All four of them hated dealing with Americans more than any other nationality, because the Americans were concerned with none but themselves first, and their allies later.
The fact that Ziva David was now one of them had made it even more crucial that they find her and eliminate her.
"We have contacts who aren't on the watch lists," he reminded them, though they knew they would have to be careful. It didn't take much these days, not since bin Laden's people had carried out their attack. Enacting any sort of foreign operations on American soil had gotten a whole lot more difficult, though Aman had admired the man's style. Four airplanes and thousands of Americans killed. That had been a good day, in his book.
"Chase down whatever leads you can. You have one month to get as much intel on Ziva David and her American accomplice as possible. After that, you will search the whole of this planet until you find them, and you will bring them to me. I will enjoy killing them both."
Three heads nodded in unison, neither wanting to speak up and risk saying something that would even further agitate Rafi Aman. If he wanted to kill Ziva David himself, it must be really personal, and neither of the three men he addressed in that moment wanted to interfere with that. He'd been a ruthless assassin back in his day, but now he preferred to get other men to do his bidding, men who followed the same ideals as he had. Ilan Bodnar had been one of his best operatives, paid well to carry out the murder of former Mossad Director Eli David.
Rafi Aman hadn't counted on Ziva David's desire for vengeance, not after hearing so many tell him how "soft" she'd become. He'd been both surprised and infuriated by her ability to take out one of his best. "Ziva David is not just any Mossad operative. She may have left the agency to become an American, but mark my words, she is every bit as ruthless as her bastard of a father. She is a greater threat to what we stand for than anyone else on this planet. I want her found."
He put out the cigarette he'd been smoking, pushing it harshly into the ashtray in front of him. "Do you understand me?"
All three of his operatives nodded silently, and Aman dismissed them from his sight.
Tony couldn't remember the last time he'd enjoyed fishing this much. Maybe not since he was a boy. But now, with Ziva sitting comfortably on the log beside him, her toes dipping leisurely into the stream as she fiddled with the line from which a worm dangled, he found that fishing was really kind of a great way to spend a morning.
They'd only caught two, but it really didn't matter all that much. They had plenty of food, thanks to Ziva's prowess as a hunter. If he didn't know any better, he'd swear that she had stepped right out of some early colonial story where a mysterious woman teaches a clueless colonist how to live off the land.
It wasn't too far off from the truth.
He felt a tug at his line and began to pull on it, lifting up slightly to set the hook as Ziva had shown him to do. They obviously hadn't had any modern fishing hooks with them, so they'd had to improvise, and tugging the line just slightly would help ensure that any fish would stay hooked as they pulled them in.
"Have something?" she asked, turning her head with interest as she watched him work the line, pulling slowly, working the fight out of the fish on the other end of it.
"I might," he responded, concentrating on bringing in his line. It sure felt like something was hooked and pulling against him, but he'd pulled in several things that were not fish already over the past few days, and he didn't want to assume anything.
Ziva watched him with interest, waiting patiently as he continued to pull his line in, enjoying the deft way his fingers moved over the line. She wasn't quite sure when she started to notice the way his fingers moved, perhaps not since they'd first become intimate, but now whenever she watched him use his hands for anything, she felt herself flush at the memory of the way his hands felt, touching and caressing and exploring her intimately.
She wondered if that feeling of anticipation would ever go away. Time was funny out here, and it had been at least weeks, if not months since their first time, and she still got a shock of excitement whenever she thought about him touching her.
A splash drew her from her reflection, and she watched Tony's smile light up his face when he realized that he had, in fact, caught a fish. She had never been one to consider him "cute," and if she'd been asked to describe him over the years she'd known him, that wouldn't have been an adjective she'd have chosen, but now, she couldn't get over how cute he looked as he proudly held up his catch. He looked like a boy who had never caught a fish before, showing it off for the first time.
She absolutely adored him, and the realization struck her so soundly that she nearly had to sit back down with the force of it. She was in love with him. This adorable man who had willingly followed her into the depths of the unknown for at least the tenth time had completely and irrevocably stolen her heart.
He beamed as he tied the fish off, prepping his line for another catch. If he showed any indication that he knew what she was thinking, he didn't show it as he leaned forward and kissed her softly. Ziva leaned into the kiss, trying not to think about the way her heart fluttered in her chest at the contact. Sure, they had kissed many times before, but now that she knew that she loved him, it seemed different somehow. Could he tell? Hadn't the universe shifted in some cosmic way?
He sat back down, wrapping his arm around her and pulling her against him. "This is the life," he sighed happily, and Ziva couldn't help but agree with his statement.
