Pivotal Moments

This chapter is a tag for Bounce (6x16).

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February 2009: Washington DC

"Tony couldn't catch him." Gibbs tossed the comment over his shoulder as he crossed the bullpen, heading up to report to the director.

Ziva sat with her mouth hanging open in surprise. Couldn't catch him? It wasn't that hard to have an airport stop a plane before it had taken off. As the meaning of Gibbs' statement dawned on her, Ziva looked at Tony's desk with startled...pride? Was that it?

He had recognized his mistakes today and apologized for them, hadn't thrown up a shield of bravado to cover his missteps. She didn't know many men who could to that.

The pride was followed by contrition. She knew that for all Tony's charms, he was usually covering for wanting desperately to please, desperately not to fail. Today he had done so, and she and McGee hadn't helped with their teasing.

When Gibbs returned to from Vance's office, Ziva asked casually when Tony would be back.

"He went home," Gibbs said shortly. He glanced at the clock. "It's late, you can go too if you'd like."

Ziva nodded and gathered her things. On the way home, she stopped and scoured the video rental store for the movie she wanted, grinning when she found it. And twenty minutes later, she was knocking at his door.

"Ziva," Tony said, surprised, as he opened the door. "What brings you here?"

He was slurring his words slightly, and Ziva could smell the alcohol on his breath. Ziva frowned. "Are you alright, Tony?" she asked seriously.

"I sent a man to prison," he answered harshly, sitting down on his couch and proffering a beer.

She shook her head. "But I hear he miraculously escaped." She smiled knowingly.

Tony shrugged. "He lost three years of his life."

Ziva sighed. She hadn't realized how much he still turned to drinking.

"So, did you come to watch me drink?"

Ziva jerked slightly in surprise at how closely he'd guessed her thoughts. "Tony, I wanted to say...I'm sorry for today. Somehow we fell back into the pattern from that first case, resisting your authority and...resenting it a little bit. The way that case got screwed up was partly our fault too, and we should have stayed off of yours. And," she paused, "you are a very good agent. No matter what happened today."

Tony tilted his head back to rest against the couch, not making eye contact. "You apologized after that case, too."

Ziva smiled slightly. "I brought the same movie."

Tony looked up at her, smiling a little manically. "The Jerk?"

She nodded.

"Hah!" He stood and snatched it out of her hands. "This was one of my favorites when I was a kid."

"I know," she said quietly.

Tony turned to her, calming. "Thanks," he said.

She shrugged. "No problems," she answered, making the mistake on purpose to get Tony further back to normal.

"Problem, Ziva. No problem," he enunciated as he crossed to the kitchen and picked up the phone, dialing for pizza or Chinese food, she assumed.

Ziva grinned. At least she knew how to make things right with Tony.

He came back after a moment and set up the movie, aping along with Steve Martin as they watched. Ziva found herself laughing harder than she had in months.

Halfway through, when they 'd finally wiped the grease from the pizza off their fingers and gone back into watching, Ziva's phone vibrated in her pocket, causing her to jump up. Tony laughed, startled, as she sprang up.

Ziva checked the caller. Michael. She took a deep breath. Every call in the last two weeks had been about his undercover op, his young lover, his increasing distrust of Mossad and even of her that she worried was more paranoid than rational at this point. She didn't want to deal with that right now, not here with Tony. She turned her phone off and slipped back down onto the couch.

By the time the movie had ended and Tony was making his way methodically through the DVD's special features, Ziva was exhausted. Taking an intimacy she rarely did with Tony, she let herself lean against his shoulder. Fortunately there was no crack about sleepy ninjas or sarcasm about her feelings for him. He smiled down at her and shifted his arm around her, letting her curl into his side, like they weren't who they were to each other, like she was a woman to him.

His fingers settled at her waist, unconsciously dancing over her skin a second before stilling, and suddenly Ziva was awake, her body deliciously aware of his nearness. She tried not to react in any way he'd notice, surprised her own self that after years of friendship and with a man in her life, she'd find her pulse racing like this. There was no way she could separate herself now without Tony thinking something of it, she she rested more fully against him, let her eyes fall half shut with the sleepiness that was returning.

She could remember Rebekah teasing her, all those months ago, about having feelings for Tony. She'd dismissed the idea at the time, but right now she was both more comfortable and more excited than she could remember being with Michael, and Ziva found herself a bit alarmed at the realization.

The credits rolled on the last documentary segment, and Ziva started to sit up, but Tony's hand caught her shoulder, kept her turned toward him. She looked up at him, a little wary. He turned off the TV with his other hand and set the remote down.

"Ziva," Tony started. "Thanks for what you said before."

He'd sobered by now and she knew he was serious.

"I meant it." Ziva smiled wickedly. "You were not even so much of a peacock."

Tony snorted. "Good to know." He released her and stood, stretching and sighing. "Bed time, I guess."

Ziva nodded. "Good night," she said, slipping her coat on.

She turned to leave but Tony tugged her arm, pulling her into a hug. She slid her arms around his waist, holding on to him.

"We should do this more often, like we used to," Tony mumbled into her hair.

"We should," Ziva replied softly, then stepped back, toward the door.

"Night, Ziva," Tony said as she left, and she smiled a good bye.

Once in her car, Ziva turned her phone back on. She had two new voice-mails, probably from Michael. Ziva sighed and closed the phone again before turning on the car and heading home. For the first time she found herself regretting everything she'd shared with Michael about her own insecurities with Mossad—he knew enough about her to make a royal mess if she didn't continue to seem supportive. And she was beginning to wonder how much longer she could sustain the act.