"A year ago, you would have complained about getting your new shoes dirty on a case," she pointed out dryly, and she felt him shrug against her. She leaned her head on his shoulder, waiting for him to speak. Now, he was wearing a pair of shoes he'd made – with her help, a pair of comfortable moccasins that were surprisingly sturdy and comfortable. The sneakers he'd worn when they'd come here were still serviceable, but they would wear out eventually. These shoes definitely left more breathing room for his feet, and they'd last, too.
"A year ago, I didn't have this," he said, giving her a slight squeeze. Her heart skipped a beat at the admission, and she wondered again if he somehow could read her thoughts.
Ziva sighed against him, pulling her own fishing line in from the water and wrapping it around her fishing pole. They didn't really need to fish anymore today. "I have to admit, I am surprised at how well you've adjusted to this type of life."
"I didn't have a choice," he said, shrugging again.
"That's not exactly true," she mused, and he pulled back slightly, causing her to turn her head and look up at him. "I gave you more than one opportunity to back out and not come with me. You are the one who stubbornly insisted that you follow me."
He sighed, chuckling as he exhaled, tying the now-deceased fish off on an overhanging branch and setting it back in the water so it wouldn't spoil in the heat. It would attract predators before long, but they didn't need to cut it up just yet. "You agreed with me, though. Especially when I said that they'd make me their next target if they couldn't find you." She shuddered, refusing to think about what might have happened if she'd come here by herself. Many things would be different, sure, but one thing was for certain – she never would have been able to erase her worry about him from her mind. At least this way, she knew that he was safe.
Safe and in her arms. Even better.
"We may not get to go back, Tony. We may just have to live out here." She paused, gulping before speaking again. "Die out here."
"Not for a long time though," he mused, planting a kiss to the top of her hair. They could survive out here indefinitely, barring something major happening, like a forest fire. That was a new worry she had never considered, but it wasn't like there were droves of tourists coming through and starting campfires in their neck of the woods. Besides, they didn't exactly call their locale a rainforest for nothing.
They sat together for a bit, Ziva with her head leaning against Tony's shoulder, and Tony with his arm around her waist. Sitting near the water was calming, and they watched the minnows scooting around the shallow stream, laughing at their rapid movements.
It was quiet, and the breeze was beginning to pick up. Tony was the first to break the silence when he asked, "Do you think about going back?"
She was surprised less by the question and more by her reaction to it. She realized that no, she hadn't really thought about going back. This was just her life now. Their life. The two of them had carved out a life in one of the most remote parts of the world, and she couldn't even imagine it changing anymore. "No," she replied truthfully.
"I do, a little," he said, taking her hand in his and linking their fingers. "I wonder what it would be like to walk back into the bullpen, holding your hand like this, and trying to go back to the way things were before we came out here. Before we had to work for our own food, and we were always so caught up in everything else. When life was noisy and busy. Not like this. I mean yeah, we're busy sometimes, but it's a different kind of busy."
Ziva didn't respond right away, so he kept speaking, angling toward her as she sat up, watching his expression. "And going back to the way we were before? I can't see it. If we have to go back to that, then let's just stay out here."
"Tony," she breathed, a slight smile spreading across her face. He had this way of being so unintentionally sweet when he was hardly trying to, and this was no exception. She leaned toward him again, kissing him softly, nuzzling her forehead against his and gazing into his eyes. Again, she felt her heart jump at the way he looked at her, his gaze adoring and entirely enamored. "Even if we went back," she said softly, her words hanging closely in the air between them, "we could never go back."
"We'd have to live together," he agreed, and she laughed, knowing that it was the truth. They were just so used to being around each other now that it would be odd to spend a night alone in a bed without him. Or to wake up in the morning and not share breakfast. Whether it was freshly caught fish or roasted fowl or something more traditional like pancakes and bacon, the idea of waking up and not having Tony there with her to share their morning meal just didn't make sense anymore.
"Outside the city," she added. Although their cabin was small, the thought of having actual neighbors again was really unappealing.
"With a pond in our backyard for fishing."
"And a fireplace."
"No phones."
"Well not if we go back to working for Gibbs," she acquiesced. He grinned then, pulling her forward and into a tight hug, his arms wrapping snugly around her waist as she clung to him. There was something about being pressed against him, her whole body enveloped in his arms, which made her feel a warmth unlike any other she had ever felt. It was as if his mere embrace chased all of her demons away, all of her fears and doubts, and she felt nothing but safe and loved and cherished.
How could she ever go back to a time when she did not know this type of comfort?
She breathed in the moment, kissing him on the neck as she pulled away, their bodies still pressed together as she leaned back and met his eyes again. "A lot would change if we went back, Tony, but one thing wouldn't," she spoke, her pulse quickening as she realized where she was going with this. Was it too soon? Would he be ready for this? Was she ready for this?
"And what's that?" he asked, his smile expectant, hopeful even.
She smiled back, her eyes glinting with happiness. "The way I feel about you," she answered, shrieking with surprise as he surged forward and practically attacked her mouth with his own, devouring her with his lips, his jaw flexing as he worked his entire mouth into the motion. He kissed her deeply, thoroughly, and she nearly struggled to keep up, her heart pounding erratically in her chest as she moved against him, pouring her heart into the embrace.
She was spinning, falling, careening wildly out of control. She clung to him desperately, needing him as her anchor, powerless against the onslaught of the waves of emotion that crashed against her. She tasted rather than heard his groan into her mouth and she swallowed his desire, allowing it to settle deep within her, held tight to this as he gave her his heart and soul, nothing between them but longing. When they finally stopped kissing, breathless and panting, she breathed the words she'd meant to say before he'd consumed her wholly. "I love you."
Tony surged forward again. If she'd thought the last embrace was intense, then this one was beyond words. He growled against her, claiming her roughly, pulling her tightly to him and tasting her greedily. Mine, he seemed to be saying, and she couldn't help but agree. She was his, body and soul, heart and mind. She panted for breath as he held her, gasping a strangled, "Tony," against his mouth. The intensity was all-consuming, and for a moment, she wasn't entirely sure they hadn't completely fused to each other, so uncertain of where he ended and she began.
He yanked away from her abruptly, catching her gaze. "God almighty, Ziva, I love you too," he growled, and crashed forward and into her arms again, kissing her hungrily. This time, however, he kissed her slowly, deeply; his tongue exploring slowly and almost reverently. So this is what it's like, she thought to herself as she kissed him back, her mouth moving against his greedily, to be the woman he loves? She breathed with him as he held her, their mouths meeting over and over again, time suspended as only they existed only for each other.
They lay facing each other, their limbs entangled on the bed, lost in each other's gaze as they breathed together. "You really love me?" Tony asked, his eyes honest, afraid, and needy as he waited, waited for the words that would crush him, for the disdainful laugh that she would let out as she crushed his soul.
It didn't come. "I really love you," she replied softly, reassuringly. She leaned forward, pressing a soft, simple kiss to his lips, reveling in the warmth of his lips as she nibbled lightly on his bottom one before drawing back. "I have never loved anyone more."
"God, Ziva," he choked out, and her heart wrenched at the way his eyes glistened, the tear that hovered at the corner of his eye. She hadn't known it was possible for Tony to cry, and yet there he was, inches from her, their bodies and hearts entwined, and he had tears in his eyes at the admission that she loved him. Desperately, almost painfully so.
She lifted her hand from where it had been resting on his back and wiped away the tear, lovingly caressing his face as she did so. "None of that," she breathed with a slight smile. "I am not going anywhere."
"It's not that," he said, taking a deep breath and gathering his thoughts. How could he explain what he was feeling? The raw emotion that had caused him, for the first time in – well, he had no idea how long, actually – to tear up? He was terrified at the depth of his feelings for this woman. He had suspected that he cared for her for quite some time, long before he'd come with her here, but he'd never known that he could feel this heart-wrenchingly and overwhelmingly consumed by a need to be loved by her, to be the one she chose, despite everything. "I just…" he paused, taking a breath and swallowing another lump building in his throat. "I just wanted it – for you to love me, for you to be the one who chose me – so bad."
She leaned forward again, kissing him gently, their lips moving slowly against each other's. Their kiss was languid, slow and deep as they lay against each other, almost lazy in its softness. When they finally pulled apart, only to kiss again, softly, briefly, she hummed contentedly against his mouth before responding. "I'm choosing you, Tony. I would have chosen you even if we were not isolated from the rest of the world."
"I'm glad it wasn't just some 'last man on earth' thing," he joked, though Ziva felt the tension leaving his shoulders and neck as he spoke, obviously relieved.
"We would have happened anyway," she assured him, and she realized then just how true it was. When her father had been killed, she'd relied on him more than anyone, and he'd been there for her in every possible way. He was the one person she shared her the most private of thoughts with, including memories of Tali – something she never talked about, with anyone. They'd only grown closer, and even after she'd slept with Adam, which had been completely meaningless but had ended up hurting Tony the same, she'd begun to realize just how much he cared for her.
She just hadn't known how to proceed. "What about that talk of friendship?" he asked. She remembered that conversation, outside Gibbs' cabin. Had she been told then she'd be living in a similar one with Tony less than a year later, she'd have never believed it.
"I was not ready then," she said softly, her words barely audible as a low rumble sounded in the distance. It wasn't terribly unusual for evening thunderstorms to roll in, and they'd found their house to hold up quite well under the onslaught.
The wind picked up, and she shivered against him. Tony wrapped his arms around her, pulling the sleeping bag up to their shoulders, stifling a yawn. "I was willing to wait for you," he responded, nuzzling his nose into her neck, causing her to suck in a breath at the way his scruff tickled against her cheek. "Not sure if you noticed this," he continued, speaking quietly, whispering it like a secret into her neck, "but I really stopped hooking up with women in the last year or so. I…" he trailed off. He wasn't sure if he could admit what he was about to say, despite the fact that they were being so open with each other right now.
"You?"
"I… wanted to change. I wanted to show you that I could be the man you needed, especially after everything that happened with Ray." He paused, swallowing hard, but knowing that he had to continue, for his own sake, at least. "I was such a jerk, both to him – although that was totally justified, looking back – and to you, but I just didn't know what to do … how to deal with the idea of you … not being … mine.
"And I had no right to be possessive of you, I knew that. And I knew you would have pummeled me if you caught even the slightest whiff of how I felt, or why I was acting the way I was. So on the outside I was trying to act like I was happy for you and being supportive while on the inside I wanted nothing more than to enlist Abby to help me kill him – leaving no forensic evidence, of course – and hide the body."
"Looking back, that would have saved me a lot of trouble," she replied with a smirk, and Tony knew that all was forgiven. "But I don't want to talk about Ray, Tony," she said softly, her tone serious again. "I made the right choice, in the end."
He squeezed her waist, pulling her closer to him. "I'm so glad that I'm your right choice."
"Well I meant then," she replied, her tone only half-teasing. "I made the choice for myself, because marrying him would have been a huge mistake." She paused, drawing in a deep breath as she pushed the painful memory away. "But really, can we change the subject? Or would you like to talk about all of the past relationship mistakes you have made?"
"So how do you think the Buckeyes are doing this year?" Ziva felt rather than saw him grin. "I wonder how far into football season we are, actually," he mused, his voice becoming pensive in the darkness, just as a flash of lightning illuminated the cabin for a split second.
She knew he must be missing his modern amenities again, despite his attempts to convince her otherwise. She'd never been a huge fan of American football, but she understood how important it had been to so many of her friends. "We do kind of let time slip away from us here, don't we?" It was odd how quickly the lack of adequate time and date-keeping had become so normal to them, but there hadn't really been any practical way to mark the passage of time. Were they to chisel out a tally into one of the nearby stones? And even if they did decide to do that, how would they even determine what month it was, let alone the exact date? How many months, exactly, had they been here? Would they notice the passing of a year?
Tony seemed to be thinking along similar lines. "Maybe we need to do something like those ancient civilizations, and look at the placement of the moon to try to figure out what the date is, and then build our own Stonehenge." Another flash of lightning lit up their dwelling, followed shortly by a loud crack of thunder that startled him enough that he jerked slightly.
"That's actually not a bad idea, honestly. Well, not the Stonehenge part. We don't exactly want to draw attention to ourselves. But at the very least, we could probably make some sort of sundial, which would at least give us a way to keep track of the time of day." Ziva was in planning mode again, he could feel it, but he let her think for a moment before responding. The skies seemed to open up then, the rain falling down in torrents against the roof and the ground outside as the storm moved fully on top of them. If it was anything like the others, it wouldn't last too long.
"I mean, is it so hard to know what time of day it is? We wake up in the morning, it gets hot as all hell around midday, and then it starts to get darker and we know it's evening."
Another loud crack of thunder sounded, startling her this time. "You were the one complaining about not knowing when it was. I was merely offering a suggestion."
Tony knew that she was playing at being offended, but he indulged her regardless. "We can build one, if you want. I'm interested to see how you'd do it. Or did you also learn how to create the 'Ultra Sundial-o-matic' in Mossad, too?" he teased.
"You're so lucky I love you," she breathed, leaning forward to kiss him as the sky lit up again, taking a sharp nibble out of his bottom lip as she pulled away, "because it keeps me from wanting to stab you." The crash of thunder that sounded completed her threat, causing him to shudder for just a brief moment before recovering.
"That is far from the only reason I'm lucky," he replied, pulling her close and kissing her forehead. She sighed contentedly, her body melting against his, and she closed her eyes, lulled to sleep by the sounds of the thunderstorm outside as he held her close.
Thank you all so much for the love on this. Please let me know what you think. Chapter 9 will be up on Friday.